A while back, (having the ridiculous privilege of staring into my navel) I asked momma if she knew what her purpose is. If she knew what it was that she was on this earth to do. She looked at me as though she were getting ready to throw a shoe at me, made a very unusual throat sound and simply said What a stupid question. I was created, Allah put me here. My purpose is to be here.
My mother is Descartes, all about the ‘I think, therefore I am’.
I stared at her in silence while simultaneously hearing even the crickets inside of my head quiet down. This question regarding purpose is one which weaves itself in and out of my life every now and then; never have I been able to answer it to my satisfaction. Momma’s answer has helped to quiet the anxiety which gives rise to the question, and the additional anxiety at the black-hole response.
Since this conversation with her some months back, and as a part of my morning duaa, I ask that God make me aware of my purpose per that day. While so few of us have purpose on a grand scale – like, for example, Malcolm X / el-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz – every single one of us has purpose to be found in the detailed fabric of the everyday. None of us are without purpose; none of us are without value to one another, no matter the distance between us.
Today, I am grateful for:
1. Family dinners.
2. Something which happened yesterday, but which could have been much much much worse. Though I am aware of this truth, it’s only when faced with it’s almost occurrence that I reflect on what it actually means – in a split-second, our lives can be changed irrevocably.
3. Community. Oneness. It’s why we keep striving to do better, and to be better.
Ottawa | May 4, 2019