The demon of greed lingers in each one of us, a small voice that tells us “we need more”.
“No, I cannot stand by and simply let the breeze run through my hair, I need to fight against it”
“What? I cannot just enjoy the computer that I’ve had for 10 years. No, I need a new one”
“Why would I wear the same clothes I’ve worn over the past 2 years? Something newer would fit my style!”
We live in perpetual desire that leads to greed.
I reflect on the rumination of wanton and greed as I think of the current state of affairs in the world. I reflect on the reality that we are living on a floating planet, somehow charging each other illusionary currency to determine our livelihood and wellbeing. This currency gives us passage into our experience; who you will know, where you will be, what your health will look like. All in the space where everything on earth is arguably free.
All because of possession. And greed.
There is a certain amount of grief that arise in moments like this. A grief that we perhaps have made a much more construed existence than it need be. Grief, at the difficulty it is for each of us to be free. Grief, that even as I write this, I understand that each of us are simply trying to eat. Grief, that we have not allowed ourselves the real benefit and wholeness of living spiritually.
Grief so deep that I speak to my clients in the tongue of grief. Grief so deep that many “mental health” issues derive from this greed. Grief that I am a complicit participant in the world of desire, consideration and greed.
Grief. I feel it all over me. Recently, I’ve been debating on how I can go back to school and get my PhD and afford my cost of living. How can I provide people help and also not be rightfully indignant at the very system that claims to support me. How can I allow the gifts of my ancestors to slip my mouth and only be expressed when I am validated from the “yes” of the cursed man. The same man, who’s very breath is tainted with the sour stench of greed.
I am…in but so many words a kaleidoscope of emotion. Frustrating coats the shoulders that begin to ware in the face of inhume acts. To feel trapped in a system that is based on the selfish needs of the “me” instead of embodying the spiritual principality of “we”. To provide service to a people’s whom “mental illness” are derived from the very same exhaustion. And grief. To understand that many are ill because their spirit cannot hold them to the system that has betrayed them. And dampened the soul that God has given them — how could I look a reflect of myself and feel anything but grief?
And yet…I still hold the most silent prayer in a well so deep, I thought God Himself could not find it…A prayer that He will somehow deliver us and set each one of us free.
But we have to embody this freedom first between you and me. God, give us free.
Life lately has felt like a whirlwind of moments, a tsunami of emotion crashing down on unsteady pavement as the world quakes around it. Times like these are a practice in what it means to embody patience and faith while many are left feeling faithless. In the midst of chaos, we are being asked “how will you keep your peace?” And for those who remember the ways of old, the ways of the mystics, perhaps an even deeper question from Our Creator, “how will you remember me?”
I recall my father teaching me the ancient ways of the prophets, speaking their language to me. In a beautiful tongue I could hardly understand, he proceeded to decipher it to me. Though I was just as young, naïve and unassuming as any young girl would be, I feel now that something deep inside registered this as sound truth to me. Perhaps it was the spirit of my grandmother egging me on, her spiritual roots blooming deeply within my core. Or maybe it was the essence of milk and honey resting upon my tongue after whispering sacred words for the love of God to my soul. A part of me wonders was it the emotional tone that conveyed its seriousness to my psyche? But now I understand that all of my ego’s conceptions, descriptions and explanations do not matter. Because the truth, in all of its covetedness appears now in plain sight to me.
We are each cycling with the pulling of the sun, being dragged by gravity into a singing symphony of remembrance. In the midst of destruction, can we return to our nature, can we find our Creator? Can we live earnestly and speak a word that is good? Can we encourage others to listen deeply and reflect frequently on what is right? Are we allowed to give grace and patience in moments that don’t seem to quite make sense? And allow these moments to bring us a touch of grace, the miracle of wisdom? When we allow ourselves to fall deeply into surrender, into letting what will be, be—we earn the rights of our markers for deep faith. When we listen earnestly before we speak, we are able to witness clearly the truth that is sometimes hard to see. And when we allow ourselves to fail miserably, to hurt fully, we open ourselves to the deepest form of love that ironically comes from grief.
Are you grieving the state of the world as many others are? To be alive to witness times where many wander aimlessly, where we struggle to find a place to stand on shaky ground, to float atop the ark in the newly created sea—have you found a place where you can process your grief? I’ve found that in this space of mass information given to an unassuming audience; to many who can’t help but to obtain the stimulation their mind seeks many are choosing to forgo their peace. Or have begun to forget that peace is even an option for ordinary people such as you and me.
This isn’t meant to be a one-size fits all post for solutions that will bring about a new meaning to tomorrow, a new solution and exercise for world peace. But to let go of all reasoning and simply be. To allow ourselves the grace of processing grief and being open to the lessons that arrive in its place. When grief takes place, we can open our hearts to more patience, kindness and faith than many would be apt to see. And it allows us to become the people we were always meant to be.
My father always quoted to me, “we are the ones we are looking for”. I thought it’d once knew its meaning but now it is truly plain to me. In a space where we can strengthen one another to cry, to hurt, to laugh, to scream, to fuck up and make mistakes while we try to make sense of what is currently happening, we can touch a reservoir of faith and plant its seeds. And this is the blessing of the chaos ensuing that will bring many to finally choose inner peace.
I ask this question after taking a social media sabbatical and having trouble with the process of creation. In my own inner development, I find that some of the tools I had been using as a means of fortifying my creativity had begun to lose its spark. In the reclamation of this spark, I began pursuing meaning, ideas, information and innovations outside of myself to regain its merits. Hoping to reclaim this Creative instinct and spirit, I’d hoped that witnessing its merit in others would ignite it in myself. And though this plan did arise some interest, its heaviness begun to weigh deeply when the idea of “originality” began to escape my ego’s grasp.
What is it about being “original” that brings us some sense of pride? Is it being able to say, “I put out the greatest piece of work anyone has seen”? Is it that we feel proud of displaying work no one has ever seen, even at the threat of others disapproval? Is it that through the Creative Spirit of The One being channeled, we are able to find our place in the world once more? What is this “originality” that society seems to be harping on each of our creative thought process?
In lui of my make-up, I suppose it is imperative that I go through a constant rewashing. Through this rewashing, I find that deconstructing and recreating programs are integral to not just growth but my understanding of life. We each have a means and manner of behaving in this world. And through our means, God has a deeper awareness and presence of all of the facets of His essence through creation. But how often do we allow the grace of this essence to shine forth.
The idea of originality, in the context of creating is just that—the unique, integral formation of God’s handiwork expressed through our individual essence. When I take this into account, I am quickly reminded that in a sense, nothing and everything is original all at the same damn time. Coming from this place of Oneness, we each are reflections of the One who has brought our existence from nothingness. We each are a culmination of experiences created through this encompassing entity, filtered through the reality of our perceptions. And when I keep this in mind, I realize that each word, each action, each thought are original in the sense that they come from my uniqueness, in the likeness of God.
If you were afraid to speak due to imposter syndrome, let this stand as a reminder that though we may feel the claws of false identity clinging to your chest—you stand alone as none of the identities you cling to, belonging only to the giver of identity Himself.
And that, I hope brings some semblance of release.
Life is effortless. Allow yourself to flow with ease.
In this place of merging tradition with intentional ritual and releasing faulty conditioning of the Ultimate Truth, I have found myself at the seat of paradoxes one can find lying beneath the tyranny of the false self.
Where are the people, the items, the identities that will bring us to The Most High? We find ourselves seeking practices, ritual and information as a means of searching for this Ultimate Truth. And still, many will miss it.
This search for truth is often found when the haze of clouds disappear overlooking the sky. As Rumi writes, “God has shown us the foam and obscured the ocean”. We see the dust but missed the wind. How is it that we are searching for that which has existed all along?
We search and search once again, only to find consciousness peaking beneath the level of our awareness. Then attention becomes displaced and once again—this awareness escapes us. How is it that we have missed the gold that peaks from beneath the surface? Or even more importantly, how can we grasp the gold when we are confounded with the earth settled on top of it?
This is what it means to operate under the false self, to be consumed by the evils of our own minds—fear, doubt, shame, guilt, judgement and compulsion. Many of us condemn the hell we are afraid of entering—yet perpetuate its presence in our lives through each waking moment.
In moments we choose our false selves over the reflection of the Divine, we have lost Ultimate Truth. In moments we find ourselves tethered to unnecessary impulses, compulsive needs of the lower self, an inability to sit in the wake of nothingness, of silence—we are forfeiting our birthright to the Ultimate Truth. And what is this truth exactly? It is the presence of God that is so apparently in our face, we lose vision of Him each time we turn our face.
It is nothing to be ashamed of, but everything to be conscious of. In this world where we are faced with so much distraction, temptation, anger and strife—remembrance of God becomes not only a necessity, but our saving grace. And I do not mean the God that is defined through religious dogma and rules to regulate human conduct. I mean the Creator that exists beyond space and time—residing, etched deeply into every facet of His magnificent Creation. Including ourselves.
This is what I have learnt this Holy Month. That behind routine, there is the intention and importance of ritual that brings us to a place of purposeful remembrance. And this remembrance allows us to let go of ourselves, let go of our false identities in favor of remembering the fullness of that from which we have come. To embody our divinity and let go of conditioning, false idols and hatred. To release our arrogance and fall to our faces in humility and lack of perfection. And even in those shameful reflections, find the need for the love of God.
💛 I pray the Creator purify my speech, in my intentionality to bring forth His magnificence.
💛 I pray this month be an opening to each of our awakening.
Genuinely Jannah 