The morning is Your morning

The beauty of duhaa prayer, for everyone.

“Me falta algo.” (I lack something.) So said the 20th century Chilean folklorist and singer Violetta Parra about herself, even as she collected and popularized Mapuche-criollo folk tunes that without her efforts might have disappeared into the mists of time. She also penned original songs and poems that were emblems of her generation. Things didn’t end well for her; in her late forties. she took her own life after a love affair ended.

I lack something too. I’ve never really truly loved another human being, in a romantic, family, or other sense. I have pieces missing. Why? I’ve spent thousands of dollars in therapy to try to find out. No answers were forthcoming. Maybe it’s autism, maybe it was my upbringing. Who knows. The “Officer Krupke” tune from West Side Story comes to mind. The truest and truly complete answer: it’s my qadr.

This morning, as I caught a few extra minutes of sleep, an old boyfriend appeared to me in a dream. (Many years before I took my shahada, I had boyfriends in the modern Western sense of the word.) The situation was such that he was routinely saying some “nice” things to me, the kinds of things that boyfriends who don’t really love you say. And, as it was my turn to reciprocate, I realized that I had nothing to say to him.

At that point I woke up. My dream reminded me that, in waking life, I never had anything loving to say to any of the erstwhile romantic partners who passed in and out of my life. For decades I bewailed the lack of love that came from THEM. What about my ability to love THEM?

I got up and went about my business. Then it came time to say duhaa prayer, the one that you say at least 20-30 minutes after sunrise.

As I prepared for salat, I realized: in this deen, I NEVER have to worry about being without words to say to the One who created me. There are the words of Allah the Most High in the Qur’an. There are the du’aa, adkhar, awrad, handed down to us from the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, and from the generations of awliya who followed him. And so, when my lack of words, when my lack of love, troubles me, I can turn to those words.

On my prayer rug, the morning sun gently warmed my face, like a loving touch. And I said some words from a du’aa I’ve memorized. I was even able to say some words that came to me spontaneously, as rizq.

My love, for the moment, is enough for my Rabb. And His is the only opinion that truly counts.