The Book of Wisdoms
SowSee Summary
About the Book
The Book of Wisdoms by Ibn ‘Ata’illah al-Iskandari is a jewel that offers profound insights into our relationship with God. Written as a guide for spiritual aspirants, the text comprises 261 aphorisms, reflective letters, and intimate supplications. These teachings bridge outward Islamic practices with inward spiritual realization, drawing from the Qur’an and Hadith.
About the Author
Ibn ‘Ata’illah al-Iskandari (1259–1309) was a leading scholar of the Shadhili Order. His works blend jurisprudence with spiritual insights, drawing respect across Islamic schools, including praise from critics like Ibn Taymiyyah. He taught at al-Azhar and authored several treatises that systematized doctrines on spirituality, leaving a lasting impact.
Insight 1: Reliance on Deeds Is a Form of Self-Deception
“A feeling of discouragement when you slip up is a sure sign that you put your faith in deeds.”
—Ibn ‘Ata’illah al-Iskandari
You’ve felt it before—that sinking feeling when you miss a prayer, let your tongue slip, or fall short of the spiritual goals you set. Disappointment washes over you, and it feels heavy, as if you’ve let yourself and God down. It’s easy to think this discouragement is a sign of sincerity, a marker that you care deeply about your spiritual progress. But Ibn ‘Ata’illah offers a sobering truth: if failure brings you to despair, it’s not humility—it’s ego.
Here’s the reality: when you rely too much on your deeds, you inevitably rely too much on yourself. You begin to believe that your prayers, fasting, and charity are the things holding your relationship with God together. And when those slip, even momentarily, your sense of spiritual worth crumbles. This mindset reveals a hidden flaw: you’ve unknowingly placed your faith in the actions of your limbs rather than the mercy of your Lord.
Ibn ‘Ajiba, in his commentary, takes this a step further. He explains that actions are like vessels, but it’s God’s mercy that fills them. Without His grace, the most meticulous prayers or righteous deeds are hollow. This isn’t to diminish the importance of action—far from it. But the essence of worship lies not in the act itself, but in the sincerity and reliance that accompany it.
Think of it this way: a farmer tills his land, plants seeds, and waters the soil. But no matter how diligently he works, he cannot make the rain fall or the sun shine. His role is to cultivate the land, but the harvest depends on forces beyond his control. Your spiritual work functions the same way. You pray, fast, give, and strive. But the growth—the closeness to The Creator, the purity of the heart—comes not from your labor alone but from His divine favor.
When you slip, and you will, the reaction that matters is not despair but redirection. A sincere heart sees failure as a reminder to return to God, not a reason to abandon the path. The reason despair after a slip is dangerous is that it feeds a subtle form of arrogance. It whispers, “I should be better than this. I deserve to be on a higher level.” This mentality forgets that any goodness you achieve is a gift, not a personal accomplishment. As soon as you forget that, the ego quietly replaces humility.
So how do you shift your mindset? Start by remembering that your deeds are not the currency that buys God’s mercy—they are the expression of your need for it. Every prayer is a declaration of dependence, every act of charity a plea for His grace. This realization liberates you from the exhausting cycle of spiritual highs and lows based on performance. Instead, you settle into a steady rhythm of trust.
On the days you miss the mark, return to your Lord without hesitation. The door of repentance is not just open—it was built for people like you. Ibn ‘Ata’illah reminds you that God’s mercy isn’t waiting at the finish line; it accompanies you at every step, even the missteps.
Ultimately, your relationship with God isn’t defined by perfection but by persistence. The goal is not to arrive unblemished but to keep walking, no matter how many times you stumble. As Ibn ‘Ajiba notes, “Your hope should not lessen when you fall into sin, nor should it grow when you perform good deeds. Your reliance should remain fixed on God.”
Trust that The Most Merciful’s mercy is far greater than your errors. And the next time you slip, let it be a reminder—not of how far you’ve fallen, but of how near God remains.
Insight 2: The Heart Can’t Reflect Divine Light While Occupied with the World
“How can a heart be illuminated when its mirror reflects worldly figures only?”
—Ibn ‘Ata’illah al-Iskandari
Your heart is a mirror. It reflects whatever stands before it. If that mirror is clouded with the images of the world—wealth, status, desires—it cannot reflect the light of God. Ibn ‘Ata’illah’s aphorism cuts through to a universal truth: the heart cannot hold the lower world and God at the same time.
Think of a mirror coated in dust. No matter how much light you shine on it, the reflection will remain dim. The heart, too, accumulates layers of dust—attachment to material possessions, ego, the constant need for validation. These layers aren’t always obvious. They build gradually, through small indulgences, unchecked desires, and the creeping belief that your worth is measured by what you achieve, own, or control.
Here’s the paradox: the more you chase the world, the more restless you become. And yet, the more you release it, the more peace you feel. This isn’t about abandoning life or rejecting responsibilities. It’s about recalibrating your focus. The world has a place, but it should reside in your hand—not your heart. When the world governs your heart, it shapes your identity. But when God resides there, everything else falls into perspective.
Ibn ‘Ajiba, in his commentary, explains that the heart was created to reflect divine light, much like the moon reflects the sun. But when the heart turns away from The Creator, it faces darkness. It begins to reflect the lesser light of the world, flickering and unstable. The more you allow the dunya to occupy that space, the less capacity your heart has for divine presence.
Ask yourself: What fills the mirror of your heart? Is it the pursuit of wealth, status, or relationships? Do you find yourself consumed by comparisons, scrolling endlessly through social media, measuring your life against curated images of others? Each of these distractions leaves fingerprints on the mirror of your heart, distorting its ability to reflect God’s light.
Ibn ‘Ata’illah’s words are not a condemnation of the world but a recalibration. Engage with the world, but do not let it anchor your heart. Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, said, “Be in this world as if you were a stranger or a traveler passing through”. A traveler uses what he needs but doesn’t become attached to the stops along the way. Your heart’s true home is with your Lord, and everything else is temporary lodging.
So how do you cleanse the mirror? Start with devotional remembrance of God. Remembrance polishes the heart, wiping away the dust of distraction. The more you remember your Lord, the more your heart reflects His light. Next, practice detachment. Let go of the things you grasp too tightly. This doesn’t mean discarding them, but rather releasing your need for them to define your worth.
Reflect on this Hadith: “God does not look at your appearance or wealth but looks at your hearts and deeds”. What God seeks is not how much you own or how impressive your resume looks, but the state of your heart.
Ibn ‘Ajiba offers a practical insight: withdraw the heart into the arena of reflection. Take moments each day to sit in silence, away from noise and distractions. Let your heart recalibrate in the stillness. When the heart is emptied of the world, even for a moment, it becomes receptive to divine wisdom.
This isn’t an overnight process. It’s the work of a lifetime—constantly dusting off the mirror, realigning your focus, and gently guiding your heart back to The One, when it strays. But each step is worth it. With every layer of dust removed, the heart reflects more light, and with more light comes clarity, peace, and nearness to The Creator.
The world will always tug at you, offering new distractions and veiling you from the divine. But remember, the mirror doesn’t need to be perfectly clean to reflect light. Even a small clearing is enough to let God’s light in. Your task is simply to keep polishing.
Insight 3: Trusting God’s Timing Over Your Own
“If you make intense supplication and the timing of the answer is delayed, do not despair. His reply is guaranteed; but in the way He chooses, not the way you choose.”
—Ibn ‘Ata’illah al-Iskandari
You pray, you plead, and you wait. But the answer doesn’t come—at least, not when you expect it. There’s silence, and that silence feels heavy. You start to wonder: Is God even listening?
Ibn ‘Ata’illah speaks directly to this frustration. The delay in response, he says, isn’t neglect. It’s intentional. God’s answers arrive precisely when they’re meant to, in the form He knows is best for you. The issue isn’t with God’s timing; it’s with your impatience.
Think about how conditioned you are to expect immediate results. You live in a world of instant gratification—food arrives at your door within minutes, answers to questions are a Google search away, and messages are replied to in seconds. This expectation bleeds into your spiritual life. When you ask your Lord for something, you subconsciously anticipate a swift, visible reply. And when it doesn’t come, doubt creeps in.
But Ibn ‘Ata’illah reframes the entire situation. The delay is not a denial. It’s a process, and that process is just as valuable—if not more—than the outcome you’re waiting for. The time between your supplication and God’s response is where growth happens. This is the space where trust is built.
The Qur’an reminds you of this over and over: “And it may be that you dislike a thing which is good for you; and it may be that you love a thing which is bad for you. And God knows, while you do not know”. You’re asking from a limited perspective, but God is responding from infinite knowledge. Sometimes what you want isn’t what you need. Sometimes, the delay is protecting you from a harm you can’t see yet.
Consider the stories of the Prophets. Prophet Yusuf, for example, endured years of hardship and imprisonment before being elevated to a position of power. If his release had come sooner, he might never have reached that station. His patience allowed God’s plan to unfold in its fullness.
Your life operates the same way. You might be asking for relief, but God is preparing you for elevation. You might be begging for ease, but God knows that strength is forged in difficulty. Each moment of waiting is polishing your soul, refining your character, and pulling you closer to Him.
Here’s the hard truth: part of trusting your Lord means trusting His timing. You cannot claim to believe in His wisdom while simultaneously resenting His delays.
Real faith is tested in the space between request and reply.
So how do you practice this kind of trust?
- Release the Need for Control – Acknowledge that you are not in charge of the outcomes. You plant the seeds of effort and prayer, but the harvest belongs to your Lord.
- Shift Your Focus to the Process – View the waiting period as a spiritual exercise. Use that time to strengthen your connection to The Creator, increase your remembrance, and reflect on your reliance on Him.
- Embrace Gratitude – Sometimes the very delay you resent is saving you from a calamity. Be grateful for God’s protection, even when you don’t understand it.
Ibn ‘Ajiba expands on this by reminding you that unanswered prayers are still forms of mercy. The act of asking itself is a gift. Every moment spent in supplication is a moment spent in remembrance of God. Whether or not you see immediate results, that remembrance elevates you.
In the end, the delay may be the answer. God is drawing you closer, teaching you patience, and refining your soul. The silence isn’t empty—it’s full of divine presence. Trust that when the time is right, the answer will come. And when it does, it will arrive with a sweetness you couldn’t have imagined had it come earlier.
Insight 4: The Power of Sincerity – Breathing Life into Actions
“Actions are but motionless forms, and their spirit lies in the presence of a committed heart.”
—Ibn ‘Ata’illah al-Iskandari
You can pray, fast, give charity, and fulfill every outward obligation of faith—and yet, feel empty inside. Something feels off, like you’re going through the motions without really moving closer to your Lord. Ibn ‘Ata’illah strikes at the heart of this dissonance: Deeds without sincerity are lifeless.
Think of sincerity as the soul of your actions. Without it, worship becomes mechanical, devoid of meaning or transformative power. A prayer performed without presence is just movement. Charity given for recognition is just a transaction. Fasting without mindfulness is merely hunger. The outward forms are there, but they lack the spirit that animates them.
Ibn ‘Ajiba, in his commentary, deepens this point by reminding you that the intention behind an action is what determines its weight in the sight of God. Two people might perform the exact same deed—one is raised in ranks, the other left with nothing. Why? Because one did it purely for God, while the other sought approval, praise, or personal gain.
Reflect for a moment. How often do you find yourself subtly chasing recognition? Even in worship, the ego slips in. You may perform an extra sunnah prayer hoping someone notices, or recite Qur’an with the faint desire that others will admire your voice. These desires are subtle but corrosive. They siphon the blessing from your actions, leaving behind only the hollow shell.
Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, warned of this in a profound hadith: “The first to be judged on the Day of Resurrection will be a man who was martyred. He will be brought and God will make known to him His blessings, and he will acknowledge them. God will say: ‘And what did you do about them?’ He will say: ‘I fought for Your sake until I was martyred.’ God will say: ‘You have lied—you fought so that it would be said that you were courageous.’ And so it was said.”
This hadith is a sobering reminder: even noble acts can be corrupted by the absence of sincerity.
So, what can you do? How do you breathe life into your actions?
1. Begin with Intention
Before you perform any deed, pause. Ask yourself: Why am I doing this? Realign your heart by silently reaffirming, “This is for God alone.” This simple internal dialogue acts like a compass, steering you back toward sincerity.
2. Seek the Hidden Deeds
Imam Al-Ghazali advises doing acts of worship in secret, away from the eyes of others. Charity given quietly, night prayers performed when no one is watching—these are acts infused with sincerity because they remove the temptation of seeking validation. Develop a habit of worship that exists solely between you and your Lord.
3. Detach from Praise
Train yourself to be indifferent to praise or criticism. As Imam Shafi’i said, “When the sincere servant gives up concern for praise and blame, he achieves sincerity.” Your focus should be on how God sees your actions, not how people perceive them.
4. Ask for Sincerity
The Prophet, peace be upon him, frequently taught how to seek God’s help in purifying the heart. One of his supplications was:
“O God, I seek refuge in You from associating anything with You knowingly, and I ask for Your forgiveness for what I do unknowingly.”
Recognize that sincerity itself is a divine gift. Continually ask God to grant you sincerity in your worship.
5. Remember Who You’re Standing Before
When you pray, remind yourself: You are in direct conversation with God—the Lord of the Worlds. Let that awareness strip away the desire to impress anyone else. Visualize standing before God on the Day of Judgment, presenting your deeds. Would you rather present actions done for Him or deeds corrupted by the pursuit of worldly praise?
Ibn ‘Ajiba describes sincerity as a fortress that protects the heart from the “thieves of the ego.” Without it, every act of worship risks being stolen by pride or self-interest. But with sincerity, even the smallest action—a smile, a single word of kindness—becomes a weighty deed in the sight of your Lord.
The beauty of sincerity is that it simplifies everything. You no longer have to juggle appearances, nor do you need to chase recognition. Your heart finds peace because it’s no longer divided between pleasing people and pleasing The Creator of people.
Ibn ‘Ata’illah’s insight isn’t just about improving your worship; it’s about transforming your life. When sincerity anchors your actions, every part of your existence becomes an act of devotion. Your work, your relationships, even your daily habits become avenues to seek God’s pleasure.
At the core of this lesson is freedom—the kind that comes when your heart is unshackled from the need for validation. With sincerity, you become the servant of One, not many. And in that servitude, you discover the deepest kind of peace.
Insight 5: Deprivation as Divine Generosity
“Sometimes He gives you by depriving you, and sometimes He deprives you by giving you.”
—Ibn ‘Ata’illah al-Iskandari
You think you know what you need. You map out your plans, set your goals, and pray that God grants them. When things fall into place, you feel validated—grateful even. But when doors close, when opportunities slip through your fingers, the disappointment stings. You wonder, Why would my Lord withhold this from me?
Ibn ‘Ata’illah offers a perspective that upends this entire mindset: What feels like deprivation may, in reality, be divine generosity. Sometimes God gives by withholding. And sometimes, what seems like a gift is actually a test—a form of spiritual deprivation disguised as abundance.
This aphorism forces you to reevaluate how you measure blessings. If you only see gifts in the form of material gain, ease, or success, you miss the hidden nature of God’s mercy. Not everything you desire is good for you. And not everything denied is a loss.
Reflect for a moment. How many times have you longed for something—a job, a relationship, a new opportunity—only to later realize that its absence saved you from harm? Or consider the reverse: you achieved what you wanted, but it left you feeling empty, distanced from The One, or burdened by unforeseen consequences.
Ibn ‘Ajiba, in his commentary, deepens this point by drawing on the Qur’anic verse:
“But perhaps you hate a thing and it is good for you; and perhaps you love a thing and it is bad for you. And God knows, while you do not know.”
Your vision is limited to the present moment, but God sees the entire arc of your life. He knows the destination while you’re still struggling with the map. That door that closed wasn’t rejection—it was protection. That opportunity you missed wasn’t loss—it was your Lord redirecting you toward something better, or refining you through patience.
Here’s the core of this insight: God’s giving isn’t limited to the things you can hold in your hands. Sometimes, His greatest gifts are found in the growth that emerges from hardship. When He withholds, it’s not punishment. It’s refinement. He’s carving away the excess, stripping you of attachments that keep your heart tethered to the world.
This is how God prepares you for elevation. Just as gold is purified through fire, the heart is purified through trials. Deprivation becomes a tool to hollow out space in your heart—space that can then be filled with God’s light.
But this perspective demands a shift in how you respond to hardship. Rather than seeing deprivation as rejection, you must learn to ask, “What is God teaching me through this?” If you can sit with that question long enough, you’ll begin to see the wisdom beneath the surface.
Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, embodied this. His life was marked by trials—loss of family, poverty, and immense responsibility. Yet, through every deprivation, he drew closer to his Lord, and was raised in rank. His heart remained unattached to the world, anchored solely in the divine.
How do you practice this in your own life?
- Reframe Your Losses – Instead of asking, “Why me?” start asking, “What does my Lord want from me in this moment?” Look for the lessons buried in your disappointments.
- Trust in Delays – When prayers seem unanswered, remind yourself that silence is often God’s way of orchestrating something better. Trust the timing, even when it feels difficult.
- Detach from Outcomes – Perform your duties and make your efforts, but release the need to control results. Surrendering the outcome to God cultivates peace, regardless of what unfolds.
- Practice Gratitude in Hardship – When things are taken away, thank God for what remains. This mindset shifts your focus from scarcity to abundance, anchoring you in divine trust.
Ibn ‘Ata’illah’s insight isn’t just about enduring hardship—it’s about transforming it into spiritual fuel. The more you accept that The Creator’s wisdom may manifest in ways you don’t immediately understand, the lighter your heart becomes.
Deprivation becomes a sign of His nearness. It’s a reminder that God is intimately involved in your life, actively shaping your path toward Him. And when you trust that even the “no’s” are part of His mercy, you’ll find contentment that doesn’t waver with circumstances.
Remember this: Not every unanswered prayer is a loss. Sometimes, the greatest gift God can give you is to withhold what you thought you needed—so He can give you what you truly do.
Insight 6: Gratitude as the Anchor of the Soul
“He who is grateful fastens [blessings] with their own ropes.”
—Ibn ‘Ata’illah al-Iskandari
Gratitude isn’t just a polite gesture—it’s a spiritual strategy. It’s a defense against arrogance, a weapon against despair, and a magnet for more blessings. Ibn ‘Ata’illah’s insight reminds you that gratitude isn’t a passive reaction to receiving good fortune. It’s an active force that preserves and amplifies the blessings in your life.
Most people treat gratitude like a switch, something they turn on when things are going well. You land the job, get the promotion, or hear good news, and suddenly you’re thankful. But what about when life feels ordinary—or worse, when it feels hard? That’s when gratitude truly matters. Ibn ‘Ata’illah is telling you that the key to holding onto blessings isn’t to hoard them or cling to them in fear. It’s to anchor them in gratitude.
Think of gratitude as the knot that secures the rope holding your blessings in place. Without it, blessings are like sand slipping through your fingers. You don’t lose them all at once, but slowly, subtly—until one day you look around and wonder where they went. The blessings didn’t disappear. You just stopped noticing them.
Gratitude Grounds You in Reality
One of the greatest dangers in life is entitlement—the belief that you’re owed something. This entitlement creeps in quietly. You start to expect comfort, success, or ease. And when you don’t get it, frustration sets in. But gratitude flips this on its head. It reminds you that everything—from the breath you’re taking right now to the roof over your head—is a gift. Nothing is owed, yet everything is given.
Reflect on this Qur’anic reminder:
“If you are grateful, I will surely increase you [in favor]; but if you deny, indeed, My punishment is severe.”
This isn’t just a spiritual principle; it’s a universal law. The more you appreciate what you have, the more space you create for additional blessings. But the opposite is also true. When you ignore or take for granted what you’ve been given, you risk losing it—either physically or emotionally.
Gratitude Shifts Your Perspective
When you focus on what you lack, life feels small and constrained. But when you focus on what you already have, life expands. Gratitude shifts your gaze from what’s missing to what’s present. This shift isn’t just psychological—it’s spiritual. It realigns your heart with your Lord, reminding you that He is the source of all good.
Ibn ‘Ajiba, in his commentary, explains that gratitude isn’t limited to words. True gratitude manifests in three ways:
- With the Heart – Recognizing that all blessings come from God.
- With the Tongue – Expressing thanks to God and acknowledging His gifts.
- With the Actions – Using those blessings in ways that please Him.
If you’re grateful for your health, you protect and use it to serve others. If you’re grateful for wealth, you spend it in charity. If you’re grateful for knowledge, you teach and apply it. Gratitude isn’t static; it’s dynamic and transformative.
Gratitude in Times of Hardship
The real test of gratitude isn’t during ease—it’s during difficulty. Can you be grateful even when life feels hard? Ibn ‘Ata’illah’s aphorism points to a deeper truth: sometimes the greatest blessings come disguised as trials. The absence of something can be just as much a gift as its presence.
This echoes the words of Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him:
“Wondrous is the affair of the believer! Verily, all of his affairs are good. If something pleasing befalls him, he thanks God and it becomes good for him. And if something harmful befalls him, he is patient and it becomes good for him.”
Gratitude in hardship doesn’t mean pretending the pain isn’t real. It means trusting that your Lord is working through the difficulty to bring you closer to Him. The hardship becomes a blessing when you respond with gratitude, knowing that even in loss, God’s wisdom is present.
Practical Ways to Cultivate Gratitude
- Daily Reflection: At the end of each day, write down three things you’re grateful for. This simple habit rewires your brain to notice blessings you might overlook.
- Remembrance of Gratitude: Regularly say, “Alhamdulillah,” All Praise is due to God, not just after prayers, but throughout your day. Let it become a reflex, a constant acknowledgment of your Lord’s presence.
- Serve Others: One of the quickest ways to cultivate gratitude is to serve those who have less. It puts your own life in perspective and softens the heart.
Gratitude Preserves the Heart
Ultimately, gratitude isn’t just about securing blessings—it’s about safeguarding your heart. A heart that is constantly grateful remains soft, humble, and connected to The Creator. It resists the corrosion of pride and the toxins of resentment. Gratitude is the guardrail that keeps you from veering into arrogance or despair.
Ibn ‘Ata’illah’s wisdom is clear: Don’t wait for blessings to arrive to start being grateful. Be grateful now, and watch how God opens doors you didn’t even know existed. The blessings you’re praying for might already be present—you just need the eyes of gratitude to see them.
Insight 7: Journey to The Creator, Not the Creation
“Do not travel from creature to creature; you had better travel from creatures to the Creator.”
—Ibn ‘Ata’illah al-Iskandari
Life is a journey. Every day, you’re moving toward something—more money, a better career, a relationship, recognition. But how often do you pause and ask yourself, Where is this journey really taking me? Ibn ‘Ata’illah delivers a piercing truth: if your destination is anything other than your Lord, you’re moving in circles.
You chase one thing after another—success, people’s approval, material comfort. When you reach what you thought you wanted, the satisfaction is fleeting. Almost immediately, you begin eyeing the next goal, the next achievement. This endless pursuit can exhaust your heart and soul, leaving you feeling empty even in the presence of abundance.
Ibn ‘Ata’illah’s aphorism pulls you out of this loop. He reminds you that creation—no matter how attractive or fulfilling—will never satisfy the soul. Why? Because the soul wasn’t made for the creation. It was made for the Creator.
Seeking Fulfillment from the Creation Is a Mirage
You’ve felt it before. You thought achieving a certain milestone or gaining someone’s approval would fill the void inside. And for a brief moment, it does. But that satisfaction quickly fades, replaced by a restless hunger for something more. This cycle is relentless because no created thing—no person, no status, no possession—can sustain lasting peace.
It’s like drinking salt water to quench your thirst. The more you consume, the thirstier you become. What you’re actually craving is something the world can’t provide. The world has a role in your life, but it was never meant to be your destination. It’s a bridge, not a home.
Turning Toward the Creator
When Ibn ‘Ata’illah advises you to journey to the Creator, he’s inviting you to reframe your life. This doesn’t mean abandoning your responsibilities or retreating from the world. It means reorienting your heart. Every action, relationship, and pursuit becomes a vehicle to draw closer to The Creator.
Work isn’t just about earning a paycheck—it’s an opportunity to practice sincerity and excellence for God’s sake. Relationships aren’t just for companionship—they’re mirrors that reflect your character and push you to grow. Even hardships become steps on the path, refining your heart and teaching you patience and trust.
Practical Steps to Journey Toward God
- Audit Your Intentions – Before every action, ask yourself: Is this bringing me closer to my Lord or further away? The goal isn’t perfection but awareness. The more you realign your actions with God’s pleasure, the more meaningful your life becomes.
- Detach from Praise and Criticism – Stop seeking validation from people. Ibn ‘Ata’illah says, “The one who is guided by the praise of people will suffer from their criticism.” Anchor your worth in how God sees you, not how people perceive you.
- Incorporate Remembrance into Daily Life – Remembrance transforms ordinary moments into acts of worship. It redirects your heart from the distractions of the world back to The Creator. The Qur’an states, “Unquestionably, by the remembrance of God hearts are assured.”
- Reflect on the Temporary Nature of the World – Regularly remind yourself that nothing in this life lasts. The home you build, the career you cultivate, the people you love—they are all temporary. Let this reflection deepen your desire for God, the Eternal.
- Serve Others with the Right Intention – Serving people can be an act of worship if your intention is to please God. Helping others redirects your focus from self-centered goals to higher, divine aspirations.
The Reward of Traveling to the Creator
Ibn ‘Ata’illah assures you that turning toward your Lord is not just a spiritual journey—it’s a source of peace and contentment. When God becomes your ultimate goal, the weight of the world begins to lift.
Ibn ‘Ata’illah’s words call you to shift your focus from the fleeting to the eternal. Let every step, every breath, and every moment be part of that journey. In seeking God, you find the peace and fulfillment the world could never provide.