Own Journeys

  Importance of Dhikr My name is Fatima. I whisper "SubhanAllah, Alhamdulillah, Allahu Akbar" as I walk, as I cook, as I rest, as I go about my daily life. This practice of dhikr—remembrance of Allah—has become so integrated into my being that it flows naturally, almost automatically, like a spiritual heartbeat that continues whether I'm consciously thinking about it or not. The practice began simply, almost accidentally. I had learned these phrases as a child—"SubhanAllah" (Glory be to Allah), "Alhamdulillah" (Praise be to Allah), "Allahu Akbar" (Allah is greater)—but they were just words, repeated by rote, without much meaning or connection. They were part of the cultural background of my faith, but not a living practice that touched my heart or transformed my life. That changed during a difficult period in my life. I was facing challenges that felt overwhelming—personal struggles, family concerns, professional pressures. In the midst of th...

Light in the Desert My name is Layla. I once wandered the deserts of Morocco searching for silence, though I didn't know that's what I was searching for at the time.  I thought I was escaping the world—the constant noise of modern life, the expectations that weighed on me like stones, the questions that had no answers. But I was being led to something far greater than escape. I was being led to revelation. It began with a restlessness that couldn't be ignored. I was successful by all measures—a good job, a comfortable life, friends and family who loved me. Yet something felt empty, like I was living someone else's life, following a script I hadn't written. The more I achieved, the more distant I felt from myself. One morning, I made a decision that surprised even me. I booked a flight to Marrakech with no itinerary, no plans, no agenda. I packed only essentials—a few clothes, a journal, a copy of the Quran, and a simple prayer rug. My friends thought I was having a ...

Prayer in the Cathedral  My name is Rachel. I wandered into a cathedral in Florence one rainy afternoon, seeking shelter from a sudden downpour that had caught me unprepared. I had been exploring the city for hours, camera in hand, checking off tourist sites from my list. But what I found in that cathedral was far more than shelter—it was sanctuary. And it would change everything. The rain had started abruptly, forcing tourists and locals alike to scatter for cover. I ducked into what I thought was just another beautiful building—the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, though I didn't know its name then. All I knew was that it was dry, and I was wet, and my umbrella had turned inside out in the wind. As I stepped inside, my eyes needed a moment to adjust from the bright daylight to the cathedral's dim interior. When they did, I was breathless. The space was vast, soaring upward toward vaulted ceilings that seemed to touch heaven itself. The architecture was breathtaking—Gothic...