The passing of the day and God’s presence: trying to make sense of it all, trying to celebrate the beautiful, trying to be grateful, trying to be mindful, trying to do what is right and good
Sometimes when I read the Quran, I feel the need to pray according to Moslem rites but in a way that feels personal to me. I would adhere to basic movements and the Arabic formulas because they are comfortable and familiar to me, not because I see them as inherently sacred.
The God of morning, the God of day, the God of the afternoon, the God of evening, the God of night. The God of birth, the God of ascent, the God above all summits, the God of decline, the God of death. There are verses that attest to the rhythms of the day and seasons, and God’s presence in them all. I would keep the rites as basic as possible, but of high quality. I would combine if required because it’s not practical for me otherwise, but I don’t forget God’s permanence during the movements of the day.
I am fortunate that my front room faces the south east with large windows that takes in the sky and light. At dawn, when all is still before the stirrings of the day, God is present. In the daytime, with the movement of people and transport, and the noise, God is present. In the afternoon, with the slump of activity or renewal of movement homewards, God is present. In the evening, with the stillness descending, and stirrings of entertainments and the pleasure-bound, God is present. And in the night, in the darkness, in the weary of mind and body, God is present.