The empty chapter or the chapter on pause.

Wow, we’re already in July. Where has the time gone? When I started this blog earlier this year, I thought I’d post bi-weekly, or at best monthly.

And well, I’ve written loads, (don’t lie Sumeya.) Ok, I’ve written some blogs, but they’re all stuck in my drafts... To post or not to post—that is the multi-million-dollar question. My vulnerabilities, honesty, and rawness on the World Wide Web?

And so, fear, protection, and caution hold me back, the type of caution in me that I respect and appreciate. (perhaps cause I haven’t actually finished any)

However, what I do want to talk about is the empty chapter, or the one where it feels like its on pause. A loneliness where you have people around you, but there’s an inner emptiness, one you can’t quite put into words. One I briefly mentioned in my last blog. It feels suffocating, and it’s not exactly a space that people can really fill.

Many years ago, my counsellor asked me, "What’s your goal for therapy?" My response was, "I just want to find peace." I laugh now because I hear this a lot from clients too.

There are times when I’ve felt like I’m doing well. Oh, my ego—or nafs—might even be cheering me on! "Nothing can stop me, I’m all the way up!" (Yes, I said that in DJ Khaled’s voice... wait, was it Khaled? Quick Google search. Ohhh... it was Fat Joe? Damn, who knew?)

I digress.

Those times when life is going smoothly, spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and, in my case, maybe even with a lil' teeny-weeny (I hope) bit of arrogance. "Oh, I’m amazing," I tell myself. And slowly but surely... I start to feel an opening, a distance, but also a tightness, and somehow, also a sense of freedom.

It reminds me of the Names Al-Qabid and Al-Basit, which closely translate to The Withholder and The Expander.

Qabd means "to seize," "to hold," or "to grip something," whilst bast means "to give in abundance" or "to expand something." These two words are opposites, yet they complement each other.

I first came across the Name Al-Qabid around my first "real" heartbreak. I say "real" because it genuinely felt like I couldn’t breathe. Ahaha! On reflection, I think, Damn, I really let a man stop me from breathing. I really thought it was life or death. Wow.

I digress, again. (damn Sumeya you keep doing this)

During that heartbreak, I felt a sense of tightness, a melancholy. I remember thinking, Wow, so this is what depression feels like? I also felt deeply saddened by the experience of Al-Qabid. The withholding of rizq, and, in this case, rizq meaning marriage. To me, at that time, there was no logical reason why this relationship couldn’t flourish into marriage.

At the time, I couldn’t reconcile what I believed about God with what I was experiencing. If something seemed good, why would it be withheld? Logically, I understood Al-Qabid, but emotionally, I struggled to appreciate it.

Of course, God is All-Knowing and All-Wise, but I didn’t understand the reason for the obstacles. Surely it didn’t have to be this difficult.

It is God who withholds and God who gives abundantly, and it is to Him that you will return. (2:245)

It is funny though, I’ve recently been reflecting on the name As-Salam. It is through this reflection, and the repetition of this Name, that I’ve begun to appreciate the restriction and the withholding, as well as the openings and the gifts.

With clients, I often find that it is the processing, and sitting with the discomfort, that feels the hardest. "Why can’t it all just go away?" And I know this feeling because, sometimes, I fall into it too.

But life comes with ups and downs. We breathe in, we hold, and we breathe out. Each step is important. It’s an ongoing journey of riding each and every one of those waves.

Maybe the journey isn't about finding peace, because peace is not lost. Peace has always been there. Maybe it's about remembering it.

What do you need to do to let it in? (This is a reminder to me too.) And how can you give it to others?

I recently had a short interaction with a rajulun Saleem, a man I perceived as quiet, peaceful, and sound. He expressed to me his need for peace, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the irony. It was also a reminder to approach others with peace, despite my slightly awkward nerves. The interaction reminded me of As-Salam, Al-Qabid, and Al-Basit.

So, what does the balance look like for you? How can you create balance ? When your feeling the restriction, what happens to you ? what habits do you pick up? where do you find yourself falling short? What do you find most difficult here?

I’m not sure how to end this now…. perhaps there’s still more I need to work on.

note to self: Ya Dhaahir <3