It is a warm summer’s night in qom.
I sit on the floor in Masjid-e-Jamkaran and look up at the ceiling, admiring the beauty of the architecture, the interlacing weaving of the arabic calligraphy – composed with such precision, but in its composition, somehow still as wild and free-flowing as foam rising on waves of eastern seas.
I follow the meditated pattern of their sweeping lines, marveling at their intricacy – musing on the intricacy of the path of my life that has been unfolding: a thousand hidden alleys, a thousand secret moments, a thousand twists of twine, a maze interwoven with the stars – all, to bring me… here.
I think about how, in the span of a few weeks, the course of my entire life has been changed. The sights I have seen, the knowledge I have faced, the people – the guides, the mentors, the strangers, the friends – I have come across. As each of their faces comes to mind, I send towards heaven a prayer; pausing as I come to one, the keeper of my heart’s most weary secrets, the conversation, from the depths of nights to the mist of cloudy dawns.
This friend in particular, who isn’t here, but has gone to the sanctuary of Sayyida Masooma (sa) to bid her final farewell – her flight leaves tonight, departing this once-strange-land, now-called-home to return to a now-strange land, once-called-home. Not knowing when she’ll be back and wishing we had more time to spend together, I pray for her happiness, and suddenly, feel someone sit down beside me.
Without even turning, I recognize her voice. And it is all I can do not to laugh.
And as we sit side by side in silence I begin to smile – wondering at the seeming coincidences in life that have never really been coincidences at all, but all part of His greater, beautiful plan. And with an exhale and a heart strengthened by the shoulder that now rests next to mine, I whisper into warm summer winds: thank you Allah, thank you, thank you for the kindred spirits of friends…