#3 The Secrets of Divine Love: A Spiritual Journey into the Heart of Islam with A Helwa
In this podcast we explore the sacred worldview of walking into life as a prayer with author and amazon best seller of The Secrets of Divine Love, A. Helwa.
A. Helwa reminisces about details shaping her own journey interwoven with a common thread: the heart of engagement both with the Creator and with creation, His creation. We are invited to explore: revelation as a revealed truth, a living Book, and the light of Prophet Muḥammad ﷺ; the balancing act of two realities, vicegerency and servanthood; and, our role in awakening to remember, to answer to life with our highest integrity and become instruments of love.
She reminds us that ...
what may appear as seemingly insignificant moments passing us by, fleetingly, often gone by unnoticed, are truly infused with the Mysterious. If only we stopped to see, to witness, and to listen; to listen deeply. Sometimes, life’s greatest teachers are unnamed. The limitation is in our awareness to the miracle that is.
Here, in our discussion, we examine the non-dualistic unity, reality, that’s expressed in dualistic language. The message of the prophets and saints, and the essence of surrender and the Islamic tradition. Veiling; intention; silence; and self-confrontation.
We tap deeper into the Qur’an being veiled, but also it’s unveiling through symbolism; a Book that allows each person to meet it where they're at; a Book that the great mystics Rumi and Ibn al-ʿArabī based their ideas and works on.
Here, in our discussion, we step into spaciousness. Language, as an axis, a tipping point, to openings, guidance, receptivity and inner transformation. Our relationship to God. Prayer, as an offering, carried with the word Be, and so it is. Walking in the way of the prophets as an answer to the needs of creation. Fasting, within holy reflection, as an anchor for inner beautification—a sharp contrast to the shadow forces shaping human behaviour today (driven by self-consciousness).
In closing full-circle, A. Helwa summons grace: pause between words and recognize that the very spaces are an intimate part of revelation that give language its meaning; live a life being a prayer, be an answer to prayer.
A. Helwa believes that every single person on Earth is deeply loved by the Divine. She is a writer who has inspired hundreds of thousands of readers through her passionate, poetic, and love-based approach to spirituality. Her popular blog @quranquotesdaily was established while obtaining her Masters in Divinity, as a means of helping others overcome personal and spiritual struggles on their journey of experiencing divine love.
With over 15 years of experience writing and speaking on Islam and spiritual development, A. Helwa draws from her personal experiences and traditional sources to help her readers access ‘Divine love in everyday life.’
When Helwa is not reading at coffee shops, she can be found climbing mountains, camping in deserts, hiking jungles, or reading about black holes.
SPEAKERS
Host: Saqib Safdar
Guest: A. Helwa
Saqib
Greetings, welcome, السلام عليكم (as-salāmu ʿalaykum), everyone. Welcome to another episode on the Ḥikmah Project podcast and today I'll be speaking to Helwa, the author of Secrets of Divine Love, which is a best seller on Amazon, and explore various passages through the book with her and get her insights into her own journey. Before we do that, just a few updates. Thank you for all the Patreon subscribers who have contributed to the ongoing work at the Ḥikmah Project. You can find more information at thehikmahproject.com. Do join us on social media and on our Facebook group page for ongoing updates; you can also sign up to our newsletter. So without further ado, here's the podcast.
Helwa, welcome to the Ḥikmah Project podcast an absolute pleasure and honor to have you today with us.
A. Helwa
As-salāmu ʿalaykum, thank you so much for having me.
Saqib
وعليكم السلام ورحمة الله (wa-ʿalaykum as-salām wa-raḥmatullāh), I've been really looking forward to speaking to you after having listened to the audible book in which you read out the whole book and it was just absolutely amazing to go through each chapter and discover these gems of wisdom and insight. When I finished the book, I thought, this is one of the best summaries, if not the best, on Islam; and almost like a, you know, theإحياء علوم الدين (Iḥyāʾ ʿUlūm ad-Dīn) in a modern time if you'd like, you know, this is الامام الغزالي (ʾImam al-Ghazālī’s) works in the modern time in that you've gone in and given a really lovely balance between the inner and outer.
A. Helwa
الحمد لله (al-ḥamdulillāh) thank you so much for your kind words. You know ʾImam al-Ghazālī is someone I definitely look up to and his works have been a great inspiration to me and the way that I've walked in this tradition. So I feel completely humbled by the comparison, knowing that his work is something to aspire and learn from.
Saqib
So based on your book, I've got a few questions. The first being that this transformation that takes place, so you mentioned how you were seeking and searching and your heart wasn't content, until you meet this lady who's deeply deeply absorbed in prayer, and that has a transformative effect on you. And then you meet Sidi, سيدي محمد سعيد الجمال الرفاعي (Sidi al-Jamāl), I believe, a Palestinian master, Sufi Master, who was also the custodian of the مسجد الاقصى (Al-Aqṣā Mosque). Could you tell us more about your encounter with him? How you ended up meeting him? And how you knew he was somebody to be taken as a guide and what impact he had on your journey?
A. Helwa
Well, I would say in the time I spent in Turkey, and this sort of, almost like a chance meeting with this everyday Muslim woman who is just praying, and I think the way that I conceptualize that in the book is that she's the first time that I saw someone, not just praying, but become a prayer. Offer herself up to الله (Allāh). And I think in reality she's following the examples of the prophets peace be upon them, that they've laid out for us, and living a life being a prayer, being an answer to prayers.
And in reflection of that, it's something that people always are very curious about in reading the book I realized that it felt like a miracle to me,like this chance moment to me but in reality, Allāh is always blessing us with these seemingly normal moments that are infused with بركة (baraka) or are infused with something mysterious; and sometimes we catch on and you know, many people are walking past this moment, but somehow it strikes me and it changes the course of my life. And yet, we look at that and say, ‘Oh, how lucky I am to experience that!’ but in reality, it's surrounding every single one of us in every single moment and when we're aware of it, we say, ‘Wow, how incredible!’ but in reality, it's always around us and so the limitation is in our awareness not in Allāh’s giving, in a sense. And so, in reflection of that, it’s like, wow, it's like simultaneously feeling chosen in a moment and then at the same time feeling humbled.
I think a rabbi once said this really well, he said that you should have, ‘Everybody should have two pieces of paper, one in each pocket, and one says the world was created for me, and then the other paper says, I am nothing but dust.’ And like there’s sort of that balancing act between these two realities, you know: I was created as a representative, vicegerent of Allāh; I came from dust, black, slimy mud.
And so in this experience of wanting something deeper, and suddenly being awake or woken to, there's so much more to this life and the outward you know, I guess they would say, the bizarre of life, the getting and the giving and the pleasure and the pain and this duality, and I think, coming across, just meeting Sidi in this, like, again, seemingly chance opportunity of—he was teaching a sort of class and I just like found it somehow on the internet and just listened to him and found out that he has the same quality that this woman had. You know, she was unnamed which ironically enough, you have great scholars, like ابن عربي (Ibn al-ʿArabī), he has teachers that are women, but they're unnamed. Like there's this hidden veil, which obviously has its positives and its negatives.
But nonetheless, here's this woman that was sort of veiled; it was like a moment in time and then here comes Sidi, very similar quality of being a prayer and offering his entire existence to Allāh. And there's so many people like that, it just happens he's the one that was put on my path and to learn from some of the books that he's written and the teachings that he has about the essence of the Islamic tradition. From a person who follows everything, crossed t's and dotted i’s; and after crossing the t's, and dotting the i’s, seeps deeper into the deeper dimensions, but not in terms of avoiding those things and saying, ‘Well, I'm beyond that’, no, it's very much, ‘I take the density, the outer, then I go into the inner, and then into the beyond.’ And I think that's what was so beautiful in its holistic nature. Because a lot of times, you know, when people hear the word spirituality, and they consider themselves religious, they see that as a bypass of all the rules. But to see somebody who's seeped deeply into the spirituality in terms of like the essence of something and yet, abides by every rule, it creates this holistic feeling that feels in alignment with the حديث (ḥadīth), the القرآن الكريم (Holy Qurʾān), the traditions of the Prophet ﷺ, peace be upon him, his companions, his family members, and it's like, it feels real, in real life, I think for me.
Saqib
Wow. So, for those listeners who may not have seen or glimpsed this dimension of ولاية (wilāya), or spirituality, that you saw in this lady and in Sidi, how would you describe what it means to be a prayer in comparison to say, simply somebody who is very pious and religious in a conventional conditional sort of sense?
A. Helwa
That’s a wonderful question. It's actually something that I've been sitting with deeply in my own life. I think we start our days with prayer, دعاء (duʿāʾ), supplication, الصلاۃ (as-ṣalāt), connection, and it's about we say, ‘This is how I speak to God, I converse to God.’ And I've seen that in reality, if we really think about it, we are praying in as-ṣalāt with words that Allāh Himself said. So although we say this is a connection, صلة (as-ṣila), this is how we connect to our Lord, we are actually using God's own words to talk to God. And so when you really sit with that—you realize that prayer is really about listening. It's more about listening to what Allāh’s saying than it is about speaking in a sense.
Of course, it's both, and of course we're called to ask of our Lord, but in that essence, that like—that five times a day, that 50 times a day reduced to five times a day, that every moment of your life you should be in prayer is really about listening.
And so for me, I feel like walking into life as a prayer is about deeply listening: listening, watching, listening, and answering other people's prayers. To offer yourself up as a prayer is to, I feel like, do everything in your power and every moment to answer others, other people's prayers. It could be an animal, it could be a plant, a thirsty plant that the rain just didn't touch, maybe you're just meant to water it but because you're listening you notice that and you're reminded that you are a caretaker of this world. That you've been sent here to take care of this world, and so when you walk out as a prayer, you're answering prayers.
So how do you interact with the bee that buzzes around your food? Or the fly? Or a cat, underneath the table? How do you interact? You know, people have stigmas around dogs, but how do you interact with the dog who comes and you know licks you and you may feel ‘Oh man that...’—you may be of the opinion that requires a certain shower or certain sort of ritual—but how do you interact with that? Do you see that moment as an opportunity to witness God?
And so a lot of times people stop: ‘Are you saying, God, God is this animal?’ No, but if in every moment Allāh says in the Qurʾān from the east to the west, like that’s my face, 'Did you witness it? Did you notice it?' So walking as a prayer is saying, ‘I'm listening, God, what are you asking? What are you saying? I'm listening. In the face of my friend or in the face of my father or a stranger, I’m listening.’ And I think to me, walking out as a prayer and offering yourself up to Allāh is saying, ‘I am listening, You speak to me.’ Because a lot of times in prayer, we're asking God, which is absolutely okay and it's interesting to turn that and say, ‘God, I'm listening to You. You lead me’. So that’s what I would say.
Saqib
The other thing that came out is: in the immense sort of insights, interwoven in your book, in everyday language, in everyday stories, but beneath it, actually the sort of wisdom; stories have profound depth and إن شاء الله (ʾinshāʾllāh) hopefully we will explore some in this podcast, the language that we're referring to is dualistic. 'I worship Allāh or I'm listening to Allāh.' Yet, at the same time, there's a subtle, nuanced, non dualistic reality, as you said, these are Allāh’s words and now we're actually quite very receptive. Could you say something about that— the non dualistic unity, reality, one reality, yet the language being dualistic?
A. Helwa
I love that question. I love it because I think when you think in terms of the word, the divine quality السميع (as-Samiʿ), you think of Allāh the All-Hearing. So the question is, what is it like to hear? To listen? So you're speaking, I’m listening. When you speak, your words travel through air waves and it hits my ear and it translates and I hear. And I speak and you listen. But what does it look like to listen if there's no separation? Because now if there's no separation, what space are my words or your words traveling? Who's speaking, Who's listening, if there's no separation?
You see this a lot with kind of Persian mystical Islamic poets. Rumi’s famous for ending a lot of his poems saying the Farsi word خاموش (khāmūsh), silence. Right? In a sense he’s… in his first poem, actually, in the مثنوي (Mas̱navī), he goes and he’s like, ‘I'm whispering’ because intimacy. When I whisper what happens between me and you? We get close enough and close to you, but when you hit silence, then there's no more space for words to travel through. Right? And so that's why again he says the language of God is silence all else is poor translation. Poor translation, meaning, duality and interpretation and all the things that come from human perception based on misperceptions of past experiences since childhood that perpetuates into the present and creates splits.
But in that silence, in that khāmūsh, in that space, you know, where the Prophet ﷺ, peace be upon him, is getting revelation and then it stops, and he's like, ‘Whoa, did I do something wrong? Did something happen? ’ And God's like, ‘You're not forsaken. I see you. I hear you.’ And it teaches us this deep teaching that the space between words is part of revelation, that there's something very intimate in that silence that gives language its meaning. And for me, that's where duality, like slips into melding into unity. And so when I'm saying, ‘Let's walk out the next dimension and how do you walk out as a prayer?’ Listening is—how do you walk out into life realizing that the bee and the voice that's speaking to you is not different than you? That's not that different than you? That you're seeing 8 billion mirrors of yourself.
And so that person in front of you that you're inclined to judge, what would it be like if you actually knew that they were just another fraction of you? How would you interact with that wounded person, the homeless person, or rather the house-less person, the person who is poor, or the person who has everything that you wanted to attain? How do you interact with these versions of yourself?
Because now if there's no separation—that would be the next step and I actually urge anybody who may listen to this and feel inspired enough to actually: step outside your neighborhood, walking wherever you may be, and reminding yourself of the possible reality that everything you see is really a reflection of something within you. And that Allāh put, has paved your path down this sidewalk or this trail, before you were ever born. There's this like intentional paving of you to experience this in this moment right now. What is it saying to you? How is He speaking to you? Yeah.
Saqib
Well, so still on the introduction, you then mentioned how you have this calling and you're sort of inspired to write a book but then you have some doubts and this voice comes, and, reassures you that actually this is not a question of you being worthy or perfect to do this work, just be an instrument and the book, you know, this message or whatever needs to come through, will take care of itself. How was that like? Has that happened to you before? Is that happening now? Could you say a bit more about that experience?
A. Helwa
Yes, I'm actually happy you brought this up because I would say of everything in the book, this particular portion, sometimes is misinterpreted. And, you know, people say, ‘Are you saying that like God spoke to you?’ And I always laugh, because I think God speaks to all of us in every moment. No one is a prophet, except, you know, the last prophet was Prophet Muḥammad ﷺ, peace be upon him. And there were prophets before him, peace be upon them all; we’re not prophets, I'm not a messenger, I'm just a person who's calling to God for help. And I believe that Allāh answers us. And the way that I received that was, it was essentially very clear as: ‘You're supported, step forward. Step forward, and do your best, that's all anybody can ask of you.’ And in the end, I would, really writing the book I would imagine myself in certain intersections of what to talk about or how to share it and I would say, ‘Okay, if right now, God took my life, and I'm returned to Him, like, can I stand for what I'm writing? Like, can I be like, Allāh like, this is my intention.’ So I would test myself with that to be like, if everything is stripped away, can I stand before Allāh and say, ‘I could have been wrong, I could be wrong, but this is what my intention was.’
And so after a point of feeling guided in hearing, it felt like really just—it's like intuition more than anything, like hearing this intuition that says, ‘Yeah, you're right, you can't do it on your own. You can't do it on your own. So instead of fighting that, with everything you have, in wasting your energy there, put your energy in Me.’ And it's… it's really when you read the Qurʾān, you realize that's the message of the revelation is that—revelation is revealed truth and the truth that I'm revealing to you is you can't do without Me. It's like that's what I feel like Allāh’s saying, you know. And when I actually accepted that, it felt like the most empowering thing. It almost feels like at first you're like, ‘Ooh, that feels so… I'm so needy. And I—wow, like I'm really incapable.’ But actually, it felt like the door of need and poverty is the least crowded of the gates of Allāh. Because nobody wants to come that way. Nobody wants to say, ‘I'm so needy.’ And for me, I think I was so lucky because I didn't know that much. And I still don't know. I was lucky because I couldn't say—yes I read all these books on Islam, but I couldn't say that I was a professor, I couldn't say that I was an ʾimam, I couldn't say that I taught all these classes; I was just a Muslim who just loved the Islamic tradition and that's all I have. It's still all I have.
So I came like, I don't have anything. I really, outwardly I got nothing to offer and I still say that it’s—it's funny, because it's really an anonymous author wrote this book. But then what happened is I came to Allāh with all of my lack of ability and He put in my path people that were so capable; professors and 'imams and some really well known—I don't even know how they came into my life, teachers, people who are unnamed in terms of acknowledgement because they didn't want to be acknowledged, and so they came and helped this and made sure that it was in the right framework and it was in alignment with Islamic principles and that's what happens when you go to Allāh empty. Yeah, I'm like, ‘I got nothing. If this is going to happen, I need Your help.’
Like, I felt this calling. In the book I say it's like this prayer of a girl or a boy that I felt like it's—like it rung in my ears. Like, what is this? And you know what, now I realized, it could very much have been me, at that age, making a prayer to future me, you know, cause time and space is not linear in terms of the Divine Realm. It is for us because we're stuck in this sort of arrow of time. But for Allāh, time, past, present future it doesn't have constraints. He says Be.. Be… Be… كن (kun), kun, kun. He said, Be and it is and Be it wasn't. It’s like all the same it's simultaneous in the Divine Realm in a way we can't even articulate, really.
Saqib
Hmm.
A. Helwa
And so like this prayer that… rings, it's like, I just trust it. And it called me to something totally beyond myself. And to this day, I can sit back and say, ‘I don't know who wrote that.’ I know, some people read and they say, ‘Are you saying God wrote this through you?’ No, I'm saying that anything we do is by Allāh. Allāh didn't just say 'Be' and leave you, He sustains you every moment.
Can I pick up a pen without Him? Can I articulate a thought without Him? Look, if I trip bad on the pavement and hit my head, I can't do anything. Like, if my brain doesn't work, like, Allāh literally allows my feet to walk. And if He chooses any moment to stop drumming this drum that I call my heart, I stop living. So how can we say we do anything on our own? Do we really do anything on our own? It's in the آداب (ādāb) of politeness to attribute the beautiful things that we create to Allāh and things that we fall short on we attribute it to our ego, right?
But even the movements, even in our disobedience, like Allāh has to give us permission to move in those directions. We can't do anything without Him. He's not responsible for, or we don't blame Him for actions that are sinful, and yet He’s even—and it’s helped me a lot to—in people, in situations of injustice, or being on the side of being wronged, being like Allāh still chooses to put his breath into this person and give them life despite the things they may have done to hurt me or others. That there is something still sacred and holy in the fact that they're living. I see in the prison system, I go to visit, it's like, here people say, ‘You're out because you did this awful thing.’ And yet, here they are alive, living, trying to seek God, trying to have the redemption moment; and we write them off as outside of God's mercy when Allāh says, ‘My Mercy encompasses everything’. I forgive all sins, you know, there's this all encompassing, powerful entity that's always surrounding us and I think we lose sight of that. And so in terms of this particular portion of the book, it's like, of course, how could you not attribute things you do that are hopefully good, to God?
Inspiration, you know, I think in terms of inspiration, like I think I say this in the book, it's—in spirit—to be in your روح (rūḥ) and you move that way. That to me is inspiring; not just creative ideas. And for that, it would be impossible to attribute it to myself, because you know what, I know my lack of ability. I know that my one plus one should have never been 200, it should have been two! But other people say, ‘Oh, wow, like, that's cool you add 100 plus.’ I'm like, ‘Oh, it was it was like zero plus zero and it became something and I don't know how!’ So I can see the process. I can see who I am. I can see my incapability and see that it is an add up and know that there's this invisible digit there of baraka, blessing, generosity, that's really, I can't count, as the Qurʾān says.
And I think that verse is so interesting, you can't count the blessing of God. You can't even count one blessing. Like we translate it: I can't count blessings of Allāh.But you can't count one blessing. Can you even see how that one thing reaches roots and how it inspires fruit? You can’t even see that far into one thing now imagine blessing on blessing and blessing compiled into this incredible, enormous, infinite figure. We could never wrap our minds around it. I know I went beyond your question, but yeah.
Saqib
No, it's fascinating! Throughout your book, there's constant reference to the Qurʾān and often, especially with the younger generation, or those who are inquisitive, or those who have a spiritual yearning, they, and I put myself in this sort of category when I was a lot younger still seeking spiritual truths and deeper meaning, is that, you know, reading classical commentaries and literal and even moral sort of interpretations of the verses didn't really give me the spiritual depth that I was looking for. And one of my teachers, he wasn't born Muslim, but he had sort of studied various spiritual traditions, Taoism and Advaita, and what have you, and well acquainted with the non dualistic traditions. Finally, when he came to Islam, and the spiritual path of Sufism said, ‘This is what I was looking for and in the Qurʾān—it has everything.’ And I thought at the time, ‘Which Qurʾān are you reading?’ Because I don't see all this, you know, I hadn't read Ibn al-ʿArabī at the time, and I was quite new to Rumi, but I couldn't access that depth of spiritual wisdom that was in it. And often people when they cite the Qurʾān, it's either legalistic prescriptions or political stroke, moral narratives. How were you able to firstly build this deep relationship with the Qurʾān? And how were you able to resonate with it and uncover some of the deeper truths and spiritual wisdoms inside it?
A. Helwa
Hmm… that is another wonderful question. I actually would say I wasn't able to. I had a very similar relationship to the Qurʾān as you mentioned.
I was born Muslim so I was used to hearing it. You know, used to going to a mosque and going to Mecca, like I was raised with Islam. But I didn't have my own relationship with the Book. And so I start with saying, I actually didn't know how to. It was actually like a prayer asking, ‘Hmm… Allāh can you open this Book to me? Can You show me something in it that I'm not seeing? Can You unveil a fragrance? Can You awaken the subtlety of my senses? Can You help me see beyond ink on the page? Can You show me something beneath the surface of these outer waves? Can You unveil something to me?’ And it's making that prayer and saying, ‘I'm open to something different’. Because I see the remarkable—I mean even if you think in terms of Rumi or Ibn al-ʿArabī—this is the book that inspired them.
So everything that people see in those works, you know the Farsi in terms of Rumi, they say, you know, this is the Qurʾān interpreted in the language of Farsi. It's so infused you could not remove it. In the English translations there is that erasure of Islamic principles and that tradition but in its original, as scholars would speak to, is you cannot erase it; it's just so embedded in it. So how could you be amazed by these great works and then the very text that they based their ideas on is somehow lackluster?
So then it made me realize that it's deeply veiled; that the Book is living and that it watches you; it reads you as you read it; and you have to come to it willing to receive from it—not to strengthen an argument, not to validate previous notion. You know a lot of times you come and are like, ‘I really resonate with that, like I really resonate with the Qurʾān.’ Like, ‘Oh, you mean it just justifies your previously held ideas?’ So you come to it, ‘Oh, I resonate with that one but I don’t resonate with this’, which means I am using my preferences or my intellect as the فرقان (furqān), as the criterion for what is right or what isn't. Or what is true and what isn't. And the Qurʾān is like, ‘No, no, I'm the criterion. Use me, and challenge your beliefs’.
So really, it really confronts the ego in such a direct and beautiful way. But if we're not ready for that confrontation, we're just frustrated with it and so much of our energy—so much of my energy, was spent fighting the things that I didn't understand, instead of saying, ‘Allāh help me understand.’
And I think for me that the language is so significant because that distinction and question asking, I'll give you two things that really changed my relationship with Islam: The first was saying, ‘This doesn't make sense. I don't get it. And you have to convince me.’ Changing that to 'Allāh help me understand that wisdom behind what you shared in this particular verse or this context.' That shift—and then the next thing was asking, instead of saying, ‘Why Allāh would you do that? Why Allāh? Any why Allāh...' fill in the blank, transforming it to or changing it to—'Allāh help me understand and learn the lesson you're trying to teach me in x, y, z.'
Those two…. it sounds insignificant, but those two shifts in language changed everything for me and my relationship with my religion because it took me from a position of putting God on trial, أستغفر الله (ʾastaġfirul-lāh), to receiving what God is sharing. In that context difference, off the bat, that changed everything.
And then really, that first thing also is ask God to open His Book to you. Ask Him because actually I couldn't even understand if the symbol was in front of me, I couldn't see it. I need His light. And in the Qurʾān, it says, you know, this Book was sent with a light and that light, some would interpret as the Prophet ﷺ, peace be upon him. So really taking the context of his life story with the Qurʾān and what it's offering but that prayer to Allāh is everything. Because the Book is read with the eyes of your heart; and I need light for that. I said in the book, light to the eyes inside, light inside his insight; I need that light inside.
So I can see and I can read, but I need my heart to see and read because it will be different. And lucky for me, I find that Allāh surrounded me with people who had the eyes inside and so they kind of almost guided me like I was blind; I had a, you know, like a walking stick. I was like in need of Braille, that spiritual Braille, and I still consider myself a baby in being able to see. But I see that being around people who have that sight and can articulate to you and unveil these deep wisdoms that, it's like, I think Rumi says it's like 'it splashes joy on your heart', you know.
I think for me it was big and continues to be so great, to be around people who can really see.
Saqib
Lovely. One of my favorite chapters in the book is the chapter on fasting. And somebody had sent this to me in Ramadan and, again, I was blown away by some of the insights. So I'll read out a few of them, with your permission.
A. Helwa
Sure.
Saqib
"Fasting is not about losing body weight; it's about losing the weight of your sins, and learning to detach from the ego that weighs you down." Wow, so is that—did you have that insight? I mean, where did that come from?
A. Helwa
Yeah, so you know, in Ramadan, there's always this conversation of: ‘I want to lose weight this Ramadan’ or ‘I always gain so much weight in Ramadan’ or it's just you hear this, and I'm from California, so there's this, yeah, diet and what we eat and things like that, it's like really a forefront in this state and could be in other places too; so you kind of hear that a lot and in reflecting on it I was like, really, what are we trying to lose in Ramadan? Because it's not about weight, and such a thing of the body, obviously, we're called to be healthy, but called to be healthy to use these bodies in service of Allāh. But it really does feel it's like it's an opportunity to let go of the weight of patterns and habits that are not serving us. Like, yeah, wouldn’t you like to approach Ramadan really in this spiritually dietary way? Like, ‘How can I lose the weight of my habits?’ Like I want the inches around my spiritual body to be less, you know. And what would it feel like to like transform that language? And so for me, that kind of came just from circumstance and surrounding. And then, of course, you end up reading; and then I'm reading and it's like, that same notion is sort of validated even across time in cultures, maybe that wasn't as important, it seemed to be a relationship that had been made. Not even in Islamic traditions but, you know, fasting has been a thing in the Jewish tradition, and historically, in the Christian tradition, you see that with Jesus and so it's, yeah, I don't think it's a new idea. I think in my context, it felt new, only to see that it's—everything's been said, under the sun.
Saqib
And then going on, I love this quote, where you say, “The spiritual path is not one where we find our way to God, but rather one where we remove everything that prevents us from seeing that we're already in the divine court.” And, you know, that's such an important principle of poverty, spiritual poverty, or فقر (faqr), you know, it's cultivating this emptiness. And often, the temptation can be to fill that emptiness with virtuous actions and to adorn yourself, if you'd like, with good works and things that would make God happy or beloved, but ultimately, there's, as you said, that there's this way of complete poverty and neediness and emptiness and having all of that taken from you, almost. Is that right? Am I thinking along the right lines here?
A. Helwa
Yeah, I would say also, in addition to that, that there's this way in which we feel like we're tasked with finding God.
Saqib
Hmm.
A. Helwa
Like I'm on a search to find God. And I always think because I—you know, sunny California, we always have sunglasses, and I can't tell you how many times I put my sunglasses on, like I make sure, and I'm just like looking for it. I've even looked for my sunglasses with my sunglasses on. And I'm like, ‘I'm never going to find those sunglasses’, because I didn't lose them.
Saqib
Hmm.
A. Helwa
And, like searching for your tail, in a sense. Obviously not to compare Allāh to a tail or sunglasses, but the concept of looking for something you never lost is frustrating.
In other words, instead of the journey saying—Allāh says, ‘Look, I'm closer to you than your jugular vein.’ You know, ابن عطاء الله (ibn ʿAṭā Allāh) he says it beautifully, he's like, ‘You're veiled by Allāh because of your proximity to Him.’ The eyes can't see themselves. So like, they can look but granted you're gonna say, ‘Okay, there's a mirror and you can see’, but I mean like in terms of out in space where there's nothing to reflect, like how would the eyes see themselves like?
So it's really, it's almost like this beautiful thing to meditate on, to contemplate, to sit with, to pray and be present with is that God is not just this transcendent reality, and sometimes we only see Him as this تنزيه (tanzih) as in ‘Woah, over there, there's nothing like Him.’ But He also says like, ‘I'm closer to you than your jugular vein’, there's this تشبيه (tashbih), this closeness, and that's how He, the Unity, is the two of these together. You can't just have one; it is incomplete. That's why when people are: ‘I'm just spiritual’; they only hold on to the ‘He's close to my jugular vein.’ So then you start to hear things like ‘God is in me’, ‘God is me’, ‘God is you’, which, Islamically we don't stand by. Or there’s that ‘Oh, God is so far away. He's beyond anything that you could... it’s only over there’. And then it's distant and people are like, ‘Ha, intimacy, like I'm losing that because like I can't like…’ It's this combination, this very interesting contrast, but it's not separate from. There’s no duality with the Divine, but it almost like breaks your mind and it's paradoxical elements. But we have to like, it's this two, sort of, but there's just one; it's this… for poets, it's beautiful. Like poetry loves this.
Literalism, intellectualism, philosophy, sometimes scientific inquiry is very frustrated by that. But that is what it is, it's meant to frustrate to break the mind, because the mind understands things through association, through separation through duality; and so we need—and I think in the Book it says, like, pure light you can't see, pure darkness you can’t see; we need a mix of these things so we can have an experience.
And so in terms of the spiritual journey, understand and unveil the closeness of the Divine presence to you is a reminder that it's the ego that's really in the way. What is making you reach? What is making you walk? Because sometimes people do good because they feel: ‘I'm such a good person. I'm the bigger person’; and so that really fuels the ego. Sometimes they call that, in spiritual context, like a light veil. It really just, it's like, a nice thing, but it's fueling the ego.
Some traditions in the second station of the ego, they'd say, it's when you do good things in secret but you really want someone to find out and give you double credit for being the type of person that did good and then hit it! So it's like how tricky can our ego be? And so it gets in the way, sometimes we’re like, ‘We're gonna… we're setting out on a journey,’ and ‘we're gonna,’ and ‘we and I’ and ‘I’m gonna… ‘I'm gonna find God and I'm going to purify myself and I'm gonna pray so much; I'm gonna fast;’ but it's so much ‘I’!
And your ‘I’ is in the way of the Divine. Better to say, ‘God I need your help. Allāh I need your help’. You just go straight to Him and let Him guide you and feel that feeling we all avoid, that needy, that poverty that what you're talking about thatفقير (faqīr) that I'm so desperately in need of God in every moment. Ohhh that doesn't feel good! But it's empty enough for you to receive. ʾInshāʾllāh.
Saqib
ʾInshāʾllāh. The next part in this beautiful chapter on fasting is the story of منصور (Mansur): “A mystic by the name of Mansur, who was fasting the month before Ramadan, was walking to the mosque when he passed a group of lepers who were eating leftovers from the trash. One of them invited the well known mystic over to eat lunch with him. The mystic said, ‘Are you sure? I don't want to be an inconvenience to you.’ The man assured him that he would be honored to eat with such a famous scholar. Mansur accepted the offer and sat down with the old leper on the floor as he prepared the meal.
The leper turned to his guest and said, sadly, ‘Are you not afraid of us? We often invite the ʾimams we see going to the mosque to break bread with us, but none of them ever do.’ The sweet mystic smiled softly at the man and said, ‘That is because they are most likely fasting.’ The leper replied, ‘But aren't you a religious man? Aren't you God-fearing? Why then are you not fasting extra fasts before Ramadan?’ The mystic smiled and said, ‘Yes, surely I love God, and today I have the good pleasure to eat with you.’
The leper smiled and together they enjoyed a few bites of food. When the call to prayer rang, Mansur got up, lovingly embraced the leper in gratitude, and headed to the mosque for afternoon prayers. After the sunset, Mansur prayed, ‘Thank you Allāh for the opportunity to serve you, may you accept my fast today’. A few scholars overheard Mansur’s prayer and turned to him and said, ‘Mansur! We saw you eating with the lepers today. You are a hypocrite and a liar for trying to come across as more righteous than you are!’
Mansur turned to them humbly and said, ‘I may have broken my fast, but I did not break a heart. You tell me which Allāh will forgive more easily: a fast we have broken out of love or a heart we have broken out of self-righteousness?’”
That's an amazing story. Because if you think about this mystic Mansur, he's so empty of himself, that he's putting somebody else's needs, of just being the leper who wants some company, beyond his self-righteous needs of what is apparently the good. But it's also a very high station. It reminds me of the ملامتية (Malāmatiyya) Ibn al-ʿArabī talks about, who are so hidden they have nullified the very identity of being religious or spiritual in any way shape or form. Whereas often it can be that that becomes the identity ‘I am very religious’, ‘I am very spiritual’, or ‘I have….’ you know, that fill in the blank. And I think you do say it somewhere in your book where some people make an idol out of religion. Yeah, that's again that story really stuck out in terms of its depth and the metaphysical depths and what it's teaching is. Could you say something about that and where you got it from and and why you decided to include it? I think it's in the section Only for the Sake of Allāh.
A. Helwa
Yeah, it's definitely it's one of my favorite stories in the whole book and talking to you now, it's not a surprise that it's something that you chose as well. Mostly because it articulates the softness of someone who's on the spiritual path, on the Islamic path and what it means to be a true walker on this path, and I think for me it stood out because you know a lot of times when we're in Ramadan it's an opportunity to scale up on our practices and possibly change certain habits and it's when those who are religious really step in deeper into doing more of what they've already been doing. And being part of the sort of younger generation in a sense, seeing people, Muslims, who they call them ‘Ramadan Muslims’, you know, there's this like sort of judgmental take on somebody who is reminded to turn to Allāh in this month, and people judge, ‘Yep, you haven't been to the mosque all year but now you’re here.’ You know, and there's this sort of judgmental tone for someone who's turning to Allāh and like, just don't make space for them, because of some judgment. And here you have Mansur and he’s like, ‘Man if my practices don't make me more gentle, I'm practicing for what? Who am I? If my turning towards Allāh doesn't make me more soft, doesn't make me a mirror for His qualities of love, mercy, generosity, peace, kindness, then it's clearly just amplifying my ego. And I'm afraid of that. And so I'm not going to be in a manner in my worship of Allāh in a way that is harsh and hardens me.’
And remember, this isn't in Ramadan. He's doing, like, free fasts. This is not obligatory. He's not not praying to be with the leper, he's not letting go of his obligations to Allāh. But he's understanding that there's room for flexibility because he's seeing, you know, why am I fasting? Like, what's the purpose, if it's not to make me a better representative of the Divine? If it's not to make me more like the Prophet ﷺ, peace be upon him. If my practices don't get me closer to the one who was sent as a mercy to all worlds, I really have to sit with those practices and how I'm practicing them. Doesn't mean I let go of them. But it does mean I need to like restructure my relationship. If I'm reading the Qurʾān all day long, and someone says one thing I don't like, and I jump all over them, there's something not—there's a lid on my heart, and no matter how much rain of love pours on it it's not landing inside, there's a lid, I need to remove that lid.
So the world confronts us with the places where we could be more soft, more gentle. That's why this path, we're not in Ramadan all year long. That's why the Prophet ﷺ, peace be upon him, went to the mountaintop but came down. That's why the prophets didn't live separate from from people. They lived amongst them. Because they understand that, here is the reflections. Here is the articulations and the reminders of our blind spots of the places we could be better. We could witness more, we can...
You know like the Prophet Moses (ʿalayhi as-salām, a.s.) was sent الخضر (al-Khiḍr), he was amongst the people; like this is a reflection of his inner state of opportunities for growth within him. It’s on the same way in Ramadan if it doesn't make us more gentle, and more merciful; if reading the Qurʾān doesn't make us more kind and more generous; if walking, if doing ذكر (dhikr), doesn't make us honor people more, then we have to sincerely confront ourselves as to what our intention is with that. It's confronting and that's why we ask Allāh for help every step of the way. The Prophet ﷺ , peace be upon him, he was consistently seeking guidance and he’s the one who Allāh's angel is speaking to and he’s still like turning insistently.
And so it's really it's a beautiful reminder for us to really think in terms of not just our practices, but how we are with the world. How we are with the creation, it reflects in a sense, how we are with the Creator. And the creation is not the Creator, but this world was created by Allāh so it's beloved to Him, we don't know; we don't know whose heart—like who's beloved to Allāh; we don't know who goes home and asks for forgiveness.
Saqib
Hmm.
A. Helwa
Yeah and so we have to assume that everybody is beloved to Allāh because in a sense, He created them. The Prophet ﷺ, peace be upon him, stands up for the funeral of the Jewish man and people of his time are like ‘Why are you doing this?’ This is what God created, like, how could you not in a sense? You know, these separations, these judgments, it comes from the egos desire to be, and to say, ‘I am better’, which is not a voice reading the Qurʾān you ever want to have because you know who had that voice? And that was the شيطان (shaytān). So when we're saying ‘I'm better,’ and ‘Oh I practice more than that person,’ or like ‘We caught you!’, you know, like, you're reflecting a voice you'd never want to have, I think, may Allāh protect us from this.
Saqib
آمين (Āmīn). The other chapter that really struck me, I mean, the whole book in the whole, every chapter, literally has gems. And if anyone's read it would know that it's imbued with Qurʾānic verses. I'm just simply selecting quotes and stories, but before and after many of these passages, the Qurʾānic verses, which sort of give some context, or add further insight to some of these quotes and stories and so, I just want to read this short paragraph, which again, was something that really struck me when I heard it for the first time.
So this is in the Mysteries of Heaven and Hell: We Put Ourselves in the Fire. “There is a mythical story of a seeker who once met a wandering mystic and asked him, ‘Oh lover of God, where are you coming from?’ The mystic replied, ‘I just came back from Hell.’ The man looked horrified at the reply, but nonetheless listened intently as the mystic continued, ‘I needed some fire, and I thought Hell would be the best place to get some. But when I got to the gates and asked the angel in charge to spare me some flames, he said, ‘There is no fire here.’ I confusingly asked him, ‘But isn't hell supposed to be the storehouse of fire and flames?’ The angel replied, ‘Hell doesn't have fire of its own—each person who comes here comes with their own fire!’”
And then there's another, a few sentences down, “Heaven is not just an earthly summit or destination we reach for—Heaven is a place where we are in full witness of God. It is a reality made for the people who submit their will to be unfolded in the will of God.” That's just amazing.
So often, I mean, just to replay some context to my question, I too grew up Muslim, and that narrative serves me to some extent, but then when I began questioning things, and growing up in a multicultural, multi religious environment, where people were everything from atheist, agnostic, religious, etc. naturally, I began wondering, likeإبراهيم عليه السلام (Ibrāhīm ʿalayhi as-salām, a.s.), what objective reality is, and how is it that one can come to know it? Or, are we human beings, confined to our conditioning, be it religious, cultural conditioning, and truth is therefore subjective and there's nothing outside that? And what a miserable life that will be. And one of the things I'm picking up as I speak to you is the complete utter dependence on an Intelligence, on a Reality, that is both outside what we call, the egoistic ‘I’, but mysteriously imbued within the human experience so close that it's in fact, veiled from us.
So part of that narrative, just going back to what I was trying to say, the part of that narrative or growing up Muslim was that the purpose of life is to enter Paradise in the Hereafter after we've been judged, based on our good deeds; and that was essentially what religious practice is about. It's about accumulating good points or ثواب (thawāb) or rewards. So that in the next life, you enter a place or an environment called Paradise. However, upon reading Rumi and علامة محمد إقبال (Iqbāl)and Ibn al-ʿArabī and the countless mystics in the Islamic tradition, who speak of this Divine Love, they echo, they don't discard that narrative, they still hold it, but it's not the whole picture. There is a reality, which is steering us right now, as you said, you know, wherever you turn, there is a face of God.
And so, I think this paragraph that I just read brings up this really important point that I wanted to raise, and it's actually the basis of the Ḥikmah Project, and that's that sometimes the emphasis on legalism is so overwhelming, or so strong, or so dominant in religious discourse, that there isn't any room for metaphysics or spirituality or the vast majority of the Qurʾānic verses which are not about legalism. And so, I concur with everything you've said in that, you know, you cross your t's and dot your i's, and you completely have to follow the outer law but at the same time, the narrative and the outer dimension isn’t the complete picture. Could you say something more about that?
A. Helwa
Yeah, that's the piece about Heaven and Hell I think is such a good just context to speak about this because I think that you know, the Qurʾān it speaks to every single person where they're out. And so when you have a Book that's very much veiled, but also unveiled through symbolism, it allows each person to meet the Book where they're at. And so you know, in terms of someone who's very much in a fight with the نفس (nafs) or the ego on that first level, yes, of course, the place where you're fighting desires and you're trying restraint and then these descriptions of Heaven and Hell come and it says, you know, this is a realm where you will be satisfied. So this fight that you're having know that it's temporary, and so that gives that person, that gives us that extra push to keep going to keep in restraint; then Ramadan comes and teaches us true restraint and teaches us God-consciousness, and we're in this kind of dense fight with the ego and we're being encouraged by Allāh like ‘Don't be worried, like it will, you will be fine and you will have this; this is just a test’ and it’s speaking to you at this level.
And then for someone like رابعة العدوية (Rābiʿa al-ʿAdawiyya), a mystic woman, then you have her and she's like, ‘No, the good things of Heaven give it to my friends.’ What is it? ‘The good things of this life, give it to my enemies. The good things of the Hereafter give it to my friends. I just want You and you're enough for me Allāh.’ So now suddenly she's reaching into a dimension below this, sort of, I would say like these ocean waves on the surface, she's dipping, reaching below and saying, ‘Hey, like 30 feet below, calm waters,’ like ‘I want You. I want You; the pleasure and the pain and beyond the duality of that, I want You; and I recognize that where You are is Heaven, where You're not is Hell, or where your perception of You is not present to the person is Hell. I just want You.’ And everything else that comes around being with You that’s not even in my interest.
So she's reaching beyond those things and part of that is very confronting because it's saying, ‘Look if you're only reaching for Heaven, which is totally fine, by the way, if you’re reaching for Heaven, because of all the things you missed on Earth, in a sense, isn't that you just longing for Earth and all the things of this world?’ But in the eternal context, which of course Islamically is saying that's totally fine, that's—that's fine, if that's the direction you're reaching for. Allāh and the mystics come and say:‘Ah but no there's so much more! There's so much more for you!’ And so for them, love is the thing they're reaching for.
And you have so… it’s amazing to look at the—I've been spending the past five, six years collecting stories from the tradition, and the stories are so rich, there's just dozens of stories articulating that longing for the Divine, instead of the outward things. And, you know, for us on this path, I think we begin with this sort of struggles every day with the little things in life. And, ‘Okay, well, okay, Heaven’s gonna be around where there's ease, I get everything I want’ like essentially my ego is appeased. And then you kind of walk the path and you're like, ‘Huh, it’d be interesting if, if my husband came and gave me flowers, and then said, okay, cook me dinner, because I brought you these nice flowers, huh, that wouldn't feel very good. I want to, I want to receive flowers or give flowers just for the sake of giving flowers. I don't want it to be transactional. That doesn't feel good.’
Even in human relationships. It doesn't feel good when someone says, ‘Here you go’ and you're like, ‘Wow, thanks for thinking about me!’ and they're like, ‘Actually, I had a request.’ And I'm like, oh, how can I interact with Allāh that doesn't look like that? That doesn't feel good. How can I bring something to the Divine and say, ‘I brought, you know it's so small,’ it's like Rumi says, ‘It's like bringing spices to the Orient; it’s like bringing gold to the gold mine.’
‘I know, you don't need this thing. I know that it already belongs to You. And here, I'm bringing you this thing just because it's all I had and I just, I just wanted to say I'm grateful. I don't, I don't have this big request, You know, I have all these things I need.’ And of course, we can ask Allāh for the things that we need. But what's our intention when we turn to Him? How are we turning to Him? And what are we longing for? Is it transactional? Consistent confrontation, is it transactional?
Because we know love in this world wouldn’t work if it was just transactional, it could only go so deep. We know that, we experienced that. But at the same time, we turn around and we do that to Allāh all the time. You always hear the voices of, we always say this, well, ‘God I’ve been… God I’m trying to do good for you though! Why don’t you make this happen?’ ‘Please heal this… they’re so good to You, though!’ It's almost like an employee saying you owe me a salary, like, I put work in. You know, like, so it confronts that.
So this space of Heaven and Hell, it's this ultimate confrontation one on:transaction. We begin that way, a lot of you know, this is like, the ḥadīth will say, ‘You know, you do this, there's trees planted in Heaven for you.’ And so people say, ‘Oh, today I got 1000 trees planted in Heaven for me.’ Did you do it for the trees? Or the palace or the pearls or the gold or the silk or the beautiful people? Or did you see beyond and see that, like being with Allāh, is like everything you ever wanted erupted into this realm, into this manifestation? Can we see?
And so then the mystics say come and look at this life, look at how you could see, be in heaven in every moment when you're with Allāh because really heaven in the afterlife is in full witness of Allāh. So when you're in witnessing of Him, when you're witnessing His continual witnessing of you إحسان (ʿiḥsān) you're in a constant state of heaven. Because you're present in that beauty and that's why the prophets peace be upon them, no one can point to the prophetic traditions and the lives of the prophets, peace be upon them all and say, ‘What an easy life! That's what Heaven would look like to me’, because it's absolutely difficult. And yet internally, Ibrāhīm (a.s.) being cast into the fire ironically enough, and ironically enough notice how the fire becomes like a—what for him? A garden. In the center of the fire is a garden because he's with Allāh.
It’s a reminder for us that no matter what fires we’re in, the trials of what fires we’re in, it could be like heaven for us when what? Our attention or witnessing is on Allāh’s witnessing of us. The moment is entirely transformed through that witnessing. But when we use only our eyes, our outward eyes, and we think this doesn't look like heaven this looks like a desert, just looks like a middle of a forest fire. We miss it. Because why? Because the eyes depend on duality to see. It depends on past experience to understand. But when you're with Allāh, the One, then that reality of heaven can embrace you in that witnessing. So that's why we're called, and again we’re turning, just making a full circle, walking out into the world like a prayer is being aware of that One witnessing. You're aware of that; in every moment with every step, that you're in the divine court. And so be aware how you act in the presence of the King. May Allāh make it easy for us.
Saqib
Āmīn. On that note, Helwa I just want to thank you for your time today and ʾinshāʾllāh hope the opportunity arises again to speak with you and ʾinshāʾllāh do another podcast?
A. Helwa
ʾInshāʾllāh. Thank you so much for your presence and a true sincerity that you carry it’s inspiring and something that will be included in my gratitude for Allāh in this day. And I'm grateful for the space that you create. And really, it feels like the love and intention, and gentleness that you bring. And I'm just, I pray that those who come across that cross paths with you are able to appreciate that and that there's a true community around you to foster that and I'm praying for Allāh to continue to use you as a vessel of generosity, kindness, compassion, gentleness ʾinshāʾllāh.
Saqib
Āmīn.