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There’s a road I used to walk often. It wasn’t remarkable, just the same path I took when returning from long journeys—dust on my shoes, thoughts scattered in the wind. But every time I passed that way, I spoke to something unseen. I didn't call it God back then. I only asked, silently, for a sign. A direction. A knowing. Then one day, without warning, the answer came.“Look left.” There it was. A tree I had passed a hundred times now held a small wooden sign: "For Sale." It was simple, almost invisible. But to me, it felt like thunder. That sign didn’t just announce a piece of land—it whispered something deeper. I knew instantly this was the beginning of something. I just didn’t know how long it would take. More than five years passed. Papers. Problems. Delays. Bureaucracy tangled like overgrown weeds. It would’ve been easy to give up, to say maybe it wasn’t meant for me. But I remembered what a friend once told me: "If something is meant for you, it will find its way to you. If it’s not, something better will." I held onto that. Now, as I stand in this garden—my garden—I know those words were true. Because this land did  wait for me.Because I am the right person for this story.Because it is mine —not in the sense of ownership, but in the sense of belonging. This garden is more than soil and trees. It carries memory. It carries the footsteps of those who came before me—villagers who planted their food, raised their animals, lived from the land. Many of them are gone now, but the land remains. Quiet. Steady. Ready. And now, it grows with me. I didn’t find the garden. It found me when I was ready. This is what I want to tell you: Trust the unfolding. Trust the Creator. Trust the timing. Sometimes we spend years chasing signs. But when it's right, the sign will appear—maybe nailed to a tree, maybe in your heart. And when it does, don't rush it. Let it take root in its own time. Because what's truly yours will wait. Just like this garden did.

I didn’t notice it at first. The vines had grown wild and lush, weaving themselves into a tangled green jungle. I had walked past them a dozen times, thinking maybe the melons were still taking their time. But today, something caught my eye—a glimmer, almost like the garden was winking at me. There it was. Nestled quietly beneath a canopy of broad leaves, my watermelon was shining—striped, round, and perfect. A secret jewel hidden in plain sight, soaking in the sun and waiting patiently to be found. I couldn't believe I’d missed it. It had been growing in silence, thriving without fanfare, like nature’s little surprise just for me. It was proof that tending to something with love and patience brings joy in return. That nature has its own rhythm. That sometimes, magic grows right in your own backyard. So here’s to the watermelon in my garden—today’s gift, today’s lesson, today’s smile.

Surah An-Nahl, Science, and the Bee: A Divine Design Surah An-Nahl (The Bee) — verse 68 — says: "And your Lord inspired the bee, saying: Build your homes in the mountains, in the trees and in what people construct." Qur`an (16:68) Interestingly, the surah is number 16 , and the female bee  — the one that builds, produces honey, and is essential for the hive — has 16 chromosomes . The male bee (drone) , which hatches from an unfertilized egg, has only 8 chromosomes . In Arabic grammar, the verbs in this verse ("build your homes") are in the feminine form , reflecting that the bees addressed are females  — long before modern biology confirmed the central role of female bees  in hive structure and honey production. This subtle harmony between revelation and biology , between divine wording and genetic truth , leaves a powerful impression: the Quran speaks with a precision  that continues to resonate even in the age of molecular science.

One of the most profound lessons I’ve drawn from both Islam and Stoicism is the delicate balance between effort and surrender —between taking responsibility for what we can  control and letting go of what we cannot . In Stoic philosophy, Epictetus teaches us that external events are beyond our power. The only thing truly within our control is our response  to those events. This means that while we cannot change what happens around us, we can  choose how to face it—with calm, wisdom, and resilience. Islam echoes this wisdom beautifully. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said, “Tie your camel, then trust in Allah.”  This simple but powerful advice means: take the necessary steps, do your part, but ultimately place your trust in God’s plan. It’s an invitation to act with intention, yet remain humble and patient in the face of uncertainty. For me, this teaching is a life anchor. It reminds me that anxiety often arises from trying to control the uncontrollable—whether it’s the outcome of a project, others’ opinions, or the unpredictable twists of life. Instead, I’m learning to focus my energy on what I can  influence: my attitude, my choices, and my effort. At the same time, trusting Allah—and the natural order as the Stoics understood it—means releasing the illusion of total control. It means accepting that some things are beyond my grasp, and in that acceptance, finding peace. Mastering the self, then, is not about rigid control or passivity. It’s about disciplined action paired with graceful surrender . It’s a dynamic dance between responsibility and trust, effort and patience. Islam & Stoicism: Where Revelation Meets Reason 1. Control the Self, Trust in the Greater Plan Stoicism: "We cannot control external event. We can only control our response". Epictetus. Islam: "Tie your camel, and trust in Allah", proph. Muhammad (Tirmidhi) "Nothing will happen to us except what Allah has decreed for us". - Qur`an (9:51) Both traditions teach:– Master your inner self .– Let go of what you cannot control .– Respond with dignity and intention .The Stoic calls this apatheia  (freedom from destructive emotion); Islam calls it sabr  (patient perseverance). 2. Reason & Responsibility Stoicism: "Man is disturbed not by things, but by the views he takes of them" - Marcus Aurelius. Islam: "Verily, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest" - Qur`an (13:28). "Actions are but by intentions" - Proph. Muhammad (Bukhari & Muslim). Islam and Stoicism both emphasize:– The power of thought and intention .– Taking ownership  of your reactions.– Cultivating inner clarity  through reflection (Stoic journaling or Islamic muhasaba  – self-accounting). 3. Virtue is the Path Stoicism: Virtue is the highest good - justice, courage, temperance, wisdom. Islam: "Indeed, the most noble of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous of you" - Qur`an (49:13) For both, true freedom comes from inner discipline and moral clarity . Not material success, not reputation, not emotion—but a heart aligned with truth. 4. Accept Death, Live Meaningfully Stoicism: "You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think".- Marcus Aurelius. Islam: "Every soul shall taste death" - Qur`an (3:185). "Live in this world as if you are a traveler or a stranger"- Proph. Muhammad. Both traditions teach memento mori : Remember death . Not to fear it, but to awaken purpose. Live with humility, accountability, and depth.

Summer in the garden is not the season of toil — it is the season of gathering . The heavy work has already been done. The seeds were sown in patience, the soil turned with care, the weeds pulled with discipline. Now, the garden gives back — quietly, abundantly, and without demand. Everything is green, full, and fragrant . The air carries the sweetness of basil, tomatoes on the vine, lavender swaying in the warmth. Bees hum gently over blossoms, birds call from shaded branches, and the world feels — for a moment — complete. Summer in the garden is a reminder that life has rhythms: times for work, and times for stillness.  You don’t pull at the fruit to make it ripen faster. You receive  what comes. You harvest  what was once invisible. You breathe, surrounded by what your hands once planted and your heart once hoped for. There is wisdom in the garden’s pace: To stop forcing. To be grateful. To gather what is ready, and let go of what isn’t. This is a sacred time — not rushed, not loud. A time for witnessing beauty, not controlling it. And as every gardener knows: the garden gives, but only after you’ve learned to wait.