u/t4wkl

How have we become the version of ourselves people respect, while remaining a version of ourselves Allah is not pleased with? A lot of what we call change isn’t really about change; it’s more about being seen changing. We don’t desire to improve ourselves, but rather to be known as someone who has improved.

It’s easier to act differently when people are watching, being able to choose your words carefully, to show restraint, to carry yourself in a way that looks like you have it all put together, but when you’re alone, where does that version of you go? When the same prayer is performed differently depending on who’s around, as when others are present, there’s more stillness, more attention in every movement, but when you’re alone, it becomes something to get over with quickly, so you can get back to whatever it is you were doing before. So, in both situations, who was that prayer really for?

The person you want to be when you think about your ideal version isn’t built in the moments where you’re being seen by others; it’s built in the moments no one will ever know about. It’s easy to say you love Allah, easy to speak about Him, to remind others of His greatness, to feel something when His name is mentioned, but we forget that love is never in what is said, but in what is done. How can someone claim to love Allah so deeply, while neglecting what He loves?

I suppose that idea feels so heavy: to live a life where no one sees your change, yet still continue. For your growth to be silent in the eyes of this dunya, and still be praiseworthy in the eyes of Allah.

Because a day will come where even the good will wish they had done more, and in that moment, the opinions you cared about, none of it will matter, because if it’s people, you will always need them to see you, So maybe that’s what real change looks like; Not becoming someone the world recognizes, but becoming someone Allah does.

How have we become the version of ourselves people respect, while remaining a version of ourselves Allah is not pleased with? A lot of what we call change isn’t really about change; it’s more about being seen changing. We don’t desire to improve ourselves, but rather to be known as someone who has improved.

It’s easier to act differently when people are watching, being able to choose your words carefully, to show restraint, to carry yourself in a way that looks like you have it all put together, but when you’re alone, where does that version of you go? When the same prayer is performed differently depending on who’s around, as when others are present, there’s more stillness, more attention in every movement, but when you’re alone, it becomes something to get over with quickly, so you can get back to whatever it is you were doing before. So, in both situations, who was that prayer really for?

The person you want to be when you think about your ideal version isn’t built in the moments where you’re being seen by others; it’s built in the moments no one will ever know about. It’s easy to say you love Allah, easy to speak about Him, to remind others of His greatness, to feel something when His name is mentioned, but we forget that love is never in what is said, but in what is done. How can someone claim to love Allah so deeply, while neglecting what He loves?

I suppose that idea feels so heavy: to live a life where no one sees your change, yet still continue. For your growth to be silent in the eyes of this dunya, and still be praiseworthy in the eyes of Allah.

Because a day will come where even the good will wish they had done more, and in that moment, the opinions you cared about, none of it will matter, because if it’s people, you will always need them to see you, So maybe that’s what real change looks like; Not becoming someone the world recognizes, but becoming someone Allah does.

How have we become the version of ourselves people respect, while remaining a version of ourselves Allah is not pleased with? A lot of what we call change isn’t really about change; it’s more about being seen changing. We don’t desire to improve ourselves, but rather to be known as someone who has improved.

It’s easier to act differently when people are watching, being able to choose your words carefully, to show restraint, to carry yourself in a way that looks like you have it all put together, but when you’re alone, where does that version of you go? When the same prayer is performed differently depending on who’s around, as when others are present, there’s more stillness, more attention in every movement, but when you’re alone, it becomes something to get over with quickly, so you can get back to whatever it is you were doing before. So, in both situations, who was that prayer really for?

The person you want to be when you think about your ideal version isn’t built in the moments where you’re being seen by others; it’s built in the moments no one will ever know about. It’s easy to say you love Allah, easy to speak about Him, to remind others of His greatness, to feel something when His name is mentioned, but we forget that love is never in what is said, but in what is done. How can someone claim to love Allah so deeply, while neglecting what He loves?

I suppose that idea feels so heavy: to live a life where no one sees your change, yet still continue. For your growth to be silent in the eyes of this dunya, and still be praiseworthy in the eyes of Allah.

Because a day will come where even the good will wish they had done more, and in that moment, the opinions you cared about, none of it will matter, because if it’s people, you will always need them to see you, So maybe that’s what real change looks like; Not becoming someone the world recognizes, but becoming someone Allah does.

How have we become the version of ourselves people respect, while remaining a version of ourselves Allah is not pleased with? A lot of what we call change isn’t really about change; it’s more about being seen changing. We don’t desire to improve ourselves, but rather to be known as someone who has improved.

It’s easier to act differently when people are watching, being able to choose your words carefully, to show restraint, to carry yourself in a way that looks like you have it all put together, but when you’re alone, where does that version of you go? When the same prayer is performed differently depending on who’s around, as when others are present, there’s more stillness, more attention in every movement, but when you’re alone, it becomes something to get over with quickly, so you can get back to whatever it is you were doing before. So, in both situations, who was that prayer really for?

The person you want to be when you think about your ideal version isn’t built in the moments where you’re being seen by others; it’s built in the moments no one will ever know about. It’s easy to say you love Allah, easy to speak about Him, to remind others of His greatness, to feel something when His name is mentioned, but we forget that love is never in what is said, but in what is done. How can someone claim to love Allah so deeply, while neglecting what He loves?

I suppose that idea feels so heavy: to live a life where no one sees your change, yet still continue. For your growth to be silent in the eyes of this dunya, and still be praiseworthy in the eyes of Allah.

Because a day will come where even the good will wish they had done more, and in that moment, the opinions you cared about, none of it will matter, because if it’s people, you will always need them to see you, So maybe that’s what real change looks like; Not becoming someone the world recognizes, but becoming someone Allah does.

How have we become the version of ourselves people respect, while remaining a version of ourselves Allah is not pleased with? A lot of what we call change isn’t really about change; it’s more about being seen changing. We don’t desire to improve ourselves, but rather to be known as someone who has improved.

It’s easier to act differently when people are watching, being able to choose your words carefully, to show restraint, to carry yourself in a way that looks like you have it all put together, but when you’re alone, where does that version of you go? When the same prayer is performed differently depending on who’s around, as when others are present, there’s more stillness, more attention in every movement, but when you’re alone, it becomes something to get over with quickly, so you can get back to whatever it is you were doing before. So, in both situations, who was that prayer really for?

The person you want to be when you think about your ideal version isn’t built in the moments where you’re being seen by others; it’s built in the moments no one will ever know about. It’s easy to say you love Allah, easy to speak about Him, to remind others of His greatness, to feel something when His name is mentioned, but we forget that love is never in what is said, but in what is done. How can someone claim to love Allah so deeply, while neglecting what He loves?

I suppose that idea feels so heavy: to live a life where no one sees your change, yet still continue. For your growth to be silent in the eyes of this dunya, and still be praiseworthy in the eyes of Allah.

Because a day will come where even the good will wish they had done more, and in that moment, the opinions you cared about, none of it will matter, because if it’s people, you will always need them to see you, So maybe that’s what real change looks like; Not becoming someone the world recognizes, but becoming someone Allah does.

How have we become the version of ourselves people respect, while remaining a version of ourselves Allah is not pleased with? A lot of what we call change isn’t really about change; it’s more about being seen changing. We don’t desire to improve ourselves, but rather to be known as someone who has improved.

It’s easier to act differently when people are watching, being able to choose your words carefully, to show restraint, to carry yourself in a way that looks like you have it all put together, but when you’re alone, where does that version of you go? When the same prayer is performed differently depending on who’s around, as when others are present, there’s more stillness, more attention in every movement, but when you’re alone, it becomes something to get over with quickly, so you can get back to whatever it is you were doing before. So, in both situations, who was that prayer really for?

The person you want to be when you think about your ideal version isn’t built in the moments where you’re being seen by others; it’s built in the moments no one will ever know about. It’s easy to say you love Allah, easy to speak about Him, to remind others of His greatness, to feel something when His name is mentioned, but we forget that love is never in what is said, but in what is done. How can someone claim to love Allah so deeply, while neglecting what He loves?

I suppose that idea feels so heavy: to live a life where no one sees your change, yet still continue. For your growth to be silent in the eyes of this dunya, and still be praiseworthy in the eyes of Allah.

Because a day will come where even the good will wish they had done more, and in that moment, the opinions you cared about, none of it will matter, because if it’s people, you will always need them to see you, So maybe that’s what real change looks like; Not becoming someone the world recognizes, but becoming someone Allah does.