My hot chocolate went cold

It’s almost midnight, and I’m supposed to be cramming for finals. My desk lamp’s still on, and I’ve been sitting here forever staring at my laptop. Somehow I ended up on YouTube, watching this talk by Shaykh Abdal Hakim Murad about Al-Ghazali. And everything stopped. Whatever I was trying to study didn't even matter anymore.

He talked about Sabr and Shukr. Patience and gratitude.

I used to think patience was only for the big hard moments. Like losing someone you love, or trying your hardest at something and still failing. To me, it was something you turned to when everything was falling apart. I never saw it in the small boring stuff like waiting ages for a bus, or sitting through a class where you feel out of place, counting every minute until it ends.

But tonight, I heard it differently. Shaykh Murad explained how Al-Ghazali taught that patience is like the head of your faith. If you lose your head, the rest of your body’s useless. It’s a constant battle inside yourself, against your own desires.

Sitting here with my messy desk and piles of books, I can feel that fight happening right now. Part of me wants to stay put and focus, but my hand keeps reaching for my phone. It’s hard to sit quietly, especially after spending the whole day dealing with stinging words and cold shoulders. I pick up my phone to check anything, anything at all, just to keep my mind busy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. I can’t focus on anything for more than five minutes, and I don't even know why.

We’re always told freedom means getting whatever you want, satisfying every little desire that comes up. But he said real freedom is actually being able to say “no” to your own nafs. And it made me wonder how much time I waste doing things that don't even matter.

Then there's Shukr. I started wondering how many things I take for granted without even noticing. Shaykh Murad talked about ghaflah, this spiritual sleep where you enjoy a blessing and forget who gave it to you. Earlier today all I wanted was to come home. Now I'm back in my room, door locked and safe. I got exactly what I asked for. Allah gave me this so I could rest my mind. But instead of being grateful, somehow being alone makes me feel restless. I keep picking up my phone just to stop myself from thinking too much. I’m taking every bit of comfort for granted, and forgetting the One who kept me safe and warm tonight.

But he said gratitude isn't just saying thank you. It's what you do with what you've been given. That really got me thinking. If I have eyes, what am I using them to look at tonight? If I have this quiet time, why am I wasting it for no reason? I always feel like I need something to distract me, even though most of the time it doesn't even make me feel better anyway. 

Earlier this week I watched another talk by Shaykh Hamza Yusuf where he mentioned qalbun saleem. A sound heart. For some reason that phrase keeps coming back to me tonight. It feels like exactly what I'm missing. But I’m obviously looking in the wrong places. Maybe it starts with learning to be content with simply remembering Allah instead of wasting hours online and feeling worse afterwards.

My hot chocolate’s gone cold, by the way. I made it like an hour ago and completely forgot it was even there.