It’s a stark reality for me that I can no longer think of a whole life ahead as I would have done when in my 20s. Those days have long since passed. I now see life in shorter bursts or phases. No doubt, having lived the majority of my years on this Earth, I tell myself that any plans I have must be the type that I can realistically envisage happening and not within a time-scale which makes it near impossible to execute.
I define ‘long-term’ as anything in excess of 5-10 years. Of course, like everyone else, I have no way of knowing how long I have left in this duniya. But, if I live an average lifespan of about 70 years or so, then I need to make bitesize plans from now onwards. The time to buy a house, climb higher on that career ladder or get (re)married, are all aspirations that have evaporated or never even figured in my mind. I am genuinely content going from day to day, month to month, knowing that I still have a roof over my head, food to survive and good health, Alhamdulillah. That’s not even including all the other blessings in between.
Aspirations of a prodigious scale now belong to the generation after me, namely, my sons. I look forward to seeing them develop and grow in more ways than one: not just in their careers and income, not just in their professional and personal lives but especially in their love for Islam and the desire to keep themselves rooted in it through life no matter what comes their way, good or bad, insha’Allah.
As my grip or desire for the adornments of this world diminishes, it’s interesting to partake in conversations with my sons and listen to their own plans and goals, so opposite to where I am in life now. Not that I would want it any other way! They are on the cusp of exciting times and have every right to look forward to new horizons and chapters in their own book. Whilst my own story will always be closely intertwined with theirs, there is more room now these days to reflect on my life without any other characters in it. I view it as moving into a soliloquy or a healthy detachment whereby I no longer unleash into a zone of uncontrollable emotions. It’s about having a reasonable balance of mind and understanding that the vicissitudes of life are always nearby.
I’m at peace within myself, Alhamdulillah. The peaks and troughs in my emotional state are less volatile and more stable. People, especially, no longer own my disposition. Of course, there are so many hypothetical scenarios I can ensivage, such as ill health or loss of a loved one, which would send me into a kind of hysteria but I don’t claim to be a saint. I am a work in progress. If a day or week goes by without any major drama, then I am grateful. It’s more than I can wish for in a world full of unspeakable turmoil and a loss of basic human decency and compassion.
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