Pulled by the World, Called by the Soul
What you’re about to read is something I learned from a deeply knowledgeable scholar—words that stayed with me long after I first heard them. I’ve returned to this reminder more than once, especially in moments when life feels loud, distracting, or emotionally heavy. Because it doesn’t merely describe the struggle; it names it, organizes it, and then points to the way out.
I find it valuable to share here on my page, in the hope that it brings clarity to someone else as well—just as it brought clarity to me.
There are many forces on this earth that pull us toward themselves—quietly, constantly, and often convincingly. Some of these forces are natural. Some are deceptive. Some are eather blessings that can lift us toward Allah or distractions that will make us forget Him.
If we learn to recognize these forces, we begin to understand our inner restlessness—not as random misery, but as a signal. A message. A call back home.
1. The pull of the body
The first force is the body.
We fear hunger, thirst, pain, loss, and uncertainty. We are naturally drawn to whatever satisfies these needs. There is nothing shameful about this—it is part of our design. The body is a gift, a beautiful biological frame that allows us to live, worship, build, and serve.
But the body was never meant to be our king.
When the body becomes the ruler, life becomes a constant negotiation with comfort: How do I avoid discomfort? How do I secure pleasure? How do I reduce risk? And slowly, without noticing, we start living like our highest purpose is simply to remain safe and satisfied.
The body is a servant. A tool. Not a throne.
2. The pull of the ego (nafs)
The second force is the nafs—the ego that always wants to build a throne for itself and declare: “I am the king.”
The nafs craves:
praise and recognition,
status and dominance,
being right,
being seen,
being in control,
being “important.”
And like any addiction, it grows with feeding. A little praise becomes a need for constant applause. A little comfort becomes entitlement. A little influence becomes hunger for dominance. Luxuries turn into a language we use to prove our worth: cars, clothes, brands, money, gold, diamonds, titles, achievements.
But here is the trap: once you surrender to excessive demands of the nafs, it becomes hungrier—in a way no purchase and no worldly status can ever satisfy. It will keep asking, and asking, until the very end—until, as the old reminder says, a shovel of earth is finally thrown onto our face.
The nafs does not know “enough.” It only knows “more.”
3. The pull of love
The third force is love.
A spouse. A family. Children. Friends. A tribe. A nation. A homeland. A flag. These are not small attractions. They are among the deepest powers that shape human life. Love gives meaning. Love makes sacrifice feel possible. Love is the force that prepares the heart to endure hardship for those it cares about.
But love is also part of the test.
The real question is not whether we will love—because we will. The question is: How will we love?
Will we love these blessings as gifts from Allah, and therefore love them in a way that leads us back to Him?
Or will we love them as replacements for Allah—seeking in them what only Allah can give?
May Allah protect us from the second.
Because every powerful attachment has two possible endings:
It can become gratitude that builds a path to Allah.
Or it can become a distraction that gives us “everything,” while we lose Allah—na‘ūdhu billāh.
4. A deeper reality: the soul
Yet beneath the body, beneath the nafs, beneath even our love for worldly belonging—there is something deeper.
There is the soul.
And the soul carries a different hunger:
not for attention,
not for comfort,
not for identity, legacy, or flags—
but a longing for Al-Bāqī (The Everlasting): Allah.
This is why even the wealthiest people can feel empty. Not because they lack “enough,” but because the nafs and constant distraction has weakened their connection with Allah.
This is why you can be surrounded by people and still feel alone.
This is why your body can be satisfied while your soul feels unsettled.
And this inner pressure—sometimes felt as anxiety, heaviness, or sadness—can also deepen into depression. In essence, these disturbances can be understood as the soul pressing against the body and the ego, demanding that we wake up. A kind of internal alarm: Return. Come back. Recalibrate.
Not every sadness has one cause, and we should never be careless about mental health. But spiritually, it is worth considering this: some of our inner unrest is not random—it is the soul refusing to be silenced.
Four voices in the chest
If you listen closely, you can hear different voices pulling you in different directions:
The body says: “Secure yourself.”
The nafs says: “Elevate yourself.”
The world says: “Entertain yourself.”
Love says: “Attach yourself.”
But the soul says: “Return.”
Return to Allah through repentance.
Return through sincerity.
Return through gratitude.
Return through obedience.
Return through love.
Return to His mercy, His care, His shelter that does not decay.
Islam is not escape—it is placement
One of the most liberating teachings is that the solution is not to throw away the world entirely like monks. Islam does not demand monasticism. It does not ask you to hate your life, despise your family, or abandon work and responsibility.
Instead, Islam asks you to place the world correctly.
So yes:
Love your family deeply.
Serve your land and your community with justice.
Enjoy what is halal and beautiful.
Work, build, strive, improve.
But guard the heart. Keep the soul facing the One who gave you all of this in the first place.
Because the real tragedy is not having the world. The tragedy is when the world has you.
The final moment clarifies everything
When the last moment arrives, so much becomes clear.
All those powerful energies that pulled us—this way and that—begin to lose their grip. Titles fade. Possessions become irrelevant. The body itself loosens. The crowd disappears. The noise quiets.
And then one truth remains, sharp and undeniable:
Indeed we belong to Allah, and to Him is our return. (Qur’an 2:156)
In the end, the only eternal force that holds us is not the dunyā (this world), but Allah—The All-Powerful, The Most Merciful, the One whose wisdom is perfect, whose care is gentle, whose mercy is vast.
When the soul leaves this world, and the noise finally stops, it recognizes its true home. And it returns to the true Source: Allah.
Wake before the waking
There is an old dervish maxim that carries a deep kindness:
Blessed are those who awaken while still in this world—those who align with Allah before the Great Reckoning.
And ‘Umar ibn al-Khattab (ra) offered a life-saving warning:
Hold yourselves accountable before you are held accountable, and prepare for the great presentation before the عظیم Judge.
We are returning—whether we prepare or not.
But the heart that returns by choice, with repentance and love, returns lighter. Freer. Cleaner. More alive.
The body will always pull.
The nafs will always demand.
Love will always attach.
The world will always glitter.
But if you listen beneath it all, the soul keeps saying the same simple sentence—steady, patient, and true:
Return.