By Shadia Sachedina
I was born Muslim in Pakistan and raised in Kuwait where I grew up to the sound of the Azan (the Muslim call to prayer) ringing out across the land. Although a Muslim, my parents enrolled me in an all-girls Catholic school because it offered the best educational opportunities. Learning from the Bible and the Quran was a normal part of my growing up years. I used to pray at the morning assembly with my Christian, Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist and Muslim friends. God was very much part of our lives and even though we lived in a Muslim country, other religions and places of worship were accepted and respected and I celebrated all the different religious holidays with my friends.
Every Friday evening, I would go to Jamath Khanna, a prayer community center for Ismaili Muslims. (The Ismalis belong to the Shia branch of Islam, which includes Sufism, the mystical part of Islam.) My relationship with God was ever present and I had daily conversations with Him as a child. Although He was my lifeline, my friend, and my confidante, my religious upbringing (whether as a Muslim or influenced by my Catholic schooling) also taught me to fear His anger and punishment. I grew up at a time when the Iraq/Iran war was in full swing, Pakistan and India were at loggerheads, the Israel-Palestine conflict was ever present; in short, the world was in a state of conflict, much of it seemingly “justified” in the name of God.
In 1990, at the age of 18, I came to the United States to attend college. Two days after my arrival, Kuwait was invaded by Iraq. My entire world turned upside down in a matter of minutes. Yet, even in that moment of intense anxiety, I knew that everything would work out, because God was my guide. The subsequent years had their ups and downs but when the time came for me to decide the type of career I wished to pursue, I followed that inner voice. I ended up working in higher education with college-aged students and committed to serving them and developing programs that would help them succeed.
My understanding of God was immature. When I prayed, it was always for things, and while I usually got what I asked for, they never satisfied me for very long. I found myself feeling hollow and shallow in how I was living my life. I still cringe at the silly, childish ways I behaved, which almost always caused me pain and unnecessary suffering. Yet God never gave up on me and I look back on these lessons as incredible blessings that helped shape my thinking.
I met my husband in college and I subsequently had a daughter. My work life was hard and stressful, and I found myself completely overwhelmed with the challenges that I was dealing with. As usual, I turned to God for help, walking around with a Tasbih (prayer beads, much like a rosary) in my pocket and chanting God’s names on my daily commute into New York City. It wasn’t enough. I found myself spiritually dissatisfied with what was going on in my life. I was depressed at having to deal with the non-stop demands and intense crises of the people I was trying to help. I wanted a deeper relationship with God and a more meaningful relationship with myself. I wanted my anxiety and pain and suffering to dissipate, and I realized that how I was going about it was not working for me.
It was in my mid-30s when I was introduced to Eckhart Tolle. Reading A New Earth completely blew my mind and introduced me to A Course in Miracles (the Course). One line he mentioned from Lesson 5 of the Workbook, “I am never upset for the reason I think,” particularly intrigued me, and I remember looking up the Course on the Internet and feeling puzzled by its description. I was on a spiritual quest, so I ordered a copy, but when it arrived, it sat on my bookshelf for several months before I cracked it open. Then, in typical overachiever fashion, I planned to read four pages a day so that I could finish it in one year, but I quickly became overwhelmed and stuck it back on the bookcase where it sat for almost two years gathering dust. In the meantime, I read all things spiritual and psychological, realizing that I could live a better life if I was able to change the way I thought. I started using Tarot cards to meditate and pray. I was drawn to Buddhism and went to see Pema Chodron a few times. Being Muslim was (and still is) very important to me and I felt deeply drawn to the spiritual aspects of Islam, but in my heart, I knew the traditional Islamic way was not enough.
My work life continued to be hard and stressful. I had changed my work environment a few times in those past years, but I started to see the patterns that kept repeating themselves in my life – the type of people I couldn’t stand in one place almost inevitably showed up at the next; the stress and worry that I ran away from in one job would show up again once the honeymoon phase of the new job was over. My home life was also stressful. I struggled to be a good mother to my daughter and a supportive partner to my husband but found myself experiencing resentment and anger for all kinds of things.
I turned 40 years old and completed my Doctorate in Higher Education, knowing that I wanted to continue contributing and serving; however, I could not properly articulate why I had decided on this path, just that an inner guide was gently pushing me in that direction. With this additional credential to my name, I landed a “big” job. I knew that this time, I had to do things differently. It was right around then that I read Marianne Williamson’s Return to Love, a book that she often refers to as “the Cliff notes to A Course in Miracles.” I started watching her livestream lectures, and sometimes would go to see her at the Marble Collegiate Church. It was in one of her lectures that I first learned about Emily Bennington and her book, Miracles at Work. All these elements became the catalyst for my finally picking up the Course. It was April 2017.
I was not ready to start the Text (the theory), so I began with the Workbook (the practice) and found helpful commentaries on the Internet, many by Allen Watson and Robert Perry. The Workbook lessons resonated deeply with me and reminded me of the teachings of Islamic Sufism. I also loved the practical aspects of it – the ability to apply it directly to whatever ridiculous drama I often found myself embroiled in. The intensely crisis-ridden work environment, the daily frenetic commute into NYC, and the attempt to balance a personal life, had me practicing like a maniac.
I realized that I needed more of an in-depth understanding of what I was learning. I looked for Course-based groups on Facebook and other social media, but I found the delivery styles stiff, and boring,. Their militant Course interpretation reminded me of the way I was forced to learn the Quran as a child. I signed up for a six-week in-person course with a well-known Course scholar at the New York Open Center, but I was turned off by the masculine-centered language and confused by the role of Jesus. I stopped after two classes. I wasn’t troubled by the presence of Jesus – I had learned about him in Catholic school and in Islam, where he is revered as one of the Prophets of God, but I didn’t grasp his importance in the Course until much later. Despite these setbacks, I continued with my Workbook lessons. The publication of the Complete and Annotated Edition by the Circle of Atonement one year later prompted me to start reading the Text as well. Robert Perry’s commentaries assisted me in my journey.
Seven years later, I can now say that A Course in Miracles has transformed my life, and although I still stumble, I have learned what is truly important. I have made decisions as to how to live my life in ways that could only have been guided by the Holy Spirit. I have turned into a kinder, more loving person because of my daily practice. The decision to stop being a bystander and join the Course Companions community in 2021 was a game changer. Participating in discussions and listening to my mighty companions fills me with hope and strength.
I find comfort in the overlap between the gentle, peaceful teachings of Islam and the Course teachings which I absolutely love. In Islam, God has 99 names; in the Course, Workbook Lesson 183, “I call upon God’s name and on my own” and the Name of God Meditation are my favorites. The Course often talks about the burning love we have for God and He for us. I love God with this burning intensity because I now know, without a doubt, how much He adores me. And I am grateful it is so.
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