When we pick up a camera, the mathematics behind the frame is clear. There are two fundamental elements that create an image: the aperture, which regulates the amount of light, and the shutter speed, which determines how long that light is allowed to enter.
One shapes depth and clarity; the other captures time within a single moment. One is a measure; the other, the duration of manifestation. Yet no matter how far technology advances, all these mechanical components remain but faint imitations of the miraculous system that the Sâni‘-i Zülcelâl (Saa-nee-ee Zul-je-laal), the All-Glorious Maker, has placed within the human eye.
From the very first moment it opens, the human eye functions like a magnificent “smart aperture.” The pupil contracts or dilates according to the intensity of light; it neither admits so much light as to dazzle the eye nor so little as to leave it in darkness. Its shutter speed, meanwhile, is not adjusted in mere milliseconds, but through a continuous flow. Each time the eyelid opens and closes, a brand-new frame is captured in the studio of the universe. The moment a person opens his eyes, he encounters countless wonders scattered throughout this exhibition of the Sanatkâr-ı Hakîm (Sa-naat-kaar-uh Ha-keem), the All-Wise Artificer. From a dewdrop resting upon a flower to the colourful drift of clouds across the sky, every detail is a divinely crafted photograph for an eye endowed with true insight.
But is the aperture of our eyes created merely to receive visible light? The deeper truth of faith here lies in being able to move from basar (ba-sar), physical seeing, to basîrah (ba-see-rah), understanding and spiritual insight. In a material camera, when you open the aperture, the background becomes blurred while the object upon which you focus becomes clear. Likewise, when a person opens the aperture of his heart and mind to the Asmâ-i İlâhiyyah (As-maa-ee Ilaa-hee-y-yah), the Divine Names, the transient and complicated background of the world fades into a blur, while the manifestations of the Cemîl-i Mutlak (Ja-meel-ee Mut-lak), the Absolutely Beautiful, come into focus.
The eye is merely a lens; the true seer is the spirit and faith. Without the light of faith, even the most perfect lens in the world can perceive reality as nothing more than a dark void.
The shutter, meanwhile, whispers to us of the relativity of time and of the fact that every moment is a halk-ı cedîd (Halk-uh Ja-deed), a renewed act of creation. As life flows swiftly onward, the Cenâb-ı Hak (Ja-naab-uh Haq), the Exalted and Most Glorious God, continually renews the universe in every fraction of a second. Each time our eyelids open, we are, in a sense, looking upon a new universe. Yet the veil of familiarity and heedlessness dulls the shutter of our minds, causing us to regard the miracles we witness constantly as ordinary.
In reality, opening our eyes each morning is like reopening the doors of an infinite treasury of mercy.
Every time we press the shutter release—the button used to take a photograph—the play of light that appears to be merely a mechanical process actually reminds us of the purpose for which our eyes and hearts were created. The difference between looking and truly seeing becomes illuminated by the consciousness of faith.
So long as we open the aperture of our eyes fully to the light of ma‘rifatullah (Ma-ri-fa-tul-laah), the knowledge and recognition of Allah, and keep the shutter of life focused upon rıza-yı İlâhî (Rı-zaa-yi Ilaa-hee), the pleasure and approval of Allah, it is possible to read the manifestations of the Divine attributes of beauty and perfection in every particle we behold.
We need only ensure that, when we open our eyelids, we lift the veil not merely toward the world, but toward the truth.
Yeni Asya English