WATER

Bismillah.

During winter I become more deeply aware of the value of water. The cold season, with its unwavering and almost impartial sky, and the lake reflecting a deeper and “purer” blue, awakens in me a different and more contemplative perception of the world.

In this slower time, water becomes an object of contemplation and, almost silently, invites me to recognize in it a meaning that surpasses its physical nature. To drink slowly, to savor every drop, becomes almost a ritual gesture. Water not only purifies the body but also the mind; it is like bathing in a magical lotion, a movement “beyond” oneself.

If in summer we naturally feel the urge to dive into the lake, in winter that desire changes, taking on a deeper meaning, because “the dive” becomes a leap into a hypnotic infinity, and throwing oneself into the unknown frightens the part of us confined to earthly life. And yet, if we do not try, the waves pass us by, gathering us into one of them and erasing our individuality.

Alhamdulillah, I live in a region rich in lakes, where water is abundant. And this very abundance makes me more aware of its scarcity elsewhere and of the ethical responsibility each of us has to preserve it. Thus, I often find myself pausing to observe its movement through the now bare branches of the trees in my garden. When the wind stirs the lake, the waves break against the rocks, lifting droplets that, for an instant, seem to release fragments of life.

For in water I perceive life itself. And the Qur’an states this clearly:

Qur’an 76:2: “Truly We created man from a drop of mingled fluid (nutfah amshaj, literally: ‘a small drop’ or ‘a limited amount of fluid’) in order to test him; and We made him hearing and seeing.”

Water is the foundational element of earthly life, a discreet yet constant witness to the vital processes that permeate the planet. It flows through rivers as it does through veins, evaporates, condenses, returns as rain, and concludes its cycle in the ocean, only to begin again. This unbroken journey grants it a symbolic dimension that spans cultures and ages: purity, emotion, transformation, and above all, continuity.

It is precisely this concept that I wish to dwell upon. We are accustomed to thinking of continuity as a line without interruption, as a constant persistence over time. Yet human experience is marked by intervals: relationships that change or break, moments that never return, paths that disappear. Water, on the other hand, suggests another truth: that of a connection that does not break, between creation and the Creator.

In water, the persistence of divine mercy is reflected, recalled each time I pronounce Bismillah before drinking. Water, in this sense, testifies that not everything is destined to break; some realities endure despite the apparent fractures of existence.

From this perspective, the work of Dr. Masaru Emoto introduces a further dimension: the idea that water can be influenced by human intentions and emotions. In his experiments—where water was exposed to words, sounds, or prayers before freezing—crystalline structures formed that symbolically seemed to reflect the nature of the stimulus received.

Positive words generated harmonious shapes, while negative stimuli produced irregular configurations. Though controversial in method and replicability, these results offer a powerful metaphor: water as a sensitive surface, a space where human intentions leave a trace, at least symbolically.

In the natural environment, water displays an extraordinary capacity for transformation: it takes on different forms, follows ever-new paths, adapts to the conditions it encounters. From this stems its metaphorical strength: resilience, flexibility, and above all, continuity. Even if it breaks into droplets, even if it evaporates or freezes, it does not lose its identity.

And this fluid characteristic forms a conceptual bridge: if water is like this, then life, too, possesses a dimension that does not end entirely but transforms.

Perhaps this is why, even when we are not physically thirsty, we need water: understanding it allows us to understand ourselves. In this winter, water becomes for me a principle of strength, a symbol of hope, a silent assurance that a single drop of us contains an invisible yet essential meaning within Creation.

I have traveled through arid Africa, crossed oceans, walked beneath the dense canopies of tropical forests. Yet I had never thought that a single drop of me could be anywhere: in a tear, in an ice crystal, on a leaf after a storm. This possibility of being “everything” and “everywhere” is perhaps one of the deepest forms of life, for I firmly believe that we contain more than one truth. If for some this idea is initially incomprehensible, for people like me it is part of daily existence, and the Qur’an confirms that multiple dimensions, multiple worlds, and multiple realities exist. It does not use the modern term “multiverse,” but the Qur’anic concept of al-ʿālamīn indicates a plurality of worlds, levels of creation, realms, and realities.

The Qur’an reiterates that water is a tangible sign of divine mercy: “We sent down blessed water from the sky, and with it We brought forth gardens and grain for harvest” (50:9).

It not only sustains life but embodies purification, renewal, awareness, and gratitude. In every one of its manifestations, water calls to mind the wisdom of the Creator and invites reflection on our dependence on His providence.

The Water of Zamzam

Among the waters mentioned in Islamic tradition, Zamzam occupies a special place. Springing forth in the desert beside the Kaʿba, it is tied to the story of Hajar and the young Ismaʿil, when Allah intervened in their moment of greatest need. Drinking Zamzam is an experience that goes beyond hydration: it is an act of historical memory and deep trust in divine mercy. During Hajj and ʿUmrah, pilgrims drink it with the intention of drawing spiritual benefit and in the hope that their supplications will be heard.

From a scientific standpoint, Zamzam has distinctive chemical features: a high concentration of essential minerals, great purity, and a consistent profile over time. These elements have drawn the interest of hydrologists, geologists, and nutritional scientists. Its scientific value, combined with its spiritual significance, creates a space where faith and empirical observation engage in a surprisingly harmonious dialogue.

Pronouncing Bismillah before drinking and al-ḥamdu liLlāh upon finishing emphasizes the centrality of intention in a believer’s life. A daily act is transformed into an exercise of awareness and gratitude, strengthening a spirituality interwoven with ordinary life.

And today, as I gaze upon the lake, I remember Allah through water: He created a perfect world, and He created us—even more perfect—from a single drop.

Al-ḥamdu liLlāh.