The Hour of Change
How to Have a Sound Heart (7/7)
I don’t know why everyone thinks about death at the end of Ramadan. Maybe endings remind us of our ending. Maybe the verse holds true and we will say “we’ve only lived here for a day or shorter” about our life that whizzes past, just as Ramadan flies by us each year.
Every year people view it as a catalyst for change: internal transformation that manifests externally. This was the prime aim of writing a series on the heart to create systemic observable change. At the end of life, no offering can compete with a sound heart; no endeavour is as holistic and cleansing as that. Ramadan shows us this in a sprint form - curated environments, conscious decisions, collective goals, perceptions of closeness with God.
But no one moved, really. There’s nothing radical Ramadan has done to us except giving us a window of focus. You’re still the same person inside and outside of Ramadan, Allah is just as Hearing, Merciful, and All-Capable. You’re simply shown (if you reflect) what your potential is if you are actively balancing all your sectors. Maybe not at that intensity, but surely with that propensity.
For any act of good, sustained change is the test. For seeking knowledge, for making apologies, for devoting to a cause. What goes unchecked in our extremely lofty goal-setting vs. our extremely human burnout is the pace we go at, the practicalities we are able to follow and therefore the change we are able to kindle and carry.
Here’s a little quote to live by: قليل دائم خير من كثير منقطع.
“A little that is consistent is better than a lot that is inconsistent”
or “Less of more is better than more of less.”
Make yourself precise and lasting.
Here’s how I’m planning to do just so, targetting change emerging from my heart.
Question your diet.
Physically, sure - but also mentally and spiritually. We’re constantly asked to reason, to assess, to juxtapose. It’s as foolish as filling a leaking bucket if your inputs are problematic while you keep trying to pile good. Observe and relentlessly decide if what you consume is a red flag or a green flag, if it aids in your purpose of uplifting yourself (and consequently the world) or further paralyses you in quicksands of anxiety, dopamine, comparison and overconsumption. No Muslim lives life passively; even if you’re born under the fold of Islam you consciously decide to become Muslim at some point. That active decision-making must be extended to people, ideas, sensory and digital inputs that have positive valence when weighed against your definition of ‘good’ (which, I hate to break it to you: you’ll have to figure in the first place).
Let your character speak before you do.
As you conduct that internal housekeeping, you’ll sift through garbage and find an old photo you sit down to reminisce, when things were simple and joyous. It’ll probably remind you of someone and you’ll realise the smallest tenet of their disposition was the most significant thing about them - their warmth, their restraint, bringing people together, a thread of excellence in whatever they conducted - a sport, a career, a relationship, even the way they sort the plates before the waiter picks them. I definitely did not just clean my room pre-Eid and sit dressed like a bespectacled flamingo in a pool of room paraphernalia and photo albums.
Legacies leave you with introspections: not much remains after a person, except their character. It boggles my mind how this was exactly the essence of the Prophet’s mission - people-building. The institutions, tessellated buildings, economic and political systems did not consolidate until after he was peeking through his window, in his last moments, at Abu Bakr leading the prayer; when he felt satisfied with what he was leaving behind: the people who were cultivated from seeds.
If we walked through life understanding that the soul needs constant polishing, that deeds are weighed for quality rather than counted for quantity, that a potential suitor’s (and therefore our) character matters most, that actions speak louder than words - it would be simple. As simply difficult as fighting your own demons forever can be. It may just be rudimentary: carrying ihsaan - excellence - in all that you do, in whatever roles you hold, at whatever capacity you can infuse with excellence. Penetrate everything with your principles and climb the ladder of self-development.
Oh, and don’t be reactive. It’s not worth disbanding your people, as Nana said.
Start and end with gratitude.
Talking about a rule of thumb, here’s another one. An interesting aspect of the related Quranic verse (34:13) is “doing gratitude” - with your talents, your time, your benevolent word and of course, your wealth.
It’s easier to be generous when hit by a calamity because you think it’ll help you - restlessly rectifying is human. It’s harder when you have to attribute the success to Him and give when happy - when you don’t have much to gain. It’s harder to morph anger into restraint when you have a valid reason, to remain kind without using excuses despite the exhaustion your brain is under. These are all times when the reps count more - the time under tension for the hypertrophy of your heart.
There’s a whole post on giving here and even since writing it a month ago I’ve formed further opinions on it. However, in a nutshell, whatever good you do for people has little to do with people. Of course it helps them, but appeals to the human psyche - to those intellectual and not - start with selfishness. The catch in dedicating giving to people or even to God is illustrated in this ayah:
وَمَن جَـٰهَدَ فَإِنَّمَا يُجَـٰهِدُ لِنَفْسِهِۦٓ ۚ إِنَّ ٱللَّهَ لَغَنِىٌّ عَنِ ٱلْعَـٰلَمِينَ
And whoever strives, only does so for their own good. Surely Allah is not in need of ˹any of˺ His creation. [Quran, 29:6]
I don’t believe in the possibility of pure altruism - but before I digress further - my point is: do it for yourself despite the highs and lows. Appreciate everything although you may not feel as appreciated. Watch things being removed from yourself for yourself. Even if, for some reason, the smile of a kid doesn’t automatically stretch your own, the next time you see an elder walk on a street you cleared doesn’t affect you, the hungry speedily eating the meal your hands passed doesn’t halt you. Especially then.
Cancel grand sins using sincerity.
Have a stash of good deeds in the closet. Especially if you already have demons in the closet. Everything will pose as an opportunity to do good then.
Understand presence is a present.
I think the biggest reason Ramadan works is because it’s just 30 days. You can agree to and actually carry out loads if you intentionally focus only on chunks, make short term goals and take it day by day.
“Do not disturb yourself by imagining your whole life at once”
- Marcus Aurelius.
Seize the day, and seize five before five: your youth before old age, health before sickness, wealth before poverty, free time before becoming busy, and life before death. That’s how you live now to live well.
Make Allah your friend.
There’s this psychological effect called the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon or frequency illusion - where you notice something more frequently as your brain first learns it. One of my earliest meta-aware frequency illusions was this meticulous ayah showing how observant, close and considerate Allah is.
قَدْ نَرَىٰ تَقَلُّبَ وَجْهِكَ فِى ٱلسَّمَآءِ ۖ فَلَنُوَلِّيَنَّكَ قِبْلَةًۭ تَرْضَىٰهَا ۚ
Indeed, We see you ˹O Prophet˺ turning your face towards heaven. Now We will make you turn towards a direction ˹of prayer˺ that will please you. [Quran, 2:144]
For context: it was originally commanded to pray towards Jerusalem instead of the Ka’abah, whereas the Prophet would want to face the latter, and often simply glanced upwards wondering if the commandment would change. It didn’t for an interval; meanwhile he harboured his little wish - until this ayah acknowledged it.
Since learning about the attentive Lord we each have, I started noticing this confirmation of ‘He’s listening, He has observed and is directly replying’. At an alarming level of precision. Sometimes it was terrifying - how can you think of the most niche word and the exact consolation materialises in front of you? One of Allah’s names is Al-Lateef and another Al-Wali - The Subtle One and The Ally/Friend. Living by these may not grant everything with a swoosh of a magic wand - it does revive the heart by injecting with just as much wonder, closeness and conversation though. Or maybe it’s just the cognitive bias after priming for it (win either way).
Act like you want to be helped.
The desire is the proof the answer exists. I think Neville Goddard said something similar.
But it’s also true that the act of making dua for that desired outcome is proof Allah wants to grant that. This is why Ibn Al Qayyim said “If Allah did not want to accept your dua, He would have not guided you to make it (in the first place).”
The Prophet ﷺ said,
“No Muslim makes supplication - unless he is someone who has cut off his relatives - but that he is given one of three things: either his supplication is answered quickly, or it is stored up for him in the next world, or an evil equal to it is averted from him.” It was said, “Then many supplications will be made.” He replied, “Allah has more still to give.”
But, with that boundless asking and positive expectations from Allah comes asking in the right way. Because you can only help someone who wants to be helped.
One of the Arabic words for help in the Quran is in Surah Fatiha (1:5) - “iste’aana”, coming from the root “’awn”. Think of two scenarios - you’re driving when your tire gets punctured. You get the spare from your boot, lodge it to raise the car’s side, but can’t get it high enough. Someone was passing by and you asked for help. Second example: your tire got punctured and you lowered your window, sat there a while and asked a passer-by to please change your tire. In the first, you did enough until your limit instead of waiting on help. That’s what iste’aana is.
Ask of Him. Ask Always. Incessantly. Impossibly. Undoubtedly. With effort to show for it, though.
There’s a reason Allah Himself says “Whoever draws close to Me by the length of a hand, I will draw close to him by the length of an arm. Whoever draws close to Me the by length of an arm, I will draw close to him by the length of a fathom. Whoever comes to Me walking, I will come to him running.” That first step will undoubtedly surprise and be exponentially matched.
I hope this series has been a manifestation of how transformative and acutely - as well as chronically - applicable the Quran is. I hope, if you’ve read so far (and therefore made yourself a major recipient in my duas), you internalise knowledge before it gets stale sitting idle, and use it to bowl over your heart and actions. Certainly, internalising things doesn’t occur overnight, and as the word Qalb itself reminds: it’s a turning, tumultuous journey with no fixed destination - in Ramadan or beyond.
“There will be a people who will carry knowledge around with them, but it will not pass beyond their shoulders. Their inner most thoughts will contradict what they display in public, and their actions will contradict what they know.”
- Imam Ali
I leave you with this dua and wish upon you all peace there is.
O Allah, [we] ask You for steadfastness in all [our] affairs and determination to do what is right, [we] ask for that which incites Your Mercy and the means of Your forgiveness, to make [us] thankful for Your blessings and to make [us] worship You with goodness. [We] ask You for a sound heart and a truthful tongue. [We] ask You for the best of what You know, seek refuge in You from the worst of what You know, and seek Your forgiveness for what You know.
!ٱلسَّلَامُ عَلَيْكُمْ
Peace be upon you!