The Loss of Unity: A Personal Journey

A serene workspace lit by warm golden light. On the table lie intricate geometric patterns drawn on large sheets of paper, a Qur’an open beside them. In the background, a faint silhouette of a clock suggests the passage of time, while rays of light emerge from the center of the geometric designs, symbolizing the unification of the heart, mind, and spirit.
The Loss of Unity: A Personal Journey

It was around the 2nd of Muharram in Toronto. At a commemoration ceremony, Sayyid Mahdi Modaressi spoke on the big screen:

“Time is moving forward. If we do not progress, we will die, because time does not stand still. We must move with time.”

Those words anchored something I had been carrying silently for years. Back in 2006, I had asked myself — or the universe — how do we outrun time?

It took nearly two decades to uncover the answer. What began to emerge was that to outrun time is not to fight it but to expand ourselves — to grow inwardly, so that we are no longer crushed by the entropy the world is heading toward. At the point where this expansion connects with the One who can take us further, we discover that we have not been moving against time, but beyond it.

This intention to bridge the gap — between ourselves and the living Imam (atfs), between the fragmentation of our age and the awaited wholeness — drove everything that followed.

I returned to sacred geometry, working on cosmological patterns of creation for hours every day. At the same time, I immersed myself in the Qur’an: fifty verses in Arabic daily, along with Ziyarat Ashura three times and other devotions that formed the foundation of my practice.

Gradually, something began to unfold. I realized that the rift — the “loss of unity” — was not just historical or spiritual but structural. Our left and right brain hemispheres, divided in their functions, had given rise to the popular idea of being “left-brained” or “right-brained.” The manifestations were real, but they revealed a misalignment from the harmony we were designed for.

Worse, I saw that the brain itself had become disconnected from the heart. This was when my early understanding of certain modern conditions, like autism, began to take shape.

Sacred geometry, I discovered, was not simply a study of patterns. It was a practice of re-alignment — a structural, holistic discipline that begins to unify the heart, the brain, and the inner eye into a single, coherent whole.

And perhaps this is what it truly means to move with time rather than be destroyed by it.

In fact I had discovered sacred geometry 10 years before Drumvalo Malchizedek.  He did not know what it was at that time, and it was shown to him through a series of connections.  Mine was guided.



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