Welcome to The Secrets of Divine Love Podcast. 

I’m A. Helwa, and it is such a joy to finally sit with you, heart to heart.

For years, we’ve met in books or posts, but some things can’t fit on a page. Some things need to be heard in a human voice, with the pauses left in, and the laughter, and the moments when the words run out.

So that’s what this is, a place to pull up a chair, take off whatever you’ve been carrying, and remember what your heart has always known: that you were never as far from the Divine as you thought. 

In every episode, I’ll sit down with scholars, poets, mystics, and seekers whose lives have been cracked open by love. We won’t just ask what they know, but also what it cost them, what it took to get to where they are and what it feels like to embody the spiritual path. 

The questions will be deeply personal. I’ll ask guests where they lost their faith, and how they found it again? What prayer feels like when nothing seems to be listening? And what happens when the door you’ve been knocking on all your life turns out to have always been open?

Some of these conversations will make you laugh. Some may bring you to tears. And I hope that a few of them will find you on an ordinary Thursday, in the car or on the couch, and suddenly make the whole world feel like a prayer. 

You don’t need to be a scholar to be here or have your faith figured out. If you are longing, you belong here, because the longing itself is the proof that you are already being called.

So find a quiet corner, or make one in the middle of your busy life. Bring your questions, your doubts, and your tender, tired heart.

This is The Secrets of Divine Love Podcast, and I am so grateful that you’re here.

In prayers of light upon light,

A. Helwa

A seeker once said to a great mystic, “I want happiness.”

The mystic smiled and said, “If you are ready, I can show you the way.”

The seeker nodded his head as his eyes grew big in anticipation of the answer.

The mystic said, “Remove ‘I’ that is your ego. Then remove “want” that is your desire. With your ego and desire set aside you are left with “happiness.”

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

This story reminds us that happiness is not achieved through fulfilling the desires of the ego, but rather in relinquishing our desires before Allah. The Qur’an actually doesn’t even call us toward happiness, because like sadness or anger, happiness is an emotional state and thus by definition will fluctuate. Instead the Qur’an calls us toward contentment. The word translated as “contentment” in the Qur’an is rida. Etymologically the tri-literal root of the word rida also carries the meaning of “being pleased, satisfied, and in a state of acceptance.” Rida is not just about contentment with what Allah has decreed, but contentment with Allah Himself.

“If you desire power, desire nothing but contentment, which is its own kingdom.”
—Sa’di, Gulestan

The one in the station of rida is the one whose contentment is no longer tied to external events, but rooted in love of Allah. The word “contentment” in English also carries a beautiful insight etymologically; it comes from the Latin word, continere, meaning “to hold together.”

In a sense, contentment is about being in alignment with God’s will, by remembering that His plans are always going to be better than our biased estimation of reality.

“Surely, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest.”
— Qur’an 13:28

The Arabic word tatma’innu translated as “rest” in the verse above is a state greater than happiness, it is about an all-encompassing tranquility and feeling of being deeply settled. In other words, the Qur’an is reminding us to not look outside of ourselves for the peace that is already being given to us inwardly through His grace.

The peace we seek doesn’t exist on the other side of our desires, but beneath the very grasping itself. Happiness is an emotional response to life’s circumstances based on what happens, but contentment that is grounded in trust of God, goes from a state that changes, to a station of awareness.

“As for the one who feared standing before their Lord and restrained the soul from its desires, Paradise will certainly be their home.”
— Qur’an 79:40–41

When we let go of our endless desires, and let go of saying “I want” we make room to receive all that Allah is already giving to us. When we are freed from the tyranny of the ego, our hearts become divinely aligned, and we begin to live in harmony with life. Then paradise becomes our default reality. Perhaps why there is so much emphasis on purification in the Qur’an is because it’s the ego that blurs the hearts witnessing of reality as it is.

“Successful indeed is the one who purifies the soul, and failed indeed is the one who corrupts it.”
— Qur’an 91:9–10

Our success is not determined by what we achieve or attain, but by what we learn to let go of, the desires we restrain, and the negative habits we purify. The Prophet ﷺ is very adamant in reminding us that “wanting” has no end because it is not grounded in necessity but in imagination. The ego promises you that when you get what you want, you will finally feel as if you arrived. However, when you get what you desire, the ego quietly moves the destination again. The carrot of desire is perpetually on a stick in front of you, close enough to see, but always just out of reach. But the Prophet ﷺ reminds us that we do not become rich by getting everything our ego desires, rather we become truly rich when we no longer feel a sense of impoverishment by what we lack.

The Prophet ﷺ says, “Richness is not having many possessions. Rather, true richness is richness of the soul.” (Sahih Al-Bukhari 6446, Sahih Muslim 1051) When we learn to let go of our attachment to the ego’s identity (I) and let go of thinking that peace is found in what we attain (want), then we will be rich not just with happiness, but with contentment. In other words, when we are freed from tying our peace to external circumstances we become liberated and awakened to what it truly means to be human.

Oh Allah, inspire our hearts to let go of the desires that no longer serve us. My beloved Lord, help us to see that our peace lies in trusting You. In Your beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

A famous mystic arrived to a King’s palace in the middle of the night. The guards of the palace were commanded to let the mystic through by the King. When the mystic arrived at the King’s throne he said, “I would like to stay at this inn tonight.”

The King laughed as he said, “You are mistaken my friend, this is a palace not a hotel!” The mystic said, “Who owned this palace before you?” The King said, “My father, but he is dead now.” The mystic then asked, “And who owned this palace before your father?” The King said, “My grandfather, but he is of course dead now as well.”

The mystic smiled as he said, “A building where people live in for some time and then leave…sounds like an inn to me!”

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

In this story the mystic is reminding the King of a simple truth: you will not live forever. Everything we own will one day be taken by death. Our homes will be occupied by strangers, our most beloved possessions will be sold, and the things of this life we held most dear will eventually disappear. Perhaps this why the Prophet ﷺ poignantly said the following:

“Be in this world as though you were a stranger or a traveler.”
— Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (Sahih Al-Bukhari 6416)

Ibn ‘Umar, who narrated the Hadith above, used to say, “If you survive till the evening, do not expect to be alive in the morning, and if you survive till the morning, do not expect to be alive in the evening, and take from your health for your sickness, and (take) from your life for your death.” In other words, do not assume you will live forever, so live each day you are given by Allah fully. While we want to live fully, we also don’t want to become too attached to this world. The Prophet ﷺ illustrates what it looks like to be in right relationship with the world:

“What do I have to do with the world! I am not in the world but as a rider seeking shade under a tree, then he catches his breath and leaves it.”
— Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (Jami’ at-Tirmidhi 2377)

The Prophet ﷺ reminds us that the world is not our home, rather its the shade of a tree along the journey. Our path is from heaven to heaven, this world is a train stop along the way. We are called to enjoy the coolness of the shade, but to not build our entire identity around the tree of this temporary life. When we realize what this world truly is, death is not seen as the thief who steals away the palace, but rather the sound of the caravan of souls departing to greener pastures that are eternal. The Persian poet Hafez would say that “life is a caravanserai” which is a reference to a literal inn in the desert alongside trade routes where people would take rest before continuing again. The mystic is saying to the King, “Just as no one would assume they own a room in a caravanserai, don’t assume you own this palace.” The King may see solid walls made of stone, but the mystic sees beyond the veil of permanence, he sees autumn leaves already beginning to fall.

“Oh my people! The life of this world is only a temporary enjoyment, while the Hereafter is truly the home of settlement.”
— Qur’an 40:39

“This worldly life is no more than play and amusement. But the Hereafter is indeed the real life, if only they knew.”
— Qur’an 29:64

These verses beautifully reiterate how this world is not our permanent home. When we are able to really breathe in these truths we begin to see the three core teachings within this story:

1. Nothing in this world is owned by us. Allah is the owner and we are merely stewards of the gifts He has given us.

2. We are temporary guests in a temporary world. We are reminded that both the King and the palace are passing away a day at a time. The Qur’an refers to our earthy possessions as mata’, which refers to something useful but temporary.

3. It is Allah alone that is not touched by death. As the Qur’an says, “Everything will perish except His Face.” (Qur’an 28:88)

The spiritual concept of fana or “annihilation of the self” is not an obsession with death, but an acknowledgement that nothing created is independent from the Creator. It’s not just about accepting that you own nothing, it’s also about not letting anything own you, but Allah. You can live in a palace and enjoy the good things of this life so long as you remember that just as you one day checked in to this life you will also one day have to check out. Avoidance of your eventual death creates anxiety, but true acceptance that your death is simply part of your journey to Allah brings a deep and grounding peace.

Oh Allah, inspire us to live life to the fullest without becoming attached to this temporary existence. My beloved Lord, don’t let anything own our hearts but Your love. My Lord, help us be good stewards of the gifts You have generously bestowed upon us. Oh Allah, remind us that this life is a journey from You, with You, and to You. In Your most beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

A zen master by the name of Ryokan used to live in a humble hut near a mountain. One evening when Ryokan had gone on a walk, a thief broke into his little hut searching for something to steal. Before the thief could leave Ryokan returned and caught him.

The zen master felt bad that his house had nothing to steal so he told the thief, “Don’t leave empty-handed, take my clothes.” The confused thief took the clothing and ran off.

Ryokan stood outside his house, naked and smiling as he thought, “How beautiful is this full moon. I wish I could have given that poor man this moon.”

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

This story reminds us that the most incredible things in life cannot be stolen or earned, they can only be appreciated through the receptacle of gratitude. In this story, the zen master Ryokan caught the thief in the web of his mercy. He was not interested in punishing the man, because he was not interested in a linear form of justice. For Ryokan, the punishment of the thief, was the act itself, it was the very collapsed vision of reality that resulted in his theft. Ryokan was so detached from his lower ego that he no longer felt ownership over the things that were placed in his care, including the very clothing on his back.

“To Allah belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth.”
—Qur’an 2:284

Ryokan is reminding us, that we may not own anything in this world, but everything is created for us. After all the Qur’an says, “He is the One Who created for you all that is on the earth.” (Qur’an 2:29) The moon, the sun and all of nature is in a state of generously offering their beauty to us without exception or expectation. The Qur’an teaches us that all of nature is in a state of prostration, but it’s only the conscious ones, who can choose to oppress themselves by not bowing and being imbedded in the universal flow of creation.

“Do you not see that to Allah prostrates whoever is in the heavens and whoever is on the earth, and the sun, the moon, the stars, the mountains, the trees, the moving creatures, and many of the people?”
—Qur’an 22:18

The Zen master was teaching us that we are in a perpetual state of sacred ceremony. When we tune ourselves to the sacredness of this reality, we are awakened by all the gifts that are freely given to us in every moment. Ryokan was aware that although the moon was shining brilliantly above, the thief missed the pricelessness of the moment.

Our expectations of God are what prevent us from witnessing the countless ways He loves us and is continuously articulating that love. Our ability to taste, experience, and be present with the many gifts of the Divine is in proportion to our capacity to detach from our own perceptions, expectations, and plans of what should happen. The reason surrender is the only path to God is because it is through surrender that we get out of our own way, and become capable of witnessing the presence of God that is permeating every moment.

“Indeed, the religion in the sight of Allah is surrender to His will and guidance (islam).”
—Qur’an 3:19

Surrender is not just about letting go, it’s about recognizing that you already have everything you need. It’s recognizing that resistance is not just a response to not getting what you want, but also a product of not trusting in God’s plan. The limitation never exists in God’s giving, it exists in our level of receptivity to what’s being given. This is why the heart of every prayer we are called to make is about being open to life and to being expanded beyond the limitations of what we know.

My beloved Lord, increase us in surrender and knowledge so that we are never limited by what we know, but always open to being shaped by the majesty of Your love. Oh Allah, open our hearts and allow us to witness the miracles you lovingly flood into every corner of our lives. Oh Allah, make us generous, not only in what we give others, but also in what we allow ourselves to receive from You. My Lord, widen our consciousness so that we can see what truly matters, so that we can become nourished by the fruits of Your grace, love, and truth. In Your beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

A seeker once asked a mystic inquisitively, “Is there life after death?”

The mystic stroked his beard as said, “Ahh but is there life before death—that is the question!” Then the mystic fell into a deep ecstatic state.

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

This one needs no words, just a couple hundred volumes of silence…

In prayers of light upon light,

One day in the village of Kufa, in what is now modern day Iraq, a particular villager came up to the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, Hassan ibn Ali, and he started to curse at him.

In response, Hassan ibn Ali said, “My friend, is there something that you need? Is there something that is troubling you?” The Bedouin villager completely ignored the question and continued berating him. Hassan called his companion, and asked him to give the man some money and said, “Oh villager, oh creation of God, I ask for forgiveness. This money I give to you is all that we have in the house, if I had more, I promise I would have given it all to you without withholding even a single coin.”

When the villager heard these words he was overcome with shame and sadness. He then turned to Hassan and said, “I bear witness that you’re truly the grandson of the Messenger ﷺ. I had come here to test whether your lineage and your nature were in accord with one another.”

After the villager left, Hassan’s companion turned to him and said, “What made you respond to such vileness with such kindness? What allowed you to remain patient with him?” Hassan replied, “I did not hear the words he was saying, I was listening to the longing of his heart. I responded to the faith hidden within him longing to open. If you look at a garden before a seed sprouts it looks like a graveyard, but when you see the seed deep inside you know that the waters of your kindness will not go to waste. Be like rain, soft and nourishing, not like thunder, harsh and blinding. Be like water for people, my friend. Be like water.”

*I have had this story tucked in my heart for some time. I believe someone told it to me orally, so it’s naturally paraphrased. May Allah accept this through His mercy and grace.

Share Divine Love in Everyday Life by A. Helwa

A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

This story beautifully models to us how the heart of adab is to respond to the creation, not based on how the creation has treated you, but in response to how God has held, loved and embraced you. Adab can be translated as “politeness” and “good conduct,” but at its essence it is having a good grasp of spiritual proportion. It’s knowing how to respond to Allah in every moment, in every interaction, and through each and every event. It is the continual remembrance that no matter who we are talking to we are actually in conversation with Allah. This is not to say that the creation is the Creator, rather that everything in existence is pointing back to the Creator. When we receive blessings the adab is gratitude, in difficulty the adab is patience, in acquiring knowledge the adab is humility, and in wealth the adab is charity. Every worldly occurrence carries a spiritual response imbedded within it.

Being polite with the universe is to be polite with the Creator of existence. This story teaches us to not mirror the actions of others, but to live by our intentionally chosen principles. When we live by our reactions alone, we tend to live by the wounds of the ego. In this story, the grandson of the Prophet ﷺ Hassan ibn Ali sees both beyond the words and beyond himself. He’s not interested in protecting his ego, he’s interested in watering the goodness he sees in the other. How different would our world be if we could see beyond the forms to the essence, beyond the insult to the projected pain, beyond the illusion of separation to the single soul we all reside within.

“Good and evil are not equal. Repel evil with what is better, and then the one between whom and you there was enmity will become as though he were a devoted friend.”
—Qur’an 41:34

Even the coldest heart can thaw before the warmth of a light forged in love and mercy. It’s not our job to determine who is worthy of being forgiven and given mercy. Our work is to expand our container, to widen our awareness, and to polish our hearts the best we can so that we can reflect the lights of God’s generous rahma, or divine mercy, upon all of creation without discrimination. If the sun and rain bless all who live beneath the dome of the sky, then who are we to decide who deserves to be loved?

“The servants of the Most Merciful are those who walk upon the earth gently, and when the ignorant address them [harshly], they say words of peace.”
—Qur’an 25:63

Hassan ibn Ali teaches us to respond with love and mercy, to hold creation with gentle hands and a tender gaze. Even when we are called to respond with justice and accountability, to not divorce it from mercy and clemency. The Quran says to “speak to people good (words)” (2:83) it doesn’t say speak good only to Muslims or to speak to people good only to those who speak good to you. It says to speak to people good. Period. It doesn’t qualify the statement. It’s important that we remember that actions have their accountability, but we also have to be cautious of confusing the action with the actor. Every human being is created innately good and the more we focus on that good the more it magnifies.

In this story, Hassan ibn Ali was not interested in the decorations of this man’s ego, he was communicating with the sincerity of the man’s soul. When we listen less to what is said and more to where it is coming from everything changes. People often bleed on those who did not cut them, so the role of the healer is not to judge the wound, but to tend to it gently and with care. Perhaps Hassan ibn Ali also understood that how people often react is a reflection of the battles they are fighting within themselves as opposed to anything happening on the outside. The delicate hearted, grandson of the Prophet ﷺ had a special level of mercy and patience for the reactions of the man because he felt the innermost hidden beauty within him. Our prayer then becomes to be of those who can see beneath the waves of people’s emotions, to be able to feel the truth that lies beneath the masks, and to foster the seeds of sincerity hidden in every heart.

Oh Allah, make us kinder than the kindness others have shown us. Oh God, grant us the gift of hearing peoples hearts, to feel between their words, and to touch their deepest prayer beneath their pain. My beloved Lord, sharpen the ears of our hearts so that we can listen to the hearts of one another. Oh Allah, inspire us to respond to the transmission of the heart, rather than the translations of the mind. In Your beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

One night a renowned polymath and spiritual master was traveling with his servant through a desert, when they came across a humble home they thought to take refuge in. A nice old lady welcomed them graciously and insisted that they sleep in her living room. The master said that he wanted to sleep under the stars outside her home.

An hour into the night the old lady came out and said, “Tonight it will rain, I urge you to come inside.” The master having been a studied astronomer looked to the skies and saw no signs for rain. He turned to the old woman and kindly said, “My dear friend, please don’t worry about us. The skies are perfectly clear tonight. There will be no rain.” The old lady respected the master’s wishes and went back inside. An hour later she came out again and said, “My guests tonight it will rain, I ask you to come inside.” The master rose again and looked to the perfectly clear skies and said, “Oh my respected elder, trust me it will not rain tonight. I have studied the stars for decades.” The lady finally accepted the master’s plea and went into the home.

A mere fifteen minutes later, the clouds covered the skies as rain poured like buckets upon the master and his servant. Soaking wet, they knocked on the door of the house, and the old lady answered smiling. Once inside, drying by the fire, the spiritual master bewilderingly asked the old lady, “How did you know that it was going to rain tonight? I have studied the stars for many years under many masters and every sign of the zodiac said that it would be a clear night.”

The old woman shyly smiled and said, “I have a dog and it only sleeps inside when it’s going to rain. The first and second time it came inside my home I told you it would rain, but when you insisted that it wouldn’t, I kicked it out of the house. But then the third time it came inside I could not convince it to leave. However, I had already warned you twice and considering your intelligence and knowledge of astronomy I felt embarrassed to bother you again and thought perhaps this time my dog was wrong.”

When the spiritual master heard what she said his face turned white in awe as he dropped to his knees and prostrated he said, “Oh Lord forgive me for my arrogance. How lowly is my knowledge that after decades of studying the constellations my knowledge doesn’t even reach that of a dog!”

*In some accounts this story is attributed to Ibn Sina, known as Avicenna to the West.

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

This story reminds us that despite all we learn and master in life it is a mere sliver of a sliver of what can be known. All of human history is a brief flash on the timeline of this grand and mysterious universe. In the stories of the mystics across spiritual traditions, anyone can be the teacher. A beggar can teach a king, a stranger can inspire a prophet, and a dog can humble a spiritual master. Allah chooses who He wills as a vessel of truth.

The dog is an ayah, a sign, a reminder that we know far less than we can ever imagine. As the Qur’an says, “You have been given but little knowledge.” (Qur’an 17:85) This verse is not belittling the mystery and grandness of the mind, but invoking a certain level of humility by placing it in proportion with all that can be known. The mind is a lamp of light that can illuminate the rooms of our lives, but it should not be confused with the sun. We may be able to name all the stars, but we have no control over the movement of the skies.

“Above everyone possessed of knowledge is One All-Knowing.”
—Qur’an 12:76

The dog in this story is a reminder that we can study the universe, but we are not the owners of its outcomes. It also reminds us that there is an embodied knowing in nature that isn’t reached through equations and scientific calculations, but a sensitivity and instinct of knowing that Allah chooses to place within whom He wills.

Birds migrate across the earth through the earths magnetic field, by scent, and the compass of their genes. Bees move through fields, following the maps of vibration, fragrance, and sunshine. Nature moves to the voice of divine decree, not to the theories of humankind’s understanding of reality. No matter how much we learn there will always be more to know and regardless of the horizon we reach they were always be further horizon in front of us. As the Qur’an reminds us. “And He creates what you do not know.” (Qur’an 16:8) The beautiful paradox of the spiritual path is that it is in acknowledging our limitedness before a limitless God that we are raised to stations of knowing beyond our capacity.

“No one humbles himself for the sake of Allah except that Allah raises him.”
—Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (Sahih Muslim 2588)

Our deep prayer then becomes that the knowledge we learn polishes our hearts rather than polishing the mirrors of arrogance and pride through which the ego admires itself. We have to be careful that our intellect doesn’t become an idol made of certainty built on the foundation of our limited knowing. We must stay expansive and open to life, so that it may move and transform us along the way.

The created world is not spiritually mute, it is singing the praises of the Divine, but our ears are often not attuned to the songs of nature. In the hands of the Prophet ﷺ narrations say that even pebbles praised Allah with the sound like that of buzzing bees. Countless narrations of the Prophet ﷺ teach us that everything is alive and all of existence is in sacred ceremony. As the Qur’an says, “Do you not see that to Allah prostrates whoever is in the heavens and whoever is on the earth and the sun, the moon, the stars, the mountains, the trees, the moving creatures and many of the people?” (Qur’an 22:18)

The master in this story was so certain of the signs he saw in the sky that he had become blind to the signs of the moment, through messenger in the form of the old woman. In a similar way, Allah often warns us several times through different messengers before the storm arrives. However, sometimes our attachment to our limited knowing can make us deaf to the knocks of divine mercy, leaving us stranded in the rain as a result of our own choices. As we step out of this story and into our own lives, may Allah make us humble, expanding our consciousness so that we are able to witness the divine signs that meet us in each moment, from the east to the west.

Oh Allah, do not let what we know become a veil before the truths you are sending us in every moment. My beloved Lord, help us to humble ourselves before the Majesty of Your wisdom and power. Oh Allah, increase us in the knowledge that will benefit us. My Lord, return us to humility, inspiring our hearts to be receptive and open to the wisdom You are sending moment by moment. In Your beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

A man who feared that his wife was losing her hearing contacted a friend of his who was a doctor for some private advice. The doctor told the man to call for his wife at varying distances to figure out just how bad the hearing loss had gotten and report back to him.

When the man got off the phone he went to the furthest corner of his study and yelled down to the kitchen where his wife was, asking “Love! What do we have for dinner?” The man waited a few moments, and noticed that there was no reply. He decided to come down the stairs and then again he screamed, “My love, what do we have for dinner?” Yet again, however, there was no reply.

At this point, the man began to think that his wife must be much worse off than he thought. By this point the man was thoroughly convinced that his wife was going deaf, and he began contemplating what to say to his doctor friend when he called back.

Finally, the man decided to try once again. He stood right behind his wife and shouted, “What do we have for dinner?!” The wife then responded, “My love! For the third time, we have chicken and rice!”

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

This humorous story highlights the ways we project on one another. The husband was the one who couldn’t hear, but was convinced his wife was the deaf one. How often do we do this! The power of marriage or close partnerships with family or friends is that in one another we find mirrors to get to know ourselves better. As one man pointed out, the human nose is right above the mouth and yet if we didn’t brush our teeth, a room full of people would know our mouth stunk before we would be aware of it. In other words, we need the feedback of others to refine and beautify ourselves.

“The believer is a mirror to his faithful brother. He protects him against loss and defends him behind his back.”
— Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (Bukhari)

All of human experience is formed through relationship and relativity. Something is cold to the human touch when it is colder than our base temperature. The floor is hard in comparison with the softness of our feet. Bamboo maybe soft to the teeth of a panda, but to the softness of our teeth it would be completely impenetrable. Our relationship to even the physical world around us is completely subjective. The sun is bright to our sensitive eyes and completely dim to a creature that is blind. In other words, we come to know ourselves in relationship with the world around us. Our judgements of others then are not objective, but subjective to our realities. This story has many teachings, one of which is to not assume what you witness in someone else as being separate from your own reality. Perhaps the fault we see in another is a reflection of a deficiency in ourselves.

“Do not pursue what you have no knowledge of. The hearing, the sight, and the heart: all of these will be asked about.”
—Qur’an 17:36

The husband misheard his wife, misread what he assumed was silence, and as a result he made a judgement that was actually a mirror reflection of his own shortcoming. This is why the Qur’an warns against suspicion by saying, “Oh believers! Avoid many suspicions, for indeed, some suspicions are sinful.” (Qur’an 49:12) When we are suspicious, we create false narratives and theories about the world around us colored by our misperceptions. The Bible also warns against the judgement of others when it famously says, “Why do you see the splinter that’s in your brother’s or sister’s eye, but don’t notice the log in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:3) Perhaps we are being called to not focus on the faults of those around us, but to see what awakens within us in witnessing their faults. When we are honest with ourselves about our judgements we can begin to transform them into lanterns that illuminate our inner landscape, unveiling the places within us still in need of tending.

Oh Allah, give us the wisdom to do the inner work for the things we outwardly judge in others. My beloved Lord, remind us that what we see in others we carry in ourselves, either as a potential or a manifested reality we have refused to acknowledge. My Lord, guide us to be more merciful, patient, and gentle with one another and ourselves. Oh Allah, whenever we fall into projecting on others, gently return our gaze inward and inspire us toward repentance. In Your Most Beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

A wise man was taking a walk near his cabin when from afar he saw a snake slither into the open mouth of a sleeping man. By the time the wise man got to the man it was already too late to pull the snake out so he began to hit him with his cane.

The hard blows of the cane, woke the man up like lightening and sending him running for his life under a nearby tree. The sage followed him and began shoving rotten apples from the floor into the man’s mouth.

The man screamed, “Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to you?”

The wise man responded by beating him harder and began to yell, “Run! Run faster into the jungle!”

The poor man kept running, but it wasn’t long that the rotten apples, exhaustion, and fear caused his stomach to begin to churn in immense pain. Then finally the man threw up the rotten apples and the slithering snake! The moment the man saw the snake he fell at the foot of the wise man. Suddenly every curse the man had uttered became a word of praise as he profusely thanked the wise man for every bruise and blow.

The wise man kneeled and hugged the man with immense love as he said, “Had I told you what I had seen you would have been paralyzed by fear and would have not had the energy to eat the rotten apples necessary to throw up the snake.”

*Attributed to Jalal al-Din Muhammad Rumi

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

What’s remarkable about this story is that it doesn’t begin with someone who did something wrong. The man hadn’t sinned, he was just asleep, on a hot day, beneath the open sky. This is why the first teaching of this story is confronting. You see, the snake didn’t enter the man through arrogance or rebellion, but instead through his lack of awareness. The sleeping man is a symbol of heedlessness, for the unguarded doors through which the serpent can enter. Another insight is that when the snake entered, the man didn’t feel anything at first. Something was wrong with the man before he felt something wrong in him.

This is why it’s important to have a teacher who has the experience to bridge the gap between human perception and Divine knowledge. This story mirrors the parable of Moses and Khidr when Khidr destroyed the boat of a poor fisherman and Moses, unable to see the wisdom beyond the moment, protested regarding the destruction that was caused. In the Qur’anic story, Moses only later learns that Khidr damaged the boat of the poor man not to destroy it, but to save it from an unjust King who was seizing boats from the shoreline. Khidr’s eventual response to Moses’ constant protests was:

“And how can you have patience for something you do not have full knowledge of?”
—Qur’an 18:68

In other words, Khidr was reminding us that depending on human perception alone limits our access to patience and trust. If we make our obedience dependent on our understanding first, in a way we inadvertently make our ego and intellect into idols before God. We have to understand that Allah’s knowledge far supersedes ours. This is why it’s important that we trust in Allah’s perfect knowing over our best estimation of reality.

“With Him are the keys of the unseen, none knows them but He.”
—Qur’an 6:59

Much of Divine wisdom is hidden in the unseen, only unveiled to the human being when the timing is appropriate. Often times in our lives, the blows of mercy come without an explanation. The one experiencing constriction or pain sometimes has to endure it without the framework or understanding of its deeper purpose. Sometimes the “blows” that God sends to purify us outwardly feels cruel, but inwardly it’s an act of deep mercy.

“When someone beats a rug, the blows are not against the rug, but against the dust in it.”
—Rumi

The man in the story being beaten was not being attacked, but actually being saved by someone who could see the danger of the hidden serpent. The blows were against the snake, not the man. But this trial was not just difficult, it was also humiliating. Being chased to exhaustion, force fed rotten apples, and being beat with a stick is far from a dignified trial. Sometimes the medicine we desperately need feels vile and bitter. Sometimes the test is to be in a debt, or love someone who doesn’t love us back, or maybe an illness, or a lost opportunity. Allah knows exactly what we need to grow. The tests we are confronted with are customized to our wounds, to what we need to transform.

“Perhaps you hate a thing and it is good for you, and perhaps you love a thing and it is bad for you. Allah knows and you do not know.”
—Qur’an 2:216

The word for “trial” in Arabic is fitna, which comes from a root that relates to the burning of silver and gold to purify it. This burning is an act of separating the worthless metal from what is precious. In a similar way, the trials we face are a process of removing what is not part of our true essence, in order to unveil our true selves to ourselves. As the Qur’an famously reminds us, “With hardship comes ease. Indeed, with hardship comes ease.” (Qur’an 94:5-6) The heat we sometimes experience is less about Divine displeasure and more so in relationship with our own resistance and attachment to what needs to be purified. Perhaps this is why the Prophet ﷺ said the following:

“If Allah wills good for someone, He afflicts him with trials.”
—Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (Sahih al-Bukhari 5645)

While we are desperately doing everything we can to stop the trial so the pain can end, Allah loves us enough to continue the process of purification until it is complete. It was only when the man finally threw up the snake that he became aware of the full picture. In that moment of conscious expansion the bruises, wounds, and pain didn’t change. When the man finally understood the meaning behind the wise man’s actions he fell at his feet in gratitude and suddenly every insult became words of praise, every doubt transformed to faith, and what once felt like injustice transformed to love.

This will happen to us too. There will be a day, when we will thank Allah for not listening to the prayers we unknowingly made against our ultimate well-being. We will thank Allah for loving us in languages we couldn’t speak, for being patient with us through our ignorance, and for embracing our doubt with the gentleness of His mercy.

Oh Allah, increase our knowledge and trust in You above all. My beloved Lord, protect our hearts from mistaking the generosity of Your mercy for Your wrath. Oh Allah, when we are unable to see the wisdom behind Your actions, give us the faith to trust in Your knowing over our understanding. My Lord, empty our spirits of every idol, every serpent, every distracting thought that makes us forgetful of Your Beauty. Oh Allah, let every scar, every bruise, every heartbreak return us back to You. My beloved Allah, make us among those who are grateful even before You have explained the wisdom behind what we have been written to face. In Your beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

“The best remembrance is to declare there is no God but Allah. The best supplication is to declare all praise is due to Allah.”
— Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (Sunan al-Tirmidhi 3383)

La illaha illa Allah does not just mean “There is no god, but God.” This phrase is a sacred chant that cuts the attachments we have to this world, reminding us that the only thing that is truly real is Allah.

When we say la illaha… or “there is no god” we are saying that there is no idol, no entity, no created thing or thought that can compete with the greatness of God. When we say, …illa Allah or “but Allah” we are saying that nothing in existence is an opposite, complement, or pair to the Divine Reality.

When we chant this phrase it is like taking the sword of truth to all the chains that held us down to realities that are not true. Realities we have inherited, false beliefs we have created, and misperceptions that have veiled our vision since childhood. La illaha illa Allah is a key to freedom. A reminder that all the false idols we used to believe we needed to survive have become the very chains that enslave us. This dhikr helps us to become free from all that is not ours to carry.

We are reminded that when we call upon Allah, He answers. He is responsive. We are reminded that His love has no end, no limit, for there is no space where you can escape from Him loving you. He loves you and when you return to Him you feel the warmth of His light that has always been shining upon you, always been available to you.

Dhikr is not just remembrance, it’s a return home, to Him, to the One who loved you before you even existed.

In this guided prayer we make space for ourselves to feel what we are feeling and to turn it over to Allah. To ask Him for help. To feel the gentleness of His holding, of His Love, and of the majesty of His mercy.

To drop into this guided prayer press the play button at the top of the post to experience a 14 minute guided, audio dhikr session.

I pray that this practice accompanies your heart and becomes a companion on the path of greater surrender to Allah.

In prayers of light upon light,

One of the Emperors of China had no children to make his heir so he decided to hold a contest, whose winner would be the next Emperor. Boys from every village and province of China came to the Palace to participate.

A young poor boy by the name of Lin travelled by foot with his mother to the palace to participate in this contest alongside boys from royal and rich families. Lin’s relatives told him he had no chance against the elite class, but he was nonetheless determined to try. The Emperor gave every boy a seed and said, “Plant this seed, water it every day, and bring back the fruits of your labor a year from today.”

Lin borrowed a pot and some soil from his neighbor, who was a farmer, and planted his seed the very first day he got it. Every single day Lin would water his tiny seed and pray over his pot. But weeks became months and while every other boy’s pot flourished with flowers, leaves, and some even had fruits, Lin’s pot was empty. Day after day, month after month, Lin watered his plant, yet still nothing growed.

Before he knew it, a year had passed and the day of presentations came, but Lin still had an empty pot. After seeing how hard he worked for an entire year, his mother said that she would go with him to the palace again. He said, “But I have an empty pot. What if the Emperor punishes me because he thinks I have been lazy?” Lin’s mother smiled and said, “My son I have seen how hard you have worked. At the very least we can see the palace one last time.” Lin agreed and they set off for the day’s journey to the palace.

When Lin reached the palace he saw the most beautiful trees and flowers in the most ornate pots. The boys laughed at his humble clay pot with nothing, but soil inside. He hung his head in embarrassment, but still got in line. The Emperor passed by every boy looking impressed by every exotic and colorful plant he saw. When he got to Lin’s pot, he paused and said, “What is your name?” Lin fearfully said, “My name is Lin, your Majesty.” The Emperor then pointed to Lin’s pot and said, “What is this my boy? Your pot is empty!” Lin said, “I promise your Majesty I watered it every day, I even changed the soil many times. I am sorry I have failed and was unable to grow anything.” The Emperor nodded and walked away.

After the Emperor had seen all the amazing pots of flowers he said, “Where is Lin?” Lin started shaking in his bones as he slowly took a step forward. The Emperor then said, “One year ago I gave every single one of you a seed that I had boiled to make it infertile, which means it was incapable of growing. All these pots of beautiful flowers are pots of deception. It is only Lin who had the courage to stand for the truth despite being ridiculed. Whereas your eyes see Lin’s pot as empty, it is Lin’s pot alone where the most beautiful flower of all has blossomed: the flower of honesty! I choose Lin, to become the next Emperor of China.

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

This story reminds us that our value does not come from what we are holding in our hands, but by what we carry in our hearts. The other children came with pots overflowing with the rarest of flowers, but Lin’s empty pot carried something even more precious. Everyone else was willing to win at any cost, but Lin, despite having very little, refused to sell his soul even for the reward of becoming Emperor. While the other children made fun of his empty pot, the Emperor saw a boy committed to truth even in the face of ridicule.

“This is a Day on which the truthful will profit from their truth.”
—Qur’an 5:119

The truth will prevail, it’s just a matter of time. As the Buddha said “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.” Ultimately the Emperor’s test was not one about gardening skills, but one of character. In many ways, Allah tests us in similar ways. Success in the spiritual world is much different than this lower world. In this world, we constantly measure ourselves and others by what can be measured, seen, and achieved. The metric of success in a material, capitalistic world is centered around what the individual can accumulate. But the spiritual world has different laws. It’s not about the outcome, but about the intention in your heart.

“Indeed, Allah does not look at your bodies or your forms, but He looks at your hearts and your deeds.”
—Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (Sahih Muslim)

You not defined by what you acquire, but by the means through which you got where you did. It’s not just about progress, but also about the process of transformation. Lin held himself to a higher standard because He was living by different principles than the rest of the boys. He didn’t once consider lying to win. Another thing that stands out in this story is how Lin never stopped trying to grow the seed he was given. He watered it every day, even though it didn’t grow. He talked to farmers, learned about plants, and did his best to fulfill his intention. In many ways, this is what we are called to do on the spiritual path. To try our absolute best, to keep our eyes on something greater than ourselves (in Lin’s case truth, in our case Al-Haqq, The Truth), and to accept our fate.

“Indeed, the most noble of you in the sight of Allah is the most God-conscious of you.”
—Qur’an 49:13

Our nobility in the sight of Allah is not determined by our lineage, family name, or resume but by where our hearts are oriented. When we are conscious of Allah, our awareness naturally expands beyond our desires, to a more collective, and holistically honest way of living. As we breathe in the wisdom of this story we also pray for Allah’s help to be more grounded in truth, to live a principled life, and to be swayed by nothing but the gravity of His love.

Oh Allah, guide us to be honest, sincere, and people of our word. My beloved Lord, do not let us justify bending the truth for our own comfort or for the comfort of others. Oh Allah, give us the courage to stand for the truth, to speak the truth, and to protect the truth at all costs. “Our Lord! Do not let our hearts deviate after you have guided us. Grant us Your mercy. You are indeed the Giver of all bounties.” (3:8) In Your beautiful names I pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

There is a famous zen story of two monks walking back to their monastery one evening. On the journey home they came across a young woman with a broken leg trying to find a way to her village across the river. Since the monsoon season had just passed, what was once a soft stream had become a raging river. When the monks saw her crying, one of them ran towards her, put her on his shoulders and walked through the river to the other side of the land. He put her down, bowed in respect, and returned to his friend to continue their journey back to the monastery. After about walking for two hours, the other monk said, “You carrying that woman was not right. Monks should not touch woman.” The other monk peacefully replied, “I put that woman down two hours ago, why are you still carrying her?”

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

This story beautifully illustrates how when we judge others we are choosing to carry their mistakes in our minds. Through our judgement we further invest in actions that we ourselves did not make. The monk who carried the woman was showing his friend that when we judge others we only rob ourselves of peace. The Qur’an equates gossip of others as “eating the flesh of your brother” (49:12) implying that through judgement it is we who consume what is spiritually poisonous. Be careful what you choose to carry in your mind, the baggage you choose to burden yourself with, and of judging outward actions without considering inward intentions.

The monk who carried the woman acted out of necessity and in order to be in service of God’s creation. He did not carry the woman to fulfill his lust, to be seen as good, or with the desire to break God’s commandments. He carried the woman as a manifestation of kindness and care. Divine laws exist to protect us, to uphold a just society, for the protection and safety of all of creation. We should not allow rigidity to prevent us from actualizing the wisdom within God‘s guidance and laws. A worthwhile question to ask ourselves is the following:

“Would the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ leave this hurt, young woman stranded or would he help her in the most respectful way he could imagine?”

Maybe this question is triggering for some, maybe it’s like fresh air for others. Either way, it’s hard to deny that knowledge without wisdom often leads to destruction more than divine love. Martin Luther King Jr. profoundly reminded us the dangers of intelligence without wisdom when he said, “We have guided missiles and misguided men.” Whereas knowledge is the outward pursuit of knowing and is very masculine, wisdom is the inward unveiling of truth that is deeply feminine.

“Wisdom doesn’t just ask what is right, it asks what serves life, and what inspires harmony.”
— Fawzia Al-Rawi

Without a feminine integration of divine laws in the embrace of wisdom, the lived experience of faith can become myopic, rigid, and in direct opposition to the essential and loving heart of Islam. The monk who was guided to carry the woman across the river, did not judge the other for not being moved to be in service of creation. For the literalist who says this act was a sin, perhaps a sin done through love, in the name of God, for the sake of one in need is better than advice given in the name of pride for the sake of one’s own arrogant righteousness. I don’t know much about Allah but I do know this, “He is the Most Merciful of those who show mercy” (12:64). I don’t know much about the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ but I do know that he was sent as “a mercy to ALL worlds” (12:107). I don’t know much about myself, but I do know I cannot bear the thought that God would one day say I was too judgmental, too harsh, or too rigid, but if my fault was that I was too merciful, then at the very least I can seek refuge in Allah’s own Rahma from His wrath. May Allah guide us to remember who we are and Whose we are: Ar-Rahman, Ar-Rahman, Ar-Rahman!

“My mercy encompasses all things”
— Qur’an 7:156

Oh Allah, keep our eyes on the path You have paved for us, focusing on the alignment of our hearts to You alone. My Beloved Lord, inspire us toward mercy, kindness, and gentleness. Oh Allah, if we see faults in others may it be a reminder to be grateful for You having guided us. Oh Allah, if our hearts turn towards the people of the world with judgement, forgive us and swiftly return us to You in repentance. My Lord, make us mirrors of Your mercy for this hurting world, make us water for the fire of pain, and by Your grace make us live and die upon the path of loving kindness and gentleness. In Your beautiful and majestic names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

There once were two brothers who were both farmers, and who each owned a big piece of land side by side. After 40 years of being best friends, they had a bitter disagreement that broke both their hearts. They couldn’t reconcile the pain and as a result they stopped speaking to each other.

As time passed, the younger brother’s heart began to harden as his anger led him to bulldoze the meadow between their two lands, causing the water from the ground to rise up and create a creek between their two properties. The older brother was both heartbroken and furious when he saw what happened. He also wanted to retaliate, but didn’t know how.

As he was thinking this over, he heard a knock at the door. He opened the door to find a carpenter with his toolbox in hand. The carpenter asked, “Hello, don’t mean to bother you. Just wondering if you had any work for me around the farm to do?” At that moment, the older brother had a brilliant idea for revenge. He replied to the carpenter, “Yes, I have the perfect job for you. I want you to take the pile of wood from an old barn that fell apart and build up a tall fence alongside the the creek so that I don’t have to see my brother’s farm ever again.”

The carpenter listened to why the older brother wanted this wall built and said, “I think that I can accomplish what you are asking of me.” The older brother gave him all the materials and said, “I am going into town for the week and expect the job to be done upon my return.” The carpenter agreed and got to work.

When the brother came home, he saw a sight that he didn’t expect to see. Not only was there not a wall between his land and his brother’s property, but the carpenter had built a bridge across the creek from his land to his brother’s land with the most beautiful handrail. As the older brother inspected the bridge, he saw his younger brother was walking over the bridge with his hands wide open. The younger brother said with tears in his eyes, “Despite my childishness, despite the way that I retaliated with the bulldozer, you built this bridge and sought to reconcile our hearts!” The younger brother’s words thawed the ice around the older brother’s heart and they embraced with tears.

As the two brothers reconciled their hearts joyfully, the carpenter grabbed his box and started to walk away. The brothers noticed and both turned to him and said, “Don’t leave now, we have so much more work around this farm for you if you’d like to stay.” The carpenter then smiled as he turned to them and said, “I’d love to stay, but I have many more bridges to build.”

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

This story reminds us how destructive anger can be. People tend to raise their voices when they are angry, not because the other person is physically far, but because the distance between the hearts has widened through misunderstanding. The creek created from the anger of the younger brother is a physical manifestation of the emotional rift between the two brothers. The Qur’an is very adamant about guarding the heart from an anger and resentment that leads to irreversible consequences.

“And do not let the hatred of a people cause you to swerve from justice. Be just; that is nearer to righteousness.”
— Qur’an 5:8

The Qur’an doesn’t say to deny your anger, but to not allow it to be transformed into a rage that burns everything in its path. It’s not easy to forgive those who have hurt us, which is why the reward for doing so is celestially high. The Qur’an says, “The recompense of an evil is an evil like it, but whoever pardons and reconciles, his reward is with Allah.” (42:40). Imagine that, you forgive someone for wronging you and Allah, the Creator of the Universe, intervenes to reward you personally for your act of kindness towards one of His creatures. The verse doesn’t say you forgive them once they apologize or you forgive them when they deserve it. It says, “whoever forgives and reconciles” irregardless of the other person’s level of awareness or self-accountability. The call to forgive and reconcile with those who hurt us doesn’t automatically mean forgetting what happened and being reckless with who we give access to our hearts. Rather, it means we let go of carrying the anger and pain of someone else’s wrongful actions.

Forgiveness is a gift that Allah gives to us, to actually take back the power others took or we gave away and to place it in the safety of His hands. Forgiveness is a bridge that reconnects hearts and removes the veils of separation. This is precisely why the Qur’an and Prophet ﷺ praise those who dedicate time to reconciling and bringing hearts together like the carpenter. After all, it’s no accident that Jesus was a carpenter too!

The Prophet ﷺ said to his companions, “Shall I not tell you of something better in degree than fasting, prayer, and charity?” They said, “Yes.” He said, “Reconciling between people. For discord among people is the shaver.” (Sunan Abi Dawud (4919) and Jamiʿ at-Tirmidhi (2509)

The word the Prophet ﷺ used for shaver is al-haliqah in Arabic which refers to how division and hatred can act like a razor that shaves away the goodness between hearts and the good consequences of someone’s religious and social life. This is perhaps why reconciling hearts carries such a spiritual rank a degree higher than fasting, prayer, and charity. The Prophet ﷺ is highlighting to us that discord doesn’t just separate hearts, it can actually erode the heart, removing the light of goodness from the heart like a shaver removes hair from the body. In a sense, reconciliation is a form of worship like prayer, purification like fasting, and a form of charity through the offering of your time.

“So make peace between your brothers, and be mindful of Allah, so that you may be shown mercy.”
— Qur’an 49:10

The role of the carpenter is the role we are all called to play. To bring peace where there is pain and to become the meeting ground of justice and mercy in the world. The Qur’an doesn’t just say to not retaliate against evil, but to respond with something actually better. “Good and evil are not the same. Repel [evil] with that which is better, and behold, the one between whom and you there was enmity will become as though he were a devoted friend.” (41:34) Like the mystics say, “Be like a date tree, when stones are thrown against you respond with fruits that taste sweet.” In many ways the calling of being a Muslim is to be like earth, to transform what is dead to fertilizer and to grow something beautiful. May we all be gardeners and carpenters on the spiritual path of love.

Oh Allah, please give us the compassion to forgive those who have hurt us. Oh Allah, inspire us to respond to evil with goodness, to harshness with kindness, and to being wronged with mercy. My beloved Lord, help us to overlook the faults of others so that You may overlook our many faults. In Your beautiful and majestic names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

The 8th century mystic Rabia Al-Adawiyyah always had many suitors. One of these suitors was relentless in his affection for her.

One day as she happened to be walking past this man he uttered, “Oh Rabia! Please give me your hand in marriage. I will be devoted to you and you alone if you do! You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and I only have eyes for you, Oh Rabia!”

For the first time ever, Rabia stopped and talked to the man. She simply said, “You think I am the most beautiful woman in the world, you should see my sister walking behind me.” As soon as she said that the man whipped his head to see who was walking behind her.

Rabia then poked the man in the stomach with her walking stick and said, “There is nothing loyal about your love. You know nothing of having eyes only for one beloved. Until you become nothing before the true Beloved you will know nothing of love’s true nature.”

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

The topic of love is one that has made many pens break, mind’s shatter, and hearts grow wings. Rabia shows us another side of love, it’s demanding side! Rabia is the queen of confrontation, constantly reminding us what it means to be undivided in our love for Allah. The suitor who professes his love for her is exposed when he turns around “looking for something better.” Rabia is showing us that if the love we feel is fickle, shaken by a passing moment of distraction, then it’s not love but our ego’s desire disguised as love.

“Have you seen the one who takes as his god his own desire?”
—Qur’an 25:43

Rabia is calling us to be moved by our soul’s greater devotion, not our ego’s lower desires. Of course, this story is not really about Rabia and a suitor, it’s about how we approach the Divine with our love. Rabia was not confronting the man to be cruel, it was a diagnostic test to unveil to him his own hidden intention. Allah does the same with us, He tests us to awaken us. As the Qur’an says, “Do people think that they will be left alone because they say, ‘We believe,’ and they will not be tried?” (29:2) Our love will be tried, not because the Divine is challenging us, but because He is calling us to come even closer to Him. Rabia’s famous prayer beautifully illustrates what it means to worship Allah sincerely and singularly out of love:

“Oh Allah, if I worship You for fear of Hell, burn me in Hell; if I worship You in hope of Paradise, exclude me from Paradise; but if I worship You for Your Own sake, do not withhold from me Your Everlasting Beauty.”
—Rabia Al-Adawiyyah

Rabia’s heart was profoundly empty of transactional desires, so she was very attuned to hearts that were absent of pure loyalty to the Divine. The suitor was not a true lover. He loved his own eyes, his ego was hungry for its own desires, and his love had nothing to do with fana or “annihilation of the self,” in the ocean of love, rather it served to reinforce his identity. He didn’t love Rabia, he loved the idea of being with her. He had not emptied his ego on the path of love, rather he was performing for the sake of his own desire. This not an easy teaching. The story is teaching us that if we don’t love God with all that we have and all that we are, we will never be able to love his creation for the sake of love itself.

The human ego is always in relationship with reciprocity, always inclining toward a transaction, looking for a gain and avoiding a loss. Whereas the spirit never criticizes, never compares, never keeps score, the lower ego is in a constant state of competition, with itself and others. The Prophet Joseph reminds us that it doesn’t matter how righteous we may be, the ego is tricky and we need a leash on it when he says, “And I do not acquit myself. Indeed, the self (nafs) is a persistent enjoiner of evil, except those upon which my Lord has mercy.” (Qur’an 12:53) Rabia’s suitor thought he had eyes only for Rabia, but his words came from his appetite, his lust wearing the disguise of love. We don’t want to love like this, we want to love with a love that is true and unencumbered by the trappings of the ego. Our work on the spiritual path is to purify our intentions and return our whole heart the Beloved.

My Beloved Lord, make our eyes only for You, make our ears only for You, and make our hearts only for You. Oh Allah, make our worship of You unmixed, make our love for You singular, and awaken our souls to the beauty of Your Grace alone. My Lord, it is only You who can save us and only You who can guide us from You, with You, and to You. In Your Beautiful Names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

Mullah Nasruddin wanted to learn how to play the flute so he found a master musician to teach him. He asked the master, “How much for lessons with you master?” The master replied, “The first month it will cost 3 silver coins and from the second month on it will cost 1 silver coin.” Nasruddin replied, “Wonderful, I will start from the second month then!”

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

If we see this story symbolically, we can see it as a reflection of the spiritual path. When we first begin, the ego is untrained and more resistant in the earlier stages of learning anything new. The price of the first month is indicative of the effort it will take for the teaching to take root in the heart of the student. Nasruddin is mirroring the very comical inclination of the ego to find a shortcut on the path of transformation by attempting to skip the cost of beginning. Just as we cannot skip the friction if we seek to be polished, we cannot skip the confrontation of the ego if we seek to be refined. As the Qur’an says, “Do people think they will be left alone because they say, ‘We believe,’ and they will not be tested?” (Qur’an 29:2)

Just as there is a structure to learning, there is a structure to walking the spiritual path. We cannot learn patience without being tested with impatience. We cannot learn humility without facing our vulnerability. The first step is often the most difficult because it shatters the illusion of our knowing in order to eventually expand our awareness. While Nasruddin thinks the first month is expensive and wants to cleverly skip it, it’s actually the best bargain because of what he will get in return in the long run. Rumi poetically addresses the exchange with the following famous lines:

“Listen, O drop, give yourself up without regret, and in exchange gain the Ocean.”
—Rumi

The first month may be the hardest in both effort and price, but it’s also where you learn the principles and foundations. Similarly, when you begin to wake up for fajr, read the Qur’an daily, control your tongue, etc. it’s much more difficult at first, but when it becomes a habit it becomes much easier than the beginning. Those first “3 coins” seem so expensive, but they lay the foundation for much faster progress later. Perhaps this is why the Prophet ﷺ said the following:

“Take up good deeds only as much as you are able, for the best deeds are those done regularly even if they are few.”
—Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (Musnad Aḥmad 8600)

It’s with consistency that our actions become habits and begin to build our character. Not to mention with repetition we create stronger pathways in our brain, which in turn makes certain habits and actions far easier over time. But it’s not just consistency, but the continual willingness to change that is crucial on the spiritual path.

“Indeed, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is within themselves.”
— Qur’an 13:11

Allah is reminding us that transformation needs our participation. We must strive and fight against the inclination of the ego for comfort. We pray and then strive against distraction, we repent and then strive against our reoccurring desires, we remember and then strive against our forgetfulness. Nasruddin is showing us how comical it is when the ego attempts to outsmart the spiritual path, by removing the difficulty of striving, when the very difficulty itself is the means of polishing. Nasruddin isn’t being clever, rather he is procrastinating his own progress. You can’t outsource the price of transformation, because then the ego does not become refined, but becomes further inflated. May we learn from this story to embrace the difficulty of beginning, trusting that what we take time to foster will grow inward at first, but eventually blossom beautifully outward into the world.

Oh Allah, we ask that You give us the strength and wisdom to strive against our lower egos and to step into the difficult work of transformation. My Beloved Lord, inspire us to walk the path intentionally and to pay whatever the price may be for the glory of Your presence. Oh Allah, guide us gently, with Your Grace upon the path of Your love. In Your most beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

A traveler crossed paths with Mullah Nasruddin at a desert oasis, and asked him, “How long will it take to get to the city?”

Nasruddin looked at him from his donkey and said, “Walk.”

The traveler, assuming Nasruddin had misheard him, replied, “I don’t know if you heard me, but I’m asking how long it will take to get to the city?”

But again, Nasruddin said to him, “Walk.”

The traveler, growing more annoyed, decided to ask Nasruddin one last time, but again Nasruddin replied, “Walk.”

After hearing Nasruddin the third time, the now angry traveler decided the Mullah would be of no help, and he began walking away. As the traveler reached twenty or thirty paces away from Nasruddin, he then shouted out to him, “It will take you two and a half hours to reach the city!” The traveler baffled by Nasruddin’s sudden cooperation shouted back, “Why couldn’t you have told me this the first time I asked you?!” Nasruddin replied, “Well, I had to first see how fast you walked.”

A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

Mullah Nasruddin has a comedic way of reminding us of life’s essential truths. Nasruddin is using this story as a symbol of the spiritual path. He is reminding us that you can’t determine when you will reach based on an average, the spiritual path is determined and customized specifically to the person. Like they say, flowers grow at different speeds, so depending on what we are going through our speeds will vary. The key here is that we continue to strive on the path of Allah, even as the poet Rumi says, “If all you can do is crawl, then start crawling.”

“And those who strive for Us, We will surely guide them to Our ways.”
—Qur’an 29:69

The guidance of Allah meets us on the path, unveiling itself one step at a time. As Allah says, “If My servant comes near to Me by a handspan, I come near to him by an arm’s length. If he comes near to Me by an arm’s length, I come near to him by the length of a fathom. If he comes to Me walking, I come to him running.” (al-Mu’jam al-Kabir lil-Tabarani 6141) It is through our striving that we become receptive to Divine Guidance. As Rumi says, “As you walk, the path appears.” Nasruddin is comically reminding us that the length of our journey is directly related to the commitment of our effort. He doesn’t tell the traveller how long it will take for him to arrive just as a teacher rarely answers the same questions for a seeker on the spiritual path. Our arrival is an outcome of a mysterious blend of grace and effort. The Qur’an reminds us of this when it says, “Man will have nothing except that for which he strives.” (Qur’an 53:39) While the child in us is always concerned with “When will I get there?” the spirit is more concerned with “Where in my heart am I walking from? In what state will I arrive?” It’s important we don’t get too occupied with the ego’s inclination toward haste or competition, but to remind ourselves that the journey itself determines the shape of the destination.

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Oh Allah, I pray that You make our walking on the spiritual path swift and sincere. My beloved Lord, give us the wisdom to not just focus on the length of our travel, but the being of our hearts as we walk. Oh Allah, remind us to not just be focused on where we are going, but where we are coming from, and for Whom we are taking each step. Oh Allah, return our hearts to You, and guide us on the path of Your overflowing Love and Mercy. In Your beautiful names I pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

A mystic named Sheikah Sultana was speaking to a male mystic when he joked, “I have a higher station than you, because I am a man.” She replied, “A she-camel can carry the same weight as a male camel, can she not?” The mystic agreed. She then said, “But can’t a she-camel also give milk and have children?” The male mystic bowed to her wisdom and then the two laughed together.

A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

The mystics often use humor as a way to learn and expand their containers and the containers of others. Humor has a way of disarming the ego and confronting us with the limitations in our thinking. Sheikah Sultana uses logic and humor to dismantle the age-old myth of male superiority. The Qur’an very clearly separates spiritual rank from arbitrary categories shaped by the world. Your biological sex gives you no advantage in the face of God. As Allah says in the Qur’an:

“Indeed, the most noble of you before Allah is the most God-conscious of you.”
—Qur’an 49:13

Allah doesn’t say being a man, having power, money, or influence sets you apart, but prioritizes taqwa or God-consciousness as the metric of rank. In the material world our station comes from our power over others, whereas in the spiritual world our value doesn’t come from power, but purification of our ego.

In the first part of the verse in 49:13 Allah says, “Oh humanity! Indeed, We created you from a male and a female, and made you into peoples and tribes so that you may ˹get to˺ know one another.” In other words, Allah is explicitly reminding us that our outward differences were never meant to create subjective interpretations of better or worse, but rather to inspire wonder in the multiplicity of creation. Our differences are not meant to be grounds for comparison, but meant to be diverse ways we come to one another, ourselves, and ultimately Allah as our Creator. The Qur’an is constantly reminding us that it’s not gender, but our virtues that determine our station.

“Whoever does righteous deeds, whether male or female, while being a believer, we shall surely grant them a good life.”
—Qur’an 16:97

Allah continues in this line of wisdom all across the Qur’an connecting men and woman through their virtues, “Indeed, the Muslim men and Muslim women... the believing men and believing women... the truthful men and truthful women...Allah has prepared for all of them forgiveness and a tremendous reward.” (Qur’an 33:35) While men and women have different social roles, these roles do not determine spiritual rank. Even in verses that have historically been used by the patriarchy against women, there is a nuance that dismantles the idea. For example the following verse: “Men are qawwamun over women because Allah has given some more (or differently) than others, and because they spend from their wealth...” (Qur'an 4:34) The word qawwamun does not mean men have a “degree over” women as some incorrectly translate it. Rather the word qawwamun comes from a root that means “to stand up for, uphold, responsibility.” In other words, men are entrusted with woman who are dependent on them, and that trust means they will be held to a higher degree of accountability. This verse is not speaking about spiritual rank or inherent superiority, but rather about a man's additional responsibilities of care, protection, and service toward the women entrusted to him. The distinction described here is not a measure of one soul being closer to Allah than another, but a call to carry a particular trust with humility, mercy, and accountability.

May Allah guide us beyond the surface of His words into their deeper dimensions, and open the eyes of our hearts to receive the Qur’an not merely as a text to analyze, but as a living guidance sent to transform us. May He allow us to understand His verses as He intended, with wisdom, mercy, and surrender to the One who revealed them. May Allah allow us to feel our innate worth as women and to uplift the women in our lives to know their worth as well. May Allah, forgive us in the ways that we have not honored the mercy and love in His message. May He open our hearts and make us mirrors that reflect His qualities upon all of creation. In His beautiful names I pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

Listen to a new podcast episode I did this past week!

There was a spiritual master from Basra in modern day Iraq who refused to teach. Scholars from all over the world came to him, sat at his feet, asking to be taught and he would always say, “I will not teach you.” Finally a scholar came to him sincerely saying, “My teacher, you must teach us. You have something that no one else has and you must share that with us. Why are you not willing to teach us?” The spiritual master replied, “It is not me who is not willing to teach, it is all those who ask who are not willing to learn.”

The scholar said, “What do you mean? I am here! I am willing to learn.” The master said, “Are you willing to do anything to learn?” The man emphatically said, “Yes! Anything!” The spiritual master went back in his house and came out with a dirty cloth. He said, “Undress yourself of your robes and turbans and wear this dirty cloth.” The scholar gasped as he said, “You want me to walk in this town wearing this dirty cloth?”

The master continued handing the man a wooden bucket filled with little chocolates as he said, “Yes. And I want you to put this bucket around your neck and go to the market place. Every time someone offends you or the little boys throw stones at you, give them one of the candies in the bucket.” The spiritual master continued, “The question is do you want a teaching that you like, that amazes you, that fans the flames of your spiritual ego, or do you want a teaching that will transform your entire life?” As expected, the scholar was unable to wear the dirty cloth and receive the teaching and the master continued to be known as the teacher that doesn’t teach.

A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

Often times we approach God the same way the students approached this teacher. We want to learn lessons that we like, lessons that we can use as preaching material or to uplift our sense of self or meaning. In other words, we don’t necessarily want to know the truth, we want to know a truth that validates our ego’s preferences.

This story is confronting the seekers of knowledge, by asking: How far will you go for the Truth? Because the truth is expensive and the payment is made with your life, your identity, and all that you believe you already know. To learn, in many ways, is more about unlearning and letting go than acquiring something new.

Tazkiyat al-nafs or the “purification of the ego” is vital on the spiritual path, because the path to Allah is not one to a place we have never been, but a remembrance of who we have always been.

“Successful indeed is the one who purifies their soul, and doomed is the one who corrupts it!”
—Qur’an 91:9-10

The Prophet ﷺ talks about a man named Abu Damdam who would accept all curses and humiliation without retaliation as a form of charity to Allah. He would receive every blow against his ego as the necessary friction to polish his soul. This is why the Prophet ﷺ said, “Why can’t you be like Abu Damdam?” The companions asked, “Who is Abu Damdam Oh Prophet of God?” He replied, “Abu Damdam recites the following du’a every morning, ‘Oh Allah! I offer my life and honor to you.’ He would not retaliate or swear at those who swore him, oppressed him or abused him.” (Sunan Abi Dawud) To be like Abu Damdam is to welcome the criticism that purifies the heart of the desire to be validated by creation.

The sincere seeker is the one who prioritizes not what he knows or who he is, but the one who prioritizes the Knower of all knowledge, Al-Alim. When Allah becomes our reference point, the ego is dethroned from king to servant. After all, whatever certainty we carry is in relationship to the limitation of our perception. True certainty is found only in Allah. To say, “I know” is to become rigid, and blind to the ever expanding unfolding of Divine self-disclosure. Allah is Al-Haqq, The Truth, and all else is a mere shadow. The Qur’an reminds us that a thousand lies shatter before the presence of a single truth, the way darkness is dispelled in the presence of light.

“Rather, We hurl the truth against falsehood, and it crushes it, so it vanishes.”
—Qur’an 21:18

To be one who can learn the truth, is to be one who is willing to let all falsehood vanish no matter how beloved it may be to you. It means to let go of all identity, all ideas of oneself, all attachments, and all perceptions of societal expectations. We must be like Ishmail, to lay down our heads upon the stone of decree, and to be fully surrendered before the sword of truth. As the Qur’an says, “Then when the boy reached the age to work with him, Abraham said, “O my dear son! I have seen in a dream that I ˹must˺ sacrifice you. So tell me what you think.” He replied, “O my dear father! Do as you are commanded. Allah willing, you will find me steadfast.” (Qur’an 37:102) This is what it means to be a seeker on the path of truth, to be willing to let everything you have collected go, trusting that the One who gave before will give again.

Oh Allah, help us to purify our hearts and let go of every idea, concept, or perception in the way of knowing You. My beloved Lord, inspire us to seek the Truth regardless of the price. Oh Allah, remind us that all that we know is but a shadow before the light of Your knowing. My Lord, widen our hearts and expand the container of our understanding so that we may be grounded enough to weather the storms of doubt and flexible enough to be moved by Your wisdom. In Your beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

A great mystic had reached such a high rank that he understood the mystery of emptiness and its relationship to the illusion of form without the limitations of language. One day in a state of complete elation and annihilation in the Divine reality all of existence began to speak. The flowers dropped their fragrant flowers as they said, “We bow to your poetry on the hidden truth of emptiness.” The mystic said in his heart, “But I have not spoken a word on emptiness.” The wind whispered back, “You have not spoken on what cannot be heard, this is the essence of emptiness. It has no form, it has no limit, it is that which is and isn’t.” Then the clouds began to rain, each drop singing, “This is the truth! This is the real truth!”

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

When you empty yourself enough, emptiness speaks to you in volumes of silence beyond what language can grasp. The flowers, the ocean, and wind speak not as metaphors that point to praise, but every blossom, breeze, and wave are praise manifested into form. This is a worship that is not tied to language, that is not limited by space and time. When you are quiet enough, you begin to see that everything is prayer and all of creation is a state of sacred ceremony with the Divine.

“There is not a thing except that it glorifies Him with praise, but you do not understand their glorification.”
—Qur’an 17:44

When you let go of your ego’s narration, an inner spaciousness emerges as the light of God begins to speak through everything you witness. Inspiration is not dependent on what we know because it’s not our words that consciousness expands into, rather it’s our silence.

When our consciousness expands, it’s not the universe that changes, but it is the field of our vision that widens, making it possible for us to become aware of the symphony of divine praise that is perpetually streaming through all of existence. Emptiness then is not a state of absence, but a state of pure receptivity, the very unbounded ground of being from which all form emerges.

“And wherever you turn, there is the Face of God.”
—Qur’an 2:115

Allah’s presence is the source of the unified field of consciousness. It’s not an accident that the Arabic word aya, is a reference to both verses of revelation and signs in nature. God’s word flows off sacred pages and into the world, from Arabic forms into abstract clouds, towering mountains, and across every intimate revelation of creation. God is unveiling reflections of His Names a rain drop at a time, a breeze at a time, and a you and me at a time!

“We will show them Our signs in the horizons and in themselves until it becomes clear to them that it is the truth.”
—Qur’an 41:53

All of existence is a sign that points back to the reality of God. Everything that is manifested is a reflection of divine names. Beneath the forms is where the essence lies. The sin of the devil was not only in disobeying God out of arrogance and lordship, but through judging and creating separation from Adam by reducing Adam to his body or “sounding clay molded from black mud” (Qur’an 15:26). The Devil was judging Adam entirely by his outer forms. The devil could not see that the body was a clay bowl that held the mystery of the spirit in its emptiness.

This is precisely why the opposition of the word symbolic is diabolical, which means, “extremely evil, wicked, or characteristic of the devil.” The word symbolic comes from the old Greek word, symballein, meaning “to bring together, to unite reality, one gesture.” While the word diabolical comes from the Greek word, diaballein, meaning “to throw apart, divide, accuse, and slander.” In other words, when Allah calls us to see all created forms as symbolic, He is reminding us that outer forms point to inner realities. It brings together the seen and unseen realms. On the other hand, when you become a materialist, you become myopic, collapsing your vision of reality. Without reading the symbols we are reduced to living in a diabolical reality, which creates separation by insisting that things are defined entirely by their external form. It argues a rose is just a rose, a wave is just a wave, severing manifested forms from their sacred essence that mirrors the qualities of the Creator.

“Indeed, it is not the eyes that are blind, but it is the hearts in the chests that grow blind.”
—Qur’an 22:46

May the Divine protect us from having eyes that are blind to the realities beyond the forms. Oh Allah, open our hearts to receive the wisdom that has no words. My beloved Lord, bypass our minds and awaken our spirit through the language of truth that has no letters. Oh Allah, help us to surrender all that we think we are so that we may become sacred vessels in service of You alone. My Beloved Lord, remind us that silence is not empty, rather it is when we are quiet enough inside that we can hear the truths that You have always been speaking through creation. Let us see Your face in every rose and every prose reflected in mysterious way beyond form and limitation. In Your beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

Work in the World

A list of recent podcasts and interviews for you to enjoy. Will add more soon! :)

Btw, if I decided to start a podcast, who would you want me to interview?! Comment below!

@MOVDpodcast

“Poet and spiritual teacher A Helwa joins Mariah to encourage us to hold joy and light through the darkness. She also shares a story about finding beauty and losing herself in the desert.”

Wild Heart Podcast

“In this episode, luminous author A. Helwa shares about divine love in daily life, her experience of learning from other traditions, expanding love for the divine and the mystical practice of trust and surrender.”

EZ Conversations Podcast

“A. Helwa takes us on a captivating journey through the pages of her book, where she unveils the essence of Islamic spirituality that often remains hidden beneath the surface. As an advocate for inclusivity and understanding, she sheds light on the profound teachings of Islam that center around the concept of divine love.”

The Japanese army forced their way into a monastery where the spiritual master Gasan was teaching his students. When they arrived Gasan welcomed them, but told the cook to feed the soldiers what he fed the disciples. The army was used to receiving preferential treatment wherever they went so it made them furious to eat the simple food the disciples ate. The general of the army approach Gasan and said, “We are soldiers who sacrifice our lives for the safety of this country and this is how you treat us?” Gasan replied, “And who do you presume that we are general? We are soldiers who fight on behalf of all of humanity fighting with every single breath for the liberation of all sentient beings.”

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A Spiritual Reflection on the Story:

In the eyes of God, all souls are equal. The distinction of our rank is not dependent on our social status, power or wealth, but based on who is most God-conscious. This is why Gasan confronts the ego of the army general by essentially asking, Who do you think you are? This question is a reminder that power does not set you apart in the court of God.

“Oh mankind, We have created you from a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes that you may know one another. Indeed, the most noble of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous of you.”
— Qur’an 49:13

Our nobility is a function of our orientation toward Allah. It’s the orientation of the heart that determines our spiritual station not the accumulation of wealth or knowledge. The mystic Gasan is teaching the army general, that spiritual work is the essence of our work on this earth. It echoes the following wisdom of Rumi:

“It would be as if a king sent you to a village on a specific mission. If you went and performed a hundred other tasks, but neglected to accomplish the task for which you were sent, it would be as though you had done nothing.”
—Rumi

It is not the most armed or feared amongst us, but the most God-conscious, righteous or the one in Arabic who has taqwa that is successful. The word taqwa comes from an Arabic root word that carries the meanings, “to shield, to guard, to protect.” In other words, to be God-conscious is to guard ourselves from the temptations of the lower self and the voices of darkness. It is in restraint from temptation that the voice of the spirit is accessed. Our nearness to God is not a function of the uniform we wear or the power we have.

When Gasan says, We are soldiers who fight on behalf of all of humanity fighting with every single breath for the liberation of all sentient beings, he is not saying he is better he is saying that the most important war worth fighting is the war against the lower self. The act of spiritual striving or mujahada is not the fighting against an external enemy outside the gates of your city, but against the enemy of your own ego, between your two sides. It’s striving against the greed, arrogance, and entitlement that attempts to convince us that we deserve more than our brothers and sisters. The Qur’an tells us that it is through this striving towards God that we are resourced with Divine care and help. “As for those who struggle in Our cause, We will surely guide them along Our Way. And Allah is certainly with the good-doers.” (Qur’an 29:69)

My beloved Lord, please guide our hearts to be in service of You. Oh Allah, remind us that as we work in the world that we don’t forget to do the work of our souls. Oh Allah, help us to be humble and generous with the power that You have bestowed upon us. In Your beautiful names we pray, Ameen.

In prayers of light upon light,

Work in the World

A list of recent podcasts and interviews for you to enjoy. Will add more soon! :)

Btw, if I decided to start a podcast, who would you want me to interview?! Comment below!

@MOVDpodcast

“Poet and spiritual teacher A Helwa joins Mariah to encourage us to hold joy and light through the darkness. She also shares a story about finding beauty and losing herself in the desert.”

Wild Heart Podcast

“In this episode, luminous author A. Helwa shares about divine love in daily life, her experience of learning from other traditions, expanding love for the divine and the mystical practice of trust and surrender.”

EZ Conversations Podcast

“A. Helwa takes us on a captivating journey through the pages of her book, where she unveils the essence of Islamic spirituality that often remains hidden beneath the surface. As an advocate for inclusivity and understanding, she sheds light on the profound teachings of Islam that center around the concept of divine love.”