May His most perfect peace and blessings be upon our Master Muḥammad, the ultimate guide through every trial.

In the journey of the soul, there invariably come moments when a human being finds himself overwhelmed by despair. Trials (miḥan) descend and settle with a crushing weight upon the heart, and the instinct to flee screams for release. In that state, know this sublime principle of the path: one must not flee. The seeker must stand firm precisely where Allah has placed him (Aqim ḥaythu aqāmaka Allāh). To remain in the station of one’s trial is to begin to witness the wisdom of the One who decreed it.

It is understood that one may need to take a period of reflection, a time to withdraw and assess. We see the state of the seeker who has passed through such a phase. There was a time of worldly ease—a past that seemed to blossom with prosperity, wealth, work, and every apparent good. Yet, in that state of expansion, a deep heedlessness (ghafla) veiled the heart, distancing it from the Real. Then, when the outward blessings (niʿam) were stripped away and one’s condition seemed to deteriorate into ruin, it was in that very moment of desolation that the call to return (ʿawda) was heard. This, in its essence, is a profound good. The soul is called to return to its Creator, even if it means remaining with Him amidst the crucible of hardship. 

This forgetfulness and heedlessness during moments of ease and expansion is a weakness common to most human beings, yet we must understand that Allah is lovingly possessive (ghayūr) over our souls, desiring them for Himself rather than for the fleeting attachments of the world. Therefore, this constriction (ḍīqa), this difficulty, must be seen for what it is: the very cause of return, a hidden grace (niʿma) that restores one to their spiritual senses (rushd).

When the seeker returns to Allah, the memory of the path awakens. There is a recollection of having embarked upon this way before, but of having failed to guard it. Perhaps the journey was initiated through imitation (taqlīd) of others, and in this, there is no harm, for to imitate the good is a blessed beginning. The crucial point is the present remembrance that this path has a right (ḥaqq) upon the seeker that was not fulfilled. One sees oneself as having fallen from the way, and now, by His grace, has returned.

We see the immense good (al-ṣāliḥ) in this. Once the return has been made, know that Allah has bestowed a great gift, and you have received it well. Earlier this summer, there was the summer siyāḥa—a foundational principle of the path, a form of spiritual wandering. It is a journey undertaken on foot across great distances, where the seeker is made to witness Allah’s hand, to realize his own state, and to witness the states of others.

Those who undertake the siyāḥa observe men who strive and exert themselves for the sake of Allah Most High, yet still study and work. How is it that such men have succeeded in arriving where others undergoing trials, wishing to return to Allah, have failed?

Know, O seeker of the Real, that the man who practices this balance—fulfilling both the “work of the day,” tending to his worldly needs, and the “work of the night,” tending to his soul’s journey—is successful in both dunyā and dīn because he gives each its due. This is unlike the seeker who, during previous periods of ease, forgot the ultimate purpose, Allah Most High.

Through the siyāḥa, the wise disciple enduring worldly tests learns from these balanced men, these men of the middle path, who take their portion of this world without sacrificing their portion of the Hereafter.

A vital lesson is learned in the crucible of this experience—a lesson often heard but rarely tasted, which the Prophet, peace be upon him, expressed beautifully: “Work for your world as if you will live forever, and for your Hereafter as if you will die tomorrow.” The siyāḥa teaches this reality not as an abstract concept, but as a lived experience. It instills the truth that one must be a balanced individual.

Therefore , when problems come, the first movement is to turn our face towards Allah and place our complete reliance (tawakkul) upon Him. We must first forge an unbreakable bond (ribāṭ) with the Real, and then, fortified by that connection, we face our challenges. We do not flee. When we are granted the light to see the error within our own selves, this is the beginning of the cure. We must not allow the fault to accumulate out of neglect. When your mistake is made clear to you, the duty is to resolve never to return to it and to make your relationship with your Lord steadfast.

To solve one’s problems, one must begin with the small. If there are debts, one starts by paying the smallest, then striving more and more. Despair must not be allowed entry into the heart, for the soul has passed through a period of expansion (basṭ) before. The Lord who was Generous in the beginning will be Generous in the end. He is the All-Generous (al-Karīm), who grants the self-knowledge (maʿrifa) needed to recognize, through the trial, one’s faults and neglect of his primary goal: Allah and His path. Therefore, the trial is nothing but benefit, nothing but grace and blessing.

One must not remain stagnant in despair but must strive to change one's state. To declare, "I am a failure," is not a remedy; it is an affliction. In the ultimate sense, there is no one who is truly "successful" in a final way, for we are all, in a sense, "failures" in that we could always reach higher. This realization should be a motivation, not a condemnation.

Our focus must be on the messages of the All-Merciful (rasāʾil al-Raḥmān). As for wealth, it comes and goes. The foundation of our way (ṭarīqa) is true companionship (ṣuḥba); we remain companions on the path whether wealth is present or absent. We are not affected by such externalities. A great wisdom unfolds in the trial: when wealth was present, perhaps one fled from true companionship; when it was gone, one returned. In this, the seeker finds those who love him for his essence (li-dhātika), not for the transient world he once inhabited. This is a chance to build a new life, a new spiritual orbit (falak), choosing friends (akhillāʾ) who bring one closer to Allah, not those who are a weight and a burden (ʿāla).

May the Lord grant a magnificent opening (fatḥ) to all of us. One should rejoice in this state, for through it, inner sight (istibṣār) has been gained, even if its full dimensions are not yet understood. In this return, the heart becomes attached to the celebration of the Master of Humanity, peace and blessings be upon him, as we approach the mawlid nabawī. When all other doors close, his door is always open. Here is where the true guide is found, and through him one discovers true friendship, for he is the ultimate measure by which a man bases his relationships and chooses his companions.

Therefore, know with certainty that as long as we walk the path with sincerity, we are always successful. The seeker is successful precisely because he has come to know his own spiritual illness and, most importantly, has learned which door to knock upon. O disciple struggling because the dunyā has turned away from you—you were never a failure. You merely needed this turn of the cycle (dawra) to truly know the way. The only requirement now is to be sincere (kun ṣādiq), for sincerity is the light that illuminates the path ahead.