Remembrance. The sacred act of contemplating the Divine as opposed to daily life and its struggles.
For nine years now, as a wanderer on the Sant Mat path, I’ve drifted between the unseen and the seen—sailing the mystic tides as much as trudging the earthly soil. Generations of my family have always leaned toward spirituality over religion, walking with masters who spoke of unity, not division. Raised in a home where difference was called beautiful and rarely dangerous, I now experience each human I meet as a doorway to God’s love, albeit in different shades.
Zikr. Simran. Naam. Jap. Jesus Prayer. Nembutsu. All are names of the one sacred act of Remembrance. Each word is different, yet it is the same like a hand knocking on the same hidden door inside the heart of each one of us. Sometimes when I whisper the Name, it feels like a hand on my chest, calming me down, supporting me, telling me that it is with me through all. It feels like I am breathing with the universe.
There is a shimmering thread that runs through many traditions and religions: repeating the Name, holding God in our mind, letting remembrance of the divine polish the heart until it shines.
I used to think, ‘How can we remember something or someone when we don’t even know what they feel or look like?’ It seems to be the prerogative of the ascetics, the mystics, the monks…but someone like me? …hmm.
It took me years to realize that humans, by their very nature, have a natural tendency to remember. (Think of the last time you fell for someone and tell me you didn’t replay EVERY single thing about them in your head, from the way they laughed, to the style of their texts, to the hidden gazes they gave you or the winks- I know I do).
Many Tongues, One Song
In many traditions, almost across all mystical lineages, there is a sacred act of remembering.
- In Sufism (Islam), it is Dhikr/Zikr — Remember Often.
- In Sikh Dharma (or Sant Mat), it is Simran/ Naam — Remember the Name.
- In Hindu Traditions, it is Jap/Smaran — Remember me…Do your Duty.
- In Buddhism, it is Nembutsu/ Nianfo — Calling the Name.
- In Eastern Christianity, it is Hesychasm & the Jesus Prayer — Pray Without Ceasing.
- In Judaism, it is Devekut/ Zikaron? Hitbodedut — Keep God Before Me Always.
- In the Bahá’í, it is Allah-u-Abha, Remembrance, and the Greatest Name.
Notice how all have a thread of remembrance, weaving through them.
Braided Traditions
Sikhs remember with what they call Simran, the sweet repetition of the Divine Name “Wah-e-Guru”- Waheguru. It rolls through tongue and breath, a current that sanctifies even the most mundane of acts— chores, tending fields, singing with children. It adds a layer of divinity to everything simply by the invocation of this Name.
In Sant Mat traditions, simran is mostly a secret mantra, repeated silently while sitting in meditation until it threads into the pulse of our being.
Meditate on His Name, that your body and mind may blossom. – Guru Nanak
In Sufism, remembrance is akin to the polishing of the soul. Dhikr may be whispered silently, as the Naqshbandis teach, or sung aloud in circles and drums. Some repeat Allah, others Hu (He), until the Name seeps within the veins and pulses of their being, until it becomes a flame that burns on its own.
In Hindu practice, remembrance takes the form of Jap—mantra repetition that could be done with beads, breath, or mind. “Krishna”, “Om Namah Shivaya”, “Ram”— each Name becomes a seed sound planted within the garden of our psyche. The Gita encourages remembering while acting in daily life.
In Eastern Christianity, remembrance whispers through the Jesus prayer “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.”. The monks of Mount Athos link it to breath until the words repeat themselves of their own accord. This is called hesychia— holy stillness. To pray without ceasing is a practice.
In Buddhism, Pure Land Buddhists call upon the Buddha of Infinite Light: “Namu Amida Butsu”. It is an invocation of faith; for others, it is a spell for gratitude. The repetition creates a bridge between this fragile life and the boundless field of compassion. It is believed to steady the heart during trying times.
In Jewish mysticism, the verb z-k-r— to remember—runs like a spine through tradition. From Hasidim, to Rebbe Nachman, to King David’s psalm, it is an anchor: “I keep the Lord always before me.”.
Across these traditions, remembrance shapes us from the inside out. It is a call for gratitude, an alert for love, a scream for help, or even a gesture of humility in greatness. It steadies the mind like a mantra in yoga. It softens the heart, breaks the walls that we have built around ourselves and our homes, our cities, our countries. It cleans the mirror of the heart, like sufi dhikr. It binds ordinary work to extraordinary presence, like the Gita’s smarana. Most of all, it encourages an ethical spillover where speech and choices point towards congruence within the world (all traditions stress this fruit).
When a Sikh repeats Waheguru silently as she kneads dough, it mirrors the Naqshbandi’s silent dhikr bound to the breath. When an orthodox monk whispers ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy‘ with every inhale, it recalls the bhakta with her mala circling Rama’s name bead by bead.
Neuroscientists say repetition rewires attention networks in the brain. Mystics say repetition burns away the ego. Both are true. What remains is simple: a self that remembers more love than it forgets.
Let Remembrance Call You Back
Choose a name that feels most like “home” to you.
Sit, breathe, taste the word on your tongue.
Sit simply, let your spine be dignified, pair the phrase with your breath. (Don’t focus on your breath too much, trust me, if you’re like me, you’ll probably end up hyperventilating)
Feel it. Let it be inhaled and exhaled.
If you feel like it, whisper it; if not, repeat it mentally, or if you feel extra powerful, say it out loud.
Sit for as long as you want to
Let the phrase fall away and sit still for a few minutes, bathing in the aftermath of the echoes of the phrase.
Remembrance remembering itself.
‘Pray without Ceasing’ – Paul
Call it Zikr, Japa, Simran, Nembutsu—each word is a dip into the same well. The cup may be different, the hands holding it may be different, but the water quenches nonetheless. To remember is to return, again and again, to the Beloved who never left your hand, even if you did from time to time.
External Links
- As Rumi said: “There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground; there are a thousand ways to go home again.” — Click here for a Compilation of prayers across traditions worldwide.
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