In a meadow of memories, my mind is a mosquito. It flies from flower to flower, and separates the colors from the petals [1], sucks the warmth from the sun. It finds no house in the darkness, no home in the ever-changing seasons. Flowers cease to flower, but in a memory, they bloom to infinity. The mosquito calls this knowledge, hope. It wears this hope, its home, in the fine fabric of its wings. My mind weaves itself a blanket from life’s moments, hammers in pegs in different places, and pitches a tent. It crouches inside and bathes in the warmth that radiates. It calls this comfort, home.

My mind had grown up ready to pack me, and my life, into a box. It thought that those flimsy cardboard boxes, wrapped twice round with industrial tape, felt more like home, than “home” did. Houses changed, in more ways than it cared to count, and the common factor was the boxes. It, in its youthful simplicity, deduced that my home was hidden somewhere there. The boxes that menacingly threatened mildew when starved of attention, but when you gave them just that, would launch dust grenades that made you sneeze. And my mind had tried to carve out a home amongst them, with box cutters, but the cardboard never budged. Then it attempted to fit my life there, to squeeze an infinite quantity of warmth into a finite volume.

It worked, for a while. As a temporary, makeshift home. One that burst at the seams when the houses stopped changing. My mind then concluded that, if my home could not house my life, I did not need one. It left my belongings strewn across the floor of the soaked cardboard, and looked elsewhere, as comfort oozed away like lava seeping back under the earth’s crust. It left its life in disarray, and banished itself to a desert, as it could not bear to look at trees. It did not want to be reminded of the home it had found, the home that had then abandoned it. It walked around, kicking about loose stones, while the sun pelted heat upon its wandering back. It had never felt colder than there, and it discovered that a place that housed warmth, was not automatically its home.

It went back to thinking that home was somewhere with four walls, and it jumped from place to place. This is how it became a measly mosquito, one who did not know what food source it was meant to look for. It tried to find home in the bottom of cereal boxes, in crates of oranges, and in tins of stationery. But no matter where it flew, it could never find anything concrete to stick to. Nothing had enough grip for it to puncture its proboscis into. My mind found nothing of substance to hammer its roots into. And here – beneath the dried-out cheerios, the stinging orange peels, and the empty ink cartridges – a home was not found.

My house was never a home because it was a cage, and then school became a cage, and then the world became a cage. And in my mind, the only way out of this cage was to become an astronaut. A mosquito’s wings flying through space, dressed in a white, padded, sealed suit. I wanted to find home, to look for it somewhere, because it had to be out there. Somewhere on some planet, maybe Mars, maybe Pluto. It was somewhere. I was adamant. I had searched everywhere else, yet, I had forgotten about the four walls of my mind. The vacant, desolate home that belonged to me. The walls littered with propaganda posters, slogans of all the words that I had heard that had stung enough to stick. The memories scattered in little cardboard boxes, packages of warmth waiting, not to be moved, but to be opened. But the mosquito did not know of these.

In the depths of space, the mosquito heard a faint buzzing sound, a sound that could not be heard elsewhere. It was not the background static of space, nor was it the broadcasts transmitted from nearby spacecrafts. It was not the voices that were pleading for it to come back “home.” The mosquito did not know what to do, since it had no concrete sense of direction in space. So, it simply hoped that it would find the things it was looking for. And a match, dipped into a basin of hope, was struck against the all the resistance that space had to give.

The mosquito’s internal compass sought out the source of the sound. It guided them both out of space, while its eyes remained closed, and led it to my mind. It did not notice the barriers, it did not notice the scaling walls, it simply flew. It did not look around – until its head hit a wall and it stumbled into a stupor, spiraling backwards, downwards, and side to side. Piles of boxes tumbled over. The sky cracked open, no longer withstanding the heat that seeped out from the cages made from cardboard. The mosquito shielded its shut eyes, wings quivering from the warmth, and it dared to investigate the boundaries of the four walls of one box. Inside was a flower, sitting neatly in a mound of earth. It was no less alive than a flower in a meadow, and did not shy away from the glaring lights of the mind.

The mosquito, starved, sucked the color from the flower. The flower’s petals did not wilt, and they stayed raised proud, even though they had faded, even though they no longer emitted a single ounce of warmth. And this mosquito was like all mosquitos. It left this flower, without as much as building it a gravestone or gifting it a goodbye. It inhaled all the colors, cycled through all the boxes, and the mind’s artificial lights could not keep up. The colors swallowed, the warmth stolen, and the light, powered by an external generator, flickered. It mourned the memories the mosquito had mistook for flowers. These flowers would not rebloom.

The mosquito was not exiled. It was simply sent to the gates, and set loose. Left, standing on the doorsteps between the mind and a meadow. Filled with mistrust, and seething with shame, it plucked a petal of the nearest flower. Drained from its nature, dampened slightly by the falling rain, the mosquito pressed the petal against its wings, dumping its hue onto their fine strands. It then drank half a flower’s full of warmth, and tread back to the mind. Doors open, it ran in, knelt beside a box, and planted the flower’s roots into the soil. Nothing happened, the lights still whimpered as if they were cold, but it felt right to the mosquito. A dead flower should be accompanied by a not-yet dying one. It imagined that they might hold hands. It fancied they would be happier that way.

The mosquito flew far. Meadows close-by had grown empty, and flowers became scarcer the further it went. It brought boxes with it, towing tools, and tales behind it. It slept in bogs, and sunk into the heat from the fire that its wings created. Its wings wrapped tight around its body, and it watches as colors ripple across. And even in the darkness, even in the wet, sunken ground, it has a home. A home filled with warmth.

The mosquito flies, fueled by the memory of warmth that lives in its wings. It is entertained by the colors that find a festive hat and entertain any of its lonely emptiness. The mosquito lives in its wings and their warmth, and has a constant companion called color. It always flies back to my mind, armed with a garden of flowers in its hands. And my mind, finally having a living and functioning thing to treasure, fashioned the mosquito a tent. It stretched the strings, and nailed four down. One into space, one into the desert, one into the boxes, and the last into that first meadow. And it listens, while it knits a blanket, to the voice of the mosquito recounting its travels. A blanket weaved with the wool of the mosquito’s life; all the moments it saw. And when the mosquito leaves, my mind casts the blanket over its own four walls. Its house finally has a roof, heat takes longer to escape, and my mind had made itself a home.

One day, the flowers will be too far for the mosquito to fly to. There will be a journey that the mosquito undertakes, but never completes. Its fuel will not last. Only the dark sky will bear eye to its fall, and it will die in the cold. Its wings will flicker, flicker, a dying flame at the end of its match. A gust of wind will come along and extinguish its glowing embers. The mosquito’s home had lived with the mosquito’s life, and without the sound of a beating heart to follow, it could no longer send out any waves of warmth. The mosquito ceases to exist, and its home follows in suit.

The flowers in my mind will still exist, faded, and dried out, all their last color used up for that last journey. And my mind will shiver in the cold, waiting for the mosquito to come back. Waiting for it to tell stories of its thoughts, waiting to hear its wings buzz under the tent when the next morning comes. A sound that never arrives. My mind will wonder why the mosquito did not find a home in its walls, why the tent it had sewn was not filled with enough warmth to entice it to stay. And it will seek the mosquito’s corpse out, and bury them both into its blanket. It reckons the dead mosquito needs a dying companion. And its artificial lights blaze with a natural glare, and both the mosquito and my mind are buried with a home above them.

Note

• Male mosquitos feed on nectar.

For years, society has been experiencing a constant deviation of thought and an impropriety that has become more widespread every day, dominating almost all feelings and thoughts. Statements are exceedingly shameless, expressions overly aggressive, behaviors as mean as can be, demeanors utterly torn, and the feelings and reasoning that form the basis of this disorder as dark as what one would expect from scorpions. What are you supposed to listen to, whom can you trust, and which idea can you rely on? In this arena of quarrelsome souls—always fixated on criticism and destruction—even the most innocent thoughts and the most favorable plans and projects are sometimes chewed up between the merciless teeth of conflict and collapse, and the most sacred values are continually trampled underfoot.

What are the reasons that have caused people to lose altitude to this degree in terms of human values? What are the reasons that make us ready to prey on one another? If some are hoping to get anywhere with such impropriety, they are gravely mistaken; and if anyone is foolish enough to think that some lofty ideals can be realized this way, that too is sheer self-deception. Yet, how bitter it is that, for years, we have been through a succession of delusions and continued to make mistakes no one would have imagined. Moreover, we have compounded these mistakes by presenting what we do as great global achievements. So much so that claims of becoming a model for the world, reshaping the globe, or at the very least setting our own house in order, have become common fantasies of this period. But here we are: on one side stand broad-sweeping boasts, and on the other, a society worn down and caught in the grip of unrest.

Actually, amid such disorder, it is neither possible to improve the world’s map of thought, nor to turn our own society’s decline into advancement, nor to open new horizons for our people. In my view, from the thoughts of those depressed circles—each little more than delirium and convulsion—nothing will emerge other than chaos. One thing, however, is certain: this cannot give rise to any renewal. In fact, given that what has happened so far is an unmistakable indication of what is yet to come, it would be pointless to say much more on such a matter.

I do not claim to be analyzing a brand-new topic here; this matter has already been discussed many times in various circles and passed through the filters of diagnosis and assessment repeatedly. It has engaged the attention of many with bright intellects and powerful pens and has been examined through comprehensive surveys. It has been brought to the table on different occasions and discussed from different angles. However, none of these efforts have yielded favorable results to the expected degree—they have not. Even now, many people continue to squander their precious thoughts and intellect for acts of impropriety. They allow their knowledge, culture, courage, and logic to trail behind their emotions, and they nearly spend their lives in a constant struggle against human values.

While such individuals are already deficient in thought, empty in heart and spirituality, deeply inconsistent in reasoning, and devoid of wisdom and true knowledge, if they also possess additional vices—such as deceitfulness, ignobility, fame-seeking, and a weakness for position, status, and gain—it becomes impossible for them to follow any other course. Indeed, far from choosing a different path, people driven by unquenchable thirst and insatiable greed will persistently pursue the targets on which they are fixated, constantly seeking to satisfy this bodily hunger and thirst. Even if they occasionally rejoice in what they manage to achieve, more often than not they will writhe in regret over the opportunities they have missed. As they extinguish, one by one, the lofty sentiments of their souls—each a matchless gift bestowed upon humanity—they will continue drifting through the valleys of carnality.

Indeed, individuals who have lost their human logic and judgment to this degree—who have forfeited their conscience and the divine gifts tied to it, and who are impoverished in heart and thought— can in no way contribute to elevating the world or making it more livable, nor to the happiness of humanity; nor can they offer any benefit to their nations, let alone lead them toward new horizons. They cannot, because such people have never been able to sense their own inner depths or grasp the purpose of their existence. Furthermore, they have forgotten how to love, neglected respect, regarded virtue as a mere fantasy, and continually dreamed only of what they would gain, how they would gain it, from whom they would take it, and by which means they would ascend to the peak of prosperity. Even if, by some chance, they were to form an intention to do good, they would inevitably end up causing harm. For it has never been seen—except in the rarest of cases—that anything pure emerge from sullied souls and polluted dispositions.

Though humanity experienced deviations of thought and shifts of spirit many times before; the issue has never become a social calamity to this extent. This is because today’s human being often directs all intellectual power and reasoning toward serving the carnal self and its desires, while waging an unyielding war against truth and right guidance. Moreover, this is done with the conviction that their intellect and knowledge are sufficient for everything—and can suffice for anything.

In truth, I am not of the opinion that people today are more intelligent or more reasonable than those of the past. In a way, I even think that the so-called champions of intelligence and geniuses of reasoning in our age, when measured against earlier generations, display a thinner depth of thought and a narrower range of intellectual seriousness. Despite all the advantages promised by modern technology and scientific advances, the people of earlier generations—who did not possess even a tenth of today’s resources—were perhaps more capable, more competent, and more consistent.

Within their respective paths of thought and action—whether good or bad—each of these figures was of greater caliber and prominence in their own time. (This comparison is not meant to honor wrongdoing or tyranny, but to illustrate the depth, consistency, and clarity—however misdirected—of earlier forms of thought when set against the confusion of the present age.) Presumably, Cain was a more capable murderer than his modern counterparts; Nimrod, a more dignified despot; Korah, a bolder and more enterprising capitalist; Pharaoh, a more balanced bigot; Socrates, a more disciplined thinker; Leonardo, a deeper and more visionary artist; Shakespeare, a more imaginative and compelling author; Goethe, a more eminent observer of the human condition; Nietzsche, a more daring rebel; and Sartre, a more unreserved and uncompromising analyst of the self.

Yet today, neither the intellectuals who consider themselves completely free from superstition nor those devoted to spirituality and meaning, who believe they have grasped religion and metaphysics in all their depth, have achieved any success remotely comparable to that of their predecessors—despite all the modern means at their disposal. More than mere lack of success, both groups – the materialists whose reasoning is reduced to what their eyes can see and who seek everything within the material world, and the spiritualists who view themselves as tasked with reducing everything to abstract meaning, prove to be strikingly shallow in judgment, exceedingly indecisive in resolve and willpower, far behind those of earlier civilizations in regard for human values, and are exceedingly capricious in their whims and desires.

Each morning, they fall captive to one current, and each evening they become enamored of another sentiment; thus, always in flux, perpetually unstable. At times, they are atheistic and nihilistic; at other times capitalistic and liberal. Sometimes they are meek, bent double before powers they cannot overcome; at other times unruly and rebellious. Yet, in all cases, they remain unbalanced and without direction. It is therefore inevitable that such people will, at any moment, be swept away by a different tide and dragged into the unknown, or be crushed beneath the weight of some error. And no one will be able to save these unfortunate souls, scattered and reduced to nothing like autumn leaves blown by the winds of their dark fortune.

Presumably, those who can perceive this social derailment—perhaps better described as a kind of societal paranoia— with its looming future ramifications must have already begun to tremble at the thought. Yet no matter how much one trembles, the ideas put forward in the name of remedy and solution always circle back to doctrines like socialism, capitalism, and liberalism. Until the true center of the dysfunction and the real causes of these deviations are identified, I believe we will continue to revolve within this vicious circle, and society will never truly escape crisis.

Indeed, as society frees itself from political turmoil, it will drift into economic crises; as it overcomes military impasses, it will be dragged into administrative chaos. Within these suffocating “vicious cycles” that continually consume us, society will perish and crumble. If, in the coming days, actions continue to proceed with this same reasoning—or rather, this lack of reasoning—we will not make the slightest progress. Panels and conferences will inevitably return to the familiar dichotomy of “individual” and “state.” Debates on what to choose, a libertarian order or a statist system, a capitalist structure or a socialist administration, will never be surpassed. And afterward will come endless dialectics, endless logical games, until we finally see that we are merely tracing circles around our own egotism with so many years lost and possibilities wasted.

If you wish, let us now try to present some of the matters that humanity, over the past few centuries, ought to have addressed but, for various reasons, has failed to accomplish.

Despite numerous attempts at renewal over the past one or two centuries, societies have struggled to establish coherent moral systems rooted in their own cultural foundations and have been unable to develop and systematize sound metaphysical frameworks. They have not produced artistic visions capable of reflecting the inner world in relation to God, the universe, and the human being; nor have they succeeded in developing models of education and moral formation aligned with the deeper roots of their spiritual heritage.

At the heart of nearly every moral system lie three essential elements: sound belief, a well-established sense of freedom, and a deeply rooted sense of responsibility. All of these are closely connected to metaphysical thought. In a society where belief is rejected, individuals are deprived of their sense of freedom, and where responsibility is stripped from the heart, it becomes impossible to speak meaningfully about metaphysics. And without metaphysics, morality itself cannot survive.

When societies fail to develop a coherent metaphysical framework, and when individuals cannot shape their inner identity in light of deeper meaning, the result is inevitable. Over time, they lose their spiritual vitality and guiding beliefs, and eventually they struggle even to sustain their moral and cultural continuity.

Yet we ourselves have dried up the once-abundant sources of life that nourished us throughout history, and having done so, we turned almost entirely to reliance on borrowed ideas. So much so that the strange notion of nationalism we brought from all corners of the world and tried to impose on everyone, along with peculiar philosophies of life and distorted understandings of art that wound the spirit, have confused our collective memory. By extinguishing our own torches that had been shining for thousands of years, we surrendered to darkness, much like bats retreating from the light.

Now, what we need is not this or that person, nor this or that philosophy, but a vital prescription that can restore our lost spirit—one that will rescue us from the whirlpools of uncertainty and guide us toward a renewed love of truth, a renewed understanding of science, and a deeper mode of thought, all within the framework of our own moral foundations, understanding, and inherited wisdom. This prescription is drawn from metaphysical reflections distilled from centuries of lived experience, an otherworldly-oriented philosophy of life, and a voice grounded in Prophethood that speaks to the reality of God, the universe, and the human being. I believe that until we reclaim these lost values, it will not be possible for us to find our own style, determine our true position, or free ourselves from deviations of thought.

Your essence is even loftier than angels.
Hidden in you are spheres and compacted globes
Mehmed Akif

The human is the main subject of every philosophical and scientific view. Neither any philosophy nor any science can be developed without taking human beings into consideration. With both physical and metaphysical sides, the human being is the ultimate subject of all sciences, and all avenues of investigation can be evaluated in relation to their significance for human dignity.

Sciences explore different human qualities, through the various branches, in books that multiply continuously, overflow, and diffuse light all over.

The body shape and function of the human is so perfectly adjusted that it marks an unbelievably ideal structure. Whichever organ we may study, it is impossible not to feel admiration before its anatomy.

And the depth of the inner world of a person has such rich potential to develop, and the potential to keep developing dimensions within; a complicated brain and a spirit with an elusive essence that evades material measure; and then the perfectly harmonious relation of these two phenomena-the physical and the spiritual together. . . mysterious beings… Within everything are meanings crystallized from the hues in the corona of that magnificent artwork-the human and her dignity.

Here, we will neither touch on this magnificent corporeality, nor delve into the inner dimensions of an individual we can hardly sense in any event. Instead, we are going to mention a few potentials and abilities that dignify the human.

The human is a difficult creature to understand in all qualities. The complexities begin from the day of we come into this world and continue. Except for the human, every creature comes to this world as if already trained about life. As for human beings, in spite of being the most magnificent and esteemed creatures, we are born devoid of all these inherent gifts and functions necessary for life. Everything that goes beyond the mechanical order of physicality develops in a person thanks to reason, mind, will, freedom, sense, and introspection. Thus, a person maintains the unity of inner and outer reality, and only in this way does an individual attain selfhood.

These potentialities, which exist in all human beings as an intention and a herald of being a great figure in the future, can only flourish through training and education. Discovering dignity requires introspection and self-criticism. Leaving a person alone to whatever whims come along means leaving one in a most miserable condition. A seed or group of seeds needs to be cultivated to grow into the most perfect thing it is intended to be. As the lion comes to the world with the paw it needs, and the cattle with horns, a person arrives in the world needing to cultivate all means to preserve one’s self, to flourish, and to work together toward mutual dignity.

A person should use his insight and intellect, will and reason and then invent things to obtain what is beneficial and avoid what is harmful. Thus she establishes both an individual and social world, where she can find serenity. And then persons can pass to future generations the works they formed and the values they established, so that dignity can be preserved in both heart and mind.

It is natural for a person to do these things, because we are not concerned with the very moment only. Past and future are always vivid along with the present and are pieces of any existent reality. For this reason, even though those who have contributed to the development of thought and science throughout history could not personally see the fruits of their efforts, they did not feel languor and give up working. They worked and strived for humanity, leaving an immense heritage in the name of knowledge and culture. If it weren’t so, we would neither be able to talk about science nor civilization on earth.

In addition to sciences, accumulation of knowledge, and heritage of civilization, human dignity, human perfection and virtue are the fruit of human efforts again. Developing potentialities, regulating human behavior, channeling people to good and virtuous paths are the results of human effort. All through history, one generation after another inherited the refined manners and quest for dignity of the previous generation and took it as a duty to improve it. In this respect, the greatest gift the former generations presented to the latter was teaching good manners and edification of human dignity! Edification prevents a person from being diverted from human dignity due to base inclinations. By setting the frame of acts and activities, edification prevents any individual from running wild and degenerating. At the same time, edification helps develop the potentialities every human comes equipped. Edification helps the capabilities hidden in human spirit to be unearthed and to flourish.

There are always seeds of the good and beautiful in us; seeds of the bad and ugliness are non-existent. Even feelings like lust, rage, and revenge in a way can be seen as sprouts for indirect beautiful outcomes. However, one thing should not be forgotten: that as the beauty of everything positive or negative is the result of some edification, true human dignity depends on edification again. We need edification to make our reason, will, and introspection to utilize all their functions. Edification dignifies humanity above animal existence. Edification allows us a degree of autonomy before nature, which operates according to rules of causality. Through edification, the human can be dignified by being attached to the Absolute, Free, and Sovereign One. This distinguishing trait is developed through being a rational creature possessing will and introspection.

Reason, as defined in philosophy, is to be able to derive particularities from general conditions by framing laws and principles. So it is this power of reasoning that underlies the basis of the difference between beast and human. Reason is the prime faculty that makes us human; however, it is not given in its perfected form and matured condition, but in a simple and potential state. A person has to elaborate what makes us different from animals and make this potential flourish. When reason becomes a corridor between the inner and outer worlds, it gains a totally different identity. If we call this a combination of finding oneself and being found, then the conscience plays the role of a “reason” which makes our judgments of deeds and shows us which way to act. The ultimate aim and the loftiest ideal of reason-the ultimate source of human dignity-is coming to knowledge of the Divine. The reason or mind which has come to know God attains wisdom and undertakes conscientious responsibilities that promote the dignity of all.

One of the qualities that make a person human is freedom; in other words, we have the capacity to decide our own acts. We possess an active reason. We have “autonomy.” This way, a person supersedes the rest of creation, living or non-living; this brings us not only the ability to control our acts, but accountability for them. It is not possible to explain morality and immorality without taking freedom and human will into consideration. Sheer materialist and positivist accounts of human beings, which see us as machines and deny free will, lead to superficial and banal conclusions.

So it seems that we are obliged to accept that each person has a free and independent side, namely, there is a dimension which is not determined by laws in nature and which constitutes a basis for morality. Ultimately, this freedom results from being the addressee of a divine authority, leads to the need to carry out the responsibilities that correspond to this dignified position, which means discerning right from wrong based on both extrinsic and intrinsic reasoning.

This dignity merges cognitions about the outer world with introspection. A meaningful, dignified life is like a ray of light that provides its own verification. Dignity opens inlets to the beyond of the realm of possibility. It is as if one feels an ascent (“miraj”) from the dimensions of the present space. Such an ascension-depending on the circulation of the mind, stability of the will, and soundness of contemplation-is possible for every individual. Each of us takes a share from this dignity according to the capacity of the bowl in our hands and the heavenly drink it contains.

And further beyond, there is such a point, which the most perfected figures, the most magnificent wills, and those of deepest introspection and spiritual delight reach: it is the contemplation of the matchless beauty of our magnificent Creator who makes us feel His being beyond our own, makes us feel His Will beyond ours and who lets us enjoy this bliss.

For centuries, generations have been alien and indifferent to this lofty journey. Making people conscious of their dignified essence, letting reason flourish and vitalizing the will, purifying human feelings and maintaining our contact with the rest of creation: this is a duty upon our eminent educators.

Here I address once more those who are responsible for training the new generations. Do not delay guiding them to the values that render us truly human. That is our responsibility before history: to promote the dignity that keeps us from destroying each other.