I recall vividly the many times I asked Allah to bring me closer to Him. There were days when I would look at others those whose eyes light up when they speak about their faith, whose lives seem calm and anchored and I would wonder, how did they get there?

I would tell myself, “When will I ever truly understand the religion? When will I ever feel Islam deeply not just as a religion I practice, but as something I live and breathe?”

Every time I saw someone who had been given hidayah (guidance), I felt this quiet envy not for what they owned, but for the peacefulness they carried. It showed in their tone, their patience, their contentment. I longed for that.

And for a long time, I thought that kind of peace was something special — reserved for scholars, the pious, or the chosen few. But as I started reflecting more really sitting with my thoughts, journaling, and connecting verses of the Qur’an to my own life, I began to realize something profound:

That peace I was searching for wasn’t hidden in someone else’s journey. It was within me, waiting to be discovered. Tadabbur opened that door for me. 

You know how science talks about emotional intelligence, that ability to understand and manage emotions with maturity? I’ve come to realize that it often develops after we go through challenges or tribulations. Some people grow from those tests, while others struggle to make sense of them.

Often, our first form of awareness comes from how others see us, how we appear in their eyes. That’s the level most people master easily. But the next level, understanding how we affect others, requires deeper maturity and humility. I could share countless examples, but I think you already feel what I mean.

Still, it’s important to remember, not everyone reflects at the same depth. Reflection is like a muscle; it grows with practice.

But what if we could train our hearts to awaken earlier, before life has to shake us to make us see? What if we learned to reflect before the pain, before the loss, before the reminder comes too late? That’s where guided reflection and journaling can make a difference. They nurture awareness gently  helping us meet ourselves before hardship forces us to.

And sometimes I wonder… if every Muslim had access to this kind of awareness and training of the heart, what a beautiful world, what a beautiful ummah we would become. A community that not only knows, but feels; not only worships, but understands.