Spirit Over Survival

Backstroke & Breakthroughs – Post #13

I was raised Muslim.

Not just in belief—but in rhythm. The prayers. The food. The quiet discipline. There was beauty in the structure, even when I didn’t always understand it. But as I got older, the world got louder—and my questions got bigger. I didn’t stop believing in something greater. I just started needing that something to meet me where I was.

That’s when my spirituality began to grow—not away from Islam, but through it.
Out of it. Around it. Into something living.

Spirituality for me now is not bound by ritual or scripture. It’s about presence. Connection. Energy. It’s walking outside and feeling the wind shift like a whisper from God. It’s hearing music and knowing that rhythm is divine. It’s talking to my ancestors—Black and Native—and knowing they still walk with me, even in silence.

After my near-death experience, I stopped looking for answers in books. I started listening to my body. My dreams. My own breath. I didn’t need a title to know I had value. I didn’t need a temple to know I had been spared for something real.

Now, my spirituality is what centers me when the world tries to break me down.
It’s what reminds me that I’m not just trying to make it—I’m trying to heal.

So, when I walk into a room, I carry all of it with me. The boy was raised to pray five times a day. The man who meditates with a candle and sage. The spirit who knows God is too big to fit in one story—but still close enough to sit in my silence.

This week’s takeaway:
You don’t have to choose between the faith you were raised in and the spirit you’re growing into. The sacred can be layered. Fluid. Living. And no one gets to gatekeep your connection to the divine.

Rooted in truth,
– J.R.