In the Name of God, the Most Merciful, the Especially Merciful. Peace and blessings upon the noblest of prophets and his pure family.

I've never found anything as powerful as the muraqqaʿa—the patchwork cloak—in keeping my ego in check and challenging my attachments to the other than Allah. Naturally, I’m someone who loves to dress up, to wear the best clothes, to put on nice scents, and to make an impression. Like most people, I’ve cared about my appearance since my teenage years, enjoying the admiration of others. So, wearing the patchwork cloak feels as wrong to my soul as oil feels to water. Even after nearly five years, it’s a constant battle; every morning, voices in my head push back: "You’re a doctor among other doctors; wear this, and people will laugh at you, think less of you." And every day, it’s the same.

On days when my ego’s pressure is especially strong and I’m tempted to give in, another voice chimes in: “Are you just adding another layer of hypocrisy, choosing to conform just for people’s approval?” That’s usually what makes me leave it on, jump up, and walk out the door to tackle my day—be it studies, work, or life’s endless demands.

This routine has become part of my life, and oddly enough, everyone now knows me by it. I’ve studied, succeeded, and worked in top labs, all while wearing this garment. But daily, it reminds me that I’m still wrestling with my ego and the opinions of others. I continue to strive, and I pray that, through my Shaykh’s grace, this struggle might ease. I know I don’t hold the key to my own freedom and success.

I'm not surprised when many Muslims who disapprove of the tariqa call it a “garment of fame.” In a way, they’re right—everyone now recognizes me as the weird doctor in quirky, ancient attire. But it’s also like a bitter medicine I can’t stop taking, purifying my heart of a pollution as deep as oceans. I wear this cloak in the hope that it might catch the eye of the walī of Allah, Sidi Shaykh, who may see a flicker of sincerity in me and transform it into light, freeing me from these inner battles once and for all.

Through this experience, I’ve come to understand that true struggle against the self and genuine spiritual cultivation aren’t found in public sermons from mosque pulpits or in the loud moralizing of self-proclaimed preachers online—those lacking true light and spiritual training in the Path of realization. Instead, it’s in the quiet, refined knowledge passed down through the elite from the Prophet’s family, embedded in practices like wearing the muraqqaʿa, which compel us to confront and release our inner attachments to everything other than Allah. This knowledge feeds the soul, lifting those of us who are lost in the material world—the dunyā—with both light and warmth. I’m slowly beginning to grasp that true sustenance comes only from Allah. Through the patchwork cloak, my Shaykh shows me that my Lord is the ultimate Cause, while my mind, clinging to its illusions, is misguided in its judgments, predictions, and fears.

O Allah, be gentle with us in all conditions, beautify our lives with Your grace, and let that beauty flow endlessly. Lift this trial from us through the blessings upon the Best of Creation and his pure family, and grant them eternal peace.