Beit Mariam بيت مريم

I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS GRIEVING

Growing up, we never heard the word grief, not because it didn’t exist, but because we simply didn’t have the language for it.

There was no social media, no podcasts, no endless stream of psychologists and therapists explaining emotional health. We didn’t have ChatGPT to ask difficult questions at two in the morning. Conversations about mental health, emotional wellbeing, or even the idea that our inner world deserved attention were rare.

In many ways, I feel our generation and those after us is fortunate. We have access to knowledge that many of our parents never had.

For the longest time, I thought grief meant only one thing: someone dies.
That was my definition, nothing more.

Looking back now, I realize I had been grieving long before death ever entered my life.

I grieved the loss of my first pet without knowing that was grief.
I grieved the young girl I used to be … the carefree, energetic, thin, light-hearted version of myself who suddenly became a wife, then a mother, before she had fully understood who she was. Life moved so quickly that I never stopped to notice I was saying goodbye to an earlier version of myself.

I grieved my divorce.

I grieved the friendship that quietly disappeared after my closest friend got married. There was no fight, no dramatic ending. We simply drifted apart until one day we were strangers with beautiful memories.
I never realized that change itself can be something we grieve.

Then my mother became ill, to me, my mother was indestructible, she was the strongest woman I knew. Independent. Capable. The kind of person you secretly believe will always remain exactly as she is.
Watching her become weak, dependent, and vulnerable felt like losing someone before they were actually gone.
I was grieving the mother I had always known while she was still sitting beside me.

If you want to read the rest of the blog and learn more about my journey with Grief, follow the link in bio

https://beitmariam.com/blog/f/i-didnt-know-i-was-grieving

I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS GRIEVING

Growing up, we never heard the word grief, not because it didn't exist, but because we simply didn't have the language for it.

There was no social media, no podcasts, no endless stream of psychologists and therapists explaining emotional health. We didn't have ChatGPT to ask difficult questions at two in the morning. Conversations about mental health, emotional wellbeing, or even the idea that our inner world deserved attention were rare.

In many ways, I feel our generation and those after us is fortunate. We have access to knowledge that many of our parents never had.

For the longest time, I thought grief meant only one thing: someone dies.
That was my definition, nothing more.

Looking back now, I realize I had been grieving long before death ever entered my life.

I grieved the loss of my first pet without knowing that was grief.
I grieved the young girl I used to be … the carefree, energetic, thin, light-hearted version of myself who suddenly became a wife, then a mother, before she had fully understood who she was. Life moved so quickly that I never stopped to notice I was saying goodbye to an earlier version of myself.

I grieved my divorce.

I grieved the friendship that quietly disappeared after my closest friend got married. There was no fight, no dramatic ending. We simply drifted apart until one day we were strangers with beautiful memories.
I never realized that change itself can be something we grieve.

Then my mother became ill, to me, my mother was indestructible, she was the strongest woman I knew. Independent. Capable. The kind of person you secretly believe will always remain exactly as she is.
Watching her become weak, dependent, and vulnerable felt like losing someone before they were actually gone.
I was grieving the mother I had always known while she was still sitting beside me.

If you want to read the rest of the blog and learn more about my journey with Grief, follow the below link:

https://beitmariam.com/blog/f/i-didnt-know-i-was-grieving

NEW BLOG
UNDERSTANDING BEFORE JUDGMENT

BEFORE WE JUDGE YOGA

When I began exploring this subject, I started with one simple question:
“Is yoga a religion?”

But somewhere along the journey, I found myself asking very different questions.

Can we appreciate wisdom without adopting every belief from the culture that produced it?
Can we distinguish between philosophy, culture, history, and worship?
Can we remain deeply rooted in our own faith while approaching other traditions with curiosity instead of fear?

I don’t claim to have the final answer, But I do believe that every meaningful journey begins with an honest question.

Perhaps, before asking “Should I practice yoga?”

We should first ask “Do I truly understand what yoga is?”

Because understanding has never weakened sincere faith.
If anything, it has always been one of its greatest companions.

If these questions resonate with you, I’d love to invite you to read the full article.
LINK IN BIO

Sufism is a mystical path that emerged within Islam and has inspired seekers around the world from all different backgrounds and religions.
It emphasizes love, remembrance, inner transformation, and cultivating a direct experience of the Divine.

Murāqabah (المراقبة) is a form of contemplative meditation in Sufism. Rather than trying to stop the mind, it cultivates an awareness of God’s presence, allowing that awareness to gently transform the heart.

STORY TIME:)

A Seeker had many questions in his heart, so he asked his sufi teacher:

“Master…What is Murāqabah?”
The master replied:
“Live one day as if God is looking at you.”
The disciple answered,
“But I already believe that.”
The master smiled.
“I didn’t ask what you believe. I asked how you live.”
Perhaps Murāqabah
is not trying to see God…It is remembering that you are always seen.

The seeker then asked, “Master, when does meditation begin?”
The teacher replied:
“When you stop remembering God only during meditation.”
Murāqabah is not confined to a cushion…It is carrying awareness into every conversation, every decision, every ordinary moment.

The seeker asked

“Master…What should I watch during Murāqabah?”
The teacher answered:
“Watch the one who is watching.”
Silence followed.
Sometimes the deepest answers arrive without another word.

Then the seeker finally asked his last question:

“And how do I know if my Murāqabah is deepening?”
The teacher answered:
“When you begin noticing your own heart before judging another’s.”
AWARENESS … before it changes the world…quietly changes us.

The Bhagavad Gita is a spiritual dialogue between Arjuna (a prince & a warrior)and Krishna (his friend…his guide…and according to the tradition,the Divine speaking through human form.)

The Bhagavad Gita was written around 2,000 years ago. It explores how to live wisely, act courageously, and find inner peace amidst life’s challenges.

STORY TIME :)

Arjuna confessed to Krishna:
“My mind is restless…Turbulent…Powerful…
As difficult to control as the wind.”

Krishna didn’t disagree, he simply replied:
“Yes…But with practice and letting go, it can be trained.”

Even 2,000 years ago meditation beginners were saying exactly what we say today.

Everyone who meditates has sat there thinking:
“My mind won’t stop!”

Then we discover that Arjuna complained about the exact same thing thousands of years ago, and Krishna didn’t say, “You’re bad at meditation.”
He said:
“Yes... the mind is restless.”

There is something incredibly comforting about that.
The struggle is normalized… instead of turning meditation into a performance.

The Upanishads are philosophical texts that appear at the end of the Vedas. They explore profound questions such as: Who am I? What is consciousness? What is the nature of reality?

STORY TIME:)

A father handed his son
a tiny banyan seed.

“Break it open.”

“I’ve done it.”

“What do you see?”

“Nothing.”

The father smiled.

“And yet,
from this ‘nothing’
grows the largest tree.”

The deepest truths
are often invisible.

Meditation isn’t always about finding something new.

Sometimes,
it’s learning to notice
what has been quietly present
all along.
🕉️🕉️

The Vedas are the oldest sacred texts of India, composed over 3,000 years ago.
They are collections of hymns, rituals, and philosophical ideas that shaped many later Indian traditions.

STORY TIME:)

The Vedas speak of two birds
sitting on the same tree.
One bird eats the fruit, sometimes sweet, sometimes bitter.
The other simply watches.
Quiet… Peaceful…Unmoving.

Perhaps both birds are in us.
One lives every joy and sorrow.
The other is simply witnesses it all.

When we meditate we feed the other bird that witness, observe, accept and embrace the whole experience that we go through.

Patanjali was an Indian sage who compiled the Yoga Sutras around 2,000 years ago. His teachings describe yoga as a path to still the mind and discover one’s true nature.

STORY TIME:)

An old Indian story tells of a lake so clear that it reflected the moon perfectly.
One night, the wind became strong.
The moon seemed broken,
shattered into a thousand pieces.
But the moon itself had not changed.
Only the surface of the lake had.

Patanjali would say:
Your mind is the lake.
Meditation is learning that you were never the waves.

The Buddha was an an ancient Indian teacher whose teachings gave rise to Buddhism. His meditation practices focus on understanding suffering, impermanence, and the nature of the mind.

STORY TIME:)

The Buddha once said:
When struck by an arrow,
we feel pain.
This is the first arrow.
This first arrow symbolizes the inevitable pains of being human:
loss, illness, disappointment, heartbreak.

But then we ask:
“Why me?”
“This shouldn’t have happened.”
“What if it gets worse?”
And we shoot ourselves with a second arrow.
This second arrow is the suffering we create through resistance, fear, and the stories we tell ourselves.

Meditation cannot remove the first arrow.
But perhaps it teaches us not to shoot the second.

We sometimes speak about meditation today as if there is a single “correct” technique, while historically the traditions were asking very different questions.

Before choosing a meditation practice, perhaps we should ask:
What question is this tradition trying to answer?
Because different questions lead to different practices…
and perhaps to different kinds of freedom.