FRI 21/10/22: Trust. And: Today is the First Day of the Rest of your Life.

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

There is Khayr in it. No matter what it is, and/or what it has been: there is Khayr in it. [Khayr: goodness.]

Will you be able to trust, and hold onto, this principle?


Friday 21/10/22.

[I believe in miracles. 100%. And ‘coincidences’, which are all profound Signs of God.]


I must think about my intentions here. For every journey — the ‘value‘ of it and so forth — is dependent on, centred on, your intention.

If you’re doing it for Allah: you’re doing good, Maa Shaa Allah [Everything else is vanity, falsehood.]

From time to time: we have to check ourselves, and renew our intentions, re-boost our faith.

Ihsān: beauty, excellence, which is what we strive to do, here.


Today, my friend/housemate Sasha and I went to Jum’uah together, at Cambridge Central Masjid. Sasha borrowed a headscarf of mine, and ended up also wearing it for the rest of the day: she said she liked having it on.

The last time Sasha had been to a masjid: she’d been quite young. Maybe… seven years old, back in Uzbekistan. 13 years later…

The masjid is a home for every Muslim’s heart.


In the masjid: I’d seen a child with… maybe his dad, likely his grandfather. The boy had been wearing a simple, elegant, Turkish-style cloak, and a Turkish-style red hat on a tuft of his dark hair. So adorable, Maa Shaa Allah.

He’d stood next to his (presumably,) grandfather, in prayer, and the elder figure had been so loving, gentle, towards him, the child. A real role model: what children see, of/from us, matters.

And both the man and the child had prayed to Allah together in the masjid. Like men.

I also see fellow students from CMC at the masjid. Like: in the evenings, some of the male students are teaching some of the little kids. They seem to have very nice bonds with one another, Maa Shaa Allah.


Materialism.

Sasha and I had lunch together, AlHamduliLlah, and then did some shopping. And sometimes, when I see nice things: a part of me, I think, just wants to buy, buy, buy. New, new, new.

Materialism‘ is something that is difficult for the human being to contend with. By nature. There’s at least one Hadīth through which we learn about this. Materially: we always want… more. Nothing ‘fills our bellies’, our ‘wants’.

Nothing but… dust: our ‘wants’ end when our lives do.

But our ‘wants’ will be (more-than-) fulfilled… in Jannah! The Heavenly Gardens.

  • Salaah is the Key to Jannah, and… Here is mine and Sasha’s garden key:

But something that helps is:

Trying to bring your Nafs to be grateful, instead. Grateful, instead of ‘wanting‘.

And, perhaps: like how courage is not, really, the ‘absence’ of fear, a very human, natural response to some things…

Gratitude is not the ‘absence’ of ‘wanting’. And sometimes even feeling frustrated, stressed, even, with ‘wanting‘. But it’s about: overcoming your Nafs. Fighting it, struggling with/against it, and doing what is better.

Now, forgive me if this now sounds like a YouTube motivational speech or something, but:

Every day is another opportunity to try. To do, and be, better.


Trust Issues.

Maybe trusting people is something that I have truly struggled with. Trusting people enough to really ‘be yourself’, and seek to connect with them.

Trusting that the people who are showing you so, so much genuine love: they really do love you. Allah has Decided that you are this loveable; that you are ‘good enough’ for all this love!

Trusting a human male:

I have these fears that I will never be able to trust someone like that [who hurt you so bad? Probably: my own thoughts, and all the ‘evidences’ I have picked up over time. But maybe I’m cynically focusing on the negatives, there.]

People can cheat, can do all sorts of things. Be with you, for like, three decades or something. And then: simply up and leave. Because you weren’t giving them enough attention or something for like a few months while you were recovering from the untimely death of your sole teenage daughter [that plotline is from ‘Thirteen Reasons Why’ by the way. I regret nothing about using that as a reference:

le art imitate reality or something like that.]

The ideas of these things do come together and scare me, in advance of my future, In Shaa Allah. But I have trust and faith that there is a good, and most importantly, God-Fearing, God-Conscious, person out there for me. And I just have to wait and see what my Lord has in store for me, don’t I? And hope that my scepticisms will be so thoroughly disproven one day (one of those kinds of surprises that I really, really tend to love,), In Shaa Allah.


Love.

You, Dear Reader,

Are so, so, so,

so, so, (so), loved!

Even if you don’t quite let yourself ‘see it’, at times.

And all this love: it’s from Allah. Thank Him for it!


Yesterday had been a fairly emotionally eventful day for me. Throughout the month, just as the moon goes through its phases, so too do we.

Yesterday had been a bit weird for me. And when we find ourselves afflicted with something of tribulation: to Allah do we belong, and to Him do we return.

I was sitting in the library (the English library at CMC,) and ended up crying a bit. Perhaps a bit dramatic, but hashtag theatrics. You are the leading protagonist in the ‘movie’ of your own life and all [lol. To make it clear that the intention underlying that was indeed humour.]. And it actually feels quite good to have a nice cry sometimes, doesn’t it?

And then: a member of staff had been speaking to me, from outside the door. About some calligraphy pens and inks we have available to us, in the shed. And about the college newsletter, which a few of us had been discussing earlier that day.

I had to: wipe my eyes (kind of dramatically. Kind of Bollywood,) and turn around to respond to him.

And with all the weight of this pain and confusion, I made a Du’a in that library, yesterday. That Allah gives me a Sign that He Loves me.

  • We are surely being tested; we are going to be tested.

And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give glad tidings to the patient.”

— Qur’an, (2:155).

To be tested — even severely — is not a sign of Allah’s disfavour upon you. You just: need to be patient. And repentant to Allah. And keep praying. And you will see the beautiful eventual outcome. [Far better than you could ever have expected.]

Upon leaving the library: I found my friend Anjum, from the cohort above ours at CMC, outside the door, outside the gate. Waiting to go home. She said she’ll walk with me.

We: talked. A very nice conversation: what a wonderful spirit she is, Allah hummabārik. And: while feeling a bit ‘bad’ about aspects of who I am, maybe, while being emotional in the library…

Anjum’s presence reassured me. We just talked, and it was such a nice conversation. Anjum said she thinks I’m “hilarious” (which made me happy, I guess in part because I’d found myself questioning my ‘worth’ at least somewhat). With the right people for you: it’s like you don’t even ever have to ‘try’ to be loved. It’s relaxed, it’s effortless; it just happens. [Ontologically: it just is.]

She said she really likes my sense of “independence”, for example how I chose to live outside of student accommodation. [I wanted to separate ‘school’ and ‘home’ a bit more, while here. Also maybe want to stay for holidays here, sometimes. And: experience ‘adulting’ in this very way.]

‘Independent’ is a word that my mum has used in order to describe me too.

And, with all its merits: being ‘independent’. I know I still want to be able to rely (first and foremost, on God Alone, and from Him,) on reliable people. Trustworthy, honest, people, whom I can help, and be helped by. Like my housemate Sasha. We all need help and support from others, don’t we?

And I also want a husband, ngl. And maybe a sports car also.


We’d also happened upon a bank card that had been lying on the ground, on the street. Google helped: I Googled the name on the card, found that the lady may be a doctor at the Great Ormond Street Hospital, so got in contact with them.

And the owner of the card had come to the college to pick up her card the next day, AlHamduliLlah!

Being a Muslim = better than being a superhero, you know!


After I’d been feeling quite sad: being with Anjum helped. She also wanted to go to the local Co-Op, mainly to get eggs. She said she eats eggs quite a lot. [Eggs. And potatoes. Two very versatile food items.]

She’s like a big sister to me.

And I was going to get myself a bag o’ doughnuts [I’d been craving chocolate. And, earlier, ‘A’iyshah and I had gone to Tesco real quick to get biscuits, but Tesco had run out of chocolate bourbons…].

Anjum said something like: “I want to get those for you. I want to.”

She kind-but-firmly insisted.

Does Allah Love me?

Yes, AlHamduliLlah. Look around you, 21-year-old me. Look at the people whom you love, and are loved by. Aren’t these souls that your soul loves… Loved by Allah Himself?


Then I went and met up with my beloved friend Tas. At the masjid. I told her about something that had happened that day, and she got quite angry ‘for‘ me. You know when people feel things on your behalf? Like anger, and happiness, or hurt, or excitement.

That’s an example of what it feels like, to be loved.

I prayed ‘Isha in the masjid that day. Made Du’a to be helped with a particular situation.

My Lord has never, ever let me down: How Merciful, and Loving-Kind, and Wise, He is!

He Helped me, in such an awesome way. [Du’as aren’t always answered… immediately. Or obviously. But Subhaan Allah: this time…]

And I am so hopeful, and so happy about the way my Du’a was answered. *Adrenaline rush*.


Here is the pack of doughnuts from before. Where did the rest of ’em go?! [They were shared. One is not a doughnut monster.]

Some Notes on Islamic History.

One of our first lessons for our Islamic History module, with Dr. Mariam Sheibani, had been:

About pre-Islamic Arabia. There had been, essentially, a ‘before’, and an ‘after’ Islam had arrived, and had changed people’s hearts, changed society.

In Pre-Islamic Arabia: people (albeit, not everyone,) would circumambulate (meaning: go around) the Ka’abah, naked. They’d worship idols. Pride, as far as I know, was rife. They: thought that this first life was the ‘only’ life they would ever know. And so they’d indulged in their whims, desires, and vanities, accordingly.

Jāhiliyya: the time of ignorance. Not knowing. And then: people came to know.

Beginning with belief. In the One True God, Allah. And, gradually: changes started to happen. Following Qur’anic, and Prophetic, guidances: over time, people started praying more, and drinking alcohol less. Acting less ego-centrically, and more sincerely and generously. And so on.

Have you experienced a time like this, in your own life?

Personally: I was eighteen years old. I was going through some things, essentially, and I had some questions. I wanted to know if Islam is the truth. I really wanted to know if Islam is the truth.

There was an intellect-based aspect to this journey: questions, and their possible answers. There was a ‘spiritual’ dimension too. Ibrahīm (AS) had prayed to his Lord for signs.

And I did the same. Over time: Allah did give me signs. My doubts/questions had not completely disappeared. Until a particular indisputable sign came to me. And that was it.

Did I change, fundamentally, as a person, after that?

Well: yes and no. The idea is: you keep, and hone [hone: sharpen/try to perfect,] what is good. And try to leave behind what is: not so good.

The Pre-Islamic ‘Arabs were, for example, a generous people. They cared about honour. They cared about eloquence, and cleanness of language.

These things, Islam kept, and affirmed.

Other things: like idolatry. Murder. Gambling. Drinking. And so on: let go of. Some of them: over time, since rapid calls to change don’t always work.

In my own life: and since I now knew, like knew-knew, that

Islam is indeed the Truth.

I kept the knowledge of the values and manners that I’d been raised with, as a child. Helping people, for example if someone is struggling with… carrying a bike up/down some stairs [sometimes, in my own head: I am dench.]

^ Not to virtue-signal there. But: that time, sometime right after I’d fully accepted Islam in my heart and mind. I’d remembered what Islam is.

I kept some things from ‘before’. Since then: I’ve been learning, developing, AlHamduliLlah. I left behind some things too. Like… listening to artists like Shawn Mendes basically every day, maybe. And… 1-800… by Logic. [Don’t judge me: I was going through a time.]

“I know you’re the reason I believe in life //
What’s the day without a little night?”

But then: my ears and heart were opened, again, to the majestic beauty of the Qur’an. My ways of doing certain things: I am still me, and I am trying to be better, with the Help of God.

I think Islam has made me more patient, happier. Probably more healthy than before. Calmer, and more content/confident, all in all, AlHamduliLlah.

Since my re-accepting of Islam, and the change[s] I’d undergone in my own life:

I didn’t go ‘straight to uni’ after sixth form [the year that ended up being the first year of the pandemic]. Allah had a Plan for me: He gave me an opportunity to work at an Islamic bookshop. Learn some more. Not primarily from books, I don’t think: but, from people.

The next year: I ‘thought’ I would be going to uni, but something went ‘wrong’ again. In limited human eyes. God’s Plan is better. He gave me a year of experience teaching at an Islamic secondary school, where I learned so much, I’d say.

And: the year after that. I ‘started off’ as a uni student. But instead: I was applying here to CMC, on the side. And later did a six-month Arabic intensive course [which: I don’t know, I think I just scraped the Arabic exam, and got in.]

A was necessary for B, and C was necessary for D. And so on: how well our lives have been Planned for us, AlHamduliLlah.


Things could have been so, so different, and I am so, so grateful that Allah brought me right here, to where I am now. It’s all Intentional: no doubt about it.

Here are the sorts of conversations that people at CMC tend to have, Maa Shaa Allah. This one: I don’t fully understand all of the points being made, right now. I might have to read it multiple times for my brain to compute, you see.


Thursday.

I wish we would all be more honest with the people whom we love. To not ‘hold it back’. To let them know; to show them how ‘worthy’ they really, really are; to try our level bests, to make them happy.

In considering the five well-known ‘love languages’: quality time, touch, words, gifts, acts of service. [One of my former tutoring students adds ‘death threats‘ as a sixth.

And I would say that the ultimate love language is: making Du’a for someone. Who is in your Du’as? That will tell you all about the love that is in your heart.]

Anyway. The fundamental essence underlying the ‘hows‘ of how we want to be shown love… is effort. For people to show that they really, truly care, and love you substantively. [If Saif (my little brother) is reading this, look up the word ‘substantively’, my bruthah. And if you can use it in a sentence: I’ll get you something, maybe a chocolate bar.]


Is love — actual, true, love — ever ‘finite’?

Are some people just able to ‘fake it’ really well?

I think: it’s encompassing. And will only end if significant transgressions have been made. Over and over, without seeking forgiveness and without truly committing to improving. Being better.

E.g. the love of a mother, for her child. Natural, general. And unpolluted. But if the child were to grow up and to keep abusing her, abusing her, abusing her. Maybe even the most ‘powerful’ types of human love. They — we — can falter.

Allah, also, is the Most Loving. But: He (according to the Qur’an,) does not love the transgressors. The arrogant. The oppressors. The proud and boastful. The treacherous. The extravagant. The exultant.


If you ever (naturally,) start questioning whether you’re ‘good enough’ for something, or for someone:

You know what you ‘deserve’?

All the goodness that Allah has Decided, indisputably, is yours. Everything He is going to give you!


Little Kids.

I miss my baby. My little brother, who is ten years old. Not to be dramatic again, but: it’s like I’d learnt what love is, when that little boy was born, and even before then.

I haven’t seen him in, like, eleven days now. And the other day, we’d FaceTimed. I told him I’m going to screenshot a picture of him, make him my lockscreen.

[I’d seen that my cousin’s wife’s lockscreen is… her husband, my cousin. And, certainly, the deepest forms of love. Some: you’ll find in your husband/wife, In Shaa Allah.

And you’ll find the deepest of loves, in different ways, with your truest friends. And with your siblings: with whom you were even housed in the same womb, albeit (unless you’re twins,) at different times.

They are a part of you; you are a part of them.]

Saif, my baby bro, pulled a face, crinkled up his nose. I screenshot that face. He is now my lockscreen.

Two people have since looked at my phone and said they think he’s really cute: one of said people had been Dr. Najah (Dr. Najah Nadi. A cool, cool woman, Maa Shaa Allah! And an excellent teacher, Allah hummabārik,) who has an adorable, Allah hummabārik [may Allah bless him!] little son, Sulayman.

The other person who’d commented on my brother’s picture had been Ayesha, a classmate of mine at CMC. She’s got a child who is around my age, and I think, another one who’s even older. She’s like a mother figure to me at CMC, AlHamduliLlah. So very maternal and caring, Maa Shaa Allah.


Dr. Najah’s son, Sulayman. What a little sweetheart, Maa Shaa Allah. I could cry. He visits us at the college sometimes, with his mum. He runs around the place; he is so, so loved. By fellow students, who will hold his hand, play with him. By academics, who will greet him with such joy, warmth, and softness.

[Everyone is just as human as we are. Whether they be: an academic with several esteemed titles to their name. Or: an adorable little infant, with an olive on his finger.]

Lateef, the college chef, prepared Sulayman his own plate of food, for lunch: some salad and Halloumi for the young man. Sulayman: put half a cherry tomato on his finger, and then did the same with half an olive. And the people at CMC love him, and his mum is a wonderful mum to him, a very nice person, Maa Shaa Allah, and she is also a scholar.

I find myself somewhat obsessed with adorable young children right now; I’m quite excited to become an aunt [my eldest first cousin’s first child, In Shaa Allah!] soon! Want to spoil this kiddo; s/he is yet unborn, but I feel very attached to him/her already.

  • After 120 days in the womb: the RūH (soul) enters the body of the unborn child.


When my housemate Sasha and I went to Wilko the other day [I forget exactly when,] there’d been a little boy there, with his mum. I think: half-white, half-African. He asked his mum why “that lady” (me) was smiling at him.

His mum encouraged him to smile back at ladies when they smile at him.

Do you know what he did?

He made an ‘angry‘ face at me, which just made me want to smile even more. Reminded me of my little brother, when he was littler. My brother, as an infant: would be sitting in his pushchair, trying to find a way to kick me. Brothers, huh?


A BMW and a Mercede-ay-dee-ay-dees.

It’s currently Thursday, and I got to college in… a Beemer. [BMW]. Specifically: a white M Sport… 4 series, I think?

[I think I like to act like I know about cars. I probably don’t, that much, really.]

So. It had been raining this morning. And pouring. I ended up going to a local shop to see if they sell umbrellas. They… didn’t.

I was worried that my laptop, in my tote bag, might get water-damaged. I kept walking.

Subhaan Allah. God makes for you a way. In ways, and from places, you wouldn’t expect.

Halfway through the walk with raining, pouring, rain: I heard someone call my name.

Sadia!”

It had been: Halima, who is in the cohort above our one, at CMC. She’d been in the passenger seat of the aforesaid BMW. Invited me to hitch a ride. So I got in the car, apologised for all the rainwater on my coat.

I wondered who the driver of the car had been. A family member of Halima’s? An… Uber driver?

Turns out: Maa Shaa Allah, that that was her husband. He’s the Imām of Cambridge Central Masjid, dropping her off to CMC.

  • Modes of transportation, people’s spouses, people’s friends, and the rain, which causes things to grow…

Your Lord will Provide for you,

and you will be satisfied.

If we work on being good people, He will match us with good people. So I sincerely want to trust that if I seek to be really faithful and loyal and so on: God-Willing, my future husband will be really faithful and loyal also. Universal Law.


I was dropped off home in a Mercedes. Like the earlier BMW: I was not expecting for this to be my ride home. I thought I’d be walking in the semi-dark.

But: there’d been an event taking place, over at the University of Cambridge Student Centre. CU Islamic Society x CMC. My Islamic History teacher was the speaker there.

I didn’t think I’d be going: my best friend (who’s studying at Cambridge Uni) wanted to go, and asked if I wanted to go too. But, later, she said she didn’t feel up for it anymore.

After Maghrib today, [we tend to pray in congregation, AlHamduliLlah, at CMC. A wonderful feeling.] Ayesha (my mother figure, basically, at the college,) asked if I’ll be going. She wanted to go. We went together, and then she dropped me off home afterwards.

Something that had been discussed at the event: a very existentially reassuring Surah from the Qur’an…


The people at CMC are very loving, Maa Shaa Allah.

Hugs, post-Salaah cuddles, handshakes, reassuring strokes on your back. I know I love these displays of love. But I need to work on… (my trust issues). And accept this very human, lovely, way that people are showing me love. I hope that someday soon I can return all these hugs and so on in very genuine, comfortable, ways, In Shaa Allah.


Today, after lunch:

We were each given a plate of…

Surprise dessert! Apple crumble, made with apples from our tree!


The other day: ‘A’iyshah and I tried to pick some apples from said tree. She ended up: getting a broomstick. And prodding branches until apples fell onto the floor.


We also sing songs of Praise on Thursdays. I find it quite therapeutic, and spiritually uplifting, in a gentle way. There’s this one song that has a sort of Scottish (Hebridean? Or am I making that up?) tune to it. I really like it.

Little Sulayman, Dr Najah’s son, joined us, on the women’s side, again. He is too, too cute, Maa Shaa Allah. I gave him two rings that I’d been wearing [my friend Jemima and I visited Eton College together some months ago. We bought a set of rings from a nearby Superdrug: she has some, I have some. She’s studying at Princeton University in America at the moment, Maa Shaa Allah!].

Sulayman put the rings on his fingers and started playing with them. I think he’s about a year-and-a-half old right now. He is so loved here, Maa Shaa Allah. And immersed in the Remembrance of Allah, and His Love.


Now: instead of writing about the rest of my week in detail… I’m going to try to be more concise.

This week: on Monday. On my way to CMC for Qur’an class…

Some man had stopped me on the street. He’d been… carrying a mysterious bag. A JD bag, I think. Told me: his friend had given him some kind of ‘product’, but he can’t tell what it is, so could I maybe smell it and see if I could tell him what it is.

Look. It could have been lavender. Or: some kind of spice from the Subcontinent [the man was also looking for an ‘Indian shop’ nearby]. But: I didn’t want to risk it. You’re meant to assume the best about people, but… that could have been drugs, and I didn’t quite fancy turning up to my first lesson of the day at CMC… intoxicated.

So I politely declined. And pointed him in the direction of the local Bangla shop.


Another thing that happened: three out of the five initial tenants of the house that Sasha and I are staying at: have left. Two of them had not quite moved in, in the first place. And one of them: her whole family had come to visit, one day. While I’d been sitting at the kitchen table, trying to read a 42-page paper for an assignment.

Two were unhappy with their rooms, with certain aspects of them. And one: she and her family had particular qualms with the owners of the house, which Sasha and I did not necessarily have. But Sana’s family having expressed some of their concerns: led to some good, good improvements for Sasha and me, it seems!

Understanding people in light of their ‘family dynamics’ and so on: is so interesting. You see where people ‘get things’ from. And: you can learn a lot about them, just by being in their presence.


Fear.

I often, sometimes, find myself worrying about what people might ‘really’ be thinking about me.

I think: I can be quite sensitive to feeling like… I’m being criticised. ‘Subtext’: maybe they’re ‘actually’ critical of me. Like I’m doing a ‘bad job’, overall. ‘Mind-reading’, and thoughts that seem to flip, almost magnetically, to the negative. Negative assumptions.

But things are not so black-and-white: a few (natural, inevitable,) mistakes that we make. Probably even daily, since we are only human. They do not threaten to make the whole ‘building’ collapse, crumble,

and fall down.

If anything: sometimes (spoken) pointers are only a chance to strengthen the building. So that we can: be ‘better‘.

  • Also: you’re exposed to the fullnesses, the depths and the flaws, of you. Doesn’t mean that others aren’t pretty much exactly the same as you. All of us: human, just in our own personal (same-but-different,) ways.

On one of the days this week:

One of the tenants (who is Polish, and whose name is Karolina,) who was moving out (and who hadn’t really quite yet moved in, in the first place,) had asked us if it’s okay if her boyfriend comes over, to help her pack up/move her things.

I said: sure, just give me a heads-up so I can put my headscarf and so on, on.

I don’t think she fully ‘got’ it, at first. But later: she did let me know when he was coming around.

It can be difficult to ‘explain’, easily, some aspects of Islam to others. There may be pressure, to be ‘normal’, and do what’s expected and so on. Although, in the moment, choosing Deen can feel like you might be ‘losing’ something, like social approvals:

It’s always better to choose Allah, and your Deen. The ‘approvals’ of the ‘majority’ of fellow human beings is one thing. The Approval of Allah is definitely another, and I should remember that.

I want the Love of Allah, and the love of those who mutually love, and are Loved by, Him.


So I want to be more… ‘six-year-old child than… Schopenhauer. [German philosopher. Depressing, pessimistic, nihilistic works, from what I know.]

That’s how I want to live, In Shaa Allah. When the tenacious, wiry, tree-branch grips of cynicism, worry, projecting my fears onto futures that have not yet even happened threaten to take a hold over my mind, thoughts, experiences. And perceptions of other people.

Stop. [Metaphorically: thwack with a baseball bat. As though they’re fruits from that old iPhone game: Fruit Ninja.

Any negative thoughts that may arise, and ‘convince‘ you of themselves, in that mind of yours.] Reverse. Cynicisms into

Hope. Fear into excitement.

Blindness’ and a ‘lack of reasons to have hope’. Into sheer, beautiful trust. A looking-forward-to of more of God’s profound miracles happening for you, and taking place before your very eyes. Nothing is ‘impossible’ for your Lord. And He is so, so Loving!

He Owns the sea, which parted. And the moon, which split. Master of the Sleepers of the Cave, for the ages through which they’d slept.

All Truth is God’s Truth; All Goodness is God’s Goodness.

And all Beauty: is His Beauty.


You are going to be, so Profoundly, reassured. As long as you have Allah With you: He’s got you.

He Knows you, and has always Known you: better than you could ever know yourself.

What if, by His Will and through His Love: you are, already, and perhaps have always been, (more-than-) ‘good enough’, already?!


Basically:

Part of the Islamic essence is the firm and deep understanding that…

Whether you’re: in a dingy prison cell, or in a palace. Or even… on the mooooon [Elon Musk, where you @?]

As long as you remember your Objective, here. As long as Allah is With you. You’re doing fine, and you are going to be (more-than) alright!

*Even when we feel quite unsure, ‘blind‘: we’ve just got to learn to keep trusting Him. We’ve got Allah on our side.

“Indeed, Allah loves those who put their trust in Him.”

Qur’an, (3:159).

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