My Story of Prayer

When I was a young girl, I had so much awe for being alive. My happiness seemed undefeatable. I was amazed at the beauty of everything––the sky, trees, birds––but also at the simple fact that I was living and experiencing this world in all its little moments. I’m not sure where this mindset came from, but I think being around my father’s spiritual practices of Sufism––a wholehearted and humble love for God––shaped my understanding of the world from the early years of my life. Though my father never imposed religious practice on me, I am sure that seeing him pray, bowed in gratitude each day, and hearing him talk of the Divine as an ever-present, wise and caring Essence, planted a seed that would later blossom into my decision to embrace Islam.

During my teenage years, I still held onto this love for life, and I had an increasing interest in partaking in some Islamic practices; like fasting in Ramadan, and (inconsistently) learning and performing the prayers. I had belief in God but it was a concept that remained in the background of my mind. It didn’t actively shape my morals or decisions, I didn’t understand the true scope of the dīn, the way of Islam. Then, during the strict covid lockdowns of 2020, I quickly became miserable. Being stuck inside, indefinitely, away from my friends and school, was very tough on me. I was a dedicated student and built my life around my studies, but could not maintain that passion when it was online. All the structures and foundations of my life had been pulled away, which, alongside the tumultuous emotional state of being fifteen, left me feeling numb and worthless. I didn’t know it then, but what I needed was a purpose in life that would never falter.

This period of time left a long-term impact, so that even when lockdown ended later in the year, I couldn’t find that sense of joy for being alive anymore. I had become quite insecure and socially anxious, because I had lost direction, I had lost the knowledge that my childhood self subconsciously had––knowledge that this world is perfectly designed, with a place for me in it. I was aware enough at sixteen to know I had lost something very important. So when I heard the bad news of reentering lockdown in August 2021 I made an intention to do things differently. I was concerned that if I didn’t actively make a change, my mental state would detrimentally worsen.

The first step to enacting this intention was to pray five times a day. Salāh––the five daily prayers––is a pillar of Islam, but not something I had committed myself to before. So over a matter of a few days, I cemented each prayer into my life: awaking for the dawn prayer, pausing at the designated times for the noon, afternoon, and evening prayers, and ending my days with the night prayer. It is hard to explain with words how this simple change transformed me. I became so happy; I returned to my childhood awe; I felt healed from the suffering of the previous year and excited for whatever lay ahead, regardless of the continuing lockdowns. The positive effect it had on my mental health can only be described as a miracle. Finally, I could watch birds flying across the sky and feel awe again, but this time, I would be reminded of my Creator: “have they not seen the birds above them, spreading and folding their wings? None holds them up except the Most Compassionate. Indeed, He is All-Seeing of everything.” (Qur’an 67:19)

Doing these prayers also ignited a desire to learn all I possibly could about Islam; I started reading the Qur’an and listening to recitations, watching talks by Muslim scholars, and researching the Sīrah, the life of the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him). At the heart of all this was a steadily growing love for Allah––the One God, the Merciful, the Perfect Designer––who had truly saved me by guiding me towards Him. I felt a yearning to dress modestly and wear the hijab as an act of devotion to Him; I made an effort to stop swearing and gossiping; I tried to follow the Sunnah, the teachings of the beloved Prophet Muhammad. Ultimately, God-consciousness became a part of my actions and the way I interacted with my surroundings. Though I still have a long way to go, I hope to be able to say that I became a better and kinder person. None of this would have been possible if I had not decided to step onto the prayer mat one uncertain day in August.
One of the many beautiful things about Islam and the Sufi path is that it is an ongoing quest in one’s life, a striving to improve one’s character and gain nearness to God. You can never truly tire from such a good endeavour, because it is an innate part of every human being. I found the purpose that I needed in order to be content, the purpose that will continue to guide me for the rest of my life, in sha Allah––if God wills.

“As long as my soul stays in my body,
I am a slave of the Qur’an and the dust on the path of Muhammad, the Chosen One.
If someone interprets my words in any other way,
That person I deplore, and I deplore his words.”

- Jalal ud-Din Rumi