I kinda like this excerpt from the poetry of Ernesto Guevara de la Serna (aka Che Guevara)
” Die, yes, but riddled with
bullets, destroyed by the Bayonets, if not, no Drowned, no …
A memory more lasting than my name
Is to fight, to die fighting”
The last time I tried to pray was 8 months ago. I wanted to give my faith another chance. Maybe I will rediscover the bliss of religion I felt years ago.
I picked up my Quran, and started getting ready for the ritual of Salah (prayer). I usually recite out of memory. But that one time, I wanted to read something new … and long.
Seconds into the ritual, I realized that I am logically analyzing every single word. I was trying to understand how God thinks… How he argues… I wanted to find flaws in what he says. I was doing all of this unconsciously. Part of me felt guilty…. It is blasphemous to question God.
I could not go on with the prayer. But I could not just walk away. It is a sacred ritual anyhow … maybe not to me … but to many it is. It has to be ended properly. So I decided to go on with it … I went on reading verses mindlessly, absorbing the words without understanding them. I guess that’s the best way to worship God. I guess that’s the way God intended to be worshiped.
