By Dr. Muna Bilgrami 

Reflections on facets of being– drawing from the Qur’an and heritage of the Ahl ul-Bayt

The mystery of who we are has absorbed us since the dawn of human consciousness. This amazing amalgamation of flesh, bones, and neurons is stitched together in some exquisitely poised way, continuously organising itself autonomically. Each cell knows what it has to become and which function to serve. Our sensory apparatuses are complemented by inner hidden faculties—sympathetic, parasympathetic and cognitive —while we pulsate with thoughts, emotions, and yearnings. How marvelously made we are!

While we may marvel at this perfection, who has not at some point wondered why we are here and who we really are?  We are all, whether we realize it or not, engrossed in the mystifying business of being alive, growing, striving and struggling to fulfil our needs and ambitions, as well as those imposed upon us by our heritage and social conditioning. Geography and genetics play a huge role, but so do epigenetics and lifestyle choices. How to make sense of it all? While we all share in the inevitability of encountering death, equally no one, no matter how sincere or devoted a believer, is immune to disappointment, loss and tragedy.  We are driven towards deeper understanding of the human condition and this drive is part of Allah’s plan to awaken us into fuller consciousness.

The questions of who we are and what are we here for have been examined and commented upon throughout the ages by seers and sages, scholars and scientists, philosophers and prophets. And into this realm of contemplation, observation, intellection, intuition and insight, the Originator and Fashioner of all has made manifest the Divine Word as a source of guidance, offering us mappings for successful and fulfilled lives, both for this existence and for the unseen next phase of being. All the revelations and messengers have served humankind’s need for knowledge, guidance, and hope, culminating in the Noble Qur’an and messengership of the Prophet Muhammad.

 ‘…Our Lord is He who gave each thing its form, and then guided it’ (20:50).

In terms of purpose, Allah tells us that humankind and the unseen entities called jinn were created solely to worship Him (51:56). Implicit in the notion of worship or devotion is love. For worship to be sincere, it must come from a place of love, from the ‘heart’. In a hadith qudsi  (sacred tradition) the motivation of love as the prime mover of creation is laid bare:  Allah says, ‘I was a hidden treasure and I loved to known, so I created so I could be known.’

If the love to be known forms the substrate of our endeavours in this world, we need maps for this territory. What is the nature of the landscape we are moving through? What is the nature of the ‘I’ that sees itself moving through time and space? The foundation for these maps we find in Divine Revelation and in the life-pattern, or sunnah, of the Prophet, the Imams and other exemplars of virtue and noble conduct. They have been unpacked by these luminaries and more, while in our times the convergences between the sciences of reason and revelation are increasingly more coherent.

We are reminded, furthermore, that Allah is ‘bālighun  amrah’ (65:3) – Allah will enforce His command, or attain His will, or accomplish His purpose. So what does it mean for us to attain our own purpose and the limited will granted to us against the backdrop of Allah’s will and purpose? We find a powerful clue in a saying attributed to Imam ‘Ali (AS), and often tot the Prophet himself (S): ‘Whoever knows himself, knows his Lord.’ For, as the Imam (AS) himself proclaimed, how can he worship a God whom he does not know?

If it is knowledge that informs his worship, then the same principle must apply to us all. We have to start with ourselves. And so we must ask: What is this conscious creature we call ‘self’?

In my first article for this column I briefly looked at the heart, both literally and metaphorically. Here I shall start to reflect on what constitutes this self from within our own wisdom tradition.  While it is ultimately for each one of us to answer the question of ‘who am I?’, we can start from what revelation and our teachers and guides have shared with us about the self. Deep and dense, nonetheless this body of wisdom lends itself to rational contemplation.

The Qur’anic vault of wisdom reveals that each self comes from One Unique Source, and inexorably returns to its origins. We learn that the knowledge of the self has been placed within each one of us:

‘By the self (nafs) and how He formed it, and inspired it to its rebellion and piety! He will indeed be successful who purifies it’ (91:7-9).

So not only is this self formed with a deeply imprinted consciousness of duality, but purifying it will allow it to flourish.

The Qur’an further reveals that humanity has a blueprint, the fitrah:

‘So set your face to the true religion, in pristine faith. This is the primordial nature (fitrah) that Allah implanted in mankind – there can be no change in Allah’s creation. This is the religion unswerving, but most people know it not’ (30:30).

This primordial nature is designed to enable us to recognize tawhid, or the unity underlying and linking the multiplicity of creation, and inclines us to want to align with it.

Various elements that work synergistically to form the self are also indicated, such as  the intellect, self-awareness, the heart, as well as the lower self. Verses abound that refer to those who perceive, think, ponder, reflect, or understand. Rationality is as core to being human as is having a heart. The heart itself is referenced in multiple ways and according to deepening facets (qalb, fu’ad, lubb).  The state of our being subject to the Lord at all times is invoked by the term ‘abd (devotee, bondsman or servant), in juxtaposition to the rabb (Lord). And just as our state of  ‘ubudiyyah (devoted obedience or, to use a loaded term, ‘slavehood’) is complemented by Allah’s rububiyyah (lordship), so too is our insaniyyah (humanity) complemented by our ruhaniyyah (spirituality).  Transformation and refinement of the self (tahdhib al-nafs) comes from engaging in worship (‘ibadah) and action (‘amal) along the axis of affirming unity. These are weighty matters each of which deserves far more attention than space allows in this format, but it is our intention God willing to do so in future articles. 

To return to the self:  The term nafs is used throughout the Qur’an to indicate the soul generically, but also the self in more particular aspects, such as psyche or ego. Thus we find the nafs al-ammarah bi’s-su’, the aspect of the self that compels to evil (12:53), that is potentially disobedient or stubborn and willful.  Or the nafs al-lawwamah, the blaming or reproachful self (75:2), that keeps us stuck in guilt and shame. At the higher end of consciousness mention is made of the ‘tranquil’ self, or the self that is at peace, al-mutma’innah, which is commanded to return to its Lord ‘well-pleased and well-pleasing’ (radiyah and mardiyyah) (89:27-28).

            But nafs is not the only word in the Qur’an used to indicate soul. We are told in at least three verses in the Qur’an that after forming man He then ‘breathed’ (nafakha) into him of His own spirit or ruh (15:29, 38:72, 32:9). When the Prophet was asked about the ruh, Allah instructs him: ‘They ask you about the soul (ruh). Say, the soul belongs to the realm of my Lord, and of knowledge you have only been granted but little’ (17:85).

Both terms evoke intangible consciousness. So what is the relationship between the soul and the self, the ruh and the nafs? We can be forgiven for being confused because in numerous places in the Qur’an the word nafs clearly refers to the self as soul and in other places specifies aspects of selfhood, as mentioned earlier. They are not, however, interchangeable. The word used in these verses is ruh, which linguistically we know derives from the verb raha to be windy, or to go, to perceive a smell, and derived words mean comfort, fan, scent, and breeze, among others. Similarly, the word nafs comes from tanaffasa to breathe, itself from nafasa, to be precious or esteemed, and other related verbs are to aspire to or to desire something. It would seem that there is a semantic link in that while the individual soul is ‘breathed’ into the vessel of the body, the self exists by virtue of breath, or of being able to breathe.

A helpful way, perhaps, to conceive of their relationship is of a spectrum of consciousness.  Moving from lower to higher consciousness – by no means in a linear progressive way but oscillating between degrees between the two – they co-exist to ensure bodily survival as well as spiritual fulfilment of purpose. The ruh connects us to Source, while its expression takes the form of the nafs. Without the self, the individuated ego or psyche, how would we experience anything or discover our purpose? The ‘self’ is the lens through which we experience existence and the animating force of the soul keeps it alive.

There is much to contemplate on the mysteries of being human, but the ability, capacity, and guidance is there to enable us to unpack the mappings of the self and the soul. And with these maps we can make sense of the terrain and taste the thrill of witnessing its perfection.

On earth there are signs for those with sure faith, and in yourselves too, do you not see? (51:20-21) 

We shall show them our signs on all horizons and in their very selves, until it becomes obvious to them that it is the truth. Does it not suffice that our Lord is a witness of all things? (41:53).