The Divine Thread: How to Be a Garment in a World of Disposable Love

The Divine Thread: How to Be a Garment in a World of Disposable Love

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

I was once told by an elder something that didn’t resonate until years later. “In a relationship,” he said, “you should be one another’s garments.”

At the time, I didn’t fully grasp what he meant. I just nodded politely and moved on, chalking it up to one of those things old folks say in passing, wrapped in code, draped in parables.

But life, in all its wisdom, brought that elder to me again in a different setting. His eyes had seen storms. His voice carried the weight of time. And again he said, “You should be the garments of the person you love.”

Some of you might say, “Kateb, why don’t you just get to the point?

Why always speak in code and symbols? Why wrap your words in layers of meaning?”

With all due respect, I’ll always speak that way. Because that’s who I am. That’s how the Creator speaks to me, and through me. In symbols. In echoes. In whispers that dance like wind through the trees.

Now back to garments.

Think deeply. Garments. What are garments?

They keep us warm when it’s cold. They protect us from ultraviolet rays when the sun bears down hard. They shield us from wind and sand. They enhance our beauty, yes, but they also hide our nakedness, our private places, our scars. They allow us to face the world clothed in confidence.

So too, in a sacred relationship, should we be garments for one another. We should offer comfort when the world turns cold. We should provide spiritual protection when our partner is exposed to harshness. We should enhance not dim the beauty in one another. We should help cover each other’s weaknesses, not expose them to ridicule.

But not just any garment. No, not those cheap ones you find online for $2.99. They might look cute at first. But run them through one cycle in the washing machine of life and they fall apart, unravel at the seams. We need to be quality garments woven with patience, dyed with understanding, stitched with faith.

I was also taught: If you connect with a person just for their looks, they will make you ugly. If you get with a person because of their money, they will make you poor. And if you enter a relationship for sexual gratification alone, your bond will last no longer than those biodegradable packing peanuts in an Amazon package left out in a heavy rain.

Let me unpack that.

If you connect with someone for their looks what happens when age comes knocking? When time writes lines upon their face, or gravity tugs at what once stood high? If that was the thread holding you together, it unravels quickly.

But worse, if you only value surface, you begin to devalue the soul. And in the end, both of you become ugly not in body, but in spirit. You become resentful. You become cold. You compare them to illusions and begin to hate your own reflection.

If you get with a person because of their money, you’re not building a union, you’re forming a transaction. And money, as sweet as it seems, is unstable.

A lost job, a financial downturn, a moment of misfortune and what do you have left? Emptiness. Because love built on wealth is a house without a foundation. It falls, and you fall with it. Worse, greed starts whispering in your ear. It tells you you’re not enough. You feel poor not in wallet but in worth.

And if sex is the glue holding you together remember that sex, while powerful, is not everlasting. It’s a spark, not a fireplace. It can light a flame but can’t keep it burning without fuel. A bond based on lust withers.

Just like those packing peanuts fun at first, but dissolve at the first real storm. One argument. One bad day. One season of no intimacy and the connection turns to dust.

What then should be the foundation?

The true measure of connection should be the connection that person has with the Creator. Their faith. Their heart posture. Their spirit.

That is the only foundation love can be built on.

This kind of foundation is stronger than Number 12 concrete. It doesn’t crack under pressure. The frame of this house of love isn’t wood no termites eating away at it. It’s made of steel beams. Forged in prayer. Tempered in grace. Welded with compassion.

Let me give you a parable to help this all settle in your spirit.

There once was a young couple who built a house in a valley. They decorated it with golden lamps, marble floors, velvet curtains.

The neighbors admired it, envied it even. But they had skimped on the foundation. The soil was soft, the supports shallow. One day, a storm came. The rain fell like judgment.

The winds howled like ancient spirits. And the house collapsed.

Not because it wasn’t beautiful. But because it wasn’t grounded.

Now, nearby lived an old couple. Their house was modest. Wooden walls. No granite countertops. No chandeliers. But they had dug deep.

Their foundation was set upon stone. The woman prayed over every beam. The man whispered blessings into every nail. And when the same storm came, that house stood firm. The windows may have rattled, but the structure remained. Because it was built on something eternal.

Be like that second couple.

Build with spirit. Build with prayer. Be one another’s garments. Clothe each other in mercy. Wrap each other in patience. Button each other up with truth.

Don’t just seek a partner. Seek a purpose partner. Someone who’ll sit with you in silence and still hear your soul. Someone who covers you when the world tries to strip you bare. Someone who walks with the Creator, so they’ll know how to walk with you.

In this journey of love, remember this: Attraction may draw you in, but connection will keep you. Money may feed you for a moment, but faith will sustain you through famine. Sex may spark the fire, but spirit is what keeps it burning.

Be the garment. Be the warmth. Be the covering. Be the love that doesn’t unravel.

And always, always, let the Creator be the tailor.

This reflection is written from my heart, deep within. Every word carries my passion, my pain, my truth, and my hope for you, the reader. I don’t write just to write I write to awaken, to stir the soul, to plant seeds that bloom in the hearts of those willing to listen. My love for this reflection comes from knowing what it’s like to search for depth in shallow waters, to yearn for connection that doesn’t fade with time.

I’m here to write to the world.

I know my works will reach many and last for generations even eons. I’m not saying I’m holy or divine. I’m not better than anyone. But I know my calling. And like those before me those scribes of spirit, those prophets of poetry, those healers of the soul I am them. I mean, I too will flow down the rivers of inspiration, aspirations, and wisdom.

So take these words, not just as a message, but as a garment. May they cover you, protect you, and keep you warm on your journey.

Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

Remember, beloved souls

You may not have it all in the eyes of the world,

but you still rise, crowned in unseen glory.

Stand tall in grace,

and give thanks for the treasures you carry within.