“My lord, expand for me my breast with assurance and ease for me my test and untie the knot from my tongue so that they may understand my speech.”
This is the dua that I recite before I give a speech, or begin writing. It is one of those supplications that has helped me many times, when I cannot think of what to write.
This is what Moses said before he spoke to Pharaoh, according to the Quran. Before being sent to confront Pharaoh, Prophet Musa (AS) made this supplication. He was worried about his ability to communicate due to his speech impediment. He’s asking for confidence and clarity. Pharoah was the biggest narcissist from the ancient books. He was the epitome of the ego. He accumulated so much wealth and experienced 0 hardships and trials that he saw himself as the lord. Only his narrative mattered.
We all have a pharaoh. The role of the pharaoh is to keep you submissive, controlled, and mindlessly obedient. The pharaoh does not want you to question deeply the power dynamics that result in complacency. The pharaoh can be your nafs. Maybe the pharaoh is your desire to “keep a safe job” while your true potential and talent languish inside a corporate vortex. Maybe the pharaoh is other peoples’ opinion, like your fear of “What would my mother say?” Another possibility is that Pharaoh is the algorithm, constantly sucking your attention and asking for more of your time.
I have a pharaoh.
My pharaoh is the inner critic who says that what I write is not worthy of anyone’s time, that I have “real responsibilities that I must tend to,” that writing is just a hobby for a housewife. That I should have a real job, with health insurance and a 401K. The pharaoh in me believes that my words should stay hidden in my notes file and that I don’t need to organize the ideas into coherent essays, novels, or stories. How could I possibly dream of being a full-time writer? It’s so impractical! Every time you have a win, the pharaoh likes to remind you that you’re not doing enough elsewhere.
This Ramadan, I say no to Pharaoh.
I only ask God for guidance to make me of service.
I am not a shaykha. I am not an academic. I’m just a student seeking knowledge, alongside my little kids. The source of content is ultimately Al-Hakim, and the collection of sacred knowledge that has been passed down from generations. Then there are the teachers who continuously offer wisdom and reflections, creating and distributing knowledge daily. I know everyone has a podcast, a YouTube series, a person they turn to online for spiritual motivation. Maybe not everyone gets 1:1s with these teachers, getting to speak freely and unconsciously over brunch. Those relationships take a long time to build. They take serious and continuous work. But there’s no shortage of online content or distribution channels right now but the in-person connection to real knowledge is the greatest gift.
I’ve learned to let go of my limiting belief that you can’t make new friends after a certain age. I’m grateful for the quality and depth of people I’ve met in this journey as an online writer. I’ve met people at online book clubs, writing and craft classes, qiyyams, and play dates and playgrounds.
It has been a difficult month for me physically with insomnia, fasting and doctors’ appointments but writing is the only thing that comes easily. I can’t explain it at all. Not yet.
In May, God-willing I have some changes to this newsletter. It feels like everything is ending and starting at the same time. I’m a huge fan of hyperbole, so I hope you stick around to find out what’s happening.
A Question for You
Do you have a pharaoh? Do you have strategies to keep the ego in check? If we all have egotistical tendencies, what keeps you in balance? How do you know if your work is aligned with the right purpose? Let’s meet in the comments!
I don’t use my face or full legal name intentionally. I love my name. I love my face. It is exactly because I have such healthy self-esteem that I can’t control my ego if people get attached to my form. I feel like society profits from the human face and the female body in particular. Choosing not to use my face is a subversive, feminist act I do intentionally despite how much easier it would be to make connections with people if I had a non-bitmoji face. I pray these words will last beyond my form. And like I’ve said before, I’m a nobody.
Welcome to the Ramadan Learning Series, which offers micro-lessons for a joyful Ramadan. Here’s what I have so far:
Pre-Read: Ramadan: A Guest That Stays a Month.
Lesson 1: A Small Intention
Lesson 2: 3 Levels of Fasting
Lesson 3: Sleep is a Gift
Lesson 4: Do Less, Not More
Lesson 5: More Gifts
Lesson 6: Five-Minute Phone Calls
Some of my readers have asked how they can support my writing. Please consider making a gift here. This helps me buy cold brew sorbet, which I recently discovered does not cause me to vomit violently. It also costs about $7/pint.
I am in the ugly shoe stage of life, as a mother of young kids. Your contribution helps a Muslim mom continue her dream of reflecting on books in the context of modern existential angst. Thank you.
i like to check my ego by reminding myself, whether it’s making me feel insecure or too proud, that everything comes from Allah. that’s because, at the end of the day, ego is a big fear/anxiety inside of us that puts up a defensive barrier in order to protect us. and it does this by either putting ourselves on the pedestal or other people on the pedestal. sometimes both. so when I put Allah in the centre of that, and saying alhamdulillah and being patient when i feel like i’m lacking in something, or saying alhamdulillah and being grateful when i feel like i’m talented at something, helps me to check the ego, anxiety, fears, nafs. it reminds me that nothing is from me. it’s all from Allah (SWT).
Thanks for sharing these thoughts, Sadia. I once read somewhere that the word ‘Islam’ derives from a word that means ‘surrender’ - which immediately really fascinated me. The whole concept of surrendering is so problematic and complex. I’m sure that Islamic scholars must have written whole books about it! If it’s taken literally, I would guess there’s a danger it could be seen as crushing our sense of free-will or as stripping us of our basic freedoms. But more nuanced ways of thinking about surrender are potentially so profound. As you point out, they can inspire us to examine - to shine a light on - negative forces and internalised voices constraining our ability to live our path and fulfil our potential. Your post made me reflect on my own ‘pharaohs’. In the past, a complex web of internalised assumptions and beliefs (from my childhood etc) had a huge affect on me. It took me years to look at the world in a more lucid, open-minded, and expansive way. To be honest, I’m still on that journey! In a way, I’ve had to release myself from the grip of negative old pharaohs, and embrace some far more positive/expansive new ones. Thanks again for sharing this post. Really thought-provoking. ✨