by Adila Ahmed<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Its peculiar to me to speak about my \u2018mental health issue\u2019 as though it exists in isolation separate to life\u2019s natural unfolding, or indeed the context within which I exist. For me it raises the question, is it unique to me, organic only to my physical and emotional being and separate from a more interconnected world? I don\u2019t think so.<\/p>\n
The very way we speak about mental health is in fact problematic. I suppose it can serve a purpose in that it might help communicate an experience, inform one of where to direct the delivery of therapeutic services: but it can simultaneously condemn an individual and become an inevitable if not predictable part of a movement to disempower and isolate individuals when they are already facing numerous challenges, and in fact may be the sanest people in a world gone mad.<\/p>\n
I have questions about failing systems that collude in abusive and unequal power distributions. I have questions about whether service industries manage to sustain themselves ethically in a world where so much spin exists to engineer a constant demand for pharmacopeia and cosmetics on the back of people\u2019s insecurities & vulnerabilities. I have questions about the exploitative methods used in marketing which generate perpetual feelings of failure, failure of not achieving, not having, failing to succeed or be enough. I have questions about therapists who themselves might live by heteronormative patriarchal production & acquisition focused models and not be aware of how these may reproduce subtle and not so subtle systems of abuse and inequality.\u00a0 I am not necessarily cynical about individuals providing services, but I do wonder about how aware we are of our own collusion in exploiting individuals and maintaining systems of power and control that are inappropriate if not outright abusive. I am becoming more and more aligned to the perspective of \u2018normal\u2019 being a myth. Dr Gabor Mat\u00e9 speaks about diseases being a culturally manufactured culturally constructed paradigm. My inclination is to agree.<\/p>\n
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\n‘I pray they both rest in eternally loving peace.’<\/em><\/h2>\n<\/blockquote>\n
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With this preamble out the way I suppose I can continue. Broadly speaking one could say I have experienced vicarious trauma and bereavement. I could also elaborate a little by saying that my identity presents its own challenges, a British born Muslim woman, an ethnic minority, second generation immigrant, being queer, and committed to activism, I am always trying to navigate my way through spaces safely & with some integrity. It is a landscape fraught with challenges as well as opportunity. What do I do when my inclination to not ruffle any feathers and keep the peace can lead to me burying myself in unlife and unlove? A friend of mine shared a book with me earlier titled Michael Rosen\u2019s Sad Book. It is simple in communicating how changed Michael is in the aftermath of his son Eddie\u2019s death. My eyes filled and I felt a responsive ache in my heart when I read the words \u201csometimes because I\u2019m sad I do crazy things\u201d. Such simplicity and unwavering acknowledgment.<\/p>\n
My mum, who passed away in July 2016, would tell me about a recurring memory for her. It was a memory of my late sister as a child. She told me that my sister would sit on the edge of the bed and swing her legs back and forth. They were in Pakistan, and it was shortly after the partition, war planes would fly overhead, the loud noise would frighten my sister who was just a toddler at the time, she would run and seek protection between my mother\u2019s legs. My mum told me this with a soft gaze, beheld in her mind\u2019s eye a memory so vivid and dear, her voice would quiver and I could hear the pain of loss and eternal love. I feel it too. I have my own memories. Of walking through the door of my house and finding that it smelled like toast, my sister and mum would be talking and laughing. They would call me to join them have tea. I remember that I did not understand their conversations, I was too young and they were talking grown-up talk often in code and hushed voices, but I felt their love. I pray they both rest in eternally loving peace.<\/p>\n
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\nCoping<\/strong><\/em><\/h2>\n<\/blockquote>\n
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For a time after my sister died I managed to numb myself so completely that I was not even aware of any pain. Sometimes people drink or do drugs to cope, I threw myself into meditative activity. The thing about numbing oneself through this method is that it is so sophisticated. There\u2019s no opposition or apparent carnage, just approval & encouragement, you learn quickly to reel off all the words from the scripts you\u2019ve become so familiar with, yet internally there\u2019s dissonance. Everybody around you breathes a sigh of relief because you\u2019re not getting messy. You yourself aren\u2019t even aware of what you are doing, and then there\u2019s always the reliance on God to seize and deliver you into the right place at the right time.<\/p>\n
In truth, I only connected to my own pain when I started to listen to others who dared talk about theirs. If I\u2019ve learnt anything it is that sadness happens. It is loves own testimony & expression. It is not bad, it is not one being ungrateful, nor being overly identified with emotions or being stuck. It is just love doing what it does. A dear friend shared this reading with our spiritual group recently. I wonder if I\u2019m being fanciful when I think it was a sweet ploy, an invitation for a few of us to come back to life and be more animate? I do feel like I am just going through the motions sometimes. Like there is really nothing alive in my interiority. I was so touched nonetheless by his gesture to share this reading.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Love\u2019s Unfolding<\/strong><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n
If anyone asks you about Houris,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Show your face and say, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
If anyone speaks to you about the moon,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Rise up beyond the roof and say, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
When someone looks for a fairy princess,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Show your face to him.<\/em><\/p>\n
When someone talks of musk,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Let loose your tresses and say, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
If someone says to you,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHow do clouds part from the moon?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
Undo your robe, button by button,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And say, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
If he asks you about the Messiah,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHow could he bring the dead to life?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
Kiss my lips before him<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And say, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
When someone says, \u201cTell me,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 What does it mean to be killed by love?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
Show my soul to him<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And say, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
If someone out of concern<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Asks you how I am,<\/em><\/p>\n
Show him your eyebrow,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Bent over double, and say, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
The spirit breaks away from the body,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Then again enters within.<\/em><\/p>\n
Come, show the deniers,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Enter the house and say, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
In whatever direction you hear<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The complaint of a lover,<\/em><\/p>\n
That is my story, all of it,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 By God, like this.<\/em><\/p>\n
I am the house of every angel,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 My breast has turned blue like the sky\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n
Lift up your eyes and look with joy<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 At heaven, like this.<\/em><\/p>\n
I told the secret of union with the Beloved<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 To the east wind alone.<\/em><\/p>\n
Then, through the purity of its own mystery,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The east wind whispered, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
Those are blind who say,<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHow can the servant reach God?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
Place the candle of purity in the hand of each<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And say, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
I said, \u201cHow can the fragrance of Joseph<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Go from one town to the next?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
The fragrance of God blew from the world<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Of His Essence and said, \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
I said, \u201cHow can the fragrance of Joseph<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Give sight back to the blind?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
Your breeze came and gave light<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 To my eye: \u201cLike this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n
Perhaps Shams Ud-Deen in Tabriz<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Will show his generosity,<\/em><\/p>\n
And in his kindness display<\/em><\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 His good faith, like this.<\/em><\/p>\n
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Divan-i-Kabir: 1826<\/p>\n
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\n‘they plant them in the soil of their souls’<\/em><\/h2>\n<\/blockquote>\n
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Over time, my strategies to cope have changed. In the beginning, I felt it was important to be naked in vulnerability. A legacy of my sister\u2019s, that in vulnerability was an incredible authenticity and refusal to shy away from one\u2019s circumstance or state. There was no denial. I always admired this in her, and I vowed to be more like this myself. I would share openly and trust the process because it was something I had learned from love, from her. This came with its own lessons. Sometimes I would feel the shame of oversharing, when I\u2019d look to the face of a friend and find instead of compassion, a reactive mirth. Inevitably of course several times I\u2019d feel disappointment & betrayal, which would then translate into self-reproach for sharing in the first instance. Other times I would sit with friends who would hold space for me and they would give meaning to it all. I feel deeply grateful for this.<\/p>\n
More recently I\u2019ve retreated into a different set of behaviours, a quieter more private space, and I realise that it is because the very sacredness of loss and pain, and my need to honour it with the most exalted company.\u00a0 You are probably familiar with the sacred domain of the mahram? Where because of the sacred nature of the intimacy a veil is drawn. I think for me, my retreat is something like this. When sometimes I read from the divine names Ya Rauf, Ya Rahim or Ya Hakim, I learn that some wounds are so raw and so delicate that even some forms of love and compassion are too thick to apply to them. There is a line in the book of Physicians of the Heart that states, \u201car-Rauf is the one who genuinely says, \u201cI can be with you in the unbearableness that you feel\u201d.\u00a0 It is possible that one might only experience the ra\u2019afah of ar-Rauf in solitude and aloneness. When the wound is such that it has \u201chuman beings screaming day and night\u201d, to invoke ar-Rahim would be to wait for the gentlest ointment, gentler than a feather, a subtle perfume perhaps. Sufis sometimes chant the divine names out loud: sometimes in silence they plant them in the soil of their souls.<\/p>\n
Ya Rauf Ya Rahim, Ya Rauf Ya Rahim, Ya Rauf Ya Rahim, Ya Rauf Ya Rahim, Ya Rauf Ya Rahim, Ya Rauf Ya Rahim, Ya Rauf Ya Rahim, Ya Rauf Ya Rahim, Ya Rauf Ya Rahim, Ya Rauf Ya Rahim, Ya Rauf Ya Rahim<\/em><\/p>\n
In Surah At-Teen (95, The fig), there\u2019s a reference to Allah in the superlative as ahkam-ul-haakimeen, meaning The Most Wise of all instances of healing wisdom. I recently read that only knowledge that heals qualifies to be called wisdom. Perhaps you, like me, intuitively recognise this to be true? I guess reminding myself of this cuts through the noise sometimes.<\/p>\n
After being prompted by a line in the Mathnawi which instructs one to be like Moses under the authority of Khizr, I decided to familiarise myself with the story again. It\u2019s well-known and can be found in Surah Al-Kahf (18, The Cave). The surah is made up of parables and allegories, the story of Moses and Khidr is just one of these. However, woven between these are verses which address the Prophet Mohammed directly. When I read it I found it was like a how to survive guide for the faithful activist. There\u2019s a verse which reads \u201cWould you torment yourself to death with grief over those who are not willing to trust this message?\u201d. For me this illustrates the humanity of our Prophet, and shows how deeply distressed he would get, but it also applies to all of us once we become convinced of the truth of an ethical purpose and feel hopeless at the indifference with which our social environment may react. The Prophet, and we too, are assured by Allah in subsequent versus that Allah provides help.<\/p>\n
An example is given of the impossible becoming a reality. The prophet is reminded that it is easy for Allah.\u00a0 Remember earlier when I said my identity presents its own challenges? Well despite my identity, I don\u2019t think I\u2019m all that different from anybody else. In the Quran one can find solace. There may be a lot of opposition to people of differing grain in the larger communities, but I am convinced that love is the message as well as the way, and for Allah it is easy to bring change. Though I feel dismayed sometimes, having a little faith in Allah\u2019s immense and powerful love helps.<\/p>\n
And to everyone who is conscious of God, God always prepares a way of emergence<\/em><\/p>\n
And provides for him\/her in ways he\/she could never imagine <\/em><\/p>\n
(65, Surah At-Talaq)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\nAdila Ahmed is a member of the London Threshold Society. She has interests in radical\/queer feminism, and is a former student of the feminist researcher and activist Professor Liz Kelly CBE.<\/p>\n
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