By Tania Lin

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh, brothers and sisters. Alhamdulilah. All praises be to Allah ﷻ and our beloved Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.

I pray my reflection inspires you to draw closer to Allah ﷻ, our beloved Prophet Muhammad ﷺ and Islam.

May Allah ﷻ grant us love and guidance through this reflection. All beneficial knowledge and good deeds are from Allah ﷻ, all bad is from this needy servant. Please forgive my shortcomings. 

During the Penang bus ride to the retreat, my heart felt a surge of sacred familiarity—as if the rūḥ (soul)  had already known these people, these spaces, and these moments. These weren’t new encounters, but remembrances.

It felt like home: a strange, familiar comfort and peace—an immediate, burning love for a new family that defied rationale.

Why did it feel like an invitation back home?

This wasn’t merely a physical journey but a spiritual homecoming—a return to where the soul recognises its origin and companions.

It wasn’t about arrival but recognition.

Abū Hurayrah (RA) reported the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said: “Souls are like recruited soldiers. Those familiar with one another (in the heavens) will be inclined towards each other (in the world), and those who differed will remain distant.”

Sahih Bukhari, Sahih Muslim

Re-Living Dreams

During Ramadan 1445H (2024), I dreamt of approaching Ustaz Sameer praying in a mosque. I asked if he would be my teacher. He responded, “You’ll have to love Allah ﷻ as I do first.”

Alhamdulillah. By Allah’s infinite Mercy and Qadr (Divine Decree), a year later, during Ramadan 1446H (2025), I was invited to the spiritual retreat. My heart was ready to receive.

Another moment unfolded at the Silsilah Muhibbiyah (a space owned by our Sheikh) while standing in prayer. This exact spot, these companions, this very prayer—had all been seen before in a dream.

It was not déjà vu but a quiet unveiling.

These specific scenes had been written, and the heart was catching up. There was no stepping into the unknown. This was a return to the ancient, the intimate, the already known.

Allah’s Hand: Letting Go

During a deep session of meditative Dhikr (remembrance of Allah ﷻ), a vision appeared: angels surrounded the space, and a soft, radiant white light, shaped like a hand, rested gently.

A voice whispered, “You are safe now. There is no need to keep fighting.”

FOR YEARS, MY HEART HAD CLUNG TO STRENGTH AS A FORM OF SURVIVAL—ARMOURING UP, GUARDING EVERY WOUND. BUT IN SURRENDER, WHAT REMAINED WAS ONLY LOVE AND RELIEF.

We didn’t deserve to be here, yet here we were.

Cultivating ‘Ubūdiyyah: Complete Submission and Devotion to Allah ﷻ

A destitute, needy servant only begins to understand his Master (Ar-Rabb) when the self is debased and humbled, acknowledging that nothing exists without the sustaining Mercy.

In this complete state of ‘Ubūdiyyah—self-negation, withdrawal from indulgence, sleep, idle talk, and worldly distraction—the hearts awakened. The veil was lifted with intensive ‘Ibādah (worship) and Dhikr (meditative remembrance of Allah ﷻ).

And our King (Al-Mālik), His Beloved Prophet ﷺ, and His angels were present with us.

The Prophet ﷺ said: “Allah says, ‘I am as My servant thinks of Me. I am with him when he remembers Me. If he remembers Me in himself, I remember him in Myself. If he remembers Me in a gathering, I remember him in a gathering better than it.’”

Sahih Bukhari

This path is a lifetime journey of Murāqabah—being mindful and aware of Allah’s presence. It requires disciplined repetition, consistency, and submission as one remembers one’s station as a needy, returning soul. When the veils of anxiety, fear, and attachment fade away, our hearts desire only to return to Him.

Between Gratitude and Longing

I yearned to remain in a state of Ibādah (worship) with this newfound spiritual family. To live as though nothing else existed but Allah ﷻ.

For He is the only enduring reality—everything else is an illusion.

But how does one carry the clarity of Lā Ilāha Illallah (There is no god but Allah ﷻ) into daily life?

Where is the urgency to honour the covenant made—to live solely for Him and repay a debt that can never be fully repaid?

On the journey home, these questions weighed heavily. Yet they were met with something more profound: gratitude. My tears fell with the rain, not of sorrow but of awe. Nothing had been done for us to deserve Allah’s Goodness and Mercy.

Tears are the currency of love between our hearts and Allah ﷻ.

By His mercy, Allah ﷻ gifted us Deen (Faith/religion; a way of life). He loaned His slaves life, knowledge, power, will, hearing, sight, and speech. He granted ease and opened doors we never knocked on.

He tore the veil and reunited our hearts with precious spiritual guides, family, and our Beloved Prophet ﷺ—during the most sacred nights of Ramadan.

Ya Rabb, what more could we ask for?

Do You Believe in One God
& Ready to [Re]start your Journey of Faith & Gratitude as a Muslim?