The year of returning

I’m sure you have seen the memes of manifesting just being glorified dua (supplication). Well, I have one better for you.

An existential crisis and a desire to isolate yourself and pivot your life is your soul yearning for Allah. Yes, I know. Bear with me here.

Before revelation came to him, the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ would retreat to the Cave of Hira—not to escape responsibility, but for something much deeper.

He went seeking stillness.

He went because his heart was heavy with the injustice and moral confusion of the world around him. The idol worship, the corruption, the cruelty toward the vulnerable—it all weighed on him. And so he turned inward. He turned upward.

In the quiet of that cave, away from noise and expectation, he sought closeness to his Creator. He spent nights in solitude, reflection, and worship, trying to make sense of a world that felt increasingly distant from truth.

And in that quiet space of sincerity, it was there that revelation descended with no one watching, except Allah.

It reminds me that sometimes, pulling away isn’t about giving up. Sometimes, it’s how we come home to faith, clarity, and purpose.

And maybe when our hearts feel restless today, it’s the same invitation:
To pause.
To reflect.
To seek.

I think about that often, with so much uncertainty in the world and managing the thoughts creeping in.

But when I remember the Cave of Hira, I’m reminded that uncertainty isn’t a punishment—it’s an invitation. An invitation to pause, pull back, and ask: What am I really seeking? What voices am I listening to? Where is Allah in all of this?

In a world that demands we be constantly moving, constantly achieving, and continually sure, it's hard to accept not knowing. It’s hard to be in the cave alone with our thoughts, fears, and hopes.

But maybe that’s precisely where the clarity begins.

The Prophet ﷺ didn’t emerge from that cave the same man. He came down with revelation. With light. With purpose. And though our journeys are not the same, the lesson echoes across centuries: solitude isn’t the absence of progress—it’s sometimes the beginning of it.

So if you’re feeling lost, uncertain, or like you’re waiting for something to click, know that you’re not alone. You’re not behind.
Take this as a moment of divine preparation.

This discomfort, this questioning—it’s not a detour. It might be your own version of the cave.
A sacred pause before the clarity comes.

And in the meantime, what a mercy it is to know we don’t have to carry it alone. We have our prayers. We have our faith. We have a Lord who sees us—especially when no one else does.

So stay close to Him.
Stay soft. Stay open.
And when you emerge from this season, whenever that may be, you might just find you’ve been guided back to exactly who you were always meant to be.