In a previous blog I shed light on a book that has quite possibly changed my life.
The book in question? “No Encounter Is by Chance” by Hakan Menguc.
This gem examines how the people we meet are fundamental to our life journey. It highlights how each person brings a lesson and shapes our path.
Delving into the wisdom of Rumi and Shams, I shared 35 lessons on life for navigating the world, embracing all kinds of relationships and interactions, and creating positive change.
In short: don’t judge others, live in the moment, be flexible, learn from each other.
And so, with that in mind, I’d like to share the stories of four people who’ve led me to deep reflections, blessings and lessons in life.
Lessons relatable across faith and cultural traditions, they embody the spirit of Rumi, Shams and Menguc alike (as detailed in the last blog).
Before we dive in though, I’d like to note two things:
1. Of course, each person in this blog has taught me many things
2. So too have many more beautiful (and no less important) individuals
However, for the sake of keeping this blog as short and sweet as possible, I’ve decided to focus on four people, with one key lesson each.
I hope they inspire you as much as they continue to do so in my life.
1. Jade: the universal sister
“Once you label me you negate me.”
(Soren Kierkegaard)
Jade and I have been friends for almost twenty years. And whilst we’re not related by blood, I consider her my sister. In short: she’s family.
We met during our university days, back when we were both pursuing our undergraduate degrees in (various) foreign languages at the University of Birmingham.
We had a lot in common – but we didn’t know it at first.
Apart from a bashful “hello” in the corridor during our second year, we never really spoke.
Most of our classes were separate (although we both studied French) and we never really got the time to get to know each other.
But, that was all about to change. Drastically.
Fast forward to our third year of university: our year abroad. This was our ERASMUS year (pre-Brexit!).
I’d spent the academic year in Siena (Italy), whilst Jade had split her time between Germany and Spain.
We were both sent by our university to complete a compulsory month-long course at a French language school.
And so, in Summer 2009, we were both headed to France. Tours to be exact.
It was a memorable experience with four weeks at a language school.
We visited lots of chateaux, went kayaking in the Loire Valley, and… discovered that we got on like a house on fire!
Yep, we instantly bonded. Lovers of foreign languages and cultures, we were both explorers.
And that’s where it all started.
Over nearly two decades, we’ve travelled, explored and studied together in many a country (including Morocco, Germany and Austria).
They’ve been years full of fun, learning and laughter. Lots of it.
But, it’s always been deeper than that. We haven’t just visited tourist sites, eaten “foreign food” and practiced the lingo.
No, we’ve talked with neighbours, made local friends and embraced the humanity of everyone.
As the years have gone by, we’ve both experienced and cherished intercultural relationships and friendships, multiple moves abroad. We’ve also laughed, smiled and cried through the journey of life with many a different language on our tongues.
Through thick and thin, together and apart: we’ve been there for each other.
I know Jade has. Through religious conversions, veiling and de-veiling, and many significant changes in my life for starters.
And whether by my physical side or via video call, she’s never ever judged me. Or others.
In Jade’s world, no culture, no religion – nothing – is a defining element of the beauty or goodness of a person. Of compatibility, incompatibility, romance or friendship. Of humanity.
Since once particularly poignant moment of my life in particular, I’ve remembered Jade’s words.
Following a series of traumatic events/periods, I’d declared “never again” to certain experiences (that was the trauma talking).
I began to worry about “what would so-and-so think” when making decisions about my lifestyle and my beliefs (anxiety again…).
And, I over-thought the labels as I was navigating my identity – both who or “what” I was, and who or what I needed in my life.
This was necessary, very normal reflection at the time, but it also very much wrapped in anxiety.
And it’s in this period of my life in particular that Jade reminded me to not assume, judge or stereotype others based on areas of their (apparent) identity where I’d had previously traumatic, negative and other complex experiences.
At the same time, Jade reminded me that I had to live for myself, according to my beliefs.
This included also not overthinking labels, going with the flow and just following my path as it appeared.
Of course, Jade and I have always believed in the beauty of diversity and the importance of rejecting nonsensical stereotypes. We’ve always valued treating everyone as unique, and being true to ourselves – including breaking the mould.
But when I’ve needed a friendly ear to listen, an empathetic heart to understand and an open mind to share both my excitement and anxiety during periods of great change in my life, Jade’s been there.
She’s reminded me of the critical shared values that we hold dear which inspire us to respect both ourselves and each and every person as individuals.
Throughout our decade-and-a-half-long friendship, growing from university students to young professionals, Jade’s always reminded me that you can’t judge a person based on a supposed collective.
You can’t let the trauma you may have experienced with one person, or a group, negatively stereotype (or even close off opportunities with) others (particularly on name / “label” basis only).
What’s more, she’s also emphasised this crucial message: you can’t live your life based on the opinions of others.
You respect others. You of course adapt, you compromise, and you remain flexible. And, you always remain authentic and true to yourself.
No one likes to be judged. We’ve all got our own stories, characteristics and mixed identities. And each and every person is an individual.
We know this. We believe in this. But how many of us live by this?
Food for thought.
Crucial lesson / reminder:
Stuff stereotypes. We are all unique. We are all individuals. Don’t let labels or experiences blind – or bind – you to others, or yourself.
2. Matt: the spiritual guide
“The journey towards enlightenment is not about arrival, but about the path we take to get there.”
(Jiddu Krishnamurti)
“You’re my Mary”. Three words. One phrase.
Quite possibly one of the most beautiful things anyone has ever said to me, Matt uttered this after a night out in London, not long after we’d met on Twitter via a mutual friend.
A fellow traveller, Albania enthusiast and writer, Matt and I quickly became good friends after our first Twitter exchange.
I was living in London at the time and Matt in Stoke (only 30 minutes from my family home).
Every now again Matt would pop down to London for work and we’d meet up. And so followed the length conversations about life, travel and… spirituality.
We had a lot in common. Matt had married outside of his culture and remained friends with his ex-wife. Just like me. And, he’d taught English abroad – just had I.
What’s more, whilst I was a born-Christian (Anglican with Catholic family) who’d converted to Islam and had a great affection for the Jewish world, Matt knew a lot about Islam.
As a spiritual seeker, traveller and pilgrim, Matt has explored Sufism in Bulgaria, India and Pakistan.
He’s attended church and explored the Christian world across many branches of Christianity, including Orthodox and Catholic.
And, he’s visited many a synagogue and Jewish sites across the globe.
To this day, we’ve never run out of stuff to talk about. To share, ponder and reflect – in particular when it comes to faith and spirituality.
We’ve shared road trips to churches across Wales, visits to local Orthodox churches, Sikh gurdwaras and synagogues, and we’ve explored the Divine Feminine together. All fascinating, enriching and meaningful.
Discussing faith in many a meet-up, it was during one evening in central London in particular that Matt shared something incredibly significant with me which has shaped my life ever since.
Following chatter over Japanese food and a drink or two, Matt recalled the story of Jesus at the home of Mary and Martha:
“As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him.
She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made.
She came to him and asked: ‘Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!’
‘Martha, Martha,’ the Lord answered, ‘you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.’”
I’d never heard this passage before. And I loved it.
Discussing the meaning, Matt explained how Martha represents the dogmatic little details – the believer who “does” without questioning and the one whose focus is to “follow the rules”.
Mary, on the other hand, represents the spirit – the deeper meaning behind faith and how this is reflected in our actions, deeds and decisions.
In this story, Mary symbolises being in the moment, stopping to contemplate, to reflect and not simply “do”.
Driven by values, faith and spirituality first, her faith isn’t about rules, doctrine or dogma.
Matt then declared: “You’re my Mary”.
I was shocked. Shocked, stunned and honoured. Honoured to be a Mary. Honoured to be seen as such a spiritual soul, not a devotee of dogma. And honoured to not be a Martha.
I didn’t want to be Martha. I wanted to be more than that. Much more.
As someone in particular who’s stepped away from ritualistic tradition and been on a long journey to get where I am now, these three words warmed my heart.
They soothed my heart, soul and mind. They proudly reassured me: Liz, you are on the right path. You inspire me.
This was a path I’d fought long, hard and alone to step on. And it was a long ongoing path – not a one stop destination.
Time and time following that night, over hours and hours of chatter and reflection, Matt would declare:
“You’ve got on the train. Great. But you mustn’t get off at the first stop. It’s too easy.
Life, spirituality, faith: it’s a journey. You must never stop learning, discovering, searching.
It’s all about the journey – not the destination.”
Quite rightly, so, these words have stuck with me, becoming clearer and clearer with each step I take. For time and time again, I’m reminded how right Matt is.
Today, I don’t yearn for a single answer, for a singular truth, for the answers to a “final exam”.
Instead, I aim for to discover, share and learn from others, and to grow in wisdom.
I aim to weave across traditions, cultures and time, up and down – knowing that this journey is full of ebbs and flows, dips and peaks. It’s not linear.
No, I don’t want to be Martha. Mary I shall be.
Crucial lesson / reminder:
Focus on the spirit not the dogma, the journey not the destination, the spirit not the label.
3. Deborah: the sister in faith
“If your wish comes true, be grateful. If it does not come true, be grateful nevertheless.”
(Rumi)
A sister in faith, where names, labels or community associations create no barriers… Meet Deborah.
Deborah and I first met back in our university days. I was in my final year of my undergraduate studies and Deb was starting her second year in her degree.
We were sharing the same university flat (halls). What we didn’t know at the time though was that, not only would we share a house for the following academic year, but also become lifelong friends.
Roll back to September 2010.
I’d just returned from my year abroad and a summer in North Africa (Tunisia and Morocco). I’d learnt about Arab culture, Islam and had long been reflecting on faith and going back to church.
Deborah was back in Birmingham for her studies in politics and economics, and was very much into fashion and blogging.
Arriving in our new flat, she’d first opened the cupboards and having seen the contents, expected an Italian gal. Well… she got me, so, it’s half true!
From new flatmates from different cities and studying in different years and departments, here then started a very long friendship across cities, churches and faiths, and girly brunches, lunches and dinners amid a myriad of cultures.
And this diversity has been beautiful. But diversity has not necessarily been something that’s shaped our friendship (well, not in any negative sense at least). How?
Well, Deborah met me as a semi-practicing Christian of British-Italian heritage. I met her as a second generation British-Nigerian Christian.
Still exploring my faith at the time, I started attending church with Deborah. I was also continuing Arabic language classes.
And well, the rest is history… (well, for another blog).
In short, a big change happened: I later became Muslim and part of the Maghrebi cultural community.
A whopping 13 years since we first met, our cultures haven’t changed but a lot of other things have. I’m Muslim and in fact, our friendship is stronger than ever.
Deb’s been there throughout many changes in my life: my spiritual journey and many more (including my mother’s death, a young marriage and divorce to name a few).
We’ve shared so many ups and downs and what I love the most is that, on the surface, to some people our journeys may look so different. Yet in reality, they’ve been often almost identical, mirroring and parallel to each other.
Career progression, dating, we’ve shared it all – including theology.
To this day, faith has never been a cause of division. In fact, the reality is rather the opposite.
As I’ve navigated from liberal semi-practicing Christian to Orthodox Muslim, to progressive Muslim, Deborah has always remained true to her values over the years, and never judged me for mine.
Sharing songs, verses and reflections, we’ve always been able to share our feelings and give each other a spiritual pick-me-up – without judgement.
It doesn’t matter what name we give out faith communities, we’re actually closer together in our faith.
Over the years, we’ve continuously grown closer and more similar in outlook and faith. Of course, this has also included how we’ve deepened our bond though the appreciation of the mutual support we share across faiths.
As a woman of faith, Deborah has critically not only never judged me, but she’s also never stopped inspiring, motivating and supporting me.
Deborah has taught me so much about life, faith and spirituality.
Most of all, what she’s taught me is the importance of humility, patience and Divine timing.
She’s helped me understand the importance of the lessons we learn. These are lessons that I’ve found make us stronger, help us appreciate what’s to come and teach us that God’s got our back.
As we’re shared our mirroring journeys, we’ve been grateful for the lessons, the sweet taste of hard-earned success and challenges which have shaped us, changed us and made us.
Deborah has been, and (I hope) will always be my sister in faith.
She’s the gal pal who I can call after a Church service, who I can daydream about marriage and kids with, and who I know will always remind me of the importance of patience, persistence and self-preservation.
As the contrast of light and dark and night and day exemplify, life teaches us that without struggle, where is the beauty in a blessing?
Thank you, Deborah.
Crucial lesson / reminder:
Everything comes at its time – embrace the lessons, for they are an even sweeter blessing!
4. Abee Makhlouf: the Muslim father
“Some people have gone to the Kaaba a thousand times, and still have not found their own essence; some people have never stepped out of their village but have a Kaaba in their heart.”
(Hakan Menguc)
Where do I start? Two continents, two countries, two families, two cultures: one faith.
It’s incredibly hard to summarise such a story, but I shall try!
I first met Abee (Dad) Makhlouf (in person) in 2012, in a small conservative village in eastern Algeria.
Arriving at his home to the sound of celebratory “yoyoyoyoyo” (zaghareet), I didn’t really understand at the time (or know) that my life was never going to be the same again (in a good way!).
It was the start of an incredible journey and my first step into my third home: Algeria.
Many hours before, I’d landed in Algiers. Dad and I had been on a flight from London Gatwick.
Having spent the night before at a hotel close to the airport, I was excited to finally meet the man I loved. And to potentially become his fiancée.
The next day, I was thousands of miles from Gatwick and the nerves began to kick in.
Walking through the arrival door with my luggage in hand, this 24-year-old British hijabi didn’t know what was to come.
There he was: a bunch of flowers in hand, smiling and shy, standing next to his little sister and older cousin.
Haroun: the man who would later become my husband for almost a decade and who welcomed me into his life, his home, his family, his world and his culture. We’d finally met in person.
With no time to stop in Algiers (cultural decorum dictated that we meet his parents first), Haroun, his sister, cousin, my father and I headed to the car park.
A few road stops and many hours later, we arrived.
Here, I was to meet Haroun’s father Makhlouf, his mother, siblings and in time, almost his entire family.
I could write a book on this (perhaps a few future blogs will follow), but for this blog, I’ll focus on Abee Makhlouf.
Abee Makhlouf (Dad Makhlouf): a man who became my father-in-law and who I can only describe as my “Muslim father”. My guide, my support, my belonging, my blessing.
The love and respect that this man has shown me over more than a decade is indescribable. He accepted me as his own from day one and still does to this very day.
Still calling me “binti” (my daughter), I have many a cherished memory with Abee Makhlouf.
Yet it was something that he said on British soil that cements what I love most about this man.
“Islam fil qalb”
(Islam is in the heart)
This was Abee Makhlouf’s confirmation that the woman in skinny jeans and a tight jumper standing next to him (me!) had never ceased to be a Muslim.
She’d never changed in his eyes. And she had always been (and would never stopped being) worthy as a woman, Muslim and an adopted daughter.
For when Abee Makhlouf first met me, I was a conservative veiled Muslim woman (a hijabi).
I was covered head to toe in loose baggy clothing. I didn’t drink. I didn’t wear make up. And I followed all the “rules”.
Today, much has changed. Yet Abee Makhlouf still knows me as a Muslim woman.
Never judging, never criticising, he’s always taught patience, humility and moderation.
And from 2012 in eastern Algeria, to an evening in London in 2022 (and to this very day), his ethos stands firm.
On this particular evening in London, we were at a tube station. Haroun, Abee Makhlouf and I had eaten at an Indian restaurant – a new experience for Abee Makhlouf.
It was quite an unexpected evening all round.
After many a year, Abee Makhlouf had come to the UK for the first time to visit his son and the UK – a country he’d heard so much about.
It was like a dream come true – yet also very surreal – to see him here (I of course will never stop visiting Algeria).
Not only was this the first time that we’d met on British (rather than Algerian) soil, but this was also the first time that we’d seen each other off-camera (in person) since I’d taken off my headscarf, got divorced and well, gone through quite a few changes in my life (cultural and spiritual in particular).
Yet nothing had changed. Not to Abee Makhlouf anyway.
Of course, I knew he still loved me. We’ve always been in touch and considered each other family both during my marriage and since my divorce.
Yet, I shall forever hold that evening dear. For when I jokingly pointed to my jeans and jumper before I got the tube home, none of it mattered:
“Islam fii qalb” he replied. Islam fii qalb. Islam is in the heart.
A declaration of hope, love and belonging, I shall forever cherish those four words.
These four words are not only a symbol of what I personally believe in.
They also a declaration of love and unity from a man who’s grown up in far more conservative culture than myself, in a Muslim country, and in a place where he’d met me at a totally different stage of my religious journey.
The humility, acceptance and love that this man has shown is something that I have sadly often struggled to find in Muslim circles in the UK. Yet to Abee Makhlouf, it’s as natural as breathing.
This is the Islam that I fell in love with before my conversion – the faith that I’d discovered in Tunisia through beautiful intercultural friendships.
And it’s this warmth and love, from a people I’d never previously met, from a country who’s soil I’d never stepped on before 2012, and from a place I’d only learnt about in the context of French Studies (colonial history), that stole my heart.
This was Algeria: Maghrebi, Amazigh, Arab culture. And this culture has cemented itself in my heart, soul and mind.
Culture, faith, spirituality, identity – they’re fluid, changing, complex and diverse expressions of ourselves and our varied lived experiences.
Yet however I’ve chosen to live and embrace these key elements, moments and parts of my life, to Abee Makhlouf, I was and will always be Liz – whatever my faith, whatever my beliefs, and whatever my practice as a Muslim woman – with or without a piece of cloth, and with or without his son as my husband.
I know I’ll always be Abee Makhlouf’s adopted little British-Italian Chaoui (Amazigh-Algerian) daughter.
And if that’s not Divine love, I don’t know what is.
Crucial lesson / reminder:
Faith is about what we do – not what we wear, not what we “portray” to others and not what we merely speak of – for it’s what’s on the inside that counts and makes us who we are.
So, there we are. These are the stories of four people I’m blessed to have in my life: Jade, Matt, Deborah and Abee Makhlouf.
Each and every one of these people continue to inspire me, and I hope these stories and the lessons within them inspire you too!
Which encounters have shaped your lives? Drop us a comment and share!
Find out more:
If you’ve been inspired by this blog post (and Menguc’s book):
- Check out 20 Rumi quotes to inspire you to live and love
- Follow Menguc on social media
- Take a look at the book
- Discover practical tips to engage in interreligious dialogue in your community (adaptable for intercultural and intrafaith settings)
This post was originally published on Voice of Salam.