The Ones Who Love


Every single thing roots back to this point: all things stem from love, or a lack thereof. For self, for lovers, for situations such as work, and friendships.

I’d been rolling around the Muslim concept of sin for a while but didn’t know where to couch it until a friend observed that everything for me roots back to relationships. It does. Not so much romantic, but rather that everything roots in love. What else is there? (Both the good and the bad, like love for profit, though I focus on the good.)

In Islam, distilled, the very meaning of “sin” is to go against one’s natural inclinations. It is to behave in a way which does not reflect a love for ourselves, because…

When you pull some sh!t that you know is wrong, what happens?

Momentary pleasure, sure.

And then, baby?

Sleepless nights.

Anxiety through the roof.

A world without peace.

Constantly looking over our metaphorical shoulder, innit?

Sometimes, the sin becomes the norm and we only notice that it’s a chain when we try to finally move against it. How can we believe that to do this is to love ourselves?

Fear. Imbalance. Absolute degradation of the nafs if we remain unchanged in our bullsh!t.

And nothing is worth pursuing more than peace and balance, words interchangeable with happiness and love.

Serving as the perfect segue into: Whose company are we keeping? What decisions and opportunities are they opening up to us? Are they elevating us or degrading us? Are they encouraging us to make decisions rooted in peace or ones ultimately rooted against ourselves? Because let me assure you – and you can fu(k off immediately with the attempt to deflect with “that’s judgmental” – there are behaviours and choices and decisions which degrade.

Or, to state it differently, there are people around whom our decisions are not based in a place of love of anything but ego (which is the closest equivalent to the concept of nafs).

When I look around me carefully, I look for people who elevate. Because I am one of them. I do not stand for nonsense. I do not accept but your best. I will hug your stupidest self, but I will always remind you at every single turn to do better because you can and because you are worth the pivot, and the course correction. We all are.

Anyone I consider a beloved does the same for me. My girls call out my clown ass while we’re in bed having morning coffee and catching up. Always, everything is full of love, a space of complete abundance.

Love itself is a map. The only question remaining is whether you’re ready to make the trip in service of yourself and everyone who holds you dear. Which is another way of saying in service of the fabric that makes up humanity.


Comments closed.