Be Like a Bird: A Ramadan Reflection

I stared. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the frozen figure. Anyone walking across the wooden bridge past me would’ve avoided the weird Muslimah caught in a trance. But I didn’t care, knowing that I could be witnessing something straight out of National Geographic, minus the British commentator. I waited, holding my breath, not wanting to miss the slightest movement to prove my suspicion. It had to be what I thought it was.

Just when I nearly gave up, the Great blue heron swiftly shot its head into the flowing water, spreading its magnificent wingspan and catching its breakfast. I gasped in awe. Masha’Allah. I stood there much more relaxed, watching the majestic bird stride with grace and stealth to its next fishing spot, blending into the trees and rocks. It finally stood still as the fallen branch next to it, posing to strike again, unaware of the eyes of its birdwatcher.

Me trying to capture the Great blue heron at its next fishing spot — can you find it?

See, I wasn’t planning to take my walk that morning. On the first night of Ramadan, I was bedridden with the flu, sulking into a hopeless state—I was off to a terrible start. My Ibadah goals were once again going to be a list of great ideas that I would be encouraging my students to do for their Tafseer class. Through my despair, and with nothing better to do with my time, I dropped off the kids at school and detoured to take a walk on my favorite trail around Lake Artemesia.

I came here when I knew of nothing else, when my mind was cloudy or ridden with anxiety from school, work, or life. On good days, I’d come to make myself feel better with some cardio. There was something about the sounds of flowing water and the chirping of birds that gave clarity to my being. I knew from my studies that there was some connection with the ruh – the soul and spirit: Paradise is full of rivers and gardens, and sometimes the soul tries to remember and finds solace in God’s green Earth. But for me, on those first days of Ramadan, it was more than that. The trees, the rocks, the flowing water, and the birds – especially that great blue heron – spoke to me of their Creator ﷻ.

✨ They Spoke to me of God’s Lutf.

His Kindness, His Subtleness.

Anyone who has dealt with animals and gardening can recognize the therapeutic nature of working with God’s creation. You feel how you are a part of something bigger, balanced, and beautiful. It’ll also make you feel like wanting to cut off any interaction with any toxic entity. Oh and just to be present in God’s beautiful work. Just in those few minutes of observing the heron’s behavior in real-time, I thought to myself, what wisdom could we attain from an hour of contemplation in what He’s made?

As I made my way off the bridge and back onto the asphalt, I began to count my many moments of awe in the creation of Allah ﷻ, with the many hats that I was blessed with. As an astronomy educator, I get lost in the constellations at night as I teach about how the ancients used them for guidance (Quran, An-Nahl 16:16). As an equestrian enthusiast, I marvel at how horses are beasts subdued by the will of Allah to our needs (An-Nahl 16:5-9). As an ecological conservationist, I am overwhelmed by the intricate relationships the bees have with the bats, the owls and the snakes, and the geological landscapes that encompass them, just as this watershed I was walking around.

Clearly hypnotized by the beauty of the lake in peak fall time ✨

No one contemplates enough about how these relationships are the reasons for our existence on this planet – if any of these creatures were to go extinct, the global habitat would go haywire, leading to our suffering as humanity (Ad-Dukhan 44:38-39). And to think that Allah ﷻ created them to ensure our ability to survive and to worship Him ﷻ with ease?! None of this was created in vain.

Seriously – what favors of our Lord do we deny?

And yet, our Lord doesn’t ask for us to be perfect (because He is perfect), nor do impossible things (because He is the cause of miracles), but to simply try our best. Even if we make mistakes, Al-Lateef can make our mistakes into milestones – opportunities for growth (Ar-Rum 30:36-37).

✨ They spoke to me of God’s Tadbeer.

The Perfect Planner and Orchestrator.

Nature has this mesmerizing way of being a mirror for our internalized worldviews. For the militant atheist watching the heron stabbing the fish to devour whole, the world is a harsh reality, cruel and chaotic, but alas it is the nature of life. For the believer, however, the heron caught its rizq that was driven to it, as the time for that (un)fortunate fish has ended – for everything is carefully planned and measured by Al-Mudabbir (Ar-Ra’d 13:8).

Making my way down the trail, I crossed paths with my Artemesian comrade, Mr. Sun Hugger. Everyone who walked the lake’s trail knew that incredible specimen of a human being, but in my five years of trailing I could not tell you his actual name. Mr. Sun Hugger was a happy old lanky man, probably in his late 70s, and can always be seen around 8:30am marching the 1.5 mile trail with a metal rod swinging in his right hand. I joked to my friend that his contagious energy was probably powered by the sun itself! I knew, however, of his secret to longevity and liveliness: he was a man of rida (gratefulness, appreciation). He said his heartfelt good mornings to anyone he passed with a toothy smile, walked with a spring in his step, and whenever he finished his morning walk, he would turn towards the sun, open his wingspan for a few seconds as he soaked in the rays of morning sunshine, his face shining with gratitude. Walking the trail wasn’t complete without seeing Mr. Sun Hugger, and God knew I needed to see him today. He reminded me of my grandfather, Giddo.

I recalled the nights when my cousins and I were younglings, sitting under the starry summer night sky, bickering over plans so utterly trivial and for an absurd amount of time. Giddo would chip in and say,

“Why don’t you have tawakkul upon Allah ﷻ like the tawakkul of birds? See how they leave their nest in the morning with empty bellies and return to it full!”

It was his favorite hadith, because he saw it all the time. When I think of him, he was an embodiment of that prophetic principle: an early riser, leaving to tow the fields until Dhuhr prayer, never missing a Salah in the village’s masjid, and only owning 2 thobes since 1995 that he would wash and dry himself until his passing in 2023 (may Allah ﷻ have mercy on his soul). The hot sun of the Nile would toil with his temper sometimes (unlike Mr. Sun Hugger), but his philosophy was rooted in the promises of the Quran: that the world is full of abundance (Fussilat 41:10), but upon us is the Saee to seek our rizq (Al-Mulk 67:15), for whatever is written for us will not miss us (Ankabut 29:60). If we only had the tawakkul of birds, we’d have a peace of mind. No overthinking or anxiety. Even if we had a bad day, our rizq awaits us on the next – or will even be driven to us by God’s mercy. A person with tawakkul is like a flowing river. Whenever an obstacle is propped up, we meander and undulate and keep on flowing, because we know the plan of Al-Mudabbir is always good for the believer.

✨ They spoke to me of God’s Shukr.

The Grateful One. The Most Appreciative of You.

I closed my eyes and listened to the tasbeeh of the cardinals and the cranes and the chickadees (which I was pleasantly surprised that I could begin to differentiate their calls at this point). They ate and were grateful. How, then, could we deny our Creator when He was grateful for our efforts? The thought humbled my head as I looked to the drenched asphalt: I was nearing the end of the trail. I was suddenly overcome with a healing sense of gratefulness as I realized I did something that morning: I showed up. I came as I was, disheartened and disappointed, only to find that Allah ﷻ has blessed me with a monumental walk to recharge my soul. Alhamdulillah.

The one summer I managed to catch a crane in action!

As I reached the end of the trail, my purpose for Ramadan was renewed. Nature did it again for me: it helped me remember. See, Allah ﷻ reprimanded the people of Quraish for not reflecting on what they would see on a daily basis: the creation of the camel, the sky that hung over them, the firmness of their mountains, and the levelness of the Earth beneath their feet (Al-Ghashiah 88:17-20). Things right in front of them when they opened their eyes, no rocket science needed. Sometimes, I feel we need gentle reminders, too. How else can we understand our Creator ﷻ? Reflecting on the Designer’s work ﷻ helps us see Him ﷻ deeply, humbles us in the presence of His Kingdom, reminds us of our reality, and makes us grateful for each inhale of His oxygen. For me, science was always about studying the Sunnah of Allah ﷻ in His signs and creation, but we tend to forget the gratitude component. When I teach science, I tell my students to slow down and pause to be present: to listen. Nature speaks because it is the living sign of Allah ﷻ. It signals to us, reminding us when we forget (Ad-Dhariyaat 51:55). Unfortunately, the Dunya can deafen us to its call – to the Tasbeeh of the birds which we cannot understand (Al-Israa 17:44)

As I slowed my steps to focus on my senses, my phone buzzed with a text message about work. Not now… I thought. I toyed with my phone a bit and decided to respond in the most simple manner possible. Walking with Allah ﷻ in your heart means to take this Dunya easy, I said to myself. I smiled when I hit send: responding to my boss usually demanded an insane amount of mental willpower and energy, but in my moment of grace, the outside world was put in its place. It was at that moment that I decided to start consciously living life for my Creator, no one else, Ramadan and beyond, because no one else mattered. All I needed to do was to show up however I can and am, and do my Saee (seeking out) as Hajar AS; it is upon Ash-Shakuur ﷻ to deliver, Who doesn’t let a small good deed go amiss (An-Najm 53:40).

~~~~

Arriving at the parking lot, I exchanged morning salutations once more with Mr. Sun Hugger as he got into his modern Jeep with “Life is Good” written in a quirky bold font on his tire cover. He’s not even Muslim, I thought to myself. Yet, the rahma of Allah ﷻ and His rizq spans all of creation: the Muslim and the non, the human and the animals, the plants and the planet, and beyond. I wondered, why can’t my attitude be like this? The Khaza’in of Allah ﷻ are full, always.

As he drove off, I looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then I tried Mr. Sun Hugger’s crazy energizing routine, and stood to spread my wingspan and breathed. I coughed like a lunatic. Clearly I needed to get out of the house more. Change doesn’t happen overnight, and with my lungs somewhat kick-started it was my que to head back into the Dunya with a refreshed focus. After regaining my composure, I looked up to the sky once more to see another heron flying towards the lake – its rizq awaiting its arrival. And it was time for me to set out for mine.

A Final Note from the Writer ✍️

In my years of studying and teaching Tafseer, there is a message I try to convey to anyone starting the journey with their Creator’s Words: The Quran was not sent for scholars alone, nor is its wisdom locked away for the few. It is a book of everlasting guidance for humanity that speaks to hearts, to seekers, to anyone willing to pause and reflect. Tadabbur—deep contemplation of the Quran—is not reserved for the learned, but is an invitation from Allah ﷻ to every soul that longs for a divine compass.

You do not need to be an expert to reflect on its verses. You only need sincerity. Any moment can trigger Tadabbur, and when it happens, embrace it. Let the words settle in your heart, sit with them, converse with them, and let them shape the way you see the world. If you have a question, ask a knowledgeable scholar as you continue along deciphering the codes of your Creator ﷻ. As my teacher would tell me: your journey with the Quran is a life-long one. It never ends, even when you become a Hafidhah. The Quran never changes, but you do. As we go through our seasons of life, we will only discover new pearls and gems. Every moment spent pondering the Quran is a step closer to its Author ﷻ, and we all have a long way to go.

May we all be people of reflection, drawn ever nearer to Him. Ameen.

With peace~

Dr. Vivian Zohery, written for The Daybreak Dispatch for Daybreak Press

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