Our Rūh
A well-known and respected scholar spoke at a recent event and shared a powerful reminder, one that many of us need to hear, especially in a time where silent suffering is often mistaken for strength and spiritual endurance.
He spoke about how evil is not always an external force. Sometimes, it grows quietly within a person. A person may not start off evil, but through pain, jealousy, trauma or deep emotional wounds, they can begin to act in harmful and destructive ways. He reminded us of the story of Qabil, who killed his own brother, Habil, not because he was possessed or cursed, but because of the jealousy that festered within him.
This is a crucial truth. The rūh, the soul, can become polluted through prolonged exposure to emotional and spiritual harm. And if we ignore that reality, we not only allow our own rūh to suffer, but we may also contribute to the harm we receive or pass on to others.
The scholar went on to say that when you are in an abusive or toxic environment, whether it is a marriage, a family dynamic, a difficult work environment, a group of friends, a study circle or even a religious space, and you find that you are no longer able to bring about positive change, then the most spiritually intelligent thing you can do is to leave.
Not out of anger. Not out of vengeance. But out of a deep understanding that your rūh is a trust from Allah. And when your rūh is constantly exposed to oppression or negativity, it starts to carry the weight of that pain. That weight can turn into bitterness, resentment, emotional detachment and sometimes even hatred. All of which distance you from Allah and from your own inner state of peace.
He also reminded us that there are specific adhkār, remembrances of Allah, that serve as spiritual shields. And yes, we must always turn to these for strength and protection. But dhikr is not a substitute for taking action when harm is continuous. Allah has not asked us to endure abuse in silence. Islam does not glorify suffering at the cost of the rūh. In fact, the Prophet ﷺ said, “Do not harm, nor accept harm.”
And yet, we live in a time where people are so quick to blame sihir, jinn or even the evil eye for what is happening in their homes, their hearts or their lives. When in truth, the harm is often coming from emotional neglect, poor boundaries, unhealthy communication, unresolved trauma or unmet needs. Sometimes, it comes from those closest to us. A parent. A sibling. A friend. A spouse. A respected elder. These are not easy truths to face, but they are necessary ones if we want true healing.
Spirituality is not about denial. It is about truth. And one of the greatest truths you can face is this.
If the environment you are in, whether it is your home, your workplace, your classroom, your study group or even your community, is slowly destroying your ability to feel safe, to think clearly, to feel loved or to remember Allah with a tranquil heart, then perhaps your healing lies in walking away.
We must learn to separate patience from self-abandonment.
We must learn that protecting your rūh is not selfish. It is necessary.
We must understand that patience also means removing yourself from what causes you harm when no good is coming from your staying.
Nobody is perfect. People hurt others from their own pain. But we cannot use someone else’s brokenness as an excuse to keep breaking our own rūh. Even if they are family. Even if they are our spouse. Even if they are our employer, our teacher or someone we looked up to. Honour does not mean accepting injustice.
If you find yourself in this situation, know that you are not weak for wanting peace.
You are not sinful for stepping away from pain.
You are not alone in your struggle.
May Allah guide you with clarity, protect your rūh with His Light, and strengthen you to do what is right even if it is difficult. May our communities learn to hold space for these struggles with compassion rather than judgement.