#25 The Journey of Divine Love with Murshida Salima Adelstein
Salima Adelstein is Co-President of UoS and Academic Dean for the Spiritual Ministry degree programs. She is Founder and Spiritual Director of the Farm of Peace, a Sufi healing retreat center and community. As a Sufi Mystic, Master Healer and Teacher, she has guided students to the Truth for over 25 years. Salima is co-author of A Drop in the Ocean of Love and teaches seminars nationally and internationally. Salima’s vision is that all people discover and embody the deep truth of their beauty and essence, bringing to the world their divine gift from God. Her heart is filled with the joy and compassion that results from living in the heart of God. For more details, please visit:
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Summary:
In this episode of the Hikmah Project Podcast, host Saqib speaks with Murshida Salima, a Sufi teacher and spiritual guide. Murshida Salima shares her journey from her Jewish upbringing to finding fulfilment in Sufism under Sidi Mohammed Al-Jamal, recounting transformative experiences that led her to embrace unity, peace, and spiritual purification.
Murshida Salima emphasises the heart-centred nature of Sufism and the role of love in understanding the Divine. She explains that spiritual practices purify the heart and foster awareness of the Divine presence. By engaging in consistent practices, individuals can remove the veils that obscure their true selves and develop a deeper, more authentic connection with the Divine. These practices help cultivate an inner sense of peace and harmony, allowing individuals to live in alignment with their higher purpose.
The conversation also touches on spiritual transmission from teacher to student, which Murshida Salima describes as an essential aspect of Sufi learning. This transmission is not merely the passing on of knowledge but an energetic connection that enables seekers to access deeper spiritual truths. She also discusses the value of community in spiritual growth, highlighting how being part of a spiritual family provides support, accountability, and a sense of belonging. The community helps individuals reflect on their own progress and encourages them to stay committed to their spiritual journey.
Murshida Salima highlights the prophetic example in cultivating compassion and wisdom, explaining how the teachings and actions of the Prophet Muhammad pbuh serve as a model for living a life of love, humility, and service. She emphasises that embodying these qualities is crucial for personal transformation and for contributing positively to the world around us.
Listeners are encouraged to explore the Sufi path for self-realisation and divine understanding. Murshida Salima invites them to embody love and unity through acts of compassion and service, supported by a spiritual guide and a like-minded community. By committing to this journey, individuals can experience profound inner growth, find deeper meaning in their lives, and contribute to the well-being of others. The episode serves as a reminder that true spirituality is not an isolated endeavour but a shared journey that thrives on connection, love, and mutual support.
Transcript
Saqib: Murshida Salima! Welcome to the Hikmah Project Podcast.
Murshida Salima: Thank you. It’s my pleasure to be here with you today.
Saqib: I’m very delighted and humbled that you’ve joined, and we finally managed to make this happen. For my listeners, I was wondering whether we could start with a bit about your background—whether you were always a spiritual seeker and how you arrived at the path of Sufism.
Murshida Salima: Sure. I think I’ve always been a spiritual seeker. My parents used to talk about how I was interested in things that other children might not be, how I was curious about the unseen world and the realms of angels. So, I believe I was born a spiritual seeker. I spent most of my high school years really looking for a spiritual path, while most people my age were into other things. I found my first spiritual path with transcendental meditation. I met and worked with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi for about thirty years. Although that path was wonderful, and I had beautiful experiences of unity, consciousness, and guided consciousness, I always felt there was something more, something missing.
I grew up Jewish, and I used to love the Jewish holidays. We’re actually in one of the Jewish holidays right now. I would spend the whole day in the temple, just waiting to see the white light when they opened the case where the holy book was kept. I missed that in TM.
As life would have it, I was on vacation in Egypt, studying some of the sacred sites, and I heard the call to prayer while we were cruising the Nile. It spoke to my soul in a way nothing I had ever heard did—it was beautiful. I felt my soul saying, "Yes, this is it," though I didn’t quite understand what that meant. Shortly thereafter, I met my Sufi guide, Sidi Mohammed Al-Jamal, who was from Palestine. I was giving a workshop on energetic healing and had just returned from India, where I had spent months studying with gurus, spiritual teachers, and healers. A friend mentioned there was a Sufi healer in New Mexico, where I was teaching, and asked if I would like to meet him. I said, "Sure, why not?"
I asked if I needed to be part of what he was doing, and they said, "No, there’s no obligation. You’re just going to talk to him to see who he is." So, I walked into a courtyard of a beautiful house in New Mexico. There were Buddhist and other statues, which I found strange because, with my limited knowledge of Sufism and Islam, I didn’t expect to see such statues. I assumed they belonged to the house owner. I was curious.
As I entered the house, a tall, heavyset man dressed in a jalaba (a type of Arabic clothing) gave me a huge hug and said, "My holy daughter, I am so happy to see you." My initial reaction was that he must be the host because sheikhs don’t typically hug women. I was used to being in India, where gurus did a Namaste. I sat down for the teaching and quickly recognised that the man who hugged me was, in fact, the Sufi master.
Immediately, everything I believed about pictures or images shattered in that one moment. I was brought into a reality of my spirit and essence through his teachings, in a reading and music of the soul. I watched him give a Sufi promise to a Muslim woman right after that. At that time, my third eye was very open, and I was very psychic. I saw auras and things like that, including a brilliant white light, similar to what I had seen in the temple as a child, emanating from his heart into the heart of the woman and surrounding him. My being just said, "I want what this man has. I want to carry that light."
He turned to me and asked, "Would you like to take the Sufi promise?" Your audience needs to understand one thing: I was brought up in Massachusetts and spent most of my life in Cambridge, a very intellectual city. I processed everything through my mind, weighing the pros and cons, needing to know everything before deciding. But at that moment, none of that was true. My heart just leapt into his heart, and we joined together. I repeated words I can’t recall now, but it felt like coming home. "This is where I’ve always meant to be."
He then gave me the name Salima, which he said means "the one whose heart rests in the deep peace of God." A friend who was with me at the time looked and said, "That name really suits you." I laughed because that wasn’t my state at all. I was a rebel and an activist, always fighting for a good cause. The idea of peace was foreign to me. My heart knew freedom and justice, but peace wasn’t part of the equation. I questioned, worried, and doubted a lot about life.
A year passed, and I met him again. At that point, he invited me to come to Jerusalem to study with him and learn more about the Sufi way. I wasn’t even sure the Sufi way was my path, and I had many questions. But when an opportunity like that presents itself, you listen to the "yes" inside. So, at first, I said, "Well, yes, but I’ve got workshops, and I need to make money. I’ll come in about three months." He then said a word: Bismillah! At the time, I didn’t know what Bismillah meant, but I knew when he said it, I was missing an opportunity. So, I said, "Okay, when do you want me?" This was on a Monday, I think, and he said, "Thursday." I was like, "How am I going to make that work? How am I going to get a plane ticket? It’s going to cost a fortune." You can imagine the musings in my heart and mind.
This was back when we had travel agents, so I called my travel agent. I said, "Sue, can you do anything? I know I’m supposed to be in Minnesota, but I need to go to Jerusalem. Do you think I can switch my ticket?" She called me back, and it didn’t cost any more than my original ticket. Shocking, wasn’t it?
So, I went to Jerusalem and studied with him. My life was transformed. In that experience, I found peace in my heart. All the worry that I used to have—the queen of worriers—left my body and disappeared. I still can’t find it. I was determined to bring this to the West, to teach people and let them taste what I experienced. I set up a spiritual retreat, a zawiya, in my little studio apartment, where people could come, learn what I learned in Jerusalem, find God, and find peace in their hearts. I taught them to transform hurts, negativities, and the separations in the heart to find unity.
That’s how I got to where I am now, and I am very grateful. So, thank you for asking.
Saqib: Thank you. That’s quite amazing. Before we carry on with the journey that you had, I just want to ask a bit more about Sidi, particularly for my listeners who may not have encountered someone of that spiritual calibre. Given you had already met various gurus, swamis, and spiritual teachers, and had experiences of higher states of consciousness, how was it then, when you met Sidi? How did you know he was a real guide? And did you meet other Sufi teachers as well? What was different about Sidi?
Murshida Salima: That’s a beautiful question. For me, what was different about Sidi was the magnitude of light that he carried and his ability to bring exquisitely beautiful experiences of higher consciousness down to earth, so they didn’t just remain as experiences during meditation but became part of your daily life. He was a man of service, caring for the poor, and possessed incredible knowledge of both the seen and unseen worlds. Being with him was like having mysteries and secrets revealed, which I had never experienced with any other master. When I met Sidi, I had no need to seek out other Sufi teachers. For me, he was complete and enough.
Saqib: And so, when you went to Jerusalem to study with him, could you tell us a bit more about what that looked like? What was your daily routine? How many days were you there—was it for a week, for forty days? How did he engage you? How did he teach you? What was his approach?
Murshida Salima: I was there for about forty days, maybe a little longer. He has, at that time, now a book called Music of the Soul. When I was with him, it wasn’t yet published, so there were just sheets of paper, and each day he had me write from it. There was a transmission from my pen, my hand, to my heart as I wrote these words. He described it as each word being covered seven times with secrets and mysteries. So the more you wrote his teachings, the more layers and veils in your heart got uncovered.
Sometimes this process stirred up things—places of separation, fears like, "Oh my God! I’m Jewish! Here I am in an Arab household. Will they find out? Will I be killed?" All those fears got stirred up just through the process of reading, writing, and remembering. Remembrance was probably the most important tool he taught me—how to repeat the sacred name of God. In Sufism, we use the name Allah, meaning the All and the Nothing, or the One. This brings you into a state of Oneness and clears the channels that separate you from yourself and your true self.
I met with him once a day. If he had anything to teach me, it was always through experience. He would give me different experiences to teach me what I needed to learn about myself, and then we would discuss it. If I didn’t have any questions for him, he wouldn’t spend too much time because he wanted me to find my true Self. He had this brilliance as a Sufi master—he kept having me discover, through different experiences, more places of separation, doubt, and worry. He would show me what needed to be purified and cleaned to enter those sacred states of Unity.
He outlined twenty-eight states, what he called twenty-eight stations. In each of those stations, he would give me a taste through a different activity or exercise, whether it was a repetition of a divine Name or a Tauba exercise, where you ask for forgiveness. Then he would take me through what he called the station of it, because there’s a difference between a state and a station. Many of us in the spiritual world experience states of Unity—glimpses—but it’s a whole other experience to actually embody it and be in it. It’s like a river going into the ocean, being absorbed until it no longer exists. Those were the kinds of opportunities he presented in my time with him. He challenged me a lot; he challenged everything I knew.
Saqib: How? How would he challenge you?
Murshida Salima: For example, as I mentioned, my third eye was very open, and I was very psychic. He would have me perform a healing and then take away my psychic sight, so everything I depended on to know how to heal would be gone. Then he would teach me and show me what dependence on God is and how God heals. It’s through direct experiences like that, which we now teach at our university because he was instrumental and insisted on setting up a unique university that teaches the kinds of things he taught me. We’re fortunate now because he has about thirty books that he published, which students can study from.
Saqib: Beautiful. Thank you. I now want to turn to the journey of Sufism. For listeners especially, I know some have been journeying on the path for many years, while others are wondering what the path is and may have encountered teachings through YouTube and other platforms, such as New Age Spirituality, Buddhism, Zen Buddhism. There’s so much available nowadays. My apologies in advance if these questions seem very basic, but often seekers come with the most basic questions, which can be the most profound.
Murshida Salima: Absolutely. No apology needed—it’s fine.
Saqib: So, the first point is, if one is learning to be present through mindfulness, breath, mindfulness practice—which is a term often used in corporate organisations nowadays to control stress and regulate emotions—from that position of being present and aware, how does one understand God? Who or what is God? And how do we know Him or Her?
Murshida Salima: The Sufi Path is the path of love. First and foremost, we have a Creator. Whatever name you want to put on the Creator—whether it’s God, Elohim, Allah, or mother, father—God is the connection to our being. That drop of light from our Creator is inside us. When we find that light within, it’s an automatic connection to the light of the One, and that One is God. There’s nothing like God. God gives us signs in creation to know Him. I say "Him" because God isn’t a him or a her—God is beyond our pronouns. But love is God’s signature on creation. The more we experience love in creation, the more we learn to love each other as brothers and sisters. The more we see Allah’s creation in nature, the more we listen with our deep ear to hear every living being praising their Creator, and the more we get a glimpse of understanding God.
There’s a beautiful surah in the Qur’an where God describes Himself—Surah Ikhlas. You probably know it: "Kuhu Allahu Ahad, Allahu Samad, Lam yalid walam yulad, Walam yakul-lahu kufuwan ahad."
قُلْ هُوَ ٱللَّهُ أَحَدٌ
ٱللَّهُ ٱلصَّمَدُ
لَمْ يَلِدْ وَلَمْ يُولَدْ
وَلَمْ يَكُن لَّهُ كُفُوًا أَحَدٌ
I invite your listeners to take the vibration of that into their hearts; it will help them understand. The beauty of Sufism, for me, is that it is heart-based first, and then the mind comes in so that the mind is in surrender to the heart’s knowledge. For most of us who are born with strong intellects and strong minds, the journey from our mind to our heart can be difficult, but it’s probably the most important journey we take in our lives because it brings ultimate happiness and joy.
We say in the Sufi way that God is a hidden treasure, a desire to be known. So, He placed Himself in the hearts of His beloveds. We are the beloveds of God, and it’s that journey of Sufism that is so precious and so divine.
Saqib: Beautiful. Thank you. You mentioned growing up in a Jewish household, then going to India to explore transcendental meditation, and then finding yourself with Sidi studying Sufism. My listeners may know that he was also a Grand Mufti—an expert in law. Could you say something about the role of religion in the outer forms? Is it necessary in practicing Sufism, and what purpose does it serve?
Murshida Salima: I’ll give you an analogy of a tree. The tree has bark that protects the sap, the life-giving force of the tree. What you call religious practices, I would call spiritual practices, are like the bark of that tree. They protect us in our daily life. We go through so many stresses, forces of good, and unfortunately, forces of evil that exist in the world. Whether it’s Judaism, Catholicism, Buddhism, Hinduism, or Shintoism, if they don’t become dogmatic, they provide an opportunity and structure that gives us a layer of protection against some of the harshness in the world.
For example, in Sufism, we pray five times a day at specific times. If I hold it rigidly—"I need to pray"—I lose all the mystical meaning of why I am praying. I’m praying to have a conversation with my Lord, to have my light body washed by the angels from whatever it may have picked up from being in the world. I’m praying to remember who I am and what my purpose here is because, as human beings, we forget. So, it sets me in balance, realigns me, strengthens my connection, and helps me stay connected to what is never changing amidst all that is changing around us.
Saqib: Beautiful. And you mentioned earlier about the twenty-eight stations Sidi taught. On behalf of my listeners, who may be aware of ego transformation through, for example, the works of Jung, who looked at areas such as the shadow, and then there’s the heart, and on a deeper level, the soul, as you mentioned earlier, when you heard the call to prayer. But just from an outsider’s perspective—someone who isn’t on the path yet and sees the heaviness of the world and some of the baggage they’ve carried, either through the conditioning of growing up and experiences in the world, or even those inherited through their ancestral lineage. They are aware of this inner work but aren’t quite clear on how to go about transforming it and working with it. Could you say something more about the path of Sufism as taught by Sidi and that journey of the twenty-eight stations? How does the Nafs or ego get addressed? How does the shadow in Jungian terms get addressed? How is the heart addressed, as well as the deeper aspect of the soul? I’m sure some listeners are aware of levels of the soul mentioned in the Qur’an—from the soul that commands to evil to the one at peace and is called by the Divine. How does that whole spectrum of the Nafs, heart, and soul align with those twenty-eight stations?
Murshida Salima: The twenty-eight stations are a roadmap. For example, if you were trying to climb Mount Everest, there are many different ways to climb it. Some are dangerous, and some are well-trodden. You would take a guide to help you climb so that you could stay safe and know the way. The twenty-eight stations, as Sidi laid them out, provide the guide as well as the Sufi teachers to help answer questions like, "How do I complete myself in this lifetime?" "How do I arrive at what we call the Haqiqa, the True essence?"
There’s a journey we call the journey to God, where our ego has to learn, just like a two-year-old. For those of you with children, you know your two-year-old sometimes wants what they want when they want it, and might have a tantrum if they don’t get it. Our ego can be much the same. The first area we examine is, as you said, the first station: What is it listening to? Is it listening to the voice of God? Is it listening to outside voices—maybe something you heard from your parents saying, "You’re no good. You’re not good enough," or from some religion, or desires like, "I want that big Mercedes or that Porsche I just saw"?
Part of the purification process that happens through the stations involves purifying those desires of our nafs, our ego, those ways that we may listen to things that might not be in our best interest. For example, I love chocolate chip cookies, but if I eat too many, they’re not good for me. So, we learn how to put things in balance.
In Sufism, we talk about veils, which are like curtains that keep things covered. Unveiling these defences that we’ve built up—through different hurts, experiences, or ways we think we’re protecting ourselves—instead of understanding how God protects us, is part of that first walk, what we call the first level of understanding these stations of the nafs.
It’s a tricky path, which is why having a guide is valuable. One of the things I learned, which was a little shocking, is that there’s something called illusory light. It looks like light, acts like light, but on a deeper level, it isn’t light. Learning to discern it, just as you discern those voices, helps avoid getting caught in fantasies or illusions. This discernment is crucial for the first journey, the first walk through what we call the nafs, or our ego.
The heart is like a mirror. It can become rusted through different experiences. When I was a child, we used to go to fairs where they had funhouse mirrors—have you ever seen those? I loved the mirror that made me look really tall. But it was an illusion. I was still a little kid. The heart is similar in that it can give us perceptions that aren’t true. Part of the journey through the nafs, the heart, and even the soul, is purifying those perceptions and beliefs that keep us from knowing ourselves and the truth.
There’s also the journey to God, and then there’s what we call the journey in God. This is known in Sufism as fana and baqa—annihilation. I don’t particularly like the word "annihilation" because it has many connotations, but it’s really about absorption into the One. I describe it as a hug of love so strong that there’s nothing left of you, only love.
The next journey is baqa—sustaining that in the world, carrying God’s message of peace, love, mercy, justice, and freedom into the world. These are things we desperately need right now. That’s a simplified explanation for those who might not know anything about Sufism. The stations are divided into sets of seven: seven stations of the nafs, seven of the heart, seven of the soul, and seven of the Secret. At the University of Sufism, your journey through all of these stations progresses through the levels that we offer.
Saqib: Beautiful. I have some questions lined up about the University, which I will, Inshallah, come to. One thing I’d like to clarify is some of the terms you and Sidi have used. One is love. There’s a quote, something like, "If people knew the type of love Rumi is talking about, they wouldn’t read him." So, by love, do you mean the love we see, for example, in the movie Titanic with Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet—romantic love? Or is this a different type of love, divine love? What’s the role of romantic love within the context of divine love?
Murshida Salima: Human love is very conditional, right? If you do something I like and treat me well, I love you. If you do something I don’t like, I’m going to withdraw my love. We’ve all experienced that, either in partnerships or growing up with our parents. But that’s not the kind of love we’re talking about here. This is about unconditional love. You were born from love. Your essence is love, and you will return to love.
I had a client who had ALS, a very debilitating disease. One of his last words to his family was, "I just want you all to know all there is, is love. All there is, is love." If everyone on the planet understood that in the deepest way, we would have world peace. This is what Sufism brings to the world. It brings a roadmap for creating not only inner peace but global peace. We have a war going on inside of us, whether we realise it or not, and that war manifests outside in many ways. I’m not sure if I’ve fully answered your question.
Saqib: Beautiful. Yes. The other terms are walking—I know that’s used often—and also pictures, which you mentioned earlier. Could you explain what those terms mean?
Murshida Salima: Sure. Walking is an interesting term because when you’re walking, you’re moving from one place to another. Well, in Sufism, that’s what’s happening. You’re moving from one place to another, moving from wherever you are into proximity with the Most High. You’re moving from your ego-based, forgetful nature into your more Divine nature. It’s a process of walking because there are actually steps, just like in walking. You take steps that lead you there. That’s the best definition I can give for walking.
Saqib: And pictures?
Murshida Salima: Pictures. Have you ever watched a movie? There’s a picture on the screen, and that picture may stay with you, especially if it’s an emotional movie. It stays as an image in your heart, a way of relating to something you’ve seen. Those pictures could be violent, loving, funny—whatever they are, they stay as impressions in the heart.
I was recently in Hiroshima at a Peace Conference. They have a museum showing what happened during World War II when the United States dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Many people couldn’t see those images because they were so graphic. Whether we see those images on a screen or in a photograph, we have similar pictures within our hearts. Some are positive and bring us joy, some bring sadness, and some can even work to destroy us—they don’t work in our best interest.
When I say pictures, I’m referring to how we manage those images. Just like when we turn off the television and the picture fades, we can let those inner pictures disappear until there’s a pure, clean, beautiful white light radiating from your heart, bringing light to the world.
Saqib: That’s very interesting. So, am I right in saying that pictures can be not just our experiences imprinted on our hearts but also our beliefs and ideas about ourselves?
Murshida Salima: Absolutely.
Saqib: And about other things, whether it’s someone’s religion or projections we may have of other people?
Murshida Salima: Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—yes.
Saqib: For those who are more experienced on the path, it can be very easy to develop a picture of oneself as being more spiritual than someone else, to have subtle forms of what you might call spiritual pride. I emphasise that it’s subtle, so much so that sometimes a person on the path isn’t even aware of it. This might be what you alluded to earlier when Sidi was showing you different aspects of yourself and through the writing, revealing certain triggers. For someone walking the path, if they have this image of themselves, would that be a picture? Is it a question of detaching oneself from attachments to these pictures?
Murshida Salima: It’s more than detachment. It’s really about purification and beautification. For example, in my own life, as I mentioned, I grew up in the Jewish tradition. I had a picture in my heart that all Arabs were my enemies.
Saqib: Hmm.
Murshida Salima: I used to believe they weren’t to be trusted, that I should be afraid of them, and that I needed to stay away from them, or they would kill me. That was the picture I held in my heart. When I arrived in Jerusalem, I was in what I perceived as enemy territory, and I was scared. If I had kept that picture in my heart, what would have happened? How would I have been with Sidi, his family, and everyone else I met in Palestine? I would have been defensive, on guard. But by purifying that, by bringing the pure light of truth to it, I realised they’re no different from me. Their family life was just like my family life. They have the same issues, problems, joys, and birthday celebrations.
It’s these kinds of pictures that eventually get us to stop loving. You asked about the relationship between personal love and divine love. It’s these kinds of pictures that make us stop loving each other, that make us sceptical and suspicious of each other. And this doesn’t allow us to be one with each other, doesn’t allow us to be a spiritual family together as brothers and sisters.
Saqib: Beautiful. Can you tell us about the Shadhili path and Sidi? What is the Shadhiliya path? What are its core characteristics? I believe that’s the one Sidi taught. I know there are others like the Whirling Dervishes and various other paths. What distinguishes the Shadhiliya?
Murshida Salima: The Shadhiliya was founded by Hasan al-Shadhili (ra). For me, what’s unique about it is that it focuses on Allah and only Allah. I’ve never been on any other Sufi paths, so I can’t really speak to them, but I have a friend who was on another path. They went through a different orientation, looking at all the ninety-nine names, working through them before they were introduced to Allah, the One.
Hasan al-Shadhili was very intellectual. He was a spiritual seeker and travelled widely, searching for what he called the "pole of his time," the perfect master. For each master he encountered, he would ask, "Are you it?" They would direct him to someone else, and he studied with all of them, gaining a wealth of knowledge about life, spirituality, and himself.
In the end, he was told that the master he was seeking lived right in the same town as him. It reminds me of The Wizard of Oz, where Dorothy travels all over Oz only to click her heels and realise she could have been home all along. Shadhili travelled to the Rift Mountains, where he met his master, Abu Madyan al-Maghribi, also known as Sidi al-Mashish (ra). When he met him, al-Mashish told him to go back down the mountain and perform wudu—the ritual washing. This purifies the hands to be the hands of God, used in service, and all other parts of the body. Hasan al-Shadhili did this, assuming perhaps he got dirty climbing the mountain. He went back up and down the mountain three times.
On the third time, he realised his master wasn’t talking about the physical washing. He was talking about washing his heart, emptying it of everything he thought he knew, so that his guide could fill it. We say, if you bring a thimble, a guide will fill a thimble. If you bring a bucket, the guide will fill a bucket. The Shadhiliya is about emptying our heart so that the Divine can fill it with Divine wisdom and love.
Saqib: Beautiful. Can you speak a little more about the path? In my humble understanding, this isn’t just a ritual of initiation or a set of teachings. There’s a vertical element—a transmission that comes through the teacher. I’d like to share with my listeners that in my seeking, I met various Sufi teachers and paths. I decided to go to the Farm of Peace just because I wanted some time out, not knowing what I would experience.
It was the first retreat where I didn’t have a physical manifestation of a guide like Sidi, but I felt the transmission grow stronger each day, to the point where it felt like I’d arrived home. This wasn’t a mental conclusion or a rational comprehension—it was very overwhelming. I was in a state of surrender, gratitude, and mystery. It felt as though I was in the presence of a powerful spiritual pole or guide.
Though I don’t quite know how to explain it, there were two lovely people holding the circle for us, and you would visit during the day. But there was some work going on in the Unseen that was deeply transformative, nourishing, and mysterious. Part of me feels that this transmission was a grace. Is that right, Murshida Salima? Could you say something about when one takes baya or connects with a real master, this transformative grace that begins to cook and ferment one’s consciousness?
Murshida Salima: You described it far better than I could. That was beautiful. At the Farm of Peace, we aim to simulate what I experienced in Jerusalem. You were getting what we call in Sufism a taste of what it’s like to walk the Sufi path, and when you taste, you want more. Transmission is a big part of the path, and it’s a sort of heart-to-heart transmission. It requires a level of trust, safety, surrender, and ultimately what we call submission—a deeper level of surrender. It’s when your heart goes into a prostration, a deep bow. The gratitude you experienced is a natural outcome of that prostration.
Saqib: I believe that’s when you gave me the name Suleiman. It’s my Sufi name. You also told me to read the Qur’an within. For our listeners, could you explain what it means to read the Qur’an within?
Murshida Salima: It’s a very deep subject. We have a book inside our heart, filled with mysteries and secrets. The outer Qur’an is often described as a shy bride. You approach the outer Qur’an from the perspective of being with a shy bride. When people read the Qur’an for the first time, it may not feel like a love letter from God—it might feel like a list of dos and don’ts, and sometimes even harsh. But by looking within and uncovering the book that lives inside of you, you find a portal that allows you to access the deeper meanings and secrets of the Qur’an.
When you open the outer book and read it as a love letter from God, you feel the light transmitted from the chapters, much like how I described the Torah when I was a child and saw that white light coming into my heart. The same light is inside you, and as you begin to uncover and experience it—what we call taste it in Sufism—you’re reading the book of your life. Everything begins to make sense.
I sometimes describe it like a tapestry, which has many different coloured threads. If you focus on just one thread, you can’t see the whole picture. But when all those threads come together, they form a beautiful tapestry, vibrant in essence. Our lives are like that, too. Every experience is part of what’s written in this book. It helps us understand our purpose for being here and uncovers the treasures God placed inside of us when He created us.
Saqib: You mentioned earlier the journey from the head to the heart. I know that in some Sufi circles, there’s the idea of doing away with books because the path is one of taste, as it is in Zen Buddhism or mindfulness practices—about getting out of your head and being present in your body, being present with your breath, and in the Now. But interestingly, you mentioned how Sidi wrote books and used writing them out as a spiritual practice. It wasn’t just a transmission of concepts; it was a deeper transmission. It wasn’t like he was having people write out something in Arabic they might not understand. There were ideas being conveyed, but obviously, there was something deeper addressing the yearning in the heart. So, what then is the role of the mind on the path? It sounds like Sidi didn’t separate it from the heart’s journey but synthesised it as an integral part of the awakened heart.
Murshida Salima: When we start, we often describe the mind as a black mind because, by its nature, it doesn’t understand and cannot understand. The mind inherently brings separation, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing—it helps me know you’re a man and I’m a woman; you’re wearing a blue shirt, and I’m wearing a pink one, for example. It helps us discern differences, but it doesn’t bring unity. It’s like a computer in a binary state.
By exploring what Allah has placed in our hearts, by exploring the marifa, or the wisdom of the heart, the mind eventually surrenders or bows to that heart’s knowledge. In that heart’s knowledge, the mind becomes what we call a white mind, an illuminated mind, or in Hinduism, an enlightened mind. It’s through this process that the two become one, and true unity becomes a natural state of being. The seen and the Unseen become available to us, and we begin to realise what’s real and what’s not—what’s Truth. I’ve always been a seeker of Truth, so that our being can stand, hold, and walk in that Light and Truth.
When the mind and the heart are in harmony, rather than in conflict—as they are for many people—there’s often a natural struggle between what the heart wants and what the mind wants. But in this state, they work together.
Saqib: Thank you. Now, turning to the university, I’d like to ask you to share some of your experiences of Sufi or spiritual healing as taught by Sidi. I know not many Sufi paths delve into that, and some of my listeners may have experience with popular forms of healing, such as Reiki. What was the Sufi healing that Sidi taught, how did it work, and how is it now taught at the university?
Murshida Salima: Yes, we say that the Sufi walking and the healing go hand in hand. The more deeply you walk, the stronger your healing abilities become. It starts with a connection to the Most High, to God, as I mentioned earlier. The first part of healing is recognising who the Healer is and emptying yourself to become a vessel for God’s healing light.
It starts with a prayer, asking God to help you become His hands. God is the healer—not he or she. The first step is connecting to God and praying to be God’s servant in the world. We’re not fixing anyone; they’re already whole. We’re just helping them uncover and recognise their wholeness, identifying any parts that may be out of balance, or "dis-ease," and need to return to wholeness.
We look at the pictures I mentioned earlier to find the root cause—the deepest level of those pictures, images, illusions, or beliefs that aren’t serving us. We may use different Sufi practices to help clear and empty those places. It’s like bringing light to darkness. We also look at what the teaching is and how it can be resolved so we understand what we’re being taught about the condition needing healing.
The Qur’an, like many holy books, has a transmission through its vibration. Many listeners may know about sound vibration and how it raises the vibration of DNA and the body. By reciting Qur’anic Ayats, prayers, and Divine Names, we raise our vibration. Some may be familiar with the water studies that show beautiful crystalline structures forming, such as when "Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim" is recited. Imagine our bodies, which are mostly water, creating those beautiful crystalline structures.
The next part of the healing is a beautification process that transforms us as our heart expands, allowing us to find our true beauty. I often say, "When God created you, God created beauty." Can we truly stand in that truth, or do other voices and images come up when we say it? Healing is about purification, like cleaning stains on the heart’s mirror.
At our Sufi University, each level of healing takes you deeper into those layers. We also teach prophetic medicine, such as herbal remedies and cupping, as well as specific remedies, or rukyas, for conditions like anxiety, which is prevalent among young people today. This gives you a glimpse of the spiritual healing offered at our university. Sidi founded the university and told us it’s unique—the only one of its kind in the world. Our hope is to eventually have campuses worldwide to make it accessible to everyone. Right now, due to COVID, it’s primarily a virtual university, but Inshallah, we’ll eventually have a hybrid system to make it accessible for everyone.
Saqib: Could you say a bit more about Sidi’s role in establishing the university? How much guidance did he provide in writing the curriculum?
Murshida Salima: [Laughs] Our faculty wrote the curriculum based on the teachings we received from Sidi, and he reviewed everything—every course, every handout. He even tested the faculty on their healing skills to ensure they were qualified to teach others. Imagine being tested like that by your guide! So, he had a significant influence on all aspects of the university, including the faculty, who he personally approved when we first started.
Saqib: Wow! You mentioned ruqya. In traditional Muslim circles, that’s seen as a form of protection. I know two paths where it’s almost an integral part of daily practice: the Naqshbandi, who use the thirty-three verses compiled by Shah Wali Ullah (ra), and the Akbarian Way, where people recite ibn Arabi’s hizb. Does the Shadhiliya path offer something similar for spiritual protection as people journey towards God? If so, why does a seeker need that level of spiritual protection?
Murshida Salima: Yes, Sidi did offer what he called "protection promises" and provided different Ayats from the Qur’an as well as after-prayer practices. There are many spiritual tools he gave us for protection. To explain why protection is needed, I’ll use an analogy: When you’re out in the sun, your shadow is visible, and the more light there is, the larger the shadow becomes.
We don’t want those shadow influences in our lives. Protection promises and practices allow us to be free from these influences so we can stand in Truth and the True Light. It’s like the prophet Abraham, who stood and proclaimed, "There is only One."
Saqib: Beautiful. Just a final question, if I may. You mentioned the analogy of climbing the Himalayas with many paths. I’ve often heard it said that the spiritual path isn’t straight or linear but almost cyclical. You might seem to be going in circles, yet you are ascending. It reminds me of T.S. Eliot when he said, "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." I’m paraphrasing, of course. So, if that’s true, could it mean that someone who is awakened or enlightened might still experience the temptation for caramel chocolate, which they might have craved at the start? Or does the desire for caramel chocolate disappear at higher stations?
Murshida Salima: I hope not, for those who love chocolate! Our guides certainly did. They would speak of it as representing the sweetness of life. The difference now is that you know what’s good for you and what’s not. Through that connection, you’ll know, “Oh, I don’t need that piece of chocolate right now; I need a healthy meal.” After a healthy meal, you might enjoy that bit of chocolate, but it won’t replace the nutrition your body needs. Part of the promise we made in pre-eternity—and I’m sorry to open a new topic—is to take care of this body we’ve been given. We’ve promised to care for our heart, soul, and spirit before caring for others. I’ve seen many spiritual people, healers, and just good people neglect themselves. The difference here is that you care for yourself so you can care for others.
Saqib: Sory, just one more question that’s come up.
Murshida Salima: It’s okay.
Saqib: What’s the role of the spiritual family, the "beloveds" or fellow travellers? How important are they? Can one travel the Sufi path with just the guidance of a teacher?
Murshida Salima: We can travel many ways, but the beauty of community is twofold. First, they serve as mirrors for you, and second, you have good company on the path. You have companions who support you. That’s one reason why, on the Sufi way, marriage partners are encouraged. Yes, one can go to God alone, but there’s a unique journey in marriage—reaching God and completion through another person’s heart.
Saqib: Speaking of marriage and the Sufi path, I know marriage is regarded as a Sunnah, and one can hardly discuss Sufism without mentioning the Prophet (peace be upon him) and, by extension, the Muhammadan Light, or Haqeeqah Muhammadiya. How central is the prophetic character and his light in the Sufi path? How did Sidi understand and transmit that?
Murshida Salima: Sidi embodied it and helped us embody it as well. Not only is it central, but it’s also the essence of the path. The Prophet (alayhis salaam) was the completion of the prophetic message. As we seek our own completion in this life, the Prophet serves as the perfect example. In his trials, tribulations, successes, failures, and the mercy he carried for all creation—not just Muslims, but all humans, animals, plants, minerals—he embodied mercy for all. May we all carry that mercy.
Saqib: On that note, Murshida Salima, thank you ever so much for joining us today. I know that countless listeners, both now and in the future, will drink from your wisdom and receive your beautiful transmission. Inshallah, I look forward to welcoming you on another podcast soon.
Murshida Salima: Inshallah! Thank you again. The work you’re doing is holy. May Allah bless you and grant you continued success. Assalamu alaykum, everyone.