Naeem's Blog

As I was repeating some of the Prophetic adkhar the other day, I began wondering why we Muslims are so obsessed with the continuous remembrance of our Creator.

Surely Allah (swt) is in no need whatsoever of our verbal recitals of His Perfection.

Nor are we attempting to repay the impossible debt owed to our Sustainer.

Good deeds, maybe? Sure, we all accrue badly needed good deeds for our day of accountability in front of our Lord. But there are so many other ways to do so – including ways that may additionally benefit others (charity, visiting the sick, helping the environment, etc.).

I think most people, who regularly recite the name of Allah in the various forms of dhikr, believe they are achieving higher states of spirituality. Actualizing a state of constant divine remembrance is undoubtedly one of our greatest aspirations - a means of realizing divine nearness (qurbah).

But I had an epiphany about another possible explanation for repeating over and over and over the praise and glorification of Allah (swt).

It’s akin to the athlete (or any type of performer for that matter) who practices for countless hours shooting the basketball or kicking the football or practicing whatever his sport/art may be. His goal is to perfect that action, not for the sake of itself, but in preparation for that one moment when it will be most required.

For that one moment, in the heat of the battle, when the game is on the line, in front of thousands of spectators, in the face of an equally determined adversary, when he will either succeed or fail.

The more sweat, blood, and tears that he has poured into his practice sessions; the more likely he will succeed. His actions in the game will become automatic and simply an extension of his being. His movements will come to him naturally. His performance will flow effortlessly. While concentrating on the goal, all distractions will melt away and his perfected form will smoothly enable him to succeed.

Similarly, we are all in an epic battle against our avowed enemy. When he comes knocking on the door of our hearts, with his minions in tow, we will come under his sustained attacks – anger, jealousy, arrogance, miserliness, hatred, sloth, indulgence. That is when our countless hours of dhikr will come to our defense. We must be prepared to call on Allah (swt) without a second thought. We must all become like Yusuf (as), when he instinctively called to Allah (“Ma’adh-Allah!”) in the face of devastating temptation.

When the pressure is on, spurred on by the whisperings of an enemy who knows our weaknesses better than we know ourselves, we have not the luxury to step back and reflect on our situation.

We must react.
We can’t call a timeout.
We can’t look to teammates for assistance.
We can’t ask the coach for guidance.
We are in the spotlight and we must respond.

And only those who have “practiced” - losing sleep, forgoing food, repeating dhikr ad infinitum, sacrificing countless delights and pleasures – only they will react with composure.

Under the immense pressure of the situation,
when a spouse unjustly reproaches them or
when an unexpected compliment threatens their ego or
when their parent undeservedly disparages them or
when their sibling purchases the same car they’ve been dreaming of,
only those who have put in the effort will intuitively call on Allah (swt) instead of succumbing to the calls of their lower selves.

Every now and then, we are struck with gentle reminders by the Most Subtle - Al-Lateef - (swt) that our fast-paced life is not the most conducive way to gain nearness to Him. This video is one of those reminder:


(h/t Deenport)

All too often we take our Wudu for granted, whizzing through it without any sense of spiritual awareness. Even this most basic act of worship, which many of us learned in our childhood, has the potential to be a refreshing spiritual experience.

But only if we allow it.

I found this video very effective in injecting some life into one of my more 'programmed' acts of worship. I really need more humanity in my worship. I guess that's what happens when we gain all our knowledge from books and mp3 lectures.

(Sigh)

It is well known that in the Islamic Spiritual Sciences destroying one’s nafs is the key to Paradise. As one sheikh stated, “Eternal bliss is achieved in two steps. First, step on your nafs, then take the next step into Jannah.”

And it was with this in mind that I read this NY Times op-ed piece, ‘It’s Not About You.’ David Brooks writes about the outgoing class of college graduates who have been misled by baby-boomer theology oozing with ill-advised individualism: “Follow your passion, chart your own course, march to the beat of your own drummer, follow your dreams and find yourself.”

He talks about a world that operates on individuals committing to something – a family, a job, a cause – but this new generation (I would argue this extends to the past few generations) is being brainwashed with talk of freedom, autonomy, “finding your passion and pursuing your dreams”.

“Most of us are egotistical and most are self-concerned most of the time, but it’s nonetheless true that life comes to a point only in those moments when the self dissolves into some task.”

While the author didn’t have this in mind, the ultimate goal for a Muslim is to dissolve his/her self (nafs) not into some task, but into pleasing Allah (swt). And by way of centuries of experience gained by the masters of the spiritual path, we have come to know that one cannot satisfy one’s self while struggling to satisfy one’s Lord. It can only be one or the other.

That’s why I love how the author wraps up his piece:

“The purpose in life is not to find yourself. It’s to lose yourself.”

Lose yourself in the struggle for the company of Allah (swt).
Lose yourself in the company of Allah (swt).
Lose yourself in Allah (swt).

After all, isn’t that the supreme aspiration defined by the one who most perfectly embodied this process of losing one’s self, the Prophet (saw), when he uttered these sublime words of Allah (swt) in a famous hadith qudsi:

“...and My slave keeps on coming closer to Me through performing Nawafil (extra deeds besides what is obligatory) till I love him. When I love him I become his hearing with which he hears, his seeing with which he sees, his hand with which he strikes, and his leg with which he walks...".

Two of the most basic and powerful words of dhikr, known even to Muslim pre-schoolers, are the beautiful words SubhanAllah (سبحان الله ) and Alhamdul-Illah (الحمد لله) . Found sprinkled throughout the Quran and Prophetic sayings, the former is often translated as ‘Glory be to Allah’, while the latter as ‘Praise to Allah’.

And ever since ever, I’ve always had a difficult time internalizing these two most fundamental words of divine remembrance.

What does it really mean to Glorify Allah? After all, the entire heavens and earth are in a constant state of divine glorification. How can I join them, notwithstanding my mere vocalization of the term? Why are these two terms so often found interconnected? How are the two different from each other? Glory is in some ways similar to Praise, so aren’t these two adhkaar (pl. dhikr) somewhat redundant?

I felt that I needed a deeper connection with these two terms. And the common translations and explanations simply weren’t cutting it.

Until I heard a recent lecture where the speaker really broke it down in a most effective manner.

He explained that SubhanAllah is declaring Allah’s purity. Allah (swt) is pure from all negative qualities. He is free from all deficiencies. He is void of all defects - defects we may commonly associate with His creation. Thus, we are affirming Allah’s divinity by freeing Him of any and all anthropomorphic qualities.

He is free from all that is Evil.

And when we follow it with Alhamdul-Illah, we are praising Allah for all His positive traits. After having removed the possibility of any negative qualities, we are now declaring that He is perfect in all His positive qualities. He is perfect in His power, His knowledge, His mercy, His love, His sight, His hearing, and so on.

He is perfect in all that is Good.

While the former negates, the latter affirms.
While the former voids, the latter validates.
While the former empties, the latter fills.

Together, they form the perfect symbiotic relationship of words to describe and praise Allah (swt).

A while back I posted on the Joy of Boredom and how it's actually very productive to experience extended moments of 'nothing'.

That's why I found myself so enthralled by this speech given to the incoming class at historic West Point Military Academy. William Deresiewicz speaks about moments of solitude being critical in developing an individual's own thoughts and ideas.

I would only add that in addition to everything the speaker said, imagine the power of solitude when combined with the 'company' of Allah (swt). After all, the concepts of khalwa (solitude) and muraqabah (isolated introspection) resonate throughout the spiritual teachings of our deen.

Indeed it is a sad reflection of our times (and of ourselves, moreso) that so many of us are simply incapable of sitting alone with just our thoughts and Allah (swt). We are constantly in need of external sources of stimulation. We are constantly in search of ways to avoid being alone with ourselves. Solitude is seen as a waste of valuable time. It has been deemed 'inefficient' by the calculus of modern society. But how else can we ever travel down the path of deep reflection and introspection?

And seeing that many of us are parents, the essence of this lecture ought to be passed along to our next generation.

Here's the link:

http://www.theamericanscholar.org/solitude-and-leadership/

And here's a taste of what he says:

"You can just as easily consider this lecture to be about concentration as about solitude. Think about what the word means. It means gathering yourself together into a single point rather than letting yourself be dispersed everywhere into a cloud of electronic and social input. It seems to me that Facebook and Twitter and YouTube—and just so you don’t think this is a generational thing, TV and radio and magazines and even newspapers, too—are all ultimately just an elaborate excuse to run away from yourself. To avoid the difficult and troubling questions that being human throws in your way. Am I doing the right thing with my life? Do I believe the things I was taught as a child? What do the words I live by—words like duty, honor, and country—really mean? Am I happy?"

"Multitasking, in short, is not only not thinking, it impairs your ability to think. Thinking means concentrating on one thing long enough to develop an idea about it. Not learning other people's ideas, or memorizing a body of information, however much those may sometimes be useful. Developing your own ideas. In short, thinking for yourself. You simply cannot do that in bursts of 20 seconds at a time, constantly interrupted by Facebook messages or Twitter tweets, or fiddling with your iPod, or watching something on YouTube."

This is a repost from several years ago. Considering my current state of spiritual affairs, I felt this post to be timely. Maybe some of you may feel the same way.

Enjoy!

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Riyadh is a very dusty city; sandy would be a better word if only it didn't sound so feminine. Being situated in the middle of a desert might explain this oh-so-special trait of Riyadh. Sandstorms sweep through on a weekly, sometimes nightly basis. Makes for a funtime if you like the grit of sand between your teeth. The geographical location of this oasis city results in a very trying time for those who are allergically sensitive to dust. And I am allergically sensitive to dust.

Recently its gotten too much, especially in the early mornings. I'm waking up with a tissue in my hand, eyes watering and nose dripping. Its hard enough waking for Fajr at 3:30 in the morning, but its even harder with these allergies beckoning me back to sleep.

I can tough it out I think to myself. It'll go away. It always goes away. But never without a fight.

But man, this time its tough. My allergy attacks never lasted more than a couple days and here I am going on day four with no sign of relief. If I'm not blowing my nose, I'm sneezing.

Don't get me wrong, sneezing isn't always a bad thing. The body always benefits from this indiscriminate system reboot. After all, when Allah(swt) blew the spirit into Adam, he sneezed followed by a hearty 'Praise be to Allah'. So I like the occasional sneeze. Just not when I'm trying to snuggle into my inviting bed of dhikr wearing my cozy pajamas of taqwa waiting to savor every sip of my hot cup of Divine Love.

Go away, you unwelcome vagabond! This is supposed to me my personal quiet time. I’ve been making excuses for the past several months that I’ll get my spiritual mojo back come summer. I just need some silence and stillness I convinced myself, and I’ll be back dancing with the angels, cloud hopping in the presence of my beloved (saw), drunk with the dhikr of Allah.

Oh how I yearn for those days of intense inner tranquility when I found my soul in sync with my surroundings – all peace all the time. I want back my early morning Tahajjud prayers but these allergies are mockingly denying me, ‘Thank your Lord you’re catching Fajr.’ I want to revisit the sweet silence of sajdah (prostration), but my throbbing sinuses are screaming, ‘Get up you moron or I’m going to implode your head!’ I want my free-flowing tears back, but all my puffy eyes have to offer are annoying watery bubbles. I’ve foolishly planned all year for this moment, *my* moment, naively thinking spiritual ecstasy can be summoned like a genie from the lamp.

And here some stupid specks of sand are sullying my immature aspirations. Ah, the justice of it all.

Day four and I’m getting desperate.

I finally turn to Him. How sad that I only knock on His door when I’m desperate, when all else has failed but that’s the least of my worries right now.

"Ya Allah, please help me. Please help me for no other reason but to allow me to begin my journey back to You."

Blank. I stammer and stutter only to append some hollow prayers that I memorized in Sunday School.

Huh? Is that all I can conjure up?! Is my inside so dry, parched from the heat of my lowly passions that I can’t even muster a respectable appeal? How pathetic!

Confident that they’ve found an ideal incubator, my allergies snicker at my paltry plea with a loud sneeze.

I have got to kickstart my heart after my embarrassingly long existential hibernation just so I can *begin* to put together some coherent thoughts in the presence of my Creator. I can’t even make the simplest prayer. Fitting I suppose. Can’t waltz right into the King’s court in your jammies with crusty eyes and nasty morning breath expecting His audience.

You fool! You get what you deserve.

For too long my desires have sucked my heart dry of its vitality. I have fueled my anger, overfed my stomach, allowed free reign to my tongue, and harbored thoughts unthinkable.

Woe am I! How I wish atonement for my heedlessness could be achieved by a hundred lashes to my heart. If it were just that simple.

Ya Allah, but why complicate my endeavor with such an unnecessary impediment? At least play fair. Remove the allergies and give me a fighting chance.

But then it hits me in the midst of my blasphemous tirade. Who am I to decide when and where and how I can approach the court of His Majesty? How arrogant of me to think that I can schedule my purification!

'Silly child, My door is always open to those in search of My Mercy, but those who wish to run in and out will find Me not so welcoming of the tracks made by their muddy shoes on the carpet of My Love'

These allergies are a gentle, loving rebuke by the Most Compassionate. It is His way of letting me know that this journey is not to be taken lightly as an amusement or a sport.

'Wipe your shoes at the door and don't go back out again.'

Day five and I wake up with nothing. I barely even noticed until I went down into sajdah and realized I could breath.

With tears I refused to hold back in a sajdah I refused to arise from, I cried 'You are so beautiful to me and I am so ugly to You. You give and You give while I take and I take. What has this despicable slave ever done to deserve Your attention? When will I ever be able to give back to You? How will I ever be able to give back to You?'

This is the story of my Divine Intervention.

That's six for those of you counting at home. All within a span of two months. All in (or close to) densely populated areas.

First there was the 7.0 magnitude earthquake in Haiti (1/12), then 7.0 Japan (2/26), then 8.8 Chile (2/27), then 6.4 Taiwan (3/4), then 6.5 Sumatra (3/5), and now 6.0 Turkey (3/8).

And of course the priests of our time, the scientists, are allaying people's fears by constantly telling us that earthquakes aren't on the rise according to their data.

"According to long-term records (which exist since about 1900), the U.S.G.S. expects that about 17 major earthquakes (magnitude 7.0 - 7.9) and one great earthquake (8.0 or above) will affect the world in any given year."

Sure the frequency may not be increasing but the location of these earthquakes, in populated areas, is definitely noteworthy.

"In an average year, the geological survey estimates that several million earthquakes occur around the world. However, many go undetected because they hit remote areas or have very small magnitudes."

So how come the location of these recent earthquakes is not being considered in the analysis? These quakes aren't taking place in remote parts of the Pacific Ocean - they are affecting millions and millions of people.

So what to make of this?

Regardless of what one may or may not conclude from these earthquakes, there must remain a place for the Divine in any related discussion. The fact that God has been removed from our discourse of these 'natural phenomenon' exposes our lacking epistemology, which places value only on the observable while turning a blind eye to role of the sacred. Worse yet, when God is injected into any explanation of these earthquakes, the response invariably is drenched in mockery and derision.

I say that Muslims buck this unfortunate trend and bring back other-worldly considerations to this-worldly occurrences. As Muslims, who place our Creator at the epicenter (pun intended) of our lives, such a callous attitude must be outrightly rejected.

I have a feeling that many of us are fearful of being lumped together with the right-wing fanatics (such as Pat Robertson) who are extremely loud in condemning the victims as sinful and thus deserving of the 'punishment'.

But it needn't be the case that the role of God is solely as Punisher. It isn't either you make calls for the Armageddon or you remove God completely from the picture. These quakes can serve as a reminder of the raw power of God or that one day we will face the same fate as those who perished or a Divine call to arms to help those suffering in the wake of the tragedy or so on.

But one thing is for sure - explanations of and discussions on these events must not be devoid of Allah (swt), even if the only result is a burst of pure emotion culminating in a reminder that we all have come from Him and to Him we shall all return.

Mrs. Jenkins* ruined me.

I wish I had never learned how the sunrise is a result of the Earth's rotation.

I wish I had never learned that earthquakes are caused by the movement of tectonic plates.

I wish I had never learned how rain comes from condensation of water vapor carried within clouds.

I wish I had never learned that lightning is the discharge of atmospheric electricity accumulated within clouds.

I wish I had never learned how seasons are a result of the Earth's orbit around the Sun.

I wish had never learned about the body's immune system, white blood cells and all that other physio-medical-biological crap.

Can you imagine how much sweeter my faith in Allah would have been if I attributed all these natural phenomena solely to His direct involvement in my life, instead of viewing them as some bio-chemical reactions?

Every sunrise would be a reminder how Allah has 'pulled' this blazing ball of fire out from the horizon.

Every deluge of rain would be an instant cause to run to prayer thanking Allah for the blessing.

Every earthquake or volcanic eruption would be an immediate reminder of Allah's power and wrath.

Sickness and health would be the domain of Allah, not doctors and pharmacists.

I'm convinced that pre-Industrial Age Muslims had a sweeter taste of Iman due to their lack of scientific knowledge. We may laugh off their ignorance and backwardness, but I'm sure they were stronger in Iman than most of us - they attributed all these mysterious occurrences in nature to God.

They had no other recourse. They didn't analyze and rationalize every single natural phenomenon.

They took them as communications from their Creator. The universe was one great blessing (or trial) after another.

Merely looking up at the sky would inspire immediate awe in them as how could Allah place above them this magical canopy without pillars or poles.

But for us, the sky is simply an empty vacuum we call space.

I imagine every spring renewing and re-energizing their faith by their mere witnessing of the dead plants coming back to life.

But not us - we see photosynthesis in action.

Just great.

Damn you Mrs. Jenkins.

*Original names have been altered to protect the identity of stupid 8th grade science teachers.

"Whoever reads a letter from the Book of Allah, he will have a reward. And that reward will be multiplied by ten. I am not saying that “Alif, Laam, Meem” is a letter, rather I am saying that “Alif” is a letter, “laam” is a letter and “meem” is a letter.” So increase your recitation of the Qur’an to gain these merits, and to gain the following merit as well." (Prophetic Teaching)

I was raised in a traditional Pakistani home. No, we didn't eat Pratha every morning. I’m talking about our relationship with the Quran.

My siblings and I learned to read the Quran in our early childhood, memorizing large portions, enabling us to recite at extremely high speeds – all the while never understanding a word. I was taught of the immense rewards for reciting the Quran and so I dutifully complied, reading as much as possible in an attempt to accumulate good deeds.

Later, when I went away to college, rationality found its way into my religion. I figured it made no sense that I was reading something I didn’t understand. I felt strongly, as many college students do when it comes to their under-developed thoughts, that reciting the Quran without understanding was a completely worthless endeavor.

And as many immature individuals are wont to do, I began to look down on those who differed from my newfound approach. I would pity the Bangladeshi man whizzing through his Quran recitation or arrogantly correct my aged Aunt who would dash through her litany of nightly dhikr.

I figured the only way to benefit from any act of worship is by *intellectually* internalizing it and this required a competent level of understanding what was being recited and contemplating over it.

I extended this line of thought to my dhikr. In my childhood I would witness my elder relatives whirring through their post-prayer dhikr (Subhan’Allah 33x, Alhamdul’Ilah 33x, and AllahuAkbar 34x) and naturally I adopted their methodology. However, in my college years, I felt dhikr performed at the speed of light was fruitless and instead opted for a more sedate approach, choosing to recite less and ponder more.

So while I used to rush to finish reciting the Quran during the 30 days of Ramadan, I chose instead to read less with an emphasis on studying the translation. Similarly, I stopped sprinting through my dhikr and lessened the load, reciting each term 5 or 6 times, focusing on the meaning rather than reciting it exactly 33 times.

I convinced myself that intellectual comprehension was the key to spiritual bliss.

After all, that is the only way to internalize worship, no? Through understanding, contemplation, and deep reflection, right?

Ahh, the rotten fruits of modern secular thought.

Thankfully, I've been blessed to be in the company of people who have freed themselves from these chains of backwards thinking.

I’ve learned that great spiritual blessings (barakah) are found in reciting the Quran and doing dhikr, regardless of the intellect's ability to process the content. As long as the heart and soul are focused on Allah (swt), the blessings of partaking in these blessed acts are beyond our measly rationale.

I now understand how special Godly individuals are able to recite the entire Quran in one week or three days or even one day. I understand how some select few are able to recite the Tahlil (La-Illaha-il-Allah) thousands of times each day.

For the heart moves at a pace which the brain can simply not maintain.

Blessings are not derived purely from understanding. The Prophet (saw) even said so.

When he taught us that reciting each letter of the Quran will bring about 10 blessings, the examples he gave – the beginning letters of Sura Baqarah (Alif, Lam, Mim) – are universally accepted as being beyond the understanding of man.

So according to our beloved Master, blessings reside in the recitation of something we will *never* understand.

Now, does this mean that we needn't ponder and reflect on what is being recited? Of course not.

I am simply stating that we mustn't belittle those speeding along the fast lane of the spiritual highway, without a care for their intellectually mandated speed limits.

Well, it's actually four, if you wanna include mine here. Cuz after all, it really is *my* post that is highlighting the beauty of these other three, so mine is actually the most beautiful of all, no?

Moving on...

1. Tim points out the frustrations of "the perpetual oscillation between right and wrong curtailing my spiritual growth".

Such ingratitude we display in our regular commission of sins and the even greater ingratitude we perpetrate by sinning after having begged Allah for His forgiveness!

As I commented on his blog, how I wish that I could live out all my hedonistic tendencies and carry out all my sins and then once and for all, return to my Lord with the utmost sincerity, instead of playing this back-and-forth game of sinning and repenting.

But then I'm reminded of the numerous ahadith detailing how Allah (swt) loves to forgive his repentant servants - one hadith going so far as to state that if mankind were to cease sinning, Allah (swt) would destroy them and bring back another people who would sin and seek His forgiveness.

So I'm in the clear, right?

Not really, I say to my silly self. All those teachings on repentance and Allah's forgiveness are geared to those who make sincere taubah (repentance), not the wishy-washy version that I put forth every other day, which finds me scheming my next sin before my crocodile tears have even dried.

That's why I wish I could simply accrue my mountain of sins and then turn to Allah with an unbreakable promise to never return to that wretched lifestyle ever again.

2. al-Kakazai writes about frivolous talk at the Dar-al-Hadith blog.

How often do we find ourselves in a sitting, discussing matters that are of absolutely no benefit? Dare I say too often?

I have partaken in numerous such occasions and I must confess that I get up from such gatherings feeling spiritually exhausted and weakened. Nary a mention of Allah (swt) or His bountiful blessings. How odd!

Socialization for the pure sake of entertainment is a very strange phenomenon.
So is conversation for the pure sake of passing time.

3. Baraka reminds me of the countless prayers that I've pleaded to my Lord, so many of which He has eventually answered, and I, in turn, have so callously forgotten to acknowledge these divine favors.

"We ask and we ask and we ask of God, and then forget that we did so, or forget to even thank Him when our prayers are answered."

A beautiful exchange between two special lovers of Allah (swt):

Imam Jafar as-Sadiq asked the famous saint Shaqiq al-Balkhi about the affairs of his people.

Shaqiq al-Balkhi replied, 'They are well. When they receive from the blessings of Allah (swt), they are thankful. And when they are tested with difficulty, they bear patiently.'

Imam Jafar frowned, replying 'Such is the state of dogs.'

And he continued, 'The state of true believers is that when they are showered with Allah's blessings, they give. And when they are tested, they are thankful.'

Most of us know about Prophet Musa’s (upon him be peace) attempt to see Allah (swt). After having spoken directly with Allah several times, Prophet Musa’s burning love for his Lord was such that he asked to see Him. Knowing full well man’s limitations, Allah (swt) warned him of the dire consequences of such an appeal.

So instead of manifesting Himself directly to Musa, Allah (swt) revealed His countenance to a mountain, which instantly crumbled at the divine Majesty of our Lord. As to Musa, the sight of the mountain crumbling caused him to pass out unconscious , proving that not only was he incapable of viewing Allah (swt) directly, he was unable to contend with the image of another creation seeing Allah. (reference Quran 7:143)

And so our dear Prophet Musa lived out the rest of his storybook life never having seen Allah (swt), nor His reflection.

But all of that changed on the night of Prophet Muhammad’s blessed Isra and Miraaj.

When our Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) was on his way back from the highest heaven, after having been in the company of Allah (swt) and having been given the command to pray 50 times each day, he met Prophet Musa.

So here was the great Musa standing face to face with Muhammad (saw) upon whom Allah had graced His Majestic visage. And not only had Muhammad (saw) not crumbled at the sight of Allah (swt), but Musa was able enjoy the sweetness of this divine light beaming from the Prophet’s face!

What was Musa’s reaction to this dream-come-true opportunity? He wanted more.

He asked Muhammad (saw) to go back and request Allah (swt) to decrease the number of daily prayers, all so he could further indulge in the ecstasy of seeing his Beloved Creator (swt) reflected in the face of Muhammad (saw).

And each time the Prophet (saw) returned from the company of Allah (swt), Musa (as) stopped him to further treasure the unimaginable beauty of the light of Allah cast upon the unimaginable beauty of our Prophet Muhammad’s face.

We have become estranged – from our neighbors, from our friends, from our families, and worst of all from our Creator and Sustainer (swt). All because we have become estranged from our very own selves.

As members of a scientific age, we hypothesize, analyze, and synthesize the Outer. But as humans, we remain oblivious to our Inner.

We surround ourselves with recreational noise so as to avoid the silence of our souls. We dull our senses by entering delusional states of social inebriation in order to evade this most fundamental of truths – the truth of who we are.

We plunge ourselves into the depths of the oceans searching for the most amazing creations of Allah, while failing to scratch the surface of the single most amazing creation of Allah, our hearts.

We have become masters of the known universe, while remaining slaves to our lower selves.

And that is why we have falsely convinced ourselves that happiness is found in laughing, eating, shopping, and playing, while disregarding those who abstain (from laughing, eating, shopping, and playing) as being aloof from the world. In reality, we are the ones who are aloof – aloof from our own selves.

Maybe because the journey to know oneself is not a simple one. It involves serious reflection and contemplation. It requires coming face to face with an ugliness we have subconsciously buried deep into the recesses of our hearts. It is painful and brutal to acknowledge.

But this endeavor to dig deep down and push aside years of waste and clutter and discover hidden realities and horrible truths is vital to fulfilling our purpose in life – attaining a true state of submission (‘Uboodiyah) to the One (swt).

And thus, I was very much intrigued by the classifications of the nafs as detailed by Sh.Mokhtar Moghraoui. If you have the time, please listen and internalize his words. Otherwise, I provided below a quick summary of four types of nafs that we need to ponder over.

We can take the first step in discovering the true nature of our nafs by reflecting on what brings us happiness and contentment:

First, there is the bahimi nafs, the cattle-like nafs. Like cows and chickens, this nafs finds ultimate happiness in consuming food, drink, sleep, and sex. Its life revolves around such types of activities. Parties and outings are organized with the sole purpose of indulging in these desires.

Furthermore, a society is created in which the pursuit of this type of happiness is institutionalized and all sorts of products and gadgets are invented to facilitate the consumption thereof. The rat race of life that we find ourselves in during the work week culminates in the culture of ‘the weekend’, where food, drink, sleep, and sex are pursued incessantly.

Admittedly, it is only natural that we have bahimi instincts to eat and drink. But if these desires overtake our desire to submit to Allah (swt), we have an imbalance.

Then there is the subu’ee nafs, the predatory nafs. In addition to the basal desires of food, sleep, and sex, this hyena-like nafs finds pleasure in coveting the goods of others. This nafs takes part in attacking, usurping, stealing, and killing. Self-satisfaction for this type of individual is found in accruing wealth, especially at the expense of others.

Thirdly, there is the shaytaani nafs, the devilish nafs. This type seeks to mischievously plot and scheme in creating evil and causing harm to others. This nafs desires to lord over others and become an object of worship. The greedy amassing of property has left this nafs wanting more, so it seeks to subdue and control and manipulate others – like the Shaytaan himself. Additionally, this nafs finds satisfaction in enhancing and strengthening the lower qualities and vices of the previous two types of nafs.

Finally, there is the malaaiki nafs, the angelic nafs. This nafs finds its greatest pleasure in nearness to its Creator. It aspires to become closer to Allah (swt) by detaching itself from all other forms of attachment. It is nourished by and satisfied with Divine guidance and Prophetic example.

We all have qualities of each type of nafs and to the extent we actualize and nourish each nafs, that is our true nature. We may cultivate cattle-like and predatory-like practices so much that it so thoroughly dominates our angelic inspirations that we become unrecognizable monsters.

While every individual has the capacity for predatory or devilish deeds, it is only when we have consistently acted upon and even developed and nurtured these covetous and evil inclinations, that we have forsaken our angelic potentials and created a most detestable inner image.

So the question remains, only for you to answer, only for you to know: What type of nafs have you allowed to dominate your heart and soul? And if you don't know, do you have the inner fortitude to commence this journey of discovering the truth?

The ship floats in the vast ocean of water, surrounded by crashing waves, effortlessly bouncing one way or the other. The ship remains at the surface of the deep ocean because it never allows the water to enter.

Similarly, let your heart be as a ship floating in the ocean of this world. Verily you have been created to live in the world. And so, the world will come crashing against your heart, trying to topple it over, trying to rip it apart – but remain steadfast and never, ever let it enter into your heart, knowing full well that if you allow the dunya to enter your heart, it will sink.

(Not sure who to attribute this to, as I heard it in a lecture some time ago. I think he said it was from Rumi. Suffice it to say, these powerful words are not my own.)

Read it regularly.

Read it so often that when a friend calls you up out of the blue and asks you when was the last time you read the Quran, your answer doesn't embarrass you.

I am very much enamored by the palm tree as there is so much to learn from it. The little amount of water that it needs to subsist is an important lesson for all of us, in this day and age of extreme consumption.

Additionally, I've seen enormous palm trees being transported on the back of large 18-wheeler trucks, revealing how their roots never go too deep into the soil - teaching us to also never entrench ourselves too deep into this world.

But most amazing of all is the way the palm tree dies. Oh, how I wish to die in a similar state!

When they die, most other trees remain erect and upright. However, I was truly taken aback when I saw how the palm tree dies in a form of bowing or even prostration. I pray I am able to meet my Lord in such a state of submission.









Let us strive to live in a state of dhikr so we can die in a state of dhikr!

I find a comfortable shaded spot on one of the countless laid out carpets with a perfect view of the Ka'bah. The heat of the Dhuhr sun has found many of the worshipers scurrying into the shade, away from the open courtyard directly surrounding the House of Allah (swt), resulting in a very serene image of the bright black cube contrasted by the glow of the empty white marble floor.

The simplicity of the black cube frees up the senses to allow for greater reflection on the Divine and His attributes. I focus my gaze on the House of Allah and allow my heart to roam free in this most sanctified of places.

I slowly close my eyelids, attempting to temporarily suspend all my senses - for where I wish to go, my eyes and ears are a distraction. In the sea of Divine remembrance, only the heart can swim.

As my head dips down between my chest and folded up legs, a thundering voice wakens me from my spiritual slumber.

“Who are you?”

Startled, I look up to see who would dare raise their voice in the quiet confines of the Haram.

“Who are you?” thunders the holy house of Allah. The Ka'bah has taken on eyes and a mouth and is staring right at me.

“Uhmmm...me? I-I'm Naeem”, I sputter.

“Ahh yes, we heard of your impending arrival.”

“Really?”

“Yes, the birds spoke of the heavy-handed one arriving this weekend.”

“Huh? ‘Heavy-handed’? What does that mean?”

“Are your hands not too heavy to raise in dua'a? Are your hands not too heavy to pick up the Quran? Are your hands not too heavy to give charity?"

My stomach grinds at the sound of those deeply hurtful words.

"But I, I've come to you, the House of Allah (swt), to purify myself and soften my heart."

"HA!", the Ka'bah laughs a resounding, haughty laugh.

"Soften your heart, you say? The winds talk of the long distances you travel to arrive here and how you constantly return in the same pathetic state you arrived. If that is not indicative of a hard heart, then what is? All the animals bear witness that the stench with which you arrive is the same as when you leave. If that is not reflective of a hard heart, then what is?”

“But, but...”, I stammer looking for some hope in the words of the ancient blessed house.

“It really pains me to see you here. The khalil of Allah stood before me with his beautiful wife and son, worshiping his Lord. The beloved of Allah bowed his head before me, proving his undying love for his Creator. The greatest generation lived and died on these hallowed grounds. And now, I am forced to suffer the ignominy of your presence. Woe am I!”

Stunned into silence, I struggle to elicit a defense, but nothing flows from my dry, parched mouth.

“Your stench as you approach me is unbearable. If only you could smell the foul odor of your nauseating actions! If only you could smell your sickening breath, a result of the filthy words that have sprung forth from your tongue! But instead you are oblivious to the wretched odors you generate; brashly convincing yourself that your insignificant good deeds will eventually overcome all the chaos you have wrought.”

Finally I break my silence, only to regret doing so a moment later. "I admit to my many weaknesses, but isn't my presence in this holy sanctuary a reflection of my hope for self-rectification?"

“Silence, you insolent fool! You come here thinking that your mere presence suffices? How arrogant! How ignorant! The sincerity of intention that was constantly embedded into each and every act of worship of your great ancestors is but a distant memory with scoundrels like you. You perform rukoo’ and sajdah in the same way you drink a cup of water – like a donkey. And when you finally find it in you to beg of our Creator, you ask with the same enthusiasm as when you ask a stranger for the time.”

Emotionally distraught, I wipe away the moistness in my eyes, causing my vision to blur, quietly hoping the Ka'bah would disappear.

“You have perpetrated the greatest lie when you continuously lie to your own self. You claim to love Allah, yet your every thought and action prove otherwise.”

Frustrated beyond control, I close my eyes and cover my ears hoping the voice would go away, but to no avail. The Ka'bah continues speaking and I continue listening.

"You hands are too heavy to raise while your head is too lofty to be humbled. How quickly you raise your head from sajdah! How quickly your lower your hands from dua'a! Where is the love you pretend to have for your one and only Lord?"

And just like that, the talking Ka'bah returns to its slumber, leaving me with my thoughts of despair and confusion. So with a heavy heart, abused by the verbal lashes of the Ka'bah, I turn to the One who will never spurn me. I raise my hands and cry to Allah:

"Ya Allah, You have promised to answer the prayers of the oppressed. Today I stand before you, having been stripped naked by Your beloved Ka'bah, and I proclaim that there is no soul more oppressed than mine. For my soul is being oppressed by the greatest tyrant of all - my own self. So I beg of you to free me from the chains of oppression that I have thrust upon myself. I beg of you to lift me from the dungeons of my depraved soul."

I pause, exhale a deep sigh - mentally exhausted and spiritually flustered, I feel bitter and resentful towards the Ka'bah for ruthlessly exposing my inner state while also acknowledging the therapeutic value of beating down my nafs.

I look up at the motionless Ka'bah, ponder over my feeble nature, spiritually overwhelmed by the weighted words of the Ka'bah, I feel nothing better to sum up my tormented state than the comprehensively simple prayer of our dear Prophet Musa with which he called on his Lord after he was run out of town:


"Oh my Lord, I am indeed miserably needy of the blessings You send down on me!" (28:24)