Assalamu Alaikum my dear friend

I was coaching a brother recently—bright, sincere, full of good intentions. He knew exactly what to do next in his life and business. He could even list the steps. But the most important ones? The uncomfortable ones? He kept… not doing them.

They weren’t impossible tasks. Just a little outside his comfort zone.

So we slowed down. I asked him to close his eyes and notice what happens in the few seconds before he doesn’t act. He smiled—because he could feel it. That small tug inside: “Not now. Later. After tea. After one more video.” He wasn’t lazy. He was human. And his brain was doing exactly what brains do.

Here’s the gentle truth: inside each of us there’s a quiet tug-of-war.

• The part of you behind your forehead—the prefrontal cortex—is your thinking brain. It plans, reasons, remembers your long-term goals, your why: to pray on time, to get healthy, to build something that serves for Allah’s sake..
  
  
• Deeper inside, the limbic system is your emotional/survival brain. It protects you from discomfort and loves what is familiar, easy, and instantly rewarding. It’s fast, automatic, and powerful.
  
  

So when the prefrontal cortex whispers, “Get up and write. Call the client. Go for a walk. Pray now,” the limbic system answers, “But the sofa. The snacks. The phone.” And because the limbic system is older and quicker, it often wins—especially when we’re tired or stressed.

Layer on a little dopamine (anticipation of pleasure from sugar, scrolling, or “just one episode”), and the brain chooses the quick hit over the slow win. Old habits are highways; new habits start as tiny footpaths. Until we walk the footpath enough times, the highway keeps pulling us back.

None of this makes you weak. It makes you normal.

But normal isn’t your destiny.

I told my client: there’s a tiny window—five to ten seconds—where you can let your higher self lead. If you act inside that window, you slip past the limbic excuses before they fully bloom. If you wait, the moment closes.

Here’s how we practiced it together (and how you can, too):

— The 5-second bridge.
The instant you notice “later,” count down softly: 5–4–3–2–1 and do something tiny that points you in the right direction. Stand up. Put on your shoes. Open the document. Fill the wudu jug. When the countdown ends, your body moves. No debate. Your thinking brain just took the wheel.

— Shrink the action.
Make the first step so small the limbic brain can’t argue.
Two push-ups. One paragraph. One ayah with meaning. Two-minute tidy. Small wins are not small—they are switches that flip the system from avoidance to engagement.

— Design your environment.
Friction beats willpower. Put the phone in another room. Sign out of YouTube. Lay out gym clothes the night before. Keep Qur’an (and a bookmark) on your desk. When the good path is nearer than the bad path, you’ll take it more often.

— Tie it to who you are.
“I’m someone who prays on time.”
“I’m a parent who notices and praises the good.”
“I’m a builder who shows up for 20 focused minutes daily.”
Identity talks to the limbic brain in a language it obeys.

— Celebrate the tiny win.
A quiet “Alhamdulillah,” a tick on a page, a smile. That small celebration releases a little dopamine and teaches your brain to want the behavior again tomorrow.

I love how our deen already trains this. The Prophet ﷺ taught that the most beloved deeds to Allah are those done consistently, even if small. That’s habit science before habit science. And every return—after delay or distraction—starts with a tiny act: one astaghfirullah, one wudu, one sincere step back toward Him subuhanawut’ala.

If you’re in a season where you know but don’t do, you’re not broken—you’re between your two brains. Give your higher self a five-second runway. Make the first step small. Make the good path easy to start. And then—begin.

To the client I mentioned, I finally said: “You don’t have to become a different person before you act. Act, and the person you want to be will meet you there.” The next week he came back lighter. Not because the tasks got easier, but because he’d stopped negotiating. He started counting down—and moving.

May Allah subuhanawut’ala give us clarity to see the next right step, courage to take it within five seconds, and steadfastness to repeat it until the footpath becomes a highway of khayr.

With love and gratitude,
Rushdhi

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