Hajj, a spiritual experience

Looking into the Masjid, it looked filled to explode with the volume of pilgrims, a sea of shaved heads and white garbs that was constantly in motion. Although there was a not a silent moment, a stillness sat within my soul, a calm, tranquil and lucid peace touched my heart, connecting me to something much greater than myself.

It was as if in an instant, a mere flash of a second, the ego and self importance of my everyday self, the very essence of my ‘Me – ness’ was let go. I stood still, my heart a flutter, not wanting to flinch for a second and loose this feeling of complete abandonment of myself. As my spirit soared, I reflected on the path that had taken me here, unable to believe that the struggles of the Hajj were finally concluding.

It seemed like just moments ago, I was stood before the majestic Ka’bah, in awe of its splendour and beauty, tears rolling down my eyes as I made my intention to perform the Hajj, tying my ihram (simple white garment), the shroud resembling that of the dead, wrapping it closer around me.

From there I travelled to the plains of Arafah, sitting under the hot sun, yearning for the forgiveness of my Lord. The heat was sweltering; the sand irritating, the crowds of people suffocating, yet still, the hardship was welcomed. It was as though both the body and spirit were going through the tumultuous experience of cleansing, being worked hard, pushed to the very limit to see how one was going to come through.

The cold night of the desert chilled my bones as the hot suns of the afternoon left and the night sky filled itself with tiny lamps shining brightly on the expectant faces of the pilgrims. I boarded the bus to our next destination, though only a short mileage away, the trip itself was of several hours. The traffic was of buses, cars, people, wheelchairs, carts, anything that could move was on the road, the estimated 3 million pilgrims present all making their way to Muzdalifah. The wait was gruelling, a true test of patience and fortitude.

On reaching Muzdalifah, I was sent into the mountainous plains, in the dark, again in solitude, to pick pebbles that would be used the next day to hit the stone walls in remembrance of when the Shaytan (Satan) came to Ibrahim (Abraham) to tempt him away from the will of his Lord. The pebbles resembled my shortcomings and character flaws, which would be cast away, as I vowed to be a better person.

Then came three nights in Mina, where each community had its own camp. Mina was social, and emphasised the very essence of what the Prophet established; the all important brotherhood. Though there were a myriad of languages spoken, different aromas of cultural cuisines in the air, and everything was foreign, it still felt unified, unique, one Ummah – together in their quest for spiritual perfection.

From our individual camps in Mina I marched along with thousands of other pilgrims to stone the Shaytan. The march reminded me of one big army, walking together to battle the enemy, yet still cognizant that the enemy was also our own individual devil, almost always inside ourselves.

It was this devil that was going to be stoned, the inner most evil thoughts in our hearts were going to be removed and replaced with nothing but good.

The battle cries rang out loud and strong in the stoning chambers, each pilgrim calling out loudly. ‘Allah is great’, and hurling their pebbles as if missiles, each thinking of their own vices and vowing to be rid of them.

With my face turned towards the Ka’bah, my thoughts returned to my present, understanding the necessity and wisdom of having experienced the physical and spiritual gruelling over the last few days. Without inner struggle there is no ease, no success. This lesson was so poignant that I broke down in tears, understanding the beauty in His way and vowing to leave the holy lands implementing each lesson as a parallel to my life in the real world.
(Source: Muslim News, UK)