I watched ice form on the river outside my window one Sunday afternoon and felt loneliness more intense than any I could remember since childhood. The day had grown incredibly still -- so deep it seemed poised at the edge of eternity... Nearly empty, I could not hope to fill myself -- certainly not with human companionship -- and I began to sense that this was exactly as it should be. God wanted me empty, alone, silent and watchful. I was suffering from both sever laryngitis and a lame leg, and had to laugh at myself, wondering if I was really so dense that God had to resort to these extremes in order to get me to shut up and be still.
We parked the car at the roadside and walked onto the grass. We stood together and sent our praises to the Most High. The prayer was sweet and when I dropped my head onto the cool, grass-covered earth, I felt myself truly a servant. For just a fleeting moment my heart was full of joy. As we walked back to the car, I began to understand. Prayer is service in the absolute. It is selfless service to God. Actually, one's entire life could be a prayer.
~ from THE WRITING ON THE WATER by Muhyiddin Shakoor
What is offered to the seeker of today is the same as it was before. The same luminous inner light, the same fathomless tranquility, that same drink which deeply quenches, that explosive, boundless love from the source of Love beyond, that same handhold with hundreds of thousands of messengers of light, that same blessed transmission being extended from the unfailing generosity of God. The ante remains as it has always been: the surrender of everything entirely, including one's very self. What is at stake, however, is greater than ever before. If you have understood this invitation my friends, if your heart has heard the calling of a traveler just like you, then take heed now and make haste as the saints have urged.
~ from THE WRITING ON THE WATER by Muhyiddin Shakoor
