When it comes to my personal Tarbiya, I’m masochistic
In the struggle for spiritual growth, I've learned to embrace the pain, knowing it's the only way to break, rebuild, and rise stronger than before.
When it comes to my personal tarbiya (spiritual cultivation), I’ve come to accept that I have a somewhat masochistic approach. I’ve realized that the process is inherently difficult, so I embrace the challenge head-on.
The ultimate goal of tarbiya is to help us improve as human beings in the most vital way: spiritually. When we genuinely improve spiritually, it touches every aspect of our lives, shaping us into the best moral and ethical versions of ourselves. That said, the path of tarbiya is not easy, nor should we expect it to be.
For me, I’ve decided that since tarbiya is going to be difficult anyway, I might as well give my all to the process and seek it out wherever I can. Perhaps this is a modern reality, but my mentors—those who have guided me spiritually throughout my adult life—have rarely lived near me. Most of my interactions with them have been through WhatsApp. They don’t have the chance to observe me closely, see my daily behavior, or point out areas I need to change in real-time. But this has pushed me to embrace a vulnerability I might not have faced if my mentors were physically closer.
Vulnerability
Very rarely has my mentors’ advice come unprovoked. They are living their own busy lives, and I don’t expect to be at the forefront of their minds. In this context, vulnerability almost feels like an Islamic version of the Catholic Confessional. Although I don’t go to my mentors to confess my sins, I seek their nasiha (advice) for my challenges. Because they already know me, they can respond to my specific struggles—usually through text or voice notes, but rarely in phone calls. The text-based communication actually provides a unique comfort; I feel more at ease asking for clarification or giving additional context. But this has to be done humbly, without challenging their guidance and trying to be respectful of their time. In the most succinct way possible, I always strive to better understand what they’re saying and ensure that I can apply it in my specific circumstances.
A Layered Approach
Though this setup may not be ideal, it has immensely benefited me. It forces me to seek mentors suited to my unique needs rather than just looking for the most popular or well-known figures. As a result, my mentorship process is layered. I’ve learned that each level of mentorship offers something different—different availability, knowledge, and, often, different personality dynamics. I involve each mentor according to their strengths.
For an example of what this looks like, particularly for significant decisions:
I would first consult my wife and trusted friends.
They know me, and perhaps I’m exaggerating the seriousness of the situation or completely missing something.
Not everything needs to go to my mentors; this preliminary evaluation ensures I think things through properly.
Then, I go to my primary mentor(s).
Until a few years ago, this was always at least two people, but everyone’s lives have gotten busier.
He will likely point out where my perspective is flawed and help me understand what I need to change.
If I need further guidance on how to apply it, I’ll return to him.
Once my thoughts are more precise, I’ll ask another mentor for additional insight.
With every level of questioning, specifically at this level, I want to save them time and energy. I have found the less prepared I am the more headache it causes both of us.
After receiving input from both levels, I typically return to consult my wife and close friends, further deepening my understanding and broadening my perspective.
Lastly, I take my final conclusions to my principal spiritual teacher for a final review and their duas (prayers).
This process, though lengthy, has helped me grow in profound ways. Over time, I have learned invaluable principles that apply to multiple situations, and eventually, I need their advice less. It has gone from almost daily to every few months, Al-Humdulillah.
Building from the Foundation
We have to lay a proper foundation before we can build anything of value. This means clearing away anything that might jeopardize the foundation’s efficacy. Once the foundation is set, the building process becomes smoother. But if the foundation is problematic, we must tear down what exists and start again. Mentorship is no different. This is why, in traditional societies—and still today—so much emphasis is placed on cultivating good adab (behavior) in the early years of a child’s life. Once certain habits are ingrained, they become challenging to change.
The challenge we often face as adults is that we recognize our need for mentorship later in life. By then, mentors must help us change deeply rooted behaviors, now possibly character traits, while we continue moving through life—like changing a car’s tires while driving. Only through patience, humility, and forbearance will we genuinely benefit from the process.
Tough Love
I will be honest: this process isn’t quick, and it’s been challenging over the years. Some of my mentors have been incredibly tough on me—so much so that my wife knows when I’ve received some tough love just from my face. Receiving and implementing their advice, especially in a vacuum, makes the journey even harder. So many times, just when I think I’ve made progress, I’ll realize that I still have a long way to go, or worse, that I’ve missed the mark.
Though it may be difficult and painful at times, the struggle of tarbiya is a blessing. It pushes us to grow, reflect, and become closer to Allah. For me, there is no other way to pursue it but with my full effort, even if that means embracing the tough love that helps me grow. Strangely, I’ve come to appreciate this “tough love,” and it is the only language I truly recognize.
“Religion is very easy, and whoever overburdens himself in his religion will not be able to continue in that way. So you should not be extremists, but try to be near perfection and receive the good tidings that you will be rewarded; and gain strength by worshipping in the mornings, the afternoons, and during the last hours of the nights.”1
– Prophet Muhammad ﷺ
Final Thought
This is a reflection on my personal tarbiya process, and it is by no means intended to be applied uniformly. Not everyone will be comfortable being vulnerable or require a layered approach, and definitely not everyone will be receptive to tough love. Use my experience as a template and craft a process that works for you.
Nevertheless, growth, especially spiritual growth, requires breaking down what doesn’t work and rebuilding anew. This process is never easy, but through the hard, sometimes painful work of mentorship and self-reflection, we inch closer to the best version of ourselves. The key is to remain patient and steadfast, trusting that the struggle is part of the journey. Remember, as the saying goes, “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” but also, perfection is only for Allah. The goal isn’t to be without fault but simply to do our sincere best.
Ultimately, with Allah is success.
Sahih al-Bukhari 39
Very nice