Bismillah. From the beginning to the end.

Something is off. I prayed Isha–the longer Isha with several units involved–I pray the longer ones to slow down my thoughts and focus on what I am saying. For even if I do not understand the particular verse I am reciting, there is something particularly soothing about the pure act of recitation on it.

Here is the part when I am supposed to be calm and joyful and the world has nothing but happy endings in store, because after all happiness ultimately lies within your own self, right?

Right?

There is a wall-hanging in my house that displays the one hundred names of Allah. I prayed the Isha–the long Isha–in front of it. When I finished, I looked up at it. Looked up at those one hundred divine names. And wondered which by which name I should call Him out this time. In which name lies my salvation.

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