The Beauty of An Early Spring Evening

Peace, one and all…

On most evenings, I catch the number 27 bus from Merthyr Tydfil bus station up to my home in the hills.  It’s not a particularly long ride, nor is it always a quiet one (given all the hustle and bustle of life).  However, the bus station itself offers a very open view of the sky and the hills that seem to encirlce this adopted home of mine.  I love watching the sky turn to silver-glass as late afternoon turns into sunset.  I love watching the colours dancing through the heavens, as the fresh air fills my lungs and my soul.

So it was that, as I was staring into the early evening sky, a thought came all unbidden into my mind:

‘I came into this world from non-existence and death shall merely mark my return to it’

Importantly, this thought did not fill me with fear, as it would once have done.  Rather, I experienced this fleeting moment with a great sense of relief, of unburdening: after all, what do my fears and anxieties mean when measured against the beauty of an early spring evening?

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

The Gardens Beneath Which Rivers Flow

Peace, one and all…

What is paradise like?  Can we ’see’ the lands beneath which rivers flow in this life, in this here and now?  And, if so, what would these beautiful gardens look like?

In all truth, I don’t know but for me paradise is being close to the One I love, and in the hand of that love, to all the others that I love too.  Paradise would be a cold and lonely place without the Beloved.  It would be a cold and lonely place without all of those others I also love.

So, for me, paradise is love declared and love accepted.  And what is truly beautiful, is that declaration and acceptance exist in this world, in this place, at this very moment. 

And in this land beyond fear, where all is made whole, love walks unafraid – declaring itself in each unfolding moment.  Love walks in joy: in joy at laughter, in joy at tears.  In this land of sunlight and moonglow, all dance together as one, all sing with the same voice.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman