The ideology of career, “status anxiety” and nurturing the self

I have recently awoken from the ideology of a “career”. For the past 5 years since graduation, my mental focus has been on my life’s vocation, and my “career”. I believed  making a difference was my raison etre, and therefore developing my career was important in fulfilling this vocation.

But due to the recession it’s been extremely difficult to get my foot into the not-for-profit sector and, as there hasn’t been a break-through, I’ve increasingly had strong feelings of malaise and self-questioning. Why are my peers, at least on the face of it, making progress and appearing to have fulfilling and rewarding careers and I’m not? Am I less talented and employable? Clearly, such thinking is unhelpful and self destructive.

Since my recent birthday, I have started putting my life into perspective again. I realised I had lost sight of the bigger picture and that life could pass by in this worthless anxiety.

There are narratives out there which are well aware of how modern society gives so much mental space to “The Career”. Alain de Botton talks about this in “Status Anxiety” and his TED talk “A kinder, gentler philosophy of success”.  He highlights that we live in a meritocracy in which we are sold the idea that we can be whatever we want. The reality however is that there are deep inequalities which make this impossible, leading to our anxiety. In other words, career progression is not due solely to individual merit but due to circumstances outside of our control.

An insightful book has also built my growing conscience. In the humorous “How to be Idle”, though nonetheless deadly serious, Tom Hodgkinson talks about how the ‘protestant work ethic’ was specifically designed during the Industrial Revolution to foster a disproportionate and unhealthy relationship to work, in order to keep the masses toiling. In other words, society’s focus wasn’t always about “The Career” and we have been brainwashed to make it the centre of our lives.

The message for me is not to make my career my world. And to remember not to measure my worth based on my career status. This is difficult though, when a small voice whispers to me that I am failing and not achieving the standards of my peers, but I guess I will need to talk back to that voice. The status of the career is so deeply embedded in our psyche.

And when I mean nurturing self, what exactly am I talking about? I’m talking about The Good Life, about reading, writing, exercise, time for thinking and meditation, spending time with family and friends.  Essentially, stuff which isn’t about creating an output or striving towards some worldly achievement, but what you do for your own pleasure or benefit. When you apportion time for yourself, life starts being a gift again and not solely a burden.

Does society’s judgement of our status ever really count?  It is of course, ultimately Allah who knows who we are, and whether we are truly trying to live our lives wisely within this ephemeral existence. Ultimately it is He who will be the ultimate judge, and justly so.

On being part gypsy

There is an ongoing tension in my life; Between wanting a life of achievement, characterised by strategies and focus, and between one of exploration and seeing where life takes me.

The former calling is to make it in the not-for-profit sector, and the other calling is a dream like drifting to mountains, seas and lands, metaphorical and physical, and the pursuit of reading, walking, art and staring into stars.

Existing, to love, feel, explore, tremble, meander, to live.

When I find myself unable to focus on career development and seeing it through, particularly during this recession, I think perhaps I should resign myself on the fact that I am part-gypsy. Maybe my life should be about drifting from station to station rather than pursuing a clear, neat career trajectory.

The irony is that I admire those who make it to CEO, who write a novel, get a first for their degree, make it as Emeritus Professors.

But if I chose a life of wandering, I would reflect back on life in my rocking chair, knowing that I hadn’t achieved anything particularly awe-inspiring, but knowing my life was well travelled and lived.

On sickness and platonic love

I have been unwell for the past two weeks. I am tired of coughing and spluttering, and of the pulsating pain through my forehead. The sickness has been prolonged, leading me to feel emotional and vulnerable.

In this fragile state, it is Allah to whom I first turn, and it is He who is my primary soother and sustainer.

But this bout of sickness has fostered another revelation. Other than a natural desire to see my family, I have had an overwhelming desire to be in the company of certain friends, to be within their comforting presence.

Through this vulnerable state, Allah reveals to me the contents of my heart – the people I cherish. It reminds me there are some with whom I have a connection of the soul.

Which leads me to marvel that platonic love is not valued enough in our culture. Our society is saturated with cultural narratives about romantic love, but what about the love between friends?

People speak very freely and openly about the fondness they have for one another in countries like Pakistan, my country of origin. Westerners also consider it strange that Asian men are touchy-feely with one another. I see that as a cultural expression of platonic love.

So, if you love your friend, tell him or her.

The pursuit of the authentic life

I will never forget this time of my life.

I have worked my way into poverty, in order to pursue my chosen career path, my dream, my vocation. It’s rather painful at times, but it’s far too late to turn back now. I’ve been told that this is the time to pursue my interest and vocation while I’m not tied down.

I left a potential career in local government, a potential neat little salary, which would have allowed me to sit back in comfort, perhaps a little smug. But I didn’t have a choice, because the cog-wheel like existence would have triggered an early death, and vegetated my brain. Neither the private sector and its pursuit of profit and growth would have left me alive.

While working on a neat little salary I lived the life of easy spending. I booked holidays with a click of a button, ate at restaurants barely looking at the receipt, bought fancy cheeses from the supermarket. I bought cardigans made from delicate materials, and hijabs blended with silk.

But my intellect and soul were not nourished.

I am now nourished by hopes, dreams and aspirations. I cannot book a holiday, but can go for a pleasant walk around London or Kent, seeing the sights and natural beauty. I cannot eat at restaurants, but now enjoy cooking meals at home. I cannot buy clothes made of fine and delicate materials, but am glad to have clothes on my back.

I am nourished by the knowledge that I am making steps, however small, towards my own goals that resonate in my heart.

I am poor, but I am happy. I’m sure this time of poverty is only temporary. This is the time I am holding out for greater things which are soon coming my way.

Inner struggles

As someone who is on the spiritual path, my ultimate goal in life is to be close to my Lord, my Creator. My aim is to be a good Muslim, to cultivate both my inner and outer self. On every spiritual path, there comes a time when one struggles with their inner demons or nafs (self). This should not be misunderstood as a rejecting of one’s chosen path, but a natural and regular occurrence which is recognised by all the spiritual traditions.

Deep down, I know I wish to be a better Muslim, but recently I have been struggling with my faith.

These are inner struggles, which are not only rooted in my nafs, but  increasingly due to the external world around me. It is specifically the constant vilification of Islam and Muslims which is finally taking its toll on me, and my spiritual path.

As Muslims, we have an additional obstacle to overcome on the spiritual path. If we are constantly bombarded with negative imagery of our faith, news stories which are polemical, biased, ill-thought or unfounded, it must eventually penetrate our psyche. On a conscious and intellectual level, I may well reject those exhortations about Islam, but subconsciously I may start believing some of it.

I think the negative media narrative has led to some self-loathing in the Muslim community.  Many speak till they’re blue in the face saying “That isn’t the real Islam”, when we ought be able to go about our business with dignity, knowing the love we have for Islam in our hearts. Although it is necessary at times for Muslims to put right false assertions, it often seems we are speaking on the defense, leading us to speak in the spirit of the Shakespearean phrase “I fear he doth protest too much”.

I have recently found it difficult to wear the hijab, although I still wish to wear it overall. What was once, and still is, something worn for modesty and virtue can now be described as a ‘political cloth’. When I walk down the street with my headscarf, a thousand assumptions could be made of me. I recognise that London, the place where I live, is full of free-thinking individuals who would not judge me on the way I dress. However, the hijab is still potentially a source of prejudice, particularly where it is not fully understood, and at a time when images of the hijab are juxtaposed in the media alongside the words “extremist” and “terrorist”. Needless to say, this is a difficult time to be wearing it.

So, as Muslims, when we are trying to reach the peak of our faith, it is not only our own nafs (self) we are struggling with. It is a dominant narrative which sees Islam as extremist and not congruent with the times.

And yet, on a philosophical note, the way I am feeling is still rooted in my nafs. To be strong within would make me withstand anything.

It’s at times like these I remind myself that Islam was the faith I turned to fully at the age of 19, and which gave me a new lease of life. It was the way of life which made me a better person.

It was was the faith, and is, which nourished my soul.

It’s at times like these that I turn to my Lord in further supplication.

Looking to the past for soul nourishment

I feel my life’s true purpose is to make a change in this world. Its injustices and suffering dawned upon me at the age of 13, and I’ve had a fire in my belly ever since.

Like many people though, at times I feel a bit lost.

I’ve been reflecting that perhaps it is enough to lead a decent, honest living and that there is no need to push myself to personal limits in trying to affect change (not that I often push myself to my limits, but that is my aspiration). Perhaps life is simply about being good; being prayerful, kind to family and friends, and earning an honest living. But although I respect people who lead this wholesome life, I try to resist wanting to resign myself to a ‘normal’ life, because for me that is not enough. To use the name of a charity in East London, I am a ‘restless being’. 

Sometimes we need to look to the past to reground ourselves as to what our life is all about. I recently read a poem I wrote at the tender age of 14. I marvel at its slight naivete, but it brings a smile to face. It is as if my gawky 14 year old self is traveling through time to give me a sermon and inspire me. She is telling me:

I am beginning to discover this world

It just makes me feel really sad,

Hatred, war and prejudice, 

How did it become this bad?

The answer to this is:

Power, greediness and envy

Our two world wars show this now,

You don’t know how sad it makes me.

But nuclear bombs the scariest things

Too destructive for our land to hold,

They’ll fall into the wrong hands one day,

And our world will all fall cold.

But I think there is hope for this disastrous thing,

By going on a march and protest,

We all have the power to change things,

Look forward and try our best.

Knowing your Lord

There is a an ancient phrase which states ‘He who knows himself, knows his Lord’. This phrase resonated with me after my first module on the MCB leadership course, which took place in the beautiful Denham Grove in Uxbridge this weekend. Mash’Allah, by the time the weekend was over I felt my inner life had experienced growth and insight.

 

True learning is more than the acquisition of rational, objective information and facts. In the plenary session, Dr Akbar aptly illustrated this to us; he made a fist with his hand and brought it to his chest, and touched his head with his other hand ‘Learning needs to take place here and here he said’. Indeed learning did take place in my heart. On more than one occasion I experienced moments of insight and of being deeply moved. This is what is known as experiential learning, and I believe was a form of tassawaf – The science of knowledge which deals with the purification of the qalb - the human heart. 

 

The weekend was made up by various exercises which fostered self-awareness. There is too much to say so I will only touch on some of it:

 

It is difficult to convey how we were moved by the experiential learning, but in a nutshell we shared our aspirations, stories and values with each other and thus gained further insight into the beautiful complexity which lies within all of us. Most critically, we fed back to one another on areas of improvement – this was done with the utmost sensitivity and respect. This is precisely the kind of exercise which distinguishes a life of faith – striving to be better people – from one where you are the ‘living dead’. A life where we can encourage, facilitate and inspire one another to work towards self-actualisation or ‘wholeness of being’. And this was the ethos of the weekend; the pursuit of personal development means to never be complacent about what you have achieved or become, it is about the yearning for further growth, and to soar to new heights.

 

On a previous post I spoke of the importance of sharing stories to be moved from one another. It is stories of leadership which move us to act and shake our very foundations – to inspire us from a state of placidity and inertia to one where we are moved to act in a spirit of amanah – the trust that Allah has bestowed upon us. Dr Akbar’s story in itself was an example of tenacity and vision ‘It took me 18 months to get the leadership course off the ground’. The course has now subsequently run for seven years and has gone from strength to strength. Here, stood an example before us of somebody who passionately believed in an idea, and rather than mere talk had made it happen. He reflected ‘I wish I could have done something like this at your age, but am glad that now you’re able to do it’. I wonder – what seeds will we cultivate for the future generations?

 

What made the weekend even sweeter was interacting and learning from Shia brothers and sisters. For the first time I was led in prayer by a Shia Imam.  On Saturday evening at 22:15, after our guest speaker had spoken, I found myself sitting cross-legged in an impromptu small group asking questions to another learned Shia brother. Our little intimate discussion went on went on for an hour, even after a day of intense learning. But I was encouraged to continue my sincere inquiry by the brother’s spirit of openness; I asked “Why do the Shia make their prostration on the clay tablet. Where does that  originate from?’. The brother replied that the Prophet prayed on soil due to humility. I learnt a lot in that hour; the knowledge we received was not the same as reading from a book; we were taught about Shia faith from living vessels of knowledge.

 

I am utterly impressed with the leadership programme. The MCB can be quite proud in the way it has brought Shia and Sunni together, and is thus exhibiting exactly the kind of leadership which British Muslim society needs. The weekend overall was remarkable.  The transformed way I felt is testimony to the thought, dedication and love that has gone into it.  At the beginning of the course, Dr Akbar said there was just one thing that he asked of the participants. No – It wasn’t to join the MCB (although that would be welcomed), neither was it to even serve the Muslim community in general – he said that he only thing he asked the participants is to serve their community whatever their background. Thus the MCB has exemplified the true lofty teaching and message of Islam, to serve humanity overall whether Muslim, non-Muslim or secular, because that indeed is true mercy, and becoming of a Muslim. 

The brave girl’s reflections (part 2)

The brave girl sat down on a bed of golden leaves and reflected on her journey up the mountain:

1) She had yearned to climb the mountain her whole life but the village-folk had deterred her

Sometimes people are well meaning and not so well meaning when they advise you against pursuing a burning ambition, calling or higher purpose. Do not be swayed by naysayers as they do not understand your insight or higher sense of purpose; some wish to live the simple, easy and honest existence, and others have a higher calling.  People are cut from a different cloth.

2) The summit was much higher than she had ever imagined

Sometimes we undertake a substantial task, project or feat and we never imagined how arduous it might be, as there was no way of knowing before we had set out on that particular journey. This does not justify giving up on that particular goal; we must encourage ourselves to reach that goal when glorious things await us.

3) She had experienced physical pain and hardship when climbing up the mountain

The mundane life is easy and free of genuine hardship. But those who embark on a substantial task or feat must often undertake self-sacrifice during that process. If you wish to achieve the incredible know that it is not easy.

4) She looked forward to take her new-found knowledge back to her village-folk

Many people prefer to stay in their own circle, whether that be friendship group, city or country. Although the village-folk had asked her to stay back, she had ventured out of her circle and as a result had acquired a new-found knowledge which would them benefit them greatly. In order to grow as people and achieve wisdom, we need to immerse ourselves in new and strange settings from time to time. The ‘sublime knowledge’ is a metaphor for the wisdom and experiental learning she had gained climbing up the mountain.

The elusive quest?

After a law degree and graduate scheme in local government, I have yet to find my calling and will not give up… But as I sift through jobs it just all seems mundane. Is there a job which allows true actualisation of the self; the balance between the creative, active, intellectual, social, the spiritual?

 

I did not envisage this life of routine.

 

Every now and then I read my old school books for a trip down memory lane and marvel at my level of imagination. At 13 I wrote a moving account of a soldier in the trenches and now wonder what’s happened to my grey matter. It seems the routine and hum-drum existence has created a drone who is incapable of recreating the same heartfelt insight…

 

And yet perhaps I’m still experiencing a come down from university life and simply need to wake up. University was a zesty life bursting at the seams, engulfed in dreams, opportunities and creativity. But maybe that was an artificial life on borrowed money and the essential nature of life is mere survival. Perhaps this dream job does not exist and this is exactly what life is supposed to be. 

 

Yet the idealist in me will continue to pursue the ever-elusive life of contentedness because I cannot resign myself to a life of mundanity. Maybe for the time being I need a job to put the bread on the table and will continue my ever-elusive quest.

 

I recognise my search is privileged because many people are thinking of their next meal, but Allah has given me this opportunity so I’m going to take it.

 

I choose the life of exploration and journeys – metaphorical and real

 

I choose a life of not resigning myself to a grey little box 35 hours a week wishing I was a soaring bird in the blue glorious skies.

 

I choose life.