Her hands tensely shook as she weaved the floss threader through her front teeth buttressed by a fixed retainer. Her morning routine was interrupted by tremors, a side effect from the psychotropic medication she had been prescribed and had taken for more than a year. The doctors diagnosed her with schizoaffective disorder, but Safiyah’s battle was more spiritual than mental. She struggled with fitting in.
To fit in, she experimented with drugs and alcohol. To fit in, she practiced the occult. She wanted to find a purpose to aim for and a place to belong. She wanted friends and a husband, but she certainly got the short end of the stick. Her so-called friends disappeared when she chose to avoid substance abuse. Her so-called spirit guides couldn’t answer her heart’s questions, like whom she would marry, so she closed the door on black magic and slid to the floor in humility. Safiyah was invited to Islam where she learned there are consequences for one’s actions. She changed her name from Sofia, meaning wisdom, to Safiyah, meaning pure. She began a journey to please Allah. She learned her purpose was to worship God. From seeking wisdom to being pure, her name gave her blessed aspirations.
As a new Muslim, she faced periodic defeat. Her hallucinations and delusions distanced her from the outside world. In her home, she heard disembodied voices and saw images disconnected from immediate reality. As she prayed Maghrib one evening in her bedroom, she peeked through the open door of the bathroom and watched a reenactment of the crucifixion, but instead of Jesus, it was Judas on the cross. The vivid display took place with high-resolution quality, as if a silent film. Nothing was spoken, but through the power of ekphrasis, Safiyah could put words to visual representations.
Life–if you could call it that–was either darkness or blinding light. Safiyah’s sleeplessness left her ample time for Qur’anic recitation. She walked a tightrope. Her heart was a flaming fire that did not consume. She could hear Allah’s speech. It was guidance, but like Moses, her tongue was tied in knots. She wanted to speak up about the human condition–about how without the mercy of Allah, mankind was certainly in a state of loss, but due to her mental health condition, people discounted her views.
Islam is empowering, but sometimes the truth is overwhelming. Who but the Lord of mankind and jinn could offer respite from an onslaught of clinical symptoms? Who is responsible for healing the human body, mind, and soul? Can medicine correct the misfiring of neurons? Safiyah’s psychiatrist attributed her diagnosis to the result of faulty brain chemistry. This discouraged Safiyah who struggled to have reality-based conversations and who isolated herself, ashamed.
Safiyah read a Hadith that inspired her. Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, said, “Take advantage of five before five: your youth before your old age, your health before your sickness, your wealth before your poverty, your free time before your busyness, and your life before your death.”
His prophetic wisdom spoke to the universality of the human experience. It was like a spring of water, overflowing. Safiyah knew she could find healing in Islam. With spiritual growth and medical intervention, she would be steady and float in what was an ocean of tears. Hope reached the surface. It rid her of anguish and fears. She realized she wasn’t perfect, but investing hope for success and happiness, in this life and the next, was worth it.
Yerusalem Work
This is a highly positive story of how spirituality or religion can heal the mind and spirit—how it can give hope and purpose to one’s life. I enjoyed reading it.
Fitting into what society wants is a human experience I can relate to. This is not the way of wisdom, although I do entrap myself in this notion. This is why I feel so deeply for Safiyah and I cheer for he finding a way out through her spirituality. I also enjoyed the vivid description of “Judas on the cross” which challenges my truth of Christian doctrine. A-plus Yerusalem.
Safiya felt human, and her reality felt real. Such is your writing, Yeru. Vivid and poignant, tugging at the heart. Yet again, I say well done!