The Self as a Moveable Frontier

There are times when you find yourself completely surrendered to the power of a moment. David Whyte’s voice filled the air one morning, as wave after wave of sound was the siren song turning my head. This was one of those moments. I plunged into the abyss of his words. And in wordless thought, I knew instinctively that here was another piece of home. I was captured, mulling over the rich tones of a haunted message:

“Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet / confinement of your aloneness / to learn / anything or anyone / that does not bring you alive / is too small for you.”

Listening to David Whyte was a religious experience. While other Muslims knelt on a prayer mat, I answered to another call:

“Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet / confinement of your aloneness…”

I am a Muslim reformer, a conduit fostering a renewed spirit of questioning to a faith that was once rich with beautiful questions. The path I’m on is a painfully solitary one. It’s far removed from the fanfare of bylines and adoration of followers. My day-to-day is a space-time blur that finds me deeply knotted in my thoughts. And having been here for so long, I can no longer separate the film of normalcy with this new self marked by tireless inquiry and endless leaps of faith.