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Power has a way of distorting perception. Those who find themselves in the orbit of authority figures—whether in workplaces, religious communities, or social circles—sometimes mistake proximity for personal rank. They assume that being acknowledged or favored by someone in a higher position grants them an unspoken seniority over others. This illusion leads them to act as though they have a right to exert influence, often at the expense of fairness, boundaries, and accountability.At its core, this behavior is rooted in entitlement and impatience. Instead of respecting the responsibility that comes with access to power, these individuals exploit their connection to push personal agendas. They make emotional and demanding cases for their desires, not because they seek justice, but because they seek advantage. Their tactics include pressuring authority figures, manipulating circumstances, and disregarding the rights of others to ensure their will is imposed.Crossing Boundaries for Selfish GainOne of the most dangerous aspects of this mentality is the disregard for boundaries. In their pursuit of influence, these individuals fail to recognize the ethical and moral lines they are crossing. They may demand special treatment, exemptions, or favoritism, assuming that their association with power justifies their actions. This behavior corrupts systems of justice and leadership, as decisions become swayed by personal interests rather than principles.The Absence of AccountabilityA major blind spot for those who ride on the coattails of authority is the lack of self-reflection and accountability. They do not stop to consider the consequences of their actions—how their manipulation may cause harm, create resentment, or undermine the integrity of leadership. They focus only on the immediate gratification of achieving their selfish goal, forgetting that power is a test, not a privilege.Islamic Perspective on Authority and JusticeFrom an Islamic standpoint, power and leadership are amanah (a trust from Allah), not a tool for personal gain. The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) warned against seeking leadership for self-serving reasons, stating:“The most beloved of people to Allah is the one who brings the most benefit to others.” (Hadith, al-Mu‘jam al-Awsat)Those who manipulate power for personal advantage violate the principles of justice (adl) and trustworthiness (amanah). The Quran explicitly warns against using influence unjustly:“Indeed, Allah commands you to render trusts to whom they are due and when you judge between people to judge with justice.” (Quran 4:58)In contrast, those who seek influence to serve truth and fairness uphold the dignity of leadership rather than corrupting it for selfish ends.Final ThoughtTrue authority is not about closeness to power but adherence to integrity. Those who believe their proximity to leadership gives them the right to manipulate decisions ultimately expose their own weakness of character. Power is not a tool for personal advancement—it is a test of one’s sincerity, humility, and moral responsibility. Those who abuse it will eventually find themselves accountable, if not before people, then surely before Allah.

Proximity to Power: Moral Failure

In our daily lives, there are subtle ways we may unintentionally associate partners with Allah (SWT) by placing trust or authority in things other than Him. This often stems from an internal desire to control outcomes rather than submitting to Allah’s divine will. Here are some examples:1. The Desire to Control Outcomes&nbsp;• Internal Factor: When we become consumed with controlling every aspect of our lives—whether it’s relationships, success, or health—we act as if our efforts alone can override Allah’s decree. This reflects a lack of trust in His wisdom.For example, resorting to unethical shortcuts or becoming overly fixated on future outcomes reflects a misplaced belief that our actions alone can control what is ultimately in Allah's hands. Practices such as using hidden cameras, recordings, threats, blackmail, or manipulative tactics like gaslighting and denial of truth reveal an attempt to manipulate circumstances rather than trusting in Allah's wisdom and decree.2. Prioritizing Personal Desires Over Divine Commands&nbsp;• Internal Factor: When our desires lead us away from Allah’s guidance, we allow those impulses to govern us instead of submitting to Him.&nbsp;• Example: Pursuing wealth at the expense of honesty or seeking approval over modesty implies a belief that worldly gains matter more than Allah’s instructions. 3. Relying on Physical Objects for Protection&nbsp;• External Factor: Trusting in objects or rituals for protection rather than relying on Allah opens the door to spiritual impurities and the influence of the unseen.&nbsp;• Example: Wearing charms or relying on superstitions implies that these objects have power independent of Allah’s protection. 4. Altering the Natural Creation&nbsp;• External Factor: Modifying the natural form Allah has given us—through practices like wearing human hair extensions or using artificial enhancements—can disrupt the spiritual purity needed for Angelic presence.&nbsp;• Example: Changing one’s physical appearance beyond permissible limits reflects dissatisfaction with Allah’s creation and invites unseen influences. 5. Shaping Narratives to Suit Personal Agendas&nbsp;• Internal Factor: Manipulating situations to fit our preferred narrative, rather than upholding truth, reflects a desire to control how others perceive reality.&nbsp;• Example: Twisting facts to protect our image or refusing to admit wrongdoing suggests we value personal control over divine justice.6. Seeking Validation from Creation Instead of the Creator&nbsp;• Internal Factor: Prioritizing the opinions of others over Allah’s pleasure suggests a form of hidden idolatry—where human approval holds more weight than divine guidance.&nbsp;• Example: Changing our values or actions for social acceptance, even when they contradict Islamic teachings, implies we trust human judgment over Allah’s authority.The Spiritual ImpactThese actions create an environment where Angels, who are drawn to purity, are repelled by spiritual contamination, while Jinn—especially those influenced by Iblis—are attracted to negativity and manipulation. The degree to which we try to control or distort outcomes reflects the extent of reliance on other powers rather than Allah.&nbsp;

The Power of Reliance: Purification

Crescent moon rising over the Tokyo bay area.

When someone openly strives to strengthen their faith, they inevitably draw attention—both admiration and scrutiny. There will always be those who question their sincerity, assuming that their display of piety is performative, a means to gain influence, credibility, or control. The irony is that these judgments often reveal more about the observer than the one being observed.Faith is not something we can measure in others with certainty. Yet, some confidently assume they can decipher someone’s true intentions, as if they hold the ability to distinguish between genuine devotion and calculated portrayal. This assumption is flawed at its core. No one can truly know the depth of another’s sincerity, nor the personal battles they face in their spiritual journey.The presence of struggle naturally invites different interpretations. Some will see it as a sign of resilience, while others will cast doubt, choosing to focus on what they think is an ulterior motive. But the purpose of witnessing another’s faith in motion is not to sit in judgment—it is to reflect. Rather than assume the worst, we should ask ourselves: What does my reaction to this person’s journey say about my own faith?Instead of suspicion and negativity, understanding and self-reflection should take precedence. Judgment is easy, but introspection requires effort. When we see someone working towards righteousness, our role is not to decide whether they are deserving of the reputation they carry—it is to ensure that we are tending to our own sincerity first.Many have misinterpreted my deepening faith, assuming I am using the loss of my father—may Allah have mercy on his soul—as a way to hold onto attention I never even sought. His passing five years ago did not create a need for external validation; it only solidified a truth I had already come to understand: I was no longer in safe hands, at least not in the way I once believed. The security I had once felt in my life shifted, and in that void, Allah’s higher calling became unmistakable. It was His guidance alone that provided balance where the assurance I should have felt from my husband had failed.But when faith begins to manifest outwardly, when it shifts from an internal anchor to a visible truth, it naturally becomes a point of contention for those who think only on the surface. They argue not with understanding but with assumptions that serve only to confirm their doubts. To them, the deeper calling—the surrender to Allah’s will—appears as nothing more than a constructed scheme, an elaborate way to use faith as a platform to gain control. But control over what exactly? That remains unclear, even to them.What they fail to see is that submission to Allah is not a strategy; it is a necessity. My father—may Allah grant him Jannah—left behind an inheritance, but long before he passed, my heart had already made its decision. I knew it was never meant for me. It was meant to be given away, in his name, as a trust that belonged to Allah all along. My father’s hard work was never mine to claim, just as my spiritual journey was never about crafting an image for others to accept or reject. Allah orchestrates our lives in ways we both understand and don’t, and it is that divine arrangement that calls for patience, clarity, and sincerity.This is why we must be easy with one another—understanding rather than suspicious, lighthearted rather than cynical. To truly know Allah—to reflect on His 99 Names, His mercy, His justice—is to understand that faith is never a tool for manipulation. It is not a means to control circumstances or manufacture influence. Having prophetic DNA is separate from the struggles I faced, yet it became a lens through which I could better understand the deeper challenges in my life. It was never about seeking favor, but about strengthening my heart to uncover the truth of my circumstances—because I was already in tune with Allah’s call, and He knows best. We may invoke through words, but I promise, my heart called out for His help and guidance in the silence and patience I have endured-- Allah knew I needed His help all along.Verses from Surah Waq'iah:"Tell Me! The seed that you sow in the ground.Is it you that make it grow, or are We the Grower?Were it Our Will, We could crumble it to dry pieces, and you would be regretful (or left in wonderment).(Saying): "We are indeed Mughramun (i.e. ruined or lost the money without any profit, or punished by the loss of all that we spend for cultivation, etc.)!&nbsp;Tell Me! The water that you drink.Is it you who cause it from the rainclouds to come down, or are We the Causer of it to come down?If We willed, We verily could make it salt (and undrinkable), why then do you not give thanks (to Allah)?Then glorify with praises the Name of your Lord, the Most Great.So I swear by Mawaqi (setting or the mansions, etc.) of the stars (they traverse).And verily, that is indeed a great oath, if you but know.That (this) is indeed an honourable recital (the Noble Quran).In a Book well-guarded (with Allah in the heaven i.e. Al-Lauh Al-Mahfuz).Which (that Book with Allah) none can touch but the purified (i.e. the angels)."

Beyond the Surface

Gratitude is something I have come to understand through stages, each one reflecting the extent of what I knew at the time. As a mother, I have always felt inclined to set the playing field for my children while simultaneously giving them the independence they need to explore, learn, and simply be. My natural tendency to observe, scope out my surroundings for safety, and remain aware has been a defining trait, one that I attribute to growing up with a strong sense of street smarts. As a mother, these instincts naturally came into play, shaping the way I parented. Over time, I came to realize that physical awareness was only part of a greater wisdom—the wisdom to understand the inherent message I carry within myself and for my children, guiding them with love and understanding.In the grand scheme of life, Allah, in His infinite wisdom, grants us tests that align with our personal knowledge, awareness, gratitude, and desires. He does not set the playing field—we do. Free will grants us autonomy, but it is shaped by our morals and values. For me, my free will was always governed by the nature and needs of my family. Every decision I made was filtered through the lens of what was best for them, extending to everyone I encountered. Most importantly, my autonomy was interwoven with gratitude—but that did not mean I was free from being tested.Within my mind and heart, I have battled difficulties alone. On the surface, my husband and I were a great team—strong parents, good providers, and supportive family members. We managed our household, raised our children, and even balanced the complexities of having his mother live with us. Life, however, is not like filing taxes; you do not simply claim people, pay, and move on. It is constant action—adjusting, responding, fixing, and doing. That is why autonomy is essential—it allows us to recognize our limits, to pause, to recalibrate. As a Muslim, I have learned to collaborate my knowledge with my ability to act in order to clear my path.By 2018, Allah was preparing me for a significant test. I had not yet fully acknowledged the struggles within my marriage, but my awareness was growing. Since 2015, I had experienced a lingering feeling sparked by someone I encountered—an emotion I could not quite define. Out of respect for my boundaries, I kept my distance, allowing it to remain in the background. However, as more truths about my marriage surfaced in 2018, those feelings naturally reemerged as a reflection of my reality. Still, I chose not to indulge them, remaining steadfast in my principles and held true to the inner work I made forgiving my younger self for past vulnerabilities and mistakes.As a mother, I believe the wisdom we carry is what guides our parenting. I also believe that natural laws govern life, and that our children, in some form, inherit the consequences of the things we fail to address. Not everyone agrees with this, but my experiences have led me to hold this belief. In 2019, I faced a challenge that put my personal struggles into perspective. At my daughter's basketball game, my son suddenly fainted. My husband and I immediately picked him up and rushed him outside to assess him. It was a terrifying moment. Though it turned out to be a false alarm, it shook me to my core. That day, the roles shifted—I was reminded that before anything else, I was a mother, and my children were still young. Marriage takes time to build, and even longer to unravel. That experience reinforced the need to put my feelings aside and focus on what was in front of me.But the feelings lingered.Then came 2020, a challenging year as my father’s health deteriorated. Amidst everything happening in my family, I was still wrestling with my emotions. One day, while my husband took the kids to the beach, I visited my parents and sister. On my way home, overwhelmed by frustration, I turned to my dua app and poured my heart into supplications, asking Allah to remove these feelings. Just as I finished my prayers, traffic picked up, and at a red light, I looked to my right—there he was, sitting in the car next to me. Our eyes briefly met before we both turned away. The light turned green, and we drove off, knowing full well there was an inclination to stop and talk. But I did not dare. I would have felt awful to act on those feelings and then return home to my family.That moment was a turning point. It was clear that this was not going away on its own, so I resolved to place my feelings into my prayers. I asked Allah to remove them because I knew what I had at home—love, effort, and time invested. And so, Allah allowed for a pause.Then, in 2021, my father passed away. Grieving while maintaining my role as an engaged and active mother was challenging, but I did it. Meanwhile, my husband’s demeanor toward me changed. He became distant, subtly ignoring me. Yet, we continued upholding the loving family standard we had built. I believe we got lost in translation over the years, and our struggle with connection and bonding had been present from the start.By October 2021, I reached a crossroads. If I wanted the truth, I had to be true to myself. I answered Allah’s call and took my prayers to a deeper level. My mother-in-law had been a living example of devotion, and she inspired me to seek more than just the motions of prayer. My children had grown older, and I was no longer on autopilot. That was the start of my spiritual journey. The more time I spent in prayer, the more I felt Allah’s closeness. His timing is always purposeful, guiding us through our intentions. Life unfolds in tests, and each lesson prepares us for a harder one. The studying is not in books but in action. It is not about memorizing Islamic knowledge—it is about nurturing the core of the soul and the intentions behind it.That is my experience, and I embrace it. My success in drawing closer to Allah was not merely in resisting feelings and maintaining boundaries, but in ensuring that my husband remained the one with whom I shared my life, support, and devotion—despite our struggles. It was in preserving my marriage to the best of my ability and, no matter how vulnerable we may be, holding firm to the principles that truly matter. Feelings are a natural part of life and will always exist, but we are accountable for how we act upon them—whether through words, glances, actions, or even the silence of our emotions. Allah will always reveal the truth we need and are willing to see, and that is how life goes on.&nbsp; "And each and everything they have done is noted in (their) Records (of deeds).And everything, small and big is written (in Al-Lauh Al-Mahfuz already beforehand i.e. before it befalls, or is done by its doer) (See the Quran V.57:22).Verily, The Muttaqun (pious), will be in the midst of Gardens and Rivers (Paradise).In a seat of truth (i.e. Paradise), near the Omnipotent King (Allah, the All-Blessed, the Most High, the Owner of Majesty and Honour)."Quran-Qamar: 52-55

Ob La Di-Ob La Da

My father’s success was often mistaken for a love of money, but in truth, it was a love for the values and security he believed money could provide. Growing up in a country under siege and arriving in America in his early twenties with the American Dream in his heart, his ambitions were both enthusiastic and challenging. The road to stability was never straightforward—trial and error shaped much of his journey, forcing him to repeatedly start from square one, retracing his steps back to the basics.As we seek and pursue happiness, we are always led by the heart’s innermost need. For him, that need was fulfilled through financial security—not for greed, but for the stability and dignity it offered. He wasn’t greedy, but careful. He wasn’t depriving, but reasonable. He wasn’t boring, but simple. He never misled because he was straightforward, believing that even a white lie was still a lie. Indirect dealings didn’t sit well with him, and he never liked borrowing money or using credit cards—he believed cash was king.Yet, his sense of security was never just for himself; he extended it to his loved ones. He wasn’t selfish; his happiness was rooted in the happiness of those around him. Mistrust never sat well with him, and he always hearkened to the truth. Like many Arab fathers of his generation, he carried the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, navigating the constant stress that led so many to battle high blood pressure and walking diabetes. Let’s be real—they weren’t just struggling with financial burdens but also with an identity crisis, trying to balance life’s relentless ups and downs while holding onto who they were.His resilience was forged in hardship. He grew up in a one-bedroom flat at the top of a winding stone staircase, sharing the small space with my grandmother and six siblings, while his father worked in Saudi Arabia, only visiting occasionally. Despite his own struggles, my father always ensured his family felt the grace Allah had given him. A true foodie at heart, he loved gathering us around the table, taking us out to eat, and planning vacations. He never rushed or cut corners—if something was worth doing, it was worth doing right.The simplicity of his retirement was proof of his true nature—his needs were never excessive, only rooted in the basics that brought him peace. He found contentment in the little things, never chasing extravagance but instead cherishing what was essential. Yet, despite his reserved nature, he always extended the grace of what he called happiness to those under his care or hospitality. Whether through a warm meal, a thoughtful gesture, or simply providing a sense of security, his generosity never wavered. His idea of happiness wasn’t loud or boastful—it was steady, consistent, and always shared with those around him.He was a man who remained firmly within his own boundaries. He valued his space and respected that of others, never overstepping or entangling himself in matters that didn’t concern him. He knew when to engage and when to withdraw, understanding that not everything required his presence or input. His sense of self-discipline and restraint wasn’t out of detachment but rather a quiet confidence in his own way of navigating life. He had nothing to prove, no need to be anywhere he didn’t belong, and no interest in anything that didn’t align with his principles.As his daughter, and eventually his right hand, I carried a sense of duty that felt inherited.&nbsp; Since I was twelve, I had the privilege of experiencing the calm version of my father, the version that had already run his race, made his mark, and reached the finish line he had set for himself. By then, the weight he had&nbsp; carried—of building, providing, and securing—had settled into a more reflective stage, where he had the time and patience to extend his knowledge to me. The extra care he gave wasn’t out of obligation; it was intentional, purposeful. He passed down a legacy that wasn’t just about material success, but about the kind of quiet strength that stands the test of time.Above all, his target was always the light, and he left behind a wisdom that continues to shine. To seek security through the values we uphold is to accelerate the process of truly attaining it. Through his journey, he showed us that real success isn’t just about financial means—it’s about the principles that define how we use them.Before my father’s passing, I carried a deep sense of responsibility, knowing he intended to leave me an inheritance. In his final year, my prayers for him were that Allah would only take him when He was fully accepting of him and that he would be granted the honor of being buried on the most blessed day—Friday. Without realizing it, my heart had already made a promise: that whatever he left me, I would use it in a way that served as a source of comfort and admission for his soul—an act of gratitude and duty in acknowledgment of all that he had given me.

Target the Light: Wisdom and Values

Growing up, my dad always told us that "hate" is a strong word. We used the line in a joking manner, but as I entered adulthood, I began to grasp both the power and the fragility of using it as a means of expression. We often throw it around as if it’s a simple, valid way to communicate, yet in reality, there is no justification for it. I began to notice that when we allow it to exist freely in our lives, we unknowingly give it space to grow. The more we reinforce it, the more we become responsible for carrying its weight—a burden that ultimately hinders our ability to find peace.The cruelest thing about this sensitive topic is not just its presence but how we deceive ourselves into justifying it. We wield it in ways that distort its true nature, using it as a weapon rather than seeking a solution. Instead of resolving conflict, we fuel it. Instead of finding clarity, we cloud our judgment. We tell ourselves that our hate is warranted, but in doing so, we block the path to overcoming it.When we nurture or validate our negative actions, we're actually rejecting peace. Before we throw anything away, we must first validate the reasoning behind it. Just as we are taught to hate the sin but not the sinner, we must separate our emotions from the people and situations that trigger them. More importantly, we must stop ourselves from feeling responsible for proving an accusation if we lack the accountability to participate in the solution.The Framework of FaithAs Muslims, our foundation is built upon the six articles of faith, which serve as the guiding principles that shape our sincerity in upholding the five pillars of Islam. Each article of faith affirms the sole proprietor of believing in Allah alone, directing us in our journey through life with the ultimate goal of peace—both within ourselves and in our interactions with others.The prefrontal cortex, the part of our brain responsible for reasoning and emotional regulation, it plays a crucial role in shaping our responses. If we begin to experience negative emotions such as having malice intent or feel jealousy, then we risk the disruption of the balance necessary for learning and understanding to mature. This imbalance leads to impulsive and self-absorbed behaviors that hinder the brain’s natural development. Instead of responding with thoughtfulness, a person consumed by negativity reacts in a way that centers around themselves, failing to recognize the true significance of their participation and response. When someone holds onto resentment, it gradually fosters narcissistic tendencies. This happens because they become fixated on surface-level perceptions, looking for validation and familiarity–overlooking the deeper understanding that comes from genuine connection and reflection. They start to believe that what they see is all there is, dismissing the depth of experiences and emotions that bring true insight into life. Resorting to the need to control outcomes that serve their needs.When we approach the Quran with an open heart, we not only absorb its wisdom, but we also learn how to safeguard our hearts from closing. If we truly pay attention, we will recognize that the Quran serves as a defense against the narcissistic tendencies that emerge when our intentions counteract the peace we're inherently fighting for. It reminds us that peace is not just an abstract ideal but a lived instruction—one that, if ignored, leaves us struggling to control the outcomes of our actions. The Quran’s presence in our lives is not simply because it is owned; it exists to remind us of the soul Allah has entrusted to us in this life. Its guidance is not just a set of laws but a roadmap to returning our soul to Him in the purest form possible when the inevitable moment of our departure arrives. By following its wisdom, we are not just reading—we are actively preparing our hearts, our character, and our deeds for the ultimate reunion with our Creator. To Decide or Knot In today’s world, our understanding of livelihood is often distorted. We are bombarded with distractions, conditioned expectations, and misleading narratives that shape what we perceive as "right." These influences can push us into a survival mode where we make decisions reactively, rather than reflectively. In this state, our vision is clouded. We become fixated on what the surface presents rather than what is truly unfolding beneath it.Decisions are an essential part of life. It shapes our paths, influences our relationships, and determines the direction of our spiritual and personal growth. While there is often pressure to always make the “right” decision, the real challenge is not perfection—it is setting better intentions. Intentions that align with truth, wisdom, and sincerity rather than fear, pressure, or fleeting emotions.Modern decisions are filled with documentation, reports, and long interpretations—all seemingly designed to guide us toward an answer. But the real task is not just in reading and processing information; it is in questioning why this information is presented in the first place. Why is it framed in a particular way? Why are certain details inconsistent, while others remain perfectly aligned? What is the hidden intention behind the way the information is structured?The truth is, decisions should never be made solely based on what the eye perceives. Looks can be deceiving. That is why justice is an essential part of true decision-making—because it requires us to go beyond face value and seek what is fair, balanced, and rooted in truth. It calls on us to use the depth of our knowledge to uncover the probable cause of matters, reminding us that true understanding requires time and effort—surface-level judgment is never enough.Ultimately, allowing any negative tendency to dictate our actions distorts our perception of reality and weakens our ability to think critically in order to regulate emotions. In the context of hate, it becomes an invisible force urging us to misjudge, while all of our life resources and the core of our soul inherently seek peace. When we step back, we realize that what we are truly searching for is understanding. That understanding is what straightens our overall well-being. And in that understanding, we create space for growth, resolution, and ultimately, peace.It is an act of faith—about sincerely seeking clarity and trusting that Allah, the Best of Planners, will grant us the ability to see beyond what is presented—to what truly matters."Allah puts forth a similitude: a (slave) man belonging to many partners (like those who worship others along with Allah) disputing with one another, and a (slave) man belonging entirely to one master, (like those who worship Allah Alone). Are those two equal in comparison? All the praises and thanks be to Allah! But most of them know not." 39:29"And indeed We have put forth for men, in this Quran every kind of similitude in order that they may remember.""Verily, We have sent down to you (O Muhammad SAW) the Book (this Quran) for mankind in truth. So whosoever accepts the guidance, it is only for his ownself, and whosoever goes astray, he goes astray only for his (own) loss. And you (O Muhammad SAW) are not a Wakil (trustee or disposer of affairs, or keeper) over them.""So, the evil results of that which they earned overtook them. And those who did wrong of these [people to whom you (Muhammad SAW) have been sent], will also be overtaken by the evil results (torment) for that which they earned, and they will never be able to escape." "Do they not know that Allah enlarges the provision for whom He wills, and straitens it (for whom He wills). Verily, in this are signs for the folk who believe!" "And Allah will deliver those who are the Muttaqun (pious - see V.2:2) to their places of success (Paradise). Evil shall touch them not, nor shall they grieve." 39:61

Blog | Soul Air Reality

Proximity to Power: Moral Failure

The Power of Reliance: Purification

Beyond the Surface

Ob La Di-Ob La Da

Target the Light: Wisdom and Values

Beyond the Illusion