Heart Attack

How I wish I had a pure heart. Yesterday I met somebody whose heart was so beautiful and pure, whose faith was so alive and so real. My own journey is difficult as I struggle with my nafs. I take one step forward and almost immediately fall two steps back. My sorrow for missed opportunities. So it was a month ago that I set out on my path of reform, insisting upon straightening myself and returning to my Lord. I held such hope as I sustained that new spirit and dedication. And yet here I am once more, broken again. I opened the door a crack and was overwhelmed by the torrent that spewed through. I think I know what I must do the pull myself out of this recurring rut, but I find it difficult to let go. I think I know what it is that is dragging me down, that is killing me, but it is made up of one hundred thousand words that have emerged over five years. I am extremely irritable at the moment, getting angry and upset for the tiniest reason. I say I don’t know what’s wrong with me at the moment, but I do. It’s my heart, my soul, crying out against me. Sitting in my Qur’an class this morning, I reminded myself what I must do. But by evening the resolve has dissipated and once more I cling to the same old same old. Was I really wrong in the past to hit the delete key and wipe out that first novel of mine? Was I perhaps not more in touch with my soul and its poisons than I have become ever since? What would be my loss today? One hundred thousand words, five years’ work and a longing? Would I be worse off? If not that, could I burn it all onto a CD and archive it for years to come when I have overcome the diseases of my heart? It is not the writing, but where the writing leads me. Away from my Lord. Thus it becomes worthless, an obstacle to my dreams. Ultimately it leads me back to this point, over and over again: miserable, irritable, angry, snappy, unpleasant. Far, far away from the noblest example that we all wish to emulate. And then where?

“By the sun and his brightness, and the moon when she follows him, and the day when it reveals him, and the night when it enshrouds him, and the heaven and Him Who built it, And the earth and Him Who spread it out, and a soul and Him Who perfected it and inspired it with awareness of what is wrong for it and what is right for it, he is indeed successful who purifies it, and he is indeed a failure who neglects it.”