By Saadia Khan

One of the things I like to do in my spare time is read psychology books. When I was about to complete my undergraduate degree—a double major in history and political science–I was informed by the registrar’s office that I was only two half-courses short of completing a minor in psychology. Apparently, almost all of my electives had been in psychology. I was intrigued by the idea of sticking around just one semester longer to complete the requirement, but ultimately, the excitement of starting my Masters’ and the prospects of international travel got in the way. Alhamdulillah (all praise due to God), I have no regrets.

Fast forward 7 years and I am still enthralled by the study of human nature and behaviour. Every time I visit the library or a bookstore or every time I find myself aimlessly surfing the internet, I pretty much always end up reading more about this fascinating subject. And lately, I’ve noticed an interesting trend. Psychologists are getting more and more captivated by the idea of self-control. Some literature has always been there, of course, but it seems the concept of willpower is finally getting the broad research and mainstream attention it deserves.

Now you may be wondering, why is this interesting? Of course, willpower is important. But for a long time, psychology was more concerned with ideas such as intelligence, self-esteem, and especially, happiness. Each of these is important, of course, but I could not help but feel something was missing.  For the most part, it was the obsession with happiness that I always found troubling. To be blunt, I have always found people who make their happiness their #1 priority to be quite selfish and short-sighted. The pursuit of self-fulfilment at-all-costs seems contradictory to the Islamic worldview, a frame of reference that has no problem with happiness in and of itself but which emphasizes patience and sacrifice as more noble goals.

Self-control, on the other hand, is perfectly Islamic. Our whole religion is based around it. One of the reasons we pray five times a day is to gain discipline. We fast in the month of Ramadan in order to “learn self-restraint.” (Qur’an 2:183). We partake in Hajj, partly, to practice fortitude.  We “lower our gaze” (24:31) to resist temptation. Even the pursuit of wealth is not by any means necessary: we are stringent about examining the how and why of whatever we earn and spend (17:26). We have to regulate what we consume. We have to regulate our speech. We have to constantly exert control over our thoughts and feelings. We have to control our anger, our jealousy; any feelings of pride or arrogance. We constantly have to check our actions against our intentions.

We even have to exercise restraint in the permissible display of our emotions. When at war, Muslims are commanded to fight honourably and ethically. When we fall in love with our spouses, the expectation from our religion is to be temperate and keep the display of our affections limited to the domestic sphere.  When someone close to us dies, we are allowed to cry and show sadness, but we cannot wail and excessively lament. Even the duration of our mourning is limited to three days at which point we are expected to collect ourselves and move on.

The ethos of modern societies is to pursue with passion whatever you desire. But Islam emphasizes restraint, discipline and sabr (patience).

The Qur’an even goes as far as to say: “Who is more astray than one who follows his own lusts?” (28:50). The implication is that the opposite of that, a person who is in control of his desires, represents the pinnacle of right guidance.

In the past few decades, self-restraint has resumed its once-forgotten place at the centre of psychology. The turning point was triggered in a now-famous study by Walter Mischel of Stanford University, where children aged four and five were asked whether they wanted to eat one marshmallow now or two marshmallows later. The idea was to test the ability of these children to delay gratification. Many children gave in right away and consumed the marshmallow in front of them. But some were able to wait as long as fifteen minutes, successfully repressing their current desire for the promise of a double reward later. Mischel and his team then followed the children into adulthood and found that those who were able to control themselves as children subsequently performed better in school, sports and other extra-curricular activities, attained higher educational and salary levels, engaged in far less drug and alcohol abuse, and reported stronger, more satisfying relationships. In short, those children who were able to practice self-control were more successful in every aspect of their lives decades later.

Moreover, in a review of thousands of studies, founder and president of The Families and Work Institute Dr. Ellen Galinsky concluded that there are seven essential life skills that every child needs in order to reach his or her fullest potential. What is the top entry on her list? You guessed it: self-control. And this is based on decades of frontline observations and volumes upon volumes of research.

More recently, one of the world’s most prolific psychologists, Dr. Roy Baumeister of Florida State University published a book entitled Willpower that basically summarized decades of his and his colleagues’ research in the field.  What he essentially found is that success, no matter how you define it, often boils down to two things: intelligence and self-control. While you cannot increase your God-given intelligence, you can definitely improve your self-control.  How important is willpower? According to Baumeister “self-regulation failure is the major social pathology of our time.” I’ll let you read that again in order for it to sink in. Baumeister goes on to discuss various proven ways to improve self-control including: eating and sleeping right, keeping a diary, establishing routines, getting organized, implementing personalized distraction techniques and practicing guided meditation. He also demonstrates how the effects of successfully disciplining yourself in one area of life spill over into other areas of your life, creating a domino effect of positive transformation. As a Muslim, that sounds very familiar.

I could go on but you get the point. Science is only now uncovering the reality that our religion has taught all along. The secret to success is discipline and self-control.  We have always known that the ability to make choices is what separates us from animals. Now we also now that the ability to self-regulate is what separates average people from the truly remarkable. This is the kind of discipline that Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He) is trying to build in us through the various acts of worship and rituals He commands.  Who else Knows better the intricacies of human nature? Allah (swt) wants us to be successful and indicates the way. It is up us to now to act upon this knowledge.

“Oh you who believe, endure and outdo all others in endurance, be ready, and observe your duty to Allah, so that you may succeed.” (3:200)

Done with the right intentions, not only will self-control warrant success in this life, it will also guarantee success in the life to come. May Allah (swt) make us of those who practice discipline and remain firm on the His path. Ameen.

By Lena Khan

More than 1400 years ago—before the significance of it was ever being debated in our community—the Prophet ﷺ (peace be upon him) enjoyed and utilized the arts. For him, this was often in the realm of poetry. It was something he appreciated. He encouraged its purification. He understood its influence. And he used it. Many centuries later, although I am far from being like him in any way, in my capacity as a filmmaker also engaging in the arts: I am surely trying.

The Prophet ﷺ and the Arts

It can be said that the Prophet ﷺ enjoyed his share of the arts. When riding with the father of `Amr bin Sharid, it is reported that he asked `Amr, “Do you remember any poetry of Umayya bin Abi Salt?” `Amr replied in the affirmative, and the Prophet ﷺ asked him to recite. “Go on,” the Prophet ﷺ would say. By the end, `Amr had recited one hundred couplets to the Prophet’s blessed ears.

This appreciation of the arts of his time was not restricted to an isolated incident. On noted occasions, the Prophet ﷺ prayed for talented poets. Though he was not a poet himself by any means, he recited the poetry of Ibn Rawaha at the Battle of Khandaq. At weddings and celebrations, he encouraged the use of permissible songs and poetry.

Most noteworthy of all, however, might be the fact that at least in poetry, the Prophet ﷺ did not restrict himself to only that which came from Muslim poets, or was overtly about Islam. Instead, he mentioned in one version that Umayya ibn Salt was “almost a Muslim in poetry.” What mattered for the Prophet ﷺ, it seems, is that what he listened to was good. Pure.

This means, of course, that the Prophet ﷺ did not allow a blanket allowance of poetry. “Poetry is at the same status as ordinary speech,” he said. “The good of it (poetry) is like the good of speech, and the despised of it, is like what is despised speech,” (Bukhari). Rather than eschewing the arts in general, perhaps the Prophet ﷺ encouraged us to purify them.

The Prophet’s ﷺ involvement with poetry didn’t stop at mere appreciation. Rather, understanding its deep influence and importance to the people, he utilized them. At the time, enemies would fight each other not only in battle, but in poetry. To participate, the Prophetﷺ   appointed Hasan ibn Thabit to satirize the Quraysh, even setting up another minbar (pulpit) in his mosque to do so. “Lampoon them (through poetry) and Gabriel is with you,” he said (Bukhari). Hasan and several other companions thus used their poetry as forces of social impact for years on end.

New Media, Similar Ideas

What was poetry to 7^th century Arabia, however, may possibly be the literature or cinema of today. Poetry, of course, was not a Muslim invention. Just as they did in the realms of dress, language and other aspects of culture, the first Muslims embraced the good of the culture and arts in which they were, and from them brought forth their own cultural identity. Why then, cannot the storytellers, artists, and filmmakers of today do the same?

For my part, I am trying. Currently, I am working on a full-length feature film, entitled The Tiger Hunter. Most find the script is funny and compelling…but for the purposes of this article, it is quite clean. Good. If Muslims can accept “the good” of poetry, I wondered, can we perhaps do the same for movies?

Clearly, it is not something only I wonder. As I write, a new generation of artists are pioneering a permissible (halal) medium in entertainment and arts, and a new cultural identity—striving to maintain their religion while also struggling to maintain their culture. Like the poetry that the Prophet ﷺ sometimes appreciated, their art, books and films are not necessarily (or even usually) about Islam. Such is also the case with my film. But from what I’ve seen so far, they are good. And from what I see of the sunna (the tradition of the Prophet ﷺ), and in creating our own cultural strength, this may be what truly matters.

As for my film, it goes a bit further, in that it features a subtle depiction of a Muslim character in a positive lead role. This wasn’t what inspired the film (like Islamic civilizations of old, I was simply trying to practice my art in a halal manner), but I do think it is significant. The more we support artists who are trying to pursue excellence with integrity and God-consciousness, the more we will see projects of value, stories with good morals, and yes—start to see ourselves represented on screen.

I aspire toward the Prophet’s use of the poetry of Hasan ibn Thabit as a force of social influence. In present times, films and TV shows like Seinfeld, The Cosby Show, even Harold and Kumar each contributed to normalizing the ethnic and faith groups that star in them. In contrast, Muslim depictions on screen are largely negative. True, one movie itself does not change the world, but one need only look at the trajectory of acceptability of the gay community in the past two decades to understand the impact of the media. Whether in movies like The Kids are All Right or shows like Will & Grace, Modern Family, or Glee, few can deny that positive depictions of gay characters in entertainment are an undeniable factor in their overwhelming change in public perception. Can we not also have positive representations of ourselves on the silver screen?

To ever succeed in this effort, however, we need to not only move forward in the arts, but also encourage a new standard of excellence. The Prophet ﷺ, in his wisdom, did not merely employ Hassan because he was willing—but because he was talented, having already been known for his poetic skills. In the film industry, one need not only have artistic talent, but also a strong network and an astute understanding of the business and its economics. As we support our youth going into the arts, we must also make sure to encourage art that is good—in every sense of the world. Whether in selecting poets or generals, the Prophet ﷺ chose those who were excellent. We must do the same for our artists.

With The Tiger Hunter, we have done our best to follow this example. We have gathered a strong team, one that includes a few of the most talented Muslims with a true shot at making it in this incredibly competitive industry (and some who already have). We also have six Muslim interns, and try to do our best towards sharing what we know with young filmmakers who come to us. In turn, we seek advice from those who have already “made it,” and are working toward launching a boutique production company in the coming years. In this way, we hope to strengthen both the standard and impact of our work, graduating from a community of kids with cameras (who are told they “should have been doctors”) to professionals with sustainable endeavors, in an industry our community is still learning to seriously deal with. In this way, our community can enter the mainstream film industry and allow our presence to truly make an impact.

My film is not the only one trying to make an impact, but it is one of them. Some have heard about it because we are currently running a Kickstarter (online crowd-sourcing/fundraising) campaign to help get some of its final funding. Making a film with the resources that allows it to be competitive, to be considered excellent, in the mainstream market is hard. As it is, our budget is already quite tight. While we have many investors filling in the rest of the budget, we turned to the community for the support we need to accomplish our goals. We still need much more to at least reach our goal (and we do hope others can visit the site below and join us in whatever capacity they can), but I hoped to explain the vision behind a new generation of artists we are now starting to notice.

As Imam Suhaib mentioned, “Art can do for the Ummah (community) what the minbar can’t.” It is a truth seen in the time of the Prophet ﷺ, and speaks of a potential we now see. By having storytellers, characters, and values from our community in the arts—the possibilities of uplifting our image, and forming a true and organic cultural identity in our society, are similarly limitless. If only we can help make it happen.

Support and learn more about Lena’s film, The Tiger Hunter, by visiting her Kickstarter page here.

By Lena Khan

On the day that I write this, I received an email from a sister giving me advice (nasiha). I can (maybe) make documentaries, she told me—but certainly not fictional films. I should refrain from imitating the kuffar (disbelievers) in making movies. And for certain, I should be careful of engaging too much in the dangerous American culture. Lest I forget, our Prophet ﷺ told us, “Islam began strange, and it will become strange again…”

To be sincere, as a practicing (in sha’ Allah, God willing) Muslim in the film industry, I try my best to navigate my career while conforming to the principles and guidelines set down by my religion. Am I certain that I am making every correct decision in doing so? No, and I hope scholars will continue to guide me and start discussions to help others. Do I feel that Islam asks us to be foreigners, staying away from the arts, language and culture of the communities in which we reside? Absolutely not.

Instead of eschewing culture, Islam has always recognized the importance of it to the vibrancy and identity of the people. When the “sons of Arfida” (a reference to Ethiopians) beat drums and danced with spears in the Prophet’s mosque, Umar ibn al-Khattaab radi allahu `anhu (may God be pleased with him) wanted to stop them. The Prophetﷺ  stopped him instead, mentioning that the performers were the “Sons of Arfida”—that is, they were not of his people, his culture. “Play your games, sons of Arfida,” the Prophet ﷺ mentions in one narration, “so the Jews and Christians know there is latitude in our religion.”

Such was the sunna (tradition) of the Prophet ﷺ: accepting pre-Islamic Arab cultural norms, except that which violated the religion. Be it language, names, or practices, the Prophet ﷺ generally left the people to their culture. In recognition of this truth, the respected jurist Abu Yusuf “understood the recognition of good, local cultural norms as falling under the rubric of the sunna.” ((Abd-Allah, Umar Faruq. “Islam and the Cultural Imperative.” 4))

Most interesting, however, are the actions of Angel Jibril. In a famous tradition, Jibril comes to the Prophet ﷺ in the form of a man and questions him about his religion. Since angels can only act upon the orders of Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He), one aspect is telling: Allah ordered Jibril to dress in the clothes of the people with whom he was speaking. ((Lecture: Imam Suhaib Webb, Alim Winter Conference. 1/19/12. Paraphrasing is my own, and may fall victim to my errors of interpretation)) The affirmation of the culture of a people, it seems, has strong precedence in our faith.

In accord with this attitude of the Prophet ﷺ and the religion, Islamic cultures of history followed suit. In China, instead of replacing the indigenous culture, Chinese Muslims created one of their own. The Chinese of centuries ago up until the modern artist Hajji Noor Deen cultivated Chinese calligraphy, and also (but not always) incorporated Arabic. When one looked upon a Chinese mosque, he or she might find the ideograms kai tian gu jiao: “the primordial religion from the world’s beginning.” ((Abd-Allah 8.)) Chinese Muslims, it seemed, consciously made their faith intelligible and organic to those around them. In these acts, Chinese Muslims affirmed that their faith was not foreign, but part and parcel of their indigenous culture.

In this way, the Prophetic and Islamic civilizations of old embraced the culture of the land in which they lived. This, however, was always done in accord with the divine Law. The Prophetﷺ  purified cultural practices that went against the religion and its values. He left people and even converts to their own names, except when they had ill or blasphemous meanings. He encouraged poetry, but not all poetry. The Prophet, in his wisdom and guidance, did not come to erase culture. He took what was good of it, and created a new one. And thus the Muslim identity stayed strong for centuries.

Nowadays, however, our youth do not feel the same comfort. While Chinese Islam feels Chinese, and Indian Islam is distinctly Indian… American Islam is asked to be Arab (or maybe South Asian). As Dr. Umar Faruq Abd-Allah writes in his article, “Islam and the Cultural Imperative,” “In history, Islam showed itself to be culturally friendly and, in that regard, has been likened to a crystal clear river. Its waters (Islam) are pure, sweet, and life-giving but—having no color of their own—reflect the bedrock (indigenous culture) over which they flow.” If this analogy has any truth, American Islamic culture is in danger of being a murky and shallow pond, reflecting nothing, and providing no refreshing life force to those who drink of it.

Just as Islamic civilizations have done for centuries, it is incumbent upon Islam in America to create its own cultural authority—not through losing ourselves to the culture without regard for our religion, but by developing it from the culture. In this way, we—and especially our youth—will feel like we truly belong.

Islam has always been a practical religion, dealing with the realities of the world. We, too, must also deal with reality: we can either define and develop our own strengthened cultural authority, or we can lose ourselves and our youth to another. Culture allows us to define ourselves, and have strength in who we are. “Identities that are rooted in deep cultural contradictions,” writes Dr. Umar, “are easily thrown into states of confusion and doubt.”

We have then, a choice. Culture, especially the arts, will always be part of the human experience. Whether it is through Muslims who have made it into the mainstream—such as Yusuf Islam, Lupe Fiasco, Khaled Hosseini, G. Willow Wilson, Hakeem Olajuwon, or the Abdullah Brothers, or filmmakers and artists who are on their way to mainstream recognition—like I hope myself and others, in sha’ Allah, our youth are starting to have examples for how to embrace our indigenous culture and from it create our own.

Knowing many of these figures, I know that our work itself is a struggle. We strive to become excellent in our fields, while maintaining what we believe our religion asks of us. It is likely that some may disagree with our choices. Music, or no music? Is a bad word in a novel that more or less requires it worth the good that comes, or is it even allowed? The solution is not topush away culture and the arts, but to have the discussions that will guide us through them and emerge with a halal (permissible) alternative and guidelines in the arts and our cultural authority. This is what we find in the Prophetic example, as well as in Islamic civilizations for centuries.

Perhaps some may disagree with those figures most powerfully developing this cultural authority. If that is the case, we should understand that we are in a new era where we have Muslim artists who are not operating outside of Islam, but trying their best to apply it—practicing their craft without sacrificing Islamic principles as they understand them. Let us have the critical discussions to guide them all. As Oscar Wilde famously said, “Life imitates art far more than art imitates life.” Our society, and youth, will continue to find identity and strength in cultural icons and artists. Do we worry about what figures, and what art, is currently defining them? Then let us support those who may give them a more acceptable alternative, and help create an Islamic and indigenous cultural redefinition that will strengthen us all.

Lena Khan is a writer and director, working on a full-length feature film, “The Tiger Hunter” and currently running an online crowd-sourcing campaign to help fund it.  Information about her film, and how to support, can be found at http://kck.st/13tcFx8.

By Humaira Khan

A Short Story

She hated him when they had disagreements. Adil was a great husband and father—most of the time. He was caring and loving and he helped her with her household chores. He loved the children—he fed them, woke up in the middle of the night to help her put the little one to sleep, and changed their diapers. But sometimes he could be extremely unreasonable and would lose his temper at the slightest provocation.

Like tonight.

Earlier in the evening, she had been running late to get dinner ready because the children were not giving her a break; they were all irritable. She wished Adil would help watch them so that she could get the cooking done, but he was on the phone.

“Okay, enough out of you two!” she said out loud, hoping Adil would hear her.

But five whole minutes passed and he didn’t come.

She found herself getting more and more frustrated. Why wasn’t he coming? How was she supposed to handle two crying children AND cook the food?!

A few minutes later, Adil strolled into the living room.

“That was Abdullah. He is in the area and wanted to know if I could go to the masjid with him for Maghrib ((the prayer after sunset)) and play cricket afterwards. What do you think?”

“Whatever you want,” said Aisha, as she tried to clean up the mess in the living room. The children had quieted down and were busy eating sandwiches.

“Are you sure?” Adil didn’t seem to notice that she didn’t exactly approve of the plan.

“Yeah,” she said, carefully avoiding eye contact with him.

“Okay, but call me if you need anything.”

“What about dinner?”

“I’ll eat when I come back insha’Allah ((God willing)) !”

His smile was dazzling. Countless times, she had gazed at him as he smiled and thought how lucky she was to have a man like him. But this was not one of those moments.

His phone started ringing. It was Abdullah again.

“You sure you will be okay?” Adil asked Aisha.

She nodded.

He hugged them all and left with Abdullah.

Three hours later, Aisha was exhausted. The children had taken forever to sleep and she hadn’t had a break since morning. When Adil came home, she didn’t even feel like talking to him. When he tried to get her to tell him why she was upset, her reply was short and curt. Adil was furious! Why had she let him go with Abdullah in the first place if she didn’t want him to?!

A huge argument followed and Adil stormed out of the room! Aisha was seething in anger. How she hated him!

She sat rocking furiously back and forth on the glider, angry thoughts racing through her head.

How she ended up thinking of Mariam just then, she didn’t know. But her mind went back to a conversation with her best friend almost twenty years ago.

She had been sitting alone on the bench in the college courtyard, brooding, when she was startled by someone’s hand on her shoulder.

She swung around only to come face to face with Mariam. In her, Aisha had found the only person who understood her.

Mariam sat down next to her.

“Why are you sitting all alone over here, Aisha?”

“Nothing. Same old story.”

“Oh. What happened?”

“Just this girl I thought I was getting along really well with. She said something I didn’t like.”

Mariam waited for her to continue. She knew better than to interrupt when Aisha was agitated.

“I don’t understand why these things happen to me, Mariam! I mean, what did I ever do to all these people that they feel they need to be mean to me!”

“Well, what did that girl say to you?”

“I don’t remember exactly, but something about how she didn’t know I was out of town last week. She said she didn’t realize I wasn’t around because she never sees me outside of the classroom or at any events here anyway, and that it was only when someone else mentioned that I had gone to California to visit my sick aunt, that she found out I was away!”

“Poor choice of words, I agree, but—”

Aisha interrupted her: “Well, who is she to go around drawing conclusions about someone she doesn’t know! What does she know about what events I like or don’t like to attend! I wish I could think of the right thing to say when it’s needed and not later when the moment’s gone!”

“So what would you have liked to say to her?”

“I would have told her the truth, of course! That I attend all the events or parties that I am invited to. But that I cannot be there at events I haven’t received an invitation for.”

She was biting her lip.

“But why is that so important for you to clarify?” Mariam asked gently.

Aisha looked up. What was Mariam saying? Her own confused look met Mariam’s steady gaze.

“Why shouldn’t it be important?” she said, almost defensively.

“What I am asking is why do you think correcting someone’s opinion about you is so important? Do you think you can tell me in concrete terms why some acquaintance’s incorrect opinion of you is bothering you so much?”

Aisha was silent. Mariam’s question was important. Why WAS it bothering her so much? And why was she so bent on correcting it?

“I guess I want people to not misunderstand me and not make a monster out of me when I’m really not one?” Her answer wasn’t making much sense to herself either. When stated plainly, it really didn’t seem like it had been that big of an issue to begin with!

“Exactly!” Mariam’s response was a second too fast.

Aisha smiled inadvertently. “You know something I don’t, right?” she said, somewhat relieved to find herself smiling in this situation.

“How many times did you just use the words “I” or “me” in that last sentence?”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” She wished Mariam wouldn’t speak in riddles!

“Does someone else’s bad opinion of you make you a bad person? Obviously not, right? So why should that opinion be so important that it assumes center stage in your life? People have the option to find out the truth, be polite, not jump to conclusions about others but they also have the option not to. What they choose defines who THEY are, not who YOU are.”

Aisha had a look of admiration on her face. Mariam truly had the gift of eloquence!

Mariam continued: “But even that’s not what I am trying to point out to you. Sometimes we have problems not because others are judging us or misunderstanding us but because we are so focused on ourselves that everything else is diminutive in comparison. We then become more important to ourselves than even Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He) and that’s where our problems begin.

“So, for example, when someone gives us an odd look, we want to know why and spend hours in agony trying to find out what’s wrong. Or when somebody disagrees with us, we find ourselves infuriated. Or when our mom tells us to do something when we are busy, we get frustrated because we, our work, our time, is more important than everything else! And when we are more important to ourselves than anybody else, our relationships are affected too, by the way we respond to what others say and do. What they say or do is not judged by its own merit, but in terms of how they say or do those things TO US! Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Aisha said slowly. She was staring past Mariam at some distant point, her brow wrinkled as she let that explanation sink in. Mariam was right. Aisha realized she did judge everything and everyone in terms of how those things or those people affected her. But wasn’t that how everyone else saw things too? What other point-of-view could she see things from, if not her own?

Mariam said: “I struggle with this self-centeredness, too, you know. All the time! I have to constantly remind myself!”

It seemed incredulous to Aisha that Mariam, whose understanding of the issue seemed so clear, could be struggling with it as she said.

But Mariam was speaking again: “Yes, that’s right. I struggle with this all the time! Every time I find myself getting frustrated, I know my focus is me! I know then that I need to stop making myself the center of the universe!”

“But I don’t understand! If you don’t let yourself judge things based on how they affect you, wouldn’t you be leaving yourself vulnerable to oppression?” Aisha finally managed to convey her confusion in concrete terms.

“Actually, if you are not so focused on yourself, you’ll be able to see things more clearly and deal with them more sensibly than if all you can see is you!”

Mariam’s explanation made complete sense.

It had been twenty years since she had had that conversation yet she hadn’t forgotten it. Like Mariam, she too found herself struggling to live it. Every time she found herself getting angry at her children, or mad at her husband, or frustrated with people in general, she realized that it was time for her to remind herself to stop focusing only on herself.

If her son wanted to go the bathroom one more time or her daughter wanted her to play with her just as she was trying to get dinner ready, was it their fault? If she was getting frustrated, it was because she was thinking, “Why can’t they let me do what I want to do at this time?!”

If her husband went to sleep early one day in a month because he had had a tiring day at work, she would be angry with him. “Is my day not tiring?” she would think.

If her mother-in-law didn’t appreciate her, she would be depressed and unhappy. “Why doesn’t she see my good qualities?” would be the thought in her head.

Of course this wasn’t just the case when things weren’t going well. She realized that she was happy when people praised her or spoke nicely to her. It didn’t matter whether they were right or wrong about her then; the only thing that mattered was their approval.

Mariam had been right. It was when her “self” assumed central importance in her own life, over and above everything and everyone else, that her problems really began.

Aisha took a deep breath. She realized that the issue could have been better resolved had her entire focus not been on herself alone, even if her husband’s had been on himself. If only she had let it go at that moment and not made it a matter of ego, saying, “How dare he do / say this to me!”

If she had not lost her temper then, he would have felt bad at his own conduct. And when things had calmed down, she would have had every opportunity to let him know how she felt when he had raised his voice at her. Who could he have blamed then, except himself?

Slowly, she rose from her chair. She knew what she had to do but she hesitated. Apologizing was not about lowering oneself, as she had once thought, but about admitting one’s mistake. And she had made a mistake.

It was time to repair her relationships.

She walked to the door, hesitated again, but then bravely left her room to find Adil. If he had been unreasonable, she had been unreasonable too.

Somebody needed to take that first step to put an end to such situations. And the first to do so would earn the most reward, she thought.

Besides, their relationship was worth saving. Little issues like this could assume larger-than-life proportions if not dealt with sensibly, and she didn’t want such things to stand between her and Adil.

She was sure he was sitting in the living room staring into space. She paused in the hallway as she caught sight of him doing just that. A smile escaped her. He was a good man. Sometimes she couldn’t understand how she could be so upset with him.

She glanced at the mirror hanging on the wall next to her but a thought struck her as she looked. For the next few seconds, she stared at her own reflection, thinking that this was the person who was at the center of her little universe. It didn’t seem right.

She looked towards Adil again and was surprised to find him looking at her. As she walked towards him, he stood up. Leading her by the hand, he made her sit next to him on the sofa.

Before she could say anything though, he looked straight at her and said, “I’m sorry, Aisha. I should not have spoken to you like that.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Aisha’s eyes were full of tears.

She had to explain to him how she felt and he was ready to listen, all night if he had to.

By Omaer Khan

Muslims are weird. They talk differently, they dress differently, they think differently. What is wrong with them, and why can’t they be more like everyone else?

I come from a secular family. My mother was a Hindu, and my father a Muslim. They fell in love, got married and gave birth to me, a Muslim. Or was I?

***THEORY 1: AMUSEMENT PARK

I always had a good imagination—and I loved to learn. I was into science, philosophy, extreme programming, and Douglas Adams. I was rational—if something didn’t make sense to me, I didn’t buy it. The concept of ‘blind faith’ was unacceptable to me, and so I found it difficult to accept religious teachings because they seemed to be so far fetched and such utter nonsense. As a very young kid, I formed the following theory to satisfy my questions:

Some ‘beings’ live forever. Having done everything there is to do, they are now bored. They create an amusement park. One of the ‘rides’ is called Earth. The ride starts when a person is born in our world, and when the person dies, they ‘wake up’ from the game. There is no objective; it is simply a means of entertainment.

This theory seemed to explain everything, and answer all of life’s questions. Think about it. (It’s a lot like the Matrix theory, isn’t it? Well I thought of it before the movie.)

Now, chances are that it probably seems absurd to you, but can you ask yourself seriously, why is that? Why is it so hard to believe that this is the truth? There is no way to prove that the theory is incorrect. However absurd it sounds, it is perfectly viable that this is in fact the true meaning of this life. Seriously, think about it.

The reason why you are unlikely to ‘buy it’ is in part that there is no evidence to back it up. Even though there is nothing to disprove it, neither is there any proof in support of it. It answers all the questions my fourth grade mind could come up with about this life—but that isn’t sufficient proof that the theory is correct. And that’s exactly the problem I had with religion.

***THEORY 2: SHUT DOWN

As I grew, my fascination with technology, computers in particular, also grew. I noticed a similarity in computers and humans. To draw an analogy, human minds are like computer processors: our long term/short term memories are like a hard disk/RAM; our nervous system is like a motherboard; our eyes like cameras; our ears like a microphone; our mouth like a speaker; our body like a monitor/screen. Of course there are also so many differences, but let’s just put those aside for now. A seventh grade kid thinking about this, it suddenly hit me: I knew the ultimate answer. I knew what happens when a human dies. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Exactly the same way that nothing happens when a computer is shut down. The brain stops processing, the memory stops recording. The hardware shuts down. What does a computer ‘feel’ or ‘experience’ after it’s been shut down? Absolutely nothing at all. If a computer is switched off, absolutely nothing is happening inside it. And when we die, absolutely nothing will be happening in our minds. They will be blank. We will not exist.

This is a very difficult concept to grasp, but given that I came up with the computer analogy, I thought about it often enough to truly believe it as the truth. And it scared me. I was depressed for a long while because it’s scary to know that there’s nothing out there after this life. That when we die, that is it. It is a really scary reality to live in, and it ate at me until I learnt to accept it. When we die, it would be similar to a computer shutting down. The concept of ‘experiencing’ anything would no longer apply to us. We would be ‘blank’. There would be no ‘we’. Simple. Deal with it.

***THEORY 3: CLOUD COMPUTING

Around the time I was obsessed with this theory, I was exposed to the idea of telepathy. Mothers having strong intuitions about their children—crazy, long distance emotional connections that couldn’t be explained by science. There was so much I didn’t understand. So much science didn’t understand; so much of the ‘occult’, the crazy. The power of prayer, which so many swear by. Miracles. God.

What if God existed? I was open to the idea. I recognized that the concept of God was too vaguely defined for anyone to argue either in favour of, or against. So I proposed a concept of God that seemed possible to me. I have already established the similarity between humans and computers. Now, imagine that we are connected to one another (over some radio frequency perhaps). What if all our minds are networked at a subconscious level? That would explain telepathy. And that would provide an answer to why ‘Prayer’ is effective, what ‘God’ is, and so on. They say that a large chunk of our brain belongs to the ‘subconscious’ mind—that we can’t consciously use it. This part could be what processes/runs/maintains this ‘Cloud’ network. There are so many humans, imagine that all our subconscious minds are inter-connected, and work with each other to accomplish miracles, or watch over the human race, or do whatever else God is supposed to be responsible for. Distributed computing.

Miracles, shared supernatural experiences, gut feelings, ‘tapping into our subconscious’, getting a bad ‘vibe’ from someone, or someplace… all sorts of crazy phenomenon seem to be explained easily if our minds are able to tap into this network of shared experiences. This even makes sense from an evolutionary point of view.

***NO MORE THEORY

So I was curious. I was wildly imaginative. And I was an idealist—set on a path to figure out the meaning of this life, the universe and everything. And then I fell in love. And being the idealist that I was, I fell crazy, deeply in love. And I fell in love with someone who took full advantage of my naivety, my idealist innocence. And she reduced me to a shadow of myself—she played me, and blind in love, I didn’t even notice. And I hurt and I suffered and after that ended I was depressed. My ideal vision of the world was shattered and my perfectionist self couldn’t accept my imperfect past. I lost my self-confidence. I was such a mess, such an emotional wreck. And I didn’t want a theory to explain life—I didn’t want to live—I was tempted by the thought of ending it all. And I prayed to the God I hoped existed but didn’t believe in. I prayed: ‘God, if You exist, prove to me that You do. Make me believe in You.’

I wanted my miracle, and I wanted to have faith so badly but I didn’t. Blind faith just seemed so wrong. If God existed, He couldn’t possibly want us to just believe that without proof. If there was no proof, we could end up believing in anything in the name of faith. He would surely give us some way to prove, at least to ourselves, that He is there, watching over us. He had to give me proof. And then I laughed at myself for my own folly in asking a God I didn’t even believe in to help me. Man, I am such a mess, I thought to myself.

So I did what I do—I bundled up all those emotions and stuck them in a part of my mind that I shut off completely. I ignored the feelings—suffocated them rather, and on the surface I was normal. But I wasn’t normal. I felt distant from the world, like my feelings and emotions weren’t really there. Like I felt with my mind instead of my heart, like I was making a conscious decision to smile, or cry, or laugh, or be quiet. I felt like I didn’t truly ‘feel’ and instead I ‘allowed’ myself to enact the emotions I thought were appropriate for any situation. And that became normal.

***NORMAL

All my life, I’ve never pretended to be a good Muslim. Except to my father (in front of whom I’d pray, but only to keep him happy), and except in Ramadan. I would fast during Ramadan every year—not pray, but fast—despite the harshest conditions, I’d fast for all 30 days. I thought of it more as a way of disciplining myself, and it made me feel special. I didn’t believe in God, I just did it because it was cool.

But nonetheless, I think I was a good person—I followed my conscience. I always tried to be honest, helpful, patient, kind. I helped people at my own expense, didn’t drink alcohol (never got into the habit as a boy, and wasn’t tempted after that), wasn’t into women (courtesy of the heartbreak, I suspect), and I prided myself in my honour. I knew that the one thing I had faith in was my inner goodness, that I would rather be honest/correct at the expense of ease, than compromise my conscience. And I never followed the flock—again, unless something made sense to me, I didn’t do it—so when my friends slept around, partied crazily, puked all over themselves (and me on occasion), and ‘had fun’, I was never tempted by it all. I’d accompany them for the sake of the friendship, and I never judged them or thought of myself above them—I just figured that that life wasn’t for me. And so I never partook in the Crazy.

It’s not that I didn’t have fun. I loved to read. I loved adventure sports, the outdoors: camping/hiking/beachside barbecues. I loved DIY; I enjoyed a wide variety of music; I really loved programming, carpentry, electronics, mechanics, ‘making stuff’, and, later, I loved talking and listening, having conversations (initially I was quite reserved).

And I was normal. But all the while I always had the nagging feeling that I wasn’t. It’s like a wound heals and you can’t feel the pain anymore but you know that it’s not because the pain has gone, but because you’ve gotten used to it. And even though you can’t tell that it hurts, you know it doesn’t feel right. It’s like you walk into a stale, musty room and soon you can’t smell the mustiness, but you don’t feel fresh either. You get it, right?

***MUSLIMS SUCK

Given the person I was, I avoided the company of Muslims. I didn’t like how they expected me to conform, go out of my way to do things which I didn’t enjoy doing (such as pray). I didn’t like how they talked funny by adding ‘if God wills it’, or ‘Praise be to God’ at seemingly random places in any conversation. I didn’t get why they were so insensitive to other religions. I told myself: as a Muslim, I wouldn’t want to hear other’s preach their religion to me. Why would I, as a Muslim, do to others what I know I wouldn’t want them to do to me? And I felt like an outsider. I didn’t fit in with other Muslims—even if I wanted to conform, I didn’t know the rules. I didn’t know when to say Alhamdulillah (all praise and thanks be to God), or SubhanAllah (glory be to God), or Insha’Allah (if God wills it. Muslims say this after any hopeful/future event, as a reminder that nothing happens without the permission of God).

And most Muslims I met didn’t know the rules of the society I belonged to. And I didn’t know why they did what they did—I just figured it was tradition, or a closed-minded minority community’s way of safeguarding themselves from change by alienating themselves with this strange talk and behaviour. And most of all, I found Muslims intellectually un-stimulating. Boring. They had nothing interesting to say. No Muslim I knew excelled at anything—they were all mediocre and satisfied that way. They were into politics and current affairs perhaps (which I wasn’t into), but never into science, technology, philosophy, music, movies or anything I found interesting. If they were into those things, then they never made it obvious that they were Muslims. And I never thought of them as Muslims—they didn’t pray, and they didn’t abstain from drinking alcohol or eating pork. And the few Muslims who did seem intelligent usually turned out to be religious nuts.

And so I remained that way, unsatisfied, but at a status quo. Telling myself this was the best it would get, that I was a good person, and that was all that mattered. I excelled in my field, I had a clear conscience, I was decent looking and healthy, and had enough money to live more than comfortably, and so I should be satisfied. And given how I was already so used to ‘pretending/enacting’ emotions, I faked satisfaction. Even to the extent that I believed I was satisfied, although I wasn’t.

***A NEW START

And so I was living this life—‘satisfied’ where I was, believing that when I die, there would no longer be a ‘me’—and I was no longer scared by the thought because I really did want it all to end. And I went through school, college, got a job—and I’d just try on occasion to pray every now and then just for the heck of it. Just to have the identity of a Muslim I guess.

In today’s day and age, when society ridicules Islam and people say horrible things about Muslims, I just thought it would be ‘weak’ of me to alienate myself from Islam. So I’d try and be a Muslim, try and pray, just because I felt it was wrong to ditch the weaker side. Not that it made a difference—I wasn’t doing anything, just satisfying my own need to not feel guilty.

And so it was that I was hanging out one day with a bunch of close friends from the same university (who happened to be Muslims), and we went to meet a visiting friend who was now pursuing further education abroad. He was a nice guy—friendly, fun, happy, down to earth. I didn’t know him too well, but I respected the person he was. And when we went to meet him, he told us he was planning to leave Islam and become an atheist. And he had changed—he seemed somewhat depressed, he wasn’t as strong a personality as I remembered him to be. And my Muslim friends started working on ‘increasing his faith’ and encouraging him to not do something so drastic. But to no avail. He was open to listening to arguments in favour of Islam, but none of the arguments made sense to him—he had the same problem I did with blind faith. When turned to for my opinion, I said something along the lines of:

The concept of God is too vaguely defined to argue either in favour of, or against. In case there is in fact a God, He’d be pissed if you didn’t believe in Him. And if there is no such ‘intelligence’, then believing can’t really do you any harm. If anything, it’ll give you something to have faith in, or anchor yourself to. There’s really no point in going the atheist route—just hang in there, and hope that there is a God.

He pursued this line of thought but of course there was a catch in the argument, something I had been struggling to answer, but couldn’t. And he asked: “How can one have faith in ‘something vague’? One doesn’t really have faith in a ‘vague concept’. By this logic, one could be asked to have faith in anything at all.”

At this point, a bemused friend told me that I was wrong. That Islam was not a religion that encouraged ‘blind faith’, and that Islam actually had proof that God exists. And I laughed to myself but kept quiet. My friend was adamant though—he insisted that if anyone at all read the Qur’an, with the intention of learning from it, with the intention of reading what God had to say to humanity and learn from it with a pure heart, then that person would be convinced that there is in fact a God. He spoke of miracles that could not be explained by science, and he spoke with such conviction that I was convinced he was another religious nut. But then he said that the Qur’an itself encourages people to challenge it, find flaws in it, and that he openly challenged anyone at that table to read the Qur’an with the intent to learn from it, to read It with an open heart, and that the person would be left convinced of the existence of God. And I thought I’d give it a shot—what did I have to lose?

***GOD

So I did what any kid my age would do—I downloaded an eBook of the Qur’an, with the English translation, and I started reading it. I got past the first few pages the first time, and I fell asleep. I tried again the second day, and, man, it was so difficult to read. I didn’t get the references, the strange language, the hidden meanings—it was way too difficult. Whatever was I thinking? And yet, I wasn’t about to give up so easily. I had just been told that Islam encourages intellectual study of religion, that we are told—rather, we are instructed by God Himself—to challenge and question the Qur’an, and that God Himself says that we are not to believe in Him blindly. Now this was a God that I could hope to believe in. This was a God who would satisfy my intellectual curiosity, would prove to me that He exists. And I decided to give this whole ‘Muslim’ thing another shot. After all, what did I have to lose?

And I saw video after video on YouTube, read article after article about Islam and the Qur’an, and the more I read/learnt, the more answers I got to the doubts/questions I had about Islam, and all the same, the more new doubts/questions popped up in my mind. And so began my journey to learn about this religion.

And then it was Ramadan. And I was fasting all 30 fasts, and this time I decided I’d pray as well. And in order to pray, I went to a mosque where the Imam (preacher) did the khutba (sermon) in English. And after the first few days, I was so moved by what I heard. The message of Islam that I heard was so beautiful. I felt so at peace while praying. I don’t know what happened to me at that point, but it felt like a switch flipped in my brain—my point of view changed so dramatically that everywhere I looked, I saw signs of miracles. I saw God everywhere I looked. And over the course of that Ramadan, I became a whole other person. I felt so connected to God, the Creator and Lord of this Universe. I felt so at peace and I felt such a deep sense of tranquility that it was the first time in ages that I actually ‘felt’ something truly from the depths of my heart. It was like a sense of calm and peace filled every bit of my being, like I was so satisfied where I was, like everything in the world was so insignificant. And I wept and I cried and I was so ashamed of all my sins, all my doubts, and I was so grateful to God for making me believe in Him.

***SATISFYING THE INTELLECT

But I was weak, a human after all—I knew of God’s existence, but I was so weak. I knew I had to pray all five times a day—I knew it was important because God suhanahu wa ta’ala (exalted is He), the Creator of this Universe, had told all Muslims they had to pray. And I tried to, but I’d miss prayer—I’d be sleeping perhaps—and then the guilt of missing my prayers would eat at me, and I’d be too guilty to pray for days after that. And I’d do shameless things, just do everything wrong because I felt like I didn’t deserve to be forgiven. I felt like I had sinned so much that this would only be another few drops in my ocean of sin.

And then despite having felt the miracle of God’s forgiveness—the peace and tranquility that came with it, I started questioning it all. I challenged my belief in what I had experienced. I told myself that even though my heart still believed, my mind did not. And that’s when I randomly stumbled upon an essay by Dr. Gary Miller—and that essay changed everything for me.

Who is Dr. Miller? Dr. Miller was a Canadian Mathematician and Christian missionary. He decided to do the world a favour and rid the world of Islam by accepting the Qur’an’s challenge to find flaws in it (the Qur’an clearly challenges non-believers in many places to find flaws in it, and to come up with another book like it). He studied the Qur’an for years, and at the end of his studies, he was so convinced that the Qur’an was in fact authored by God himself, that he converted to Islam. Being the logical and intellectually grounded person that I was, this Mathematician’s work made so much sense to me that I was convinced at an intellectual level of that which my heart already believed in.

And once more, I asked God for His forgiveness, and now I committed myself a hundred percent to becoming a good Muslim. But I have lost that sense of tranquility and peace. Even today I strive to be a better Muslim in the hope that someday God will forgive me of my many sins insha’Allah (if God wills it).

I will not list the proofs and arguments here—I’m no scholar and I’m not capable of answering any questions. I read somewhere that there are two types of knowledge: knowledge of the heart and knowledge of the mind. Knowledge of the heart is useful to those trying to become better Muslims, and knowledge of the mind is useful to those fighting intellectual battles for Islam. Alhamdulillah my heart and mind are convinced and believe in what Islam teaches. But I don’t have enough knowledge of the mind to even think of arguing this out with anyone. Insha’Allah some day I’ll have learnt/read the Qur’an, and learnt/read other scriptures, and God might bless me with the knowledge to show others what I see so clearly now.

I highly encourage everyone to read this essay by Dr. Gary Miller—but unless one does so with an open mind and heart, it’s impossible to find any proof convincing enough. Unless one is open to the idea of miracles, miracles cease to exist. One only accepts what one is willing to—even if one is presented with the most convincing of arguments, one can always say, “That isn’t right, these people must be lying.” Islam argues: don’t stop at “That isn’t right.” Do some research, argue the proof intellectually and you won’t be able to. So if you’re willing to go through that, or if you’re willing to read the essay with an open mind, I say go for it.

***A JOURNEY

Islam is a journey. It is a journey to serve the Lord and Creator of this Universe, and in so doing, to improve ourselves, to live more satisfying lives, to protect ourselves from what is wrong and evil. And it isn’t easy to begin with. Until one has truly and completely submitted to God’s will, Islam is a difficult religion to follow—and it remains so until one gives in completely to it. There is no easy 50/50 path—and this scares away people. There are so many rules and regulations, so many things that we are afraid to start because we are afraid to make mistakes.

But God says so many times in the Qur’an that He is Merciful and Forgiving—and I believe that if one strives to be a better Muslim, even if one takes slow steps, one at a time, it becomes so much easier as time goes by. As with anything else in this world, habits are difficult to break, but if you have faith and strive to do what you know is right, He makes things easier.

I started praying once a day everyday for the first week, then twice, then thrice… And before I knew it, I was praying 5 times a day everyday Alhamdulillah. If I’d missed a prayer, I’d say the next one anyway even if I didn’t make up for the prayer I missed. Then I started covering for the ones I had missed as well. I started trying to learn the Qur’an. I didn’t know any Surahs (chapters) except al-Fatiha (the first chapter of the Qur’an) and Ikhlas (a short chapter). And I started learning them one by one, slow and steady. I started reading about Islam, about the teachings of Islam, only with the intent of being a better person and a better Muslim. And it’s a slow journey but it leaves you so satisfied. I pray that insha’Allah God makes this journey easier for all of us.

***KILL ALL KAFIRS (Non-Believers)?

Most of my life, almost all my friends have been non-Muslims. Most of my friends are non-Muslims today. I love a lot of them, I’m very close to a lot of them, and I respect and care for and would do a lot for a lot of them. I respect them because they have their own faith and their own beliefs and they stand up for them. I don’t go telling them they are wrong and they are cursed—and they respect me for that. All I do now that is different from earlier is that I practice my religion as best I can. I don’t hide it from them because I am not ashamed of it. I don’t look down upon them or their religion, and I’d happily listen to their beliefs/faith if they talked about it. But I am firm in what I believe. If I have doubts or questions, I ask God for guidance and a little research goes a long way in answering most questions.

If I had been born a non-Muslim, I’d have hated it if Muslims were to preach/look down upon me. I’d hate them, and I’d hate Islam. And I don’t blame the non-Muslims of today for hating Islam as much as a lot of them do. Muslims today don’t follow Islam—they follow their own versions of the religion. They make compromises where the compromises are easy to follow, and they only fool themselves into thinking that what they are doing is correct. Islam encourages respecting other religions. I may be wrong in this in which case I ask for God’s forgiveness, but I firmly believe that it is wrong for me to bash other religions, and look down upon them. Most Muslims today don’t follow Islam to the fullest—they follow Islam to the bare minimum. One of the most important things in Islam is to learn about religion. Iqra (read)—the first word revealed to Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (peace be upon him). It is important for Muslims to read, to learn about Islam and its teachings. It is important to thirst for knowledge as a way to get closer to God and our religion. But do we do that at all? We do not—and yet we are surprised when non-Muslims hate Islam. They don’t hate Islam—they hate Muslims. And I don’t blame them too much because if I was in their shoes I might hate some of the things some Muslims do and say as well.

So does Islam say, ‘Kill all Kafirs’? Does Islam say, ‘Force all non-believers to convert’? No, it doesn’t. It says, ‘Spread the message.’ And in today’s day and age, how else can we spread the message of the Lord and Creator of the Universe except to practice the message ourselves in our daily lives?

***TO CONCLUDE

I pray that God has mercy on all of Us, and guides us to whatever the right path is. I pray that this article encourages people to have an open heart, an open mind, and encourages you to start an intellectual journey to learn more about religion. In today’s day, religion is more of a fashion accessory that has gone out of style. People ‘try’ different religions, change from one to the next out of curiosity, and when they are disappointed, they feel that all religions suck, that there is no God. There is such a culture of partying and ‘living it up’ that one forgets the bigger picture. Unless one believes that there is something after one dies, one cannot argue against the logic that ‘life is short, live it up.’

I’m trying to learn Arabic and trying to learn about Islam and the Qur’an—again, slow and steady—so may God forgive me for not ‘talking like a Muslim’, and forgive me for anything I wrote here which was against His message. I hope I didn’t offend anyone—this article was just a means for me to share my own journey to Islam, and to faith. And it has been a most enriching one. Every day is a struggle so it isn’t easy, but at the end of every day, there is a sense of peace the likes of which I haven’t experienced in as long as I can remember.

It’s like when I’d go hiking for days, trying to climb a mountain. Every small hillock we crossed felt like such an achievement. The path was difficult, and I was a fat, unhealthy kid—and I struggled—and when I reached the top of the hill, I was filled with such a sense of accomplishment, such peace. And when we reached our destination—the top of that tall mountain, and looked back down from there, that sense of peace was amplified so many times—it was such a sense of awe at my own ability, such a sense of accomplishment. The sweetness in victory (over one’s desires in this case) is only as sweet as one’s struggle to get there. And if the satisfaction at the end of every day is so sweet, then I can only imagine how much sweeter it will be at the end of it all.

May God forgive my many mistakes in this article, and help me to improve. And if I have offended any of you, may you forgive me for it. Whatever your religion is, I may not agree with it, but I respect you nonetheless. Whether you’re a Muslim or a non-Muslim, I ask that you think twice before insulting or looking down upon any religion because when we act out of spite or anger or hate, we only cause others to react badly and perhaps insult our own religions. And then the horrible cycle continues.

May God guide everyone trying to improve themselves in their understanding of His message, and may He bless everyone who helps us in this journey.