My grandson, a delightful child aged five, is always full of smiles and good cheer. He trotted in from school one day, joyful as usual, and announced “I love everyone, including the people I don’t know!” “But there are so many people in the world,” I replied. “How will you find space in your heart for all of them?”
I see a flash of yellow, then a glimpse of parrot wings, sometimes even a baby parrot perched on a terrace railing, or crows arguing on a distant ledge. Butterflies flutter past, tiny messengers of births and marriages, there is much to enjoy in the constant activity of nature.
There is little to do these days. The virus has struck fear into the stoutest hearts, and most of us have changed our lifestyles to suit the times.
The universal dream of Paradise is a garden, nourished by crystal-clear waters. The garden of Jannat, with the waters of Salsabil and Tasneem; the Biblical garden of Eden, and the mythical Elysian fields are all havens of peace, with channels of flowing water,
When a new year begins, most of us try to sort through and organise all the detritus of earlier years, and start afresh with tidier cupboards, and neater desks. It can be an interesting task, because we come across things long forgotten, or thrown aside, to be looked at another time. Sometimes, we find really special things, long forgotten, but important.
There are few things as all-encompassingly comfortable as a large soft warm bed. Nestled in soft sheets, with fluffy pillows cradling my head, and the gentle weight of the quilt over me, I feel I need nothing more.
“Oh! This is so you. What a wonderful colour! You have to buy this right away,” says one lady to another.
I saw a picture the other day. It was just a picture of a simple green shrub; but there, in the centre, glowing like a jewel, was one perfect coral pink heart-shaped leaf.
I wake early. When I hear the call of the muezzin and the first soft sounds of birds chirping, I go to my window to see the sun rise.