Definition of Loyalty
Sunday 14 September 2014
The Search for Love
I spent my life running after the creation. I have always been what you might call ‘needy’. I needed friends, I needed people. All the time. And I couldn’t handle letdowns.
But at the heart of what makes us run after the creation, is simply love. The need to give and receive love. This need has been put in us by the Creator. And every need created by God, has been created for a purpose. The need to give and receive love was created as a driver. A driver that pushes us back to God. You see, we began with God, and God wants us to come back to Him in this life—even before we come back to Him in the next. So He puts inside us, drivers intended to bring us back. Intended to bring us back Home.
But our problem is we get lost along the way.
We can’t deny the drive; but we get lost because we seek to fulfill it in the wrong way. We look to fulfill that need in the wrong place. The driver was created by God to take us to Him. But instead, that driver takes us towards the creation. And that’s where we get lost.
Why do we run after other people? Why do we run after money? Why do we run after status, or power? We run after these things because we want love and respect. And we believe that by attaining these things, we will succeed at getting both love and respect.
But there is a fascinating formula that governs this world. And it is very, very simple. Unfortunately, we almost always get this formula wrong. Yes, we all have that same driver inside us, but the human being is hasty. We prefer the immediate over the delayed, the seen over the unseen, the physical over the spiritual. We run first to what we can see and feel and touch. We run first to what we *think* is closer. We do this because while the human being is needy and dependent, the human being is also impatient and weak. We go for what seems closest, easiest, quickest.
So we go towards the creation.
See, we think that the more we run after this world (dunya)–the more we run after the love of people, and wealth and beauty and status–the more we will have of it. We think that the more intensely we want something, the more likely we are to get it. And when we don’t get it, we become angry—so angry—at God Himself. As though the *intensity* of my wanting, somehow makes me entitled to having.
But the more we drown in this false equation, the more we fail at reaching our goal, and the more we miss the true–but simple–equation of love and life. That equation is clear: The more intensely we want the creation itself, the less likely we are to attain it. If it is love you need, and you seek it from the creation, you will never *truly* get it. Or get enough. Anything of the creation sought for its own sake will evade you.
And will never fill you.
Even happiness itself: The more you run after it, the more it evades you. But if you run to God instead, happiness will run after you. If you run to God instead, the love of people will run after you. If you run to God instead, success will run after you. True success in this life, and the next. If you run to God instead, provision will run after you. This, brothers and sisters, is the secret formula for which tyrants have burned down cities, and kings have searched the world—but never found.
This is the secret. The only formula you need to know.
In a profound hadith (Prophetic teaching), a man came to the Prophet (pbuh) and said: “O Messenger of God, direct me to an act, which if I do, God will love me and people will love me.” He said: “Detach yourself from the world, and God will love you. Detach yourself from what is with the people, and the people will love you.” [Ibn Majah]
Ironically, the less we chase after the approval and love of the people, the more we gain it. The less needy we are of others, the more people are drawn to us and seek our company. This hadith teaches us a profound Truth. Only by breaking out of the orbit of the creation, can we succeed with both God—and people.
To run to God is a movement of the heart. To run to God is to strive with everything He has given you. Running to God is movement. If you are passive, you are not moving. You are falling. Movement to God, running to God, is to face your heart towards Him in every motion of life. It is to face every goal, every intention, every End towards Him. He becomes the object of your striving. The means of your striving. The ultimate End of your striving. But you keep striving. You keep working to be the best mother you can. The best father. The best neighbor, the best student, daughter, son, employee.
This is the legacy of all our Prophets, peace be upon them all. Their bodies were in dunya. Striving. The Prophet (pbuh) was the best leader, the best father, the best husband, the best friend. His body was working hard in dunya. For a while. But his heart was always with Allah. His heart was already in Akhira (Hereafter), even while his body was still here—for a time. His heart was already Home. His heart saw through the illusions of this life. His limbs worked hard. So hard. He bled, and cried, and strived. His body stood until his feet cracked. His body was abused in Ta’if. His body lost sleep, and felt hunger, and thirst, and fever, and pain. And loss.
But his heart faced only Allah.
And with Allah there is no hunger, thirst, pain, or loss. His body had to strive in different directions; he was a father, a leader, a friend, a husband. But while his body had to strive in all those places, his heart faced only One. Only one direction.
His heart faced only God.
As Ibrahim (AS) said so beautifully: 
“Indeed, I have turned my face toward He who created the heavens and the earth, inclining toward truth, and I am not of those who associate others with Allah.” (6:79)
Ibrahim (AS) focused the face of his heart only on Allah. Completely. Haneefan. Completely. You will find that to only partially face your heart to God is to suffer. And that suffering is in proportion to the degree of partial submission.
Allah tells us in the Quran: 
“O you who have believed, enter into submission completely [whole-heartedly] and do not follow the footsteps of Satan. Indeed, he is to you a clear enemy.” (2:208)
There is pain in just partial submission. There is a pain in not entering into peace and security—the *only* peace and security—completely. With one’s *whole* heart. There is pain in half a sajdah (prostration). There is a pain in putting your heart (even partially) in anyone else’s hands. And that pain continues until you turn your entire heart *only* in one direction. Until you turn your entire heart *only* towards Him. He becomes the only true aim of your striving.
As we say at least 17 times every single day: “You alone do we worship and You alone do we seek for help.” (1:5). Allah is the only true End, and the only true means to that End. No one gets to Allah without Allah. La hawla wa la quwat illa billah: “There is no change and no strength, except by God.”
The one who turns his heart completely to God in this way, reaches true freedom. And that person can no longer be harmed by the creation. The fire couldn’t burn Prophet Ibrahim (AS). The ‘fires’ of the creation cannot harm the one who’s heart faces only God. The financial, physical, emotional, social, and psychological fires cannot harm the one who’s heart is *only* with God. Externally, the person might look harmed, but in Reality, such a person is never harmed. The haqiqah of the situation is not harm, but good, as we know from the words of our beloved Prophet (pbuh):
“Strange is the case of a believer, there is good for him in everything—and this is only for the believer. If a blessing reaches him, he is grateful to God, which is good for him, and if an adversity reaches him, he is patient which is good for him.” [Muslim]
And this is *only* for the believer. This is only for the one who’s heart is turned completely and *only* in one direction. Remember, Allah says:
“O you who have believed, enter into Islam [submission and peacefulness] completely [whole-heartedly] and do not follow the footsteps of Satan. Indeed, he is to you a clear enemy.” (2:208)
Enter into peace and security completely. Complete security is only for those who enter *completely*. But remember the heart is not a still entity. The heart is by definition that which turns (hence the Arabic word for heart ‘qalb’ comes from the root which means ‘to turn’). The heart by definition is that which turns. So our object in life is to keep bringing the heart back to focus, back to center, back to God. And we consistently seek God’s help, as the Prophet (pbuh) used to supplicate most of all: “Oh turner of hearts, set our hearts firm on Your deen (way).”
This constant reorientation is tawbah. Return. Again and again and again. Until we meet Him. Only the one who gives up this fight, fails. Only the one who—due to complacency or despair—gives up the fight of constantly bringing the heart back to focus, fails in this life and the next.
We all want love. From God, and from the creation. We are all running towards something. Ironically, the more we run after the creation, the more the creation runs away from us! As soon as we stop running after the creation, and reorient, as soon as we start running towards God, the creation runs after us. It’s a simple, simple formula:
Run towards the creation, you lose God and the creation. Run towards God, you gain God *and* the creation.
Allah is Al Wadud (The Source of Love). Therefore, love comes from God—not people. As one author, Charles F. Haanel, put it: “To acquire love… fill yourself up with it until you become a magnet.”
When you fill yourself with the Source of love (Al Wadud), you become a magnet for love. Allah teaches us this in the beautiful hadith Qudsi:
“If Allah has loved a servant [of His], He calls Gabriel (on whom be peace) and says: ‘I love So-and-so, therefore love him.’” He (the Prophet pbuh) said: “So Gabriel loves him. Then he (Gabriel) calls out in heaven, saying: ‘Allah loves So-and-so, therefore love him.’ And the inhabitants of heaven love him.” He (the Prophet pbuh) said: “Then acceptance is established for him on earth. (Muslim Bukhari, Malik, & Tirmidhi)
We’re all running. But so few of us are running in the right direction. We have the same goal. But to get there, we need to stop. And examine if we are running towards the Source–or just a reflection.
Treating love Addiction
Removing the Intruder: On Treating Love Addictions
By: Yasmin Mogahed
Every created thing yearns to fulfill its’ purpose. The eyes yearn to see. The ears yearn to hear. The stomach yearns to eat. The heart yearns to love. And inside every one of us is a created thing. It is a gigantic mass. It is a mass of affection, loyalty, and devotion. And it was created with a purpose. It was created to be given. But it was made to be given in a very specific way, to a very specific place. What we chose to do—or not do—with this heavy mass, determines our state in this life and the next.
The drive to give ourselves to something compels us, and acts as a very powerful force. There is a sort of desperation to love, to share, to connect. It is a desperation to contribute, to invest, to affect. The drive is so strong; but we often don’t even understand it. We often can’t comprehend the nature of this inner mass, and we don’t know what to do with it.
So, some of us hold on to it. To try to hold on to what was made to be given, is like holding a ticking bomb inside our chest. It finally explodes within us, creating a black hole of emptiness. This is how we implode.
And then there are some of us who do give it. But, ya Latif, we give it in the wrong way and to the wrong hands. We try to give it, all of it—every drop of it— to our careers. We try to give it to the ‘love of our lives’. We try to give it to this world. To give the entirely of this mass to something other than its’ Creator causes unparalleled torment and inner damage.
Allah tells us in the Quran:
“Had there been within the heavens and earth gods besides God, they both would have been ruined. So exalted is Allah , Lord of the Throne, above what they describe.” (21:22)
In this verse, God tells us what would have happened had there been more than one object of worship in the heavens and the earth: corruption and ruin. If the heavens and the earth, in all their majesty, would have been ruined by taking more than one object of worship, what of the fragile human heart?
What happens to a heart that takes more than one object of ultimate love, fear, hope, and devotion? What happens to the one who gives this inner mass to other than its’ Creator? What happens to the one who allows other than Allah to be soaked into the deepest recesses of the heart?
To understand the result of this intrusion, imagine the heart like a sponge. When something of the dunya is presented to it, the heart can either accept or reject it. If the heart is protected and rejects what is presented, the heart will remain safe. But if the heart is unprotected and accepts it, like a sponge in a container of ink, the heart will absorb. And it can absorb all the way to the core (lubb). Once this process takes place, removing that which has been absorbed becomes extremely difficult. And painful. Like cleaning out a sponge, removing what has been absorbed into the core of the heart requires agonizing and consistent squeezing.
The Prophet (pbuh) said: “Fitan (trials) will be presented to hearts, as a reed mat is interwoven: stick by stick. Any heart which absorbs these trials will have a black mark put in it. However, any heart that rejects them will have a white mark put in it. The result is that hearts will be of two kinds: one white like a white stone, which will not be harmed by trials as long as the heavens and earth endure; and the other dark and rusty, like an over-turned vessel; not able to recognize the good, nor reject evil, but rather being absorbed with its desires.” [Muslim]
Commenting on this hadith, Ibn ul Qayyim (RA) explains that the fitan (trials) that are presented to the heart are of 2 types: shahwat (desires) and shubuhat (doubt). He says, “The first causes intentions and desires to be corrupted, whilst the second causes knowledge and beliefs to be corrupted.” [Ighaathatul-Luhfaan, p.40]
When the fitan of desires and doubt are accepted and absorbed into the heart, there are 2 dangerous consequences that follow:
First, that heart will no longer be able to recognize good and evil, as they really are. If the heart is fully soaked in darkness, it may even see good as evil, and evil as good. Suddenly, the haram (forbidden) looks beautiful and the halal (permissible) looks ugly. This is the consequence of a deeply diseased heart. And that disease comes about by allowing the heart to absorb the fitan (of desires or doubt).
Second, that heart will judge and be led by whims and desires—rather than by the guidance of Allah. Instead of being a slave to Allah, such a person will become a slave to his own desires. Slavery to anything other than Allah is the most painful sort of oppression.
Even after the Children of Israel were saved from Pharoah’s captivation, they were still imprisoned. They were imprisoned by the objects of worship that had entered their hearts. The worship of the calf—the calf itself—was absorbed into their hearts. Allah says:
“And [recall] when We took your covenant and raised over you the mount, [saying], ‘Take what We have given you with determination and listen.” They said [instead], “We hear and disobey.’ And their hearts absorbed [the worship of] the calf because of their disbelief. Say, ‘How wretched is that which your faith enjoins upon you, if you should be believers.’” (2:93)
Because of their misguided worship, the calf was absorbed into their hearts. Today, we may not worship a calf or allow that love to enter our hearts; but most of us worship other forms of the calf. We worship money, power, status and other people. And those very same objects of ultimate love, fear, hope and devotion also get absorbed into our hearts. As a result, our hearts become corrupted and ruined, as Allah warned in the Quran (21:22).
The Prophet (pbuh) has also warned us of what happens when the heart becomes corrupted. He says: “Beware, in the body there is a flesh; if it is sound, the whole body is sound, and if it is corrupt, the whole body is corrupt. And behold, it is the heart.” (Bukhari & Muslim)
How, then, can we prevent this corruption and ruin of the heart, and thereby the corruption and ruin of the entire body? The first way is through protection.
One important Islamic principal is that protection is better than cure. For example, Allah does not tell us not to commit zina (unlawful sex), He says “Do not come close to zina.” The Quran says:
“And do not approach unlawful sexual intercourse. Indeed, it is ever an immorality and is evil as a way.” (17:32)
Allah does not just prohibit zina, but prohibits all that could lead to it and puts up many barriers to even coming close: lowering the gaze, modesty in dress and behavior, avoiding seclusion with the opposite gender, etc.
In protecting the heart, Allah has also given us a prescription. The remembrance of Allah (thikr) provides layers of protection around the heart. Prayer provides a layer. Quran provides a layer. Athkar (supplications of remembrance) throughout the day provides a layer. The more we remember Allah, the more our heart is protected. Thikr provides guards outside the heart that kill anything which threatens the tawheed or health of the heart, before it enters.
If, however, the heart does become infected, it must be cured. To rid the heart of what it has absorbed, you must subject it to the cleansing process. This process can be painful at first (like getting the ink out of the sponge), but with consistency and patience, any heart can be remade and brought back from the death.
Allah says,
“Has the time not come for those who have believed that their hearts should become humbly submissive at the remembrance of Allah and what has come down of the truth? And let them not be like those who were given the Scripture before, and a long period passed over them, so their hearts hardened; and many of them are defiantly disobedient.” (57:16)
“Know that Allah gives life to the earth after its lifelessness. We have made clear to you the signs; perhaps you will understand.” (57:17)
Just as Allah can give life to the dead land, so too can Allah give life to the dead hearts. So if you have absorbed something of the dunya into the sponge of your heart, there is always hope.
One of the most common types of ‘ink’ that gets absorbed into the heart is other people. It may be a person who entered your heart, but you cannot marry. Or it may be a person you did marry, but who entered a place in the heart reserved for Allah (swt). Removing this person from the heart is a lot like treating a drug addiction.
If it’s a person you can’t be with, like a drug, you need to cut yourself off from that person completely. Cut off all communication and reminders–even if that means blocking numbers, emails, and Facebook profiles.
This is your detox.
Second, you need to replace that object of worship with something better. Increase in your thikr (remembrance of Allah) and get closer to Allah. If you aren’t praying your daily prayers, fix that. Pray all, and pray on time. Pray qiyam in the last third of the night (just before fajr). Make duaa (supplication), tawbah (repentance), cry, plead to Allah to cure you and heal you.
This is your treatment.
Once the treatment has taken effect, your heart will be restored, by the permission of Allah. Once the heart is restored, it can come back to balance and its’ created purpose: to know and love its’ Creator more than anything else. Such a heart will regain the ability to give again to the creation, but this time in a healthy, selfless, and less dependent way. The heart will be able to give for the sake of the One it loves most—not for the sake of the self (nafs). Once this treatment has taken effect, you will be able again to give that inner mass of complete love, devotion, and loyalty to the place it was created to live. Remember that the mass that is not given is a ticking inner bomb. But, the mass that is given to the wrong place is also a ticking inner bomb.
Give. But give rightly. Absorb. But only what rightly lives and belongs in that sacred land inside your chest. Once this balance is regained, your heart will be able to see, love, give, and take in the right way. Your heart is your true eye. Your heart is the master of the body. Its’ purpose is far too noble to go unrealized. Its’ palace is far too precious to go unguarded.
Guard it. And guard it well…because every created thing yearns to fulfill its’ purpose
Removing the Intruder: On Treating Love Addictions
By: Yasmin Mogahed
Every created thing yearns to fulfill its’ purpose. The eyes yearn to see. The ears yearn to hear. The stomach yearns to eat. The heart yearns to love. And inside every one of us is a created thing. It is a gigantic mass. It is a mass of affection, loyalty, and devotion. And it was created with a purpose. It was created to be given. But it was made to be given in a very specific way, to a very specific place. What we chose to do—or not do—with this heavy mass, determines our state in this life and the next.
The drive to give ourselves to something compels us, and acts as a very powerful force. There is a sort of desperation to love, to share, to connect. It is a desperation to contribute, to invest, to affect. The drive is so strong; but we often don’t even understand it. We often can’t comprehend the nature of this inner mass, and we don’t know what to do with it.
So, some of us hold on to it. To try to hold on to what was made to be given, is like holding a ticking bomb inside our chest. It finally explodes within us, creating a black hole of emptiness. This is how we implode.
And then there are some of us who do give it. But, ya Latif, we give it in the wrong way and to the wrong hands. We try to give it, all of it—every drop of it— to our careers. We try to give it to the ‘love of our lives’. We try to give it to this world. To give the entirely of this mass to something other than its’ Creator causes unparalleled torment and inner damage.
Allah tells us in the Quran:
In this verse, God tells us what would have happened had there been more than one object of worship in the heavens and the earth: corruption and ruin. If the heavens and the earth, in all their majesty, would have been ruined by taking more than one object of worship, what of the fragile human heart?
What happens to a heart that takes more than one object of ultimate love, fear, hope, and devotion? What happens to the one who gives this inner mass to other than its’ Creator? What happens to the one who allows other than Allah to be soaked into the deepest recesses of the heart?
To understand the result of this intrusion, imagine the heart like a sponge. When something of the dunya is presented to it, the heart can either accept or reject it. If the heart is protected and rejects what is presented, the heart will remain safe. But if the heart is unprotected and accepts it, like a sponge in a container of ink, the heart will absorb. And it can absorb all the way to the core (lubb). Once this process takes place, removing that which has been absorbed becomes extremely difficult. And painful. Like cleaning out a sponge, removing what has been absorbed into the core of the heart requires agonizing and consistent squeezing.
The Prophet (pbuh) said: “Fitan (trials) will be presented to hearts, as a reed mat is interwoven: stick by stick. Any heart which absorbs these trials will have a black mark put in it. However, any heart that rejects them will have a white mark put in it. The result is that hearts will be of two kinds: one white like a white stone, which will not be harmed by trials as long as the heavens and earth endure; and the other dark and rusty, like an over-turned vessel; not able to recognize the good, nor reject evil, but rather being absorbed with its desires.” [Muslim]
Commenting on this hadith, Ibn ul Qayyim (RA) explains that the fitan (trials) that are presented to the heart are of 2 types: shahwat (desires) and shubuhat (doubt). He says, “The first causes intentions and desires to be corrupted, whilst the second causes knowledge and beliefs to be corrupted.” [Ighaathatul-Luhfaan, p.40]
When the fitan of desires and doubt are accepted and absorbed into the heart, there are 2 dangerous consequences that follow:
First, that heart will no longer be able to recognize good and evil, as they really are. If the heart is fully soaked in darkness, it may even see good as evil, and evil as good. Suddenly, the haram (forbidden) looks beautiful and the halal (permissible) looks ugly. This is the consequence of a deeply diseased heart. And that disease comes about by allowing the heart to absorb the fitan (of desires or doubt).
Second, that heart will judge and be led by whims and desires—rather than by the guidance of Allah. Instead of being a slave to Allah, such a person will become a slave to his own desires. Slavery to anything other than Allah is the most painful sort of oppression.
Even after the Children of Israel were saved from Pharoah’s captivation, they were still imprisoned. They were imprisoned by the objects of worship that had entered their hearts. The worship of the calf—the calf itself—was absorbed into their hearts. Allah says:
Because of their misguided worship, the calf was absorbed into their hearts. Today, we may not worship a calf or allow that love to enter our hearts; but most of us worship other forms of the calf. We worship money, power, status and other people. And those very same objects of ultimate love, fear, hope and devotion also get absorbed into our hearts. As a result, our hearts become corrupted and ruined, as Allah warned in the Quran (21:22).
The Prophet (pbuh) has also warned us of what happens when the heart becomes corrupted. He says: “Beware, in the body there is a flesh; if it is sound, the whole body is sound, and if it is corrupt, the whole body is corrupt. And behold, it is the heart.” (Bukhari & Muslim)
How, then, can we prevent this corruption and ruin of the heart, and thereby the corruption and ruin of the entire body? The first way is through protection.
One important Islamic principal is that protection is better than cure. For example, Allah does not tell us not to commit zina (unlawful sex), He says “Do not come close to zina.” The Quran says:
Allah does not just prohibit zina, but prohibits all that could lead to it and puts up many barriers to even coming close: lowering the gaze, modesty in dress and behavior, avoiding seclusion with the opposite gender, etc.
In protecting the heart, Allah has also given us a prescription. The remembrance of Allah (thikr) provides layers of protection around the heart. Prayer provides a layer. Quran provides a layer. Athkar (supplications of remembrance) throughout the day provides a layer. The more we remember Allah, the more our heart is protected. Thikr provides guards outside the heart that kill anything which threatens the tawheed or health of the heart, before it enters.
If, however, the heart does become infected, it must be cured. To rid the heart of what it has absorbed, you must subject it to the cleansing process. This process can be painful at first (like getting the ink out of the sponge), but with consistency and patience, any heart can be remade and brought back from the death.
Allah says,
Just as Allah can give life to the dead land, so too can Allah give life to the dead hearts. So if you have absorbed something of the dunya into the sponge of your heart, there is always hope.
One of the most common types of ‘ink’ that gets absorbed into the heart is other people. It may be a person who entered your heart, but you cannot marry. Or it may be a person you did marry, but who entered a place in the heart reserved for Allah (swt). Removing this person from the heart is a lot like treating a drug addiction.
If it’s a person you can’t be with, like a drug, you need to cut yourself off from that person completely. Cut off all communication and reminders–even if that means blocking numbers, emails, and Facebook profiles.
This is your detox.
Second, you need to replace that object of worship with something better. Increase in your thikr (remembrance of Allah) and get closer to Allah. If you aren’t praying your daily prayers, fix that. Pray all, and pray on time. Pray qiyam in the last third of the night (just before fajr). Make duaa (supplication), tawbah (repentance), cry, plead to Allah to cure you and heal you.
This is your treatment.
Once the treatment has taken effect, your heart will be restored, by the permission of Allah. Once the heart is restored, it can come back to balance and its’ created purpose: to know and love its’ Creator more than anything else. Such a heart will regain the ability to give again to the creation, but this time in a healthy, selfless, and less dependent way. The heart will be able to give for the sake of the One it loves most—not for the sake of the self (nafs). Once this treatment has taken effect, you will be able again to give that inner mass of complete love, devotion, and loyalty to the place it was created to live. Remember that the mass that is not given is a ticking inner bomb. But, the mass that is given to the wrong place is also a ticking inner bomb.
Give. But give rightly. Absorb. But only what rightly lives and belongs in that sacred land inside your chest. Once this balance is regained, your heart will be able to see, love, give, and take in the right way. Your heart is your true eye. Your heart is the master of the body. Its’ purpose is far too noble to go unrealized. Its’ palace is far too precious to go unguarded.
Guard it. And guard it well…because every created thing yearns to fulfill its’ purpose
Personal struggle
Picking up the Wrong Ball
By: Yasmin Mogahed
Everyone has problems. At least that’s what my 7th grade teacher told us. He asked us to imagine rolling up all our problems into a ball and throwing that ball on a pile filled with the problems of all other people. He then argued to us that-given a choice-each and every one of us would choose our own ball over all others.
Although I was too young then to understand his metaphor fully, I knew that everyone had problems. And I was no different.
Growing up, depression became a natural part of my life. Throughout middle school and into high school, I suffered from a low-grade, but persistent gloom. Sometimes it stayed in the background, other times it took center stage. But always it performed.
One day during my sophomore year of high school I started to gasp. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt that my lungs just wouldn’t fill with air. It continued that whole day, and into the next. When for weeks I couldn’t get the gasping to stop, I finally saw a doctor. She checked my lungs and my breathing and finally told me flatly, “I think you’re depressed.”
The gasping stayed with me that whole year. No matter what I did I couldn’t escape it—or the depression that caused it. More than anything I just wanted to live a normal life. Any color was better than gray. And any ball was better than sadness.
I would have given anything to pick up another ball.
In the summer before senior year, that’s exactly what I did. I stumbled, for the first time, across a different ball—one that someone else had thrown into the pile.
That year, I stumbled across fear.
During the semester, my 11th grade advanced biology teacher nominated me for the National Youth Leadership Forum on Medicine. I was able to attend—with the help of my sister who used her internship money to pay the hefty tuition.
I was as sure, at that time, about becoming a doctor as I was that this conference was a good idea. I discovered later, of course, that I was deathly wrong about both. Medicine wasn’t for me and the conference didn’t turn out to be such a great idea. In fact, had I known at that time what would happen after the conference, I may have encouraged my sister to instead buy stock—or maybe I would’ve just pretended to take my pulse.
It should’ve been nothing more than a passing comment. But it wasn’t. You see, the mind is a delicate place, and retains a balance so fragile, it’s best left untouched. On that summer day in June, I disturbed that balance and didn’t even know what I’d done.
During a session about how wonderful it is to be a doctor of osteopathic medicine, we were asked to take our pulse. I had trouble counting mine, so the medical student helped me.
“It’s over 100,” the student said. She looked worried. “That’s a little high for a resting pulse.”
It was just a simple comment—simple enough to haunt me for the rest of that year.
When I got home I rushed to take my pulse. It was still high. I began to panic. I wondered what was wrong. What would happen to my heart if it continued this way? How could I expect it to keep going at this rate? “I’m killing myself slowly,” I thought. “And there’s nothing I can do.”
My mind kept going. Would it wear? Would it tire? Would it stop? With each disturbing thought, my pulse got higher. Louder. Stronger.
I had to lie down.
But nothing helped. I remembered the relaxation techniques my high school counselor had taught. I breathed in. Then out. In again. There was no escape.
That night—and each night that year—I went to sleep with my heart pounding. In the mornings I enjoyed a brief moment of freedom. But before I could begin to function, my unconscious mind caught up, and hit me like a freight train. Again I was prisoner.
While other thoughts came and went, this single worry became a permanent resident of my mind. It was like a bad song lyric, or a dull ringing in the ears. No matter what I did, it was with me.
I decided that I would do everything I could to get my “resting” pulse—if one still existed—back to normal. I signed up to take a breathing class to help me relax. When I walked in, I was the only person under 75 who wasn’t on a breathing machine and suffered from emphysema.
I realized quickly that, like many problems, the more I tried to solve it, the worse it got. Ironically, it was my own consciousness of the problem that created it—then wouldn’t let it die.
So I decided to focus on not focusing on my pulse at all. I opened a book of calculus, desperate for something to absorb my obsession. There, I found integrals. And it worked—at least at first. But somewhere in the midst of solving for x, I’d remember my heart. And the horror returned.
I was only 17. And somehow I had become a prisoner of my own making. This irrational, all-consuming dread had overtaken me so suddenly and yet so completely. Until now I still wonder how.
Maybe it was my temperament. Maybe just my genes. Or maybe it was simply a lesson I had to learn. We all struggle with something. But, that summer I picked up someone else’s ball. And I realized-I’d choose sadness any day.
Picking up the Wrong Ball
By: Yasmin Mogahed
Everyone has problems. At least that’s what my 7th grade teacher told us. He asked us to imagine rolling up all our problems into a ball and throwing that ball on a pile filled with the problems of all other people. He then argued to us that-given a choice-each and every one of us would choose our own ball over all others.
Although I was too young then to understand his metaphor fully, I knew that everyone had problems. And I was no different.
Growing up, depression became a natural part of my life. Throughout middle school and into high school, I suffered from a low-grade, but persistent gloom. Sometimes it stayed in the background, other times it took center stage. But always it performed.
One day during my sophomore year of high school I started to gasp. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt that my lungs just wouldn’t fill with air. It continued that whole day, and into the next. When for weeks I couldn’t get the gasping to stop, I finally saw a doctor. She checked my lungs and my breathing and finally told me flatly, “I think you’re depressed.”
The gasping stayed with me that whole year. No matter what I did I couldn’t escape it—or the depression that caused it. More than anything I just wanted to live a normal life. Any color was better than gray. And any ball was better than sadness.
I would have given anything to pick up another ball.
In the summer before senior year, that’s exactly what I did. I stumbled, for the first time, across a different ball—one that someone else had thrown into the pile.
That year, I stumbled across fear.
During the semester, my 11th grade advanced biology teacher nominated me for the National Youth Leadership Forum on Medicine. I was able to attend—with the help of my sister who used her internship money to pay the hefty tuition.
I was as sure, at that time, about becoming a doctor as I was that this conference was a good idea. I discovered later, of course, that I was deathly wrong about both. Medicine wasn’t for me and the conference didn’t turn out to be such a great idea. In fact, had I known at that time what would happen after the conference, I may have encouraged my sister to instead buy stock—or maybe I would’ve just pretended to take my pulse.
It should’ve been nothing more than a passing comment. But it wasn’t. You see, the mind is a delicate place, and retains a balance so fragile, it’s best left untouched. On that summer day in June, I disturbed that balance and didn’t even know what I’d done.
During a session about how wonderful it is to be a doctor of osteopathic medicine, we were asked to take our pulse. I had trouble counting mine, so the medical student helped me.
“It’s over 100,” the student said. She looked worried. “That’s a little high for a resting pulse.”
It was just a simple comment—simple enough to haunt me for the rest of that year.
When I got home I rushed to take my pulse. It was still high. I began to panic. I wondered what was wrong. What would happen to my heart if it continued this way? How could I expect it to keep going at this rate? “I’m killing myself slowly,” I thought. “And there’s nothing I can do.”
My mind kept going. Would it wear? Would it tire? Would it stop? With each disturbing thought, my pulse got higher. Louder. Stronger.
I had to lie down.
But nothing helped. I remembered the relaxation techniques my high school counselor had taught. I breathed in. Then out. In again. There was no escape.
That night—and each night that year—I went to sleep with my heart pounding. In the mornings I enjoyed a brief moment of freedom. But before I could begin to function, my unconscious mind caught up, and hit me like a freight train. Again I was prisoner.
While other thoughts came and went, this single worry became a permanent resident of my mind. It was like a bad song lyric, or a dull ringing in the ears. No matter what I did, it was with me.
I decided that I would do everything I could to get my “resting” pulse—if one still existed—back to normal. I signed up to take a breathing class to help me relax. When I walked in, I was the only person under 75 who wasn’t on a breathing machine and suffered from emphysema.
I realized quickly that, like many problems, the more I tried to solve it, the worse it got. Ironically, it was my own consciousness of the problem that created it—then wouldn’t let it die.
So I decided to focus on not focusing on my pulse at all. I opened a book of calculus, desperate for something to absorb my obsession. There, I found integrals. And it worked—at least at first. But somewhere in the midst of solving for x, I’d remember my heart. And the horror returned.
I was only 17. And somehow I had become a prisoner of my own making. This irrational, all-consuming dread had overtaken me so suddenly and yet so completely. Until now I still wonder how.
Maybe it was my temperament. Maybe just my genes. Or maybe it was simply a lesson I had to learn. We all struggle with something. But, that summer I picked up someone else’s ball. And I realized-I’d choose sadness any day.
Sunday 7 September 2014
Science computer
I am currently a science computer student right now (since ive changed my module lately , so goodbye Physics !)
First impression is not bad since science computer is actually a quiter interesting course to take , so yes im encouraging to those that interesting in computers ( or maybe gadget haha ) to learn science computer . So That's all !
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