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Deen (Religion)

HE IS Al-KAFĪ, AR-RAFEEQ

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Two months after I began reading Suratul Baqarah consistently every day, my life began to shift in ways I did not anticipate. I had known the hadith in which the Prophet (peace be upon him) described Suratul Baqarah as a source of blessing, but I think I understood the word “blessing” in a very limited way. I imagined expansion, relief, visible goodness. And yes, after a long and draining season of tarmacking, I did receive a job. But what unfolded alongside it was not ease. It was a kind of isolation I had not prepared for.

Not the obvious kind. Not the dramatic withdrawal from people. But the kind where life becomes overwhelming enough that you are forced inward. Work demanded more than I expected. My social life tanked from being a humble 2% to being negative 2%. Friends became immersed in their own journeys. My health demanded attention I had postponed for too long. Even when surrounded by people who loved me, I could not ignore the emptiness within. I grew tired of explaining myself, tired of trying to translate exhaustion into language that others could fully grasp.

It was during these years of introspection and reflection that I came across the nasheed by Hamid Althufiri, من لي سواه. Such a beautiful, soul-touching love of Allah. I would listen to it often, and whenever it reached this part, I would weep and weep and weep:

“At His door, it is sweet to stand.

I pray and my hands tremble.

Words choke in my throat.

Oh Lord, do as you wish.

My trust in my Lord never fails.

He is the Most High, the Near.

Whenever I complain to Him, He answers,

and I continue to whisper in prayer.

Who do I have besides Him?

And is there anyone other than Him?”

Honestly, the English translation loses much of the sweetness of the Arabic. You gotta listen to it yourself to understand what I mean: https://youtu.be/WAi84o5oQPU?si=ztxfxwoDmXzPNOIZ. To me, it perfectly encapsulated that phase of my life, the theme I was experiencing deep in my heart.

Around that same time, the exhaustion I had been carrying became unbearable. My doctor suggested hospital admission. And so, last Ramadhan, I quietly packed my bag and admitted myself. My family asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to take someone along?” because they knew I do not do well in isolation, especially in emotional moments. I declined, because by this point, I had come to understand the wisdom of Allah’s doing, or maybe… undoing. I had to be by myself. I had to sit with my own thoughts and feel my emotions fully. I had to complain my pain and grief to Him alone.

And so, I started making this duʿā’:

يَا رَبِّ ٱزْرَعْ فِي قَلْبِي حُبَّكَ، ٱشْغَلْنِي بِكَ وَحْدَكَ، قَرِّبْنِي إِلَيْكَ أَكْثَرَ،
كَيْ لَا أَبْكِيَ إِلَّا مِنْ أَجْلِ شَوْقِي لِنُورِ وَجْهِكَ،
ٱللَّهُمَّ حُبَّكَ وَعَوْنَكَ وَرِضَاكَ، ٱللَّهُمَّ لُطْفَكَ،
ٱللَّهُمَّ ٱلْحَاجَةَ كُلَّ ٱلْحَاجَةِ إِلَيْكَ.

“O Lord, plant in my heart Your love. Occupy me with You alone. Draw me closer to You. Let me not weep except out of longing for the light of Your Face. O Allah, grant me Your love, Your help, and Your pleasure. O Allah, Your gentleness. O Allah, the need, all of it, is for You.”

I did not fully understand what I was asking for. To ask to be occupied with Him alone is to risk being emptied of distractions. To ask to need Him entirely is to have your dependencies gently exposed.

It was in these quiet moments of reflection that I began to understand something fundamental: my neediness, my clinginess, my impulses to seek reassurance from others, all had a proper resting place, and that place is with Allah alone. He is Ar-Rafeeq, the constant Companion who never leaves.

And when you experience that awakening, there is no going back.

You begin to sense Allah’s presence in everything. Nothing feels random anymore. It is no longer coincidence, but careful design. Each person, each circumstance, each blessing plays the role it is meant to play, not because of who they are, but because of Who Allah is.

The friend who loves you? It is because Allah drew their heart towards you. The colleague who supports you? It is because Allah softened their heart in that moment. The bonus or unexpected opportunity you receive at work? It is not merely your effort. It is Allah arranging circumstances, guiding hands, opening doors, and even concealing your faults so that others see only the best in you. Even the moments that feel empty, challenging, or isolating are by His design, teaching your heart to rest in Him alone.

This awareness slowly changes how you perceive life and relationships. You learn to love people deeply, to appreciate the blessings they bring into your life, but without letting your heart depend on them for what only Allah can give. Nothing is random, and everything, the people you meet, the opportunities that come, the trials you face, is part of a design far wiser than your own. It teaches the heart to rest, to trust, and to lean only on Him. Every blessing, every trial, every moment of solitude reminds me that He alone is enough. He is Al-Kafī, the Sufficient One. He is also Al-Walī, the Guardian, Protector who shields my heart in ways I cannot see, and An-Nāṣir, the Helper who lifts me in moments of trial and exhaustion.

Just as He gives, He takes. And even in the taking, He gently shifts your life until you confront a truth you may have recited for years but never truly lived:

“Is not Allah sufficient for His servant?” (39:36)

It is a question that echoes differently once you have been emptied of what you thought you needed.

And He says:

“And whoever relies upon Allah, then He is sufficient for him.” (65:3)

Sufficient. Entirely.

When we reflect on the story of Al-Khidr and Musa, we see this reality unfold in a way that unsettles the heart. A child beloved to his parents is taken without warning, without explanation. Yet behind what appeared to be devastation was divine protection. Allah knew what they did not know. What felt like loss was in fact mercy unfolding in a form they could not yet understand (Surah Al-Kahf, verses 60–82).

How often are we living inside that same unseen mercy?

Perhaps what was taken from you was not deprivation, but protection. Perhaps what you thought you could not survive without was the very thing preventing you from learning that He alone is enough.

And when that realization begins to settle, your perception shifts. What once felt like isolation becomes seclusion with Allah. What once felt like hardship becomes the refinement of character. What once felt like separation becomes detachment.

Blessing is not always found in what is given; sometimes, it is hidden in what is taken.

This understanding also makes you more graceful with others. Because you begin to realize that perhaps you were asking from them what only Allah could give in the first place. Expecting constancy from those who are themselves struggling. Seeking completeness from those who are also incomplete.

Even when human beings love you deeply, even when they are amazing people, they may still hurt you and disappoint you, just as you may hurt them and disappoint them. It does not make them bad people, just human.

And this understanding also changes how we see those we admire from afar. How often do we place celebrities, public figures, or even peers on pedestals, giving them more weight than they were ever meant to bear, and then feel disillusioned when they falter? Even if they make mistakes, that is their journey. The real question for us is why we put our hopes and dreams on them. Why we elevated them above what any human can truly carry, apart from our beloved Prophet ﷺ and his pious predecessors?

We are all just human beings, trying, in our own fragile ways, to live this life with some form of decency. We are all carrying battles we rarely articulate. We are all limited.

When you understand that, your expectations soften. You stop holding people hostage to roles they were never meant to fulfill. You stop measuring their love against a standard only Allah can meet. You forgive more easily. You excuse more generously. Not because you are above them, but because you see yourself in them.

And that, too, is part of realizing that He alone is sufficient.

This journey is not linear. It has dips and peaks. We fall short again and again. Yet in His mercy, Allah keeps teaching the same lesson until it finally settles, not just on the tongue, but in the heart.

وَكَفَىٰ بِاللَّهِ وَلِيًّا وَكَفَىٰ بِاللَّهِ نَصِيرًا
“And sufficient is Allah as a Guardian, and sufficient is Allah as a Helper.” (4:45)

***

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Creative Non-Fiction

MY OTHER HALF (Part 4)

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To read part 3, click on the following link: https://lubnah.me.ke/my_other_half_part_3/

Assalam aleykuuuum my beloved Ghost!

Ghost, because where are you hiding since the first letter, 10 YEARS BACK?! And 5 years since the last letter. Never mind the silence, because I’m pretty sure you’ve come across this thing called AdULTinG and by now, very familiar with all the oddities that come with it. Anyway, that aside; 5 years, hmm?

Our last conversation was during the pandemic, and now we find ourselves watching the Global Sumud Flotilla head toward Gaza, defying sea blockades to bring hope and aid. As Israeli forces intercept some ships, I pray, may Allah save Gaza and its people, grant steadfastness to those aboard, and may we live to see justice and freedom for them. How the times change, huh?

I too, have changed immensely. Time does a lot to you. You hurt. You cry. You heal. You learn. You unlearn. You make mistakes. You hurt again. An endless cycle of pain and growth. Looking back, I vividly remember when my plan was to get married by 21 years of age (the time of my first letter), latest 23. I’m telling you, I had this beautiful plan all laid out (A moment of silence for broken dreams 😀 ) Everyone close to me knew I LOVED and CRAVED motherhood. I always wanted to be a young mother. It did always feel like I was on this earth solely to become a mother. But God had other plans innit?

By now, I’ve heard it all. I’m too choosy. I am hiding myself. I am JUST scared. I am being difficult about this. I’ve definitely got a problem. I’ve been afflicted with hasad. I need ruqya. And as my beloved aunt once said, “Labda uko na shetwani” 😀 I’m sure ladies above 30 very well know these tales quite too well. I’ve been kept in uncomfortable situations and I have been interrogated for my lack of a husband, more than anything in my life.

Some months back, an old friend called after many years of not talking and obviously, they asked whether I had a husband yet. And when I said no, the response was, “Hujataka (you JUST haven’t wanted it i.e. marriage)”. Because obviously, I am this super woman who can move the earth to her liking 😀 Astaghfirullah. It obviously hurt, because I think it is so easy to judge based on what is apparent, but you truly never have an idea on what someone is really going through. But I pondered on that statement for a long time. “Hujataka.” Do people truly understand qadar? Like truly? Because on one side, each one of us has free will and we do have the liberty to make choices in our lives, but do we truly comprehend Allah’s power in all this?

It reminds me of a close friend who was always strong willed; she always knew what she wanted and she would go for it. Then came a time when her parents forced her to marry an older man that she didn’t want. She FOUGHT against the marriage. Fought and fought and fought. Eventually, she gave in. I remember walking into her home where the family gathering was taking place, and I saw her dancing freely before she saw me and came to hug me. My heart broke for her. We were both still very young, but I think that was the first instance that it struck me how qadar works. This beautiful, amazing girl that I knew would have never accepted this marriage, but she gave in. She accepted her fate. Not because she wanted to, but she had to. If something is meant to happen, it will happen, regardless of your thoughts, feelings, opinions about it. It will happen even if we scream at the top of our lungs or run away or try to hide. It will happen. Simply because this is what is written. It may be a blessing, it may be a test, it may be a blessing disguised as a test. All in all, it will happen whether you like it or not. And that’s just how firm my belief in qadar is.

On the other hand, I see how my friends’ eyes light up, or the excitement in my family’s voices, whenever I say I have good news. There’s that pause, that wide smile, that hopeful glance; like finally, this must be the announcement they’ve all been waiting for. And then when it turns out to be something else, like a new project, a trip, or even something big that I’m genuinely proud of, I can almost sense the drop in their faces. It comes from a good, concerned place, wishing me nothing but wellness and kheyr, but I almost feel bad for them; because in their eyes, all these other joys seem smaller. It’s like, if I just do this ONE THING, JUST THIS ONE THING, then everything will have fallen into place. But is that really the reality?

As someone who’s very emotional and attached, I do see the wisdom in Allah’s plan for me. It may be as everyone keeps saying, maybe I’m proud and too choosy and too scared and perhaps the ruqya is very necessary, I still absolutely believe that there is good in the delay.

Looking back, I am not who I was 5 or 10 years ago. I was struggling to control my BIG emotions. I was struggling to be okay alone, to embrace my own company without feeling incomplete. I was struggling to stand for myself. And to be honest, I think that despite my very good intentions, I wouldn’t have been the ideal wife and mother I’ve always hoped to be. Over time, however, I’ve learned that my seasons of solitude were not a punishment, but a gentle shaping by Allah; teaching me independence, patience, and self-reliance. Alhamdulilah for the timing. I may not be where I once imagined, but I trust I am exactly where I need to be.

With the little experience I’ve had raising my nephews, I’ve watched myself fall short far too many times. At the same time, I’ve seen my growth. Just recently, my two nephews left home with a friend without informing anyone. We looked around the neighbourhood, all their normal play areas, they were nowhere to be seen. It was around lunch hour and I could feel my anxiety kicking in. The wild thoughts. What if they get lost? What if they get kidnapped? What if someone harms them?😀 I know, I know, the mind of an anxious person is as wild as the thoughts 😀 But instead of entertaining those thoughts, I kept myself busy. I then overheard their mum say, “If they’re not back by Asr prayer, I’ll have to go search for them at the outskirts of our neighbourhood.” I thought to myself, “Good idea. I’ll give myself time until Asr, if they’re not back, I can start panicking at that time.” When Asr finally came, we saw them from our window, at the entrance of the masjid, taking wudhu. Phew! Alhamdulilah. Laughing now, I said to their mother, “I have grown.” She nodded, “Yes you have.” For other people, it may seem like a very small deal, but for me? It is major growth. The fact that I wasn’t already crying? That I didn’t shout when they came back? Aaaah, alhamdulilah for growth.

But it’s not just that, you know? I once traveled with my sisters for a few days, something we rarely do. When we came back, my mother had spent the whole day with us, quietly excited, having already cooked our favorite meals. She listened intently as we shared every little detail of our trip, asking gentle questions, smiling at our stories, because she had genuinely missed us. And when I laid my head on my father’s chest, he held me firmly. Whenever I tried to pull away, he held me tighter and longer, as if he wanted to make sure I felt completely safe and at home. And mahn, this is rizq too, one we often overlook. Love from parents? Alhamdulilah.

And then there’s the love of my siblings, the shared laughter, the quiet understanding, the way we just get each other without words. That bond, that companionship, is its own kind of gift. We may not always say it out loud, but in these small moments together, it’s felt deeply.

Sometimes I think maybe Allah just wants us to have more time together. He knows how my mother, who was separated from her children from her first marriage for decades, still needs her babies. He knows how my firm father, who learned softness from his daughters, still needs us. And we, of course, need their love and supportive presence too.

This doesn’t mean that marriage is the end of our relationship with our parents. But God knows, the day I leave their home, I’ll cryyyyyyy buckets. I know it. My parents know it. My siblings and friends know it. They even joke about how on my wedding day, I’ll probably cry as if I’m bereaved or being forced into marriage. We all know it. I’m still chudren 😀

And it’s in these moments of love, parents, siblings, family, that I realize Allah hasn’t deprived me. He’s just written my story differently.

The comments obviously hurt, however well intentioned they are. But my God has been there for me in ways that I can never afford to doubt His plan for me. It might be painful. Especially as someone who’s had a lot of health issues almost all her life, because it does scare me that I might fail myself and my marriage and my kids. But mahn, God has been too merciful to me, I cannot afford to doubt Him. It might be a longer route to my destination but I am sure, this is the best way for me to get where I want to be.

Anyway, husbandry, I hope you’re going through your own polishing stage and in shaa Allah we get to meet as the best versions of ourselves. They say this life has no formula, but my belief is that the only formula is to involve Allah in every step and stage in your life in such a way that you are confident that anything that happens or doesn’t happen, is by Him, and His Great Wisdom. We gotta trust.

May Allah polish our hearts, protect us from harm, and bring us together in the best of ways. May He write gentleness into our stories, keep our parents safe in His mercy, and let our hearts find peace in whatever He decrees. And when the time is right, may He allow us to meet with hearts refined by patience, strengthened by faith, and overflowing with gratitude.

And as we reflect on the patience and steadfastness of the Palestinians, may Allah grant them relief, ease their suffering, and bless them with victory sooner than soon.

For real now, may this be the last letter till we meet in shaa Allah. Till then, be good and you better behave!

Fi amanillah!

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Inspiration

IT IS OKAY TO NOT HAVE IT ALL FIGURED OUT

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Some years back I met one of my close friends from secondary school. It had been a while since we had met since she is currently living out of the country. Naturally, we tried to catch up on all aspects of our lives; making up for all the time apart. It was particularly one of the hard phases in my life and as we were conversing, I broke down. For a while, we stayed quiet as I continued crying and she patted my hand comfortingly. Once I had calmed down, she looked at me with sad yet puzzled eyes and said, ‘I always thought that from our class lot, you’re the one who’d figured it all out.’ I chuckled. I was surprised but also not too surprised. I had heard similar statements before- from friends and strangers alike. Here’s the reality though- I don’t.

Who has figured it all out anyway?

I have played many roles in my life; as a daughter, sister, friend, teacher, writer, student, and employee, and I have equally interacted with so many different people and my conclusion remains to be this: we’re all, at least for the most part, just winging it 😂

One may be really good at one role but struggling in another. And even in the role that they’re really good in, they keep learning every.single.day. There’s really no end to growth and insight. A mother could have five children but they could tell you that each experience was unique and they learned something new every time. It is like that with everything else in our lives. That includes your parents and grandparents who are probably elderly by now. Life keeps presenting them with new scenarios, new opportunities, new people, and new challenges, and they have to deal with those too.

I honestly don’t think life was meant to be figured out entirely anyway. Because that would be a perfect world and there’s no such thing. Every single person you meet out there is simply trying to do their best. It might look all good externally but the backyard could be in flames.

I know social media platforms, especially Instagram (when it comes to this), make us think that there are people, including friends in our circles, who’ve made it in life and have everything in order. That is never the full picture, is it? Not the first man on earth nor the last one will ever have everything perfectly sorted out. Not me, not you, not the influencer whose life seems so magical and aesthetic.

Whenever I come across a person who seems blessed in ‘all aspects’, I think to myself, ‘what could have been taken away from this individual for them to be granted this blessing?’ ‘What are they enduring behind the scenes that none of us is seeing?’ It always lifts off some pressure from me to quickly figure out everything in my own life. Because for sure, to each their own struggles.

Here’s a reminder to you dear reader: It is okay to not have it all figured out. Life is but a series of uncertain events. The best any of us can do is put in the effort, pray, and take one step at a time like everyone else. Avoid comparing yourself to other people for their mountains could be hidden from your sight and your journey is definitely not the same as theirs. Focus. Be patient with yourself. Strive to be a better person. Strive to play a better role in whatever duties you have in life. Keep learning, keep growing. We’re all the same out here. Same uncertainties, just different circumstances.

***

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Creative Fiction

THIS FEELS LIKE THE BEGINNING OF THE END

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Someone asked about you today, and for the first time, I smiled. And I smiled more at my ability to smile. I didn’t have tears in my eyes, or heaviness in my chest. For the first time, I wasn’t a time bomb ready to tick off at the very mention of your name. Instead, I talked about you the same way I talk about the moon; so far yet so near. A beauty that demands to be felt and remembered and cherished. Then it hit me; this is truly the beginning of the end.

The end of an era.

The end of the beginning.

***

I divide my lifespan into two; before you and after you. Yes, that is very much a thing. Because it is only once in a lifetime that we meet people who shift our lives; turn our lives around 360 degrees, move our souls from point A to point B, give us glasses so we can view the world from their eyes, and oh the beauty! The beauty of seeing me through you…You changed my life in ways I never thought possible. You added colour into my life, and you know, I love colours! I became a different person. I am a different person.

Grieving you has been the most painful process. It is just one of those losses you expect to carry along with you forever. You heal, but you never realllyyy heal you know? But that’s not how I want to remember you. I have been back and forth with the stages of grief; up and down with it for years, and there’s a lot of ugliness, bitterness, anger and darkness. There’s a lot that I had to unpack to get where I am today; the beginning of the end, so today I choose how I want to honour your memory.

I want to remember you for restoring my faith in humanity. For showing me compassion I never thought I deserved. A level of compassion I never thought existed, at least not for me. For reminding me that a giver ought to receive too. For being kind to me even in instances when I was extremely difficult. For giving me a new meaning of empathy and friendship.

I want to remember your loud laughter that came so easily. For the entire meme conversations we’d have. For the times when I’d be overthinking and you’d tease me for my ridiculous and wild thoughts and in turn, made me laugh too. For the moments we’d laugh at our own misery and laugh even more at our own helplessness. For the times you’d chuckle at my pronunciation whenever I said ‘Allahu Must3an’ and you’d try to imitate me. I want to recall how you could make me laugh and smile even at the very lowest points in my life.

I want to cherish the memory of you for letting me be myself, even when I was unlikable. For always telling me, ‘what if it all works out?’ when I had so much anxiety and many doubts. For making me look at myself (right after crying) in the mirror and smile for as long as it would take until I could genuinely smile. For staying around when I pushed everyone away. For staying around when I needed you around.

I am grateful for the way you saw me; my bare soul. You cherished it and honoured it more than anyone else ever did. That you understood me deeply; both my spoken words and my deep silence. That you gave me a safe haven to talk about anything without feeling judged or misunderstood. And I want to remember that. I want to remember what it means to be held dearly and be loved purely and wholeheartedly.

You pushed me to be better, always. And you cared so deeply I actually believed that anything could be possible for me. And I want to remember it all. The whole of it; the moments you stayed silently by my side till I could get a hold of my breath, the moments you talked to me for so long even when you had your own heavy burdens weighing you down.

I want to recall all the nicknames you had for me. The funny ones, the silly ones, the annoying ones. I want to remember how they came about. All the exceptional and hilarious movie characters that you thought were me. I want to remember the conversations we had on life; from travel to religion to family to our deepest selves.

Conversations on God with you were my favourite. There was only one way to describe that profoundness; that you were my gift from Allah. However temporary a gift is, it still remains to be valuable…unforgettable.

Someone asked me about you today, and I smiled. I’m sure you’d be proud of me. Proud of the growth that came from the very long, exhausting journey. Proud that I kept my word to fulfill my 2020 goal. Yet somehow, you’d still know that I am crying as I write this. You knew me painfully well, darn you! But I also know what you’d say: ‘sasa walia nini mwanamke?’ and somehow, just somehow, you’d be able to make me laugh right after.

This feels like the beginning of the end. I’m finally learning to let you go; to leave you in the hands of He who brought you to me in the first place. And it is a very bitter-sweet moment. Bitter because, will I ever be lucky to find such a deep, heart-felt friendship ever again? Sweet because, I know Allah will take way better care of you than I would ever have. Either way, I am glad of the growth. The fog seems to be settling. If I’m lucky, perhaps I’ll finally reach the light.

To say you’re missed is an understatement. But your memory will always remain intact with me, I promise. I will remember you with every sunset, and every drone taking breath-taking photographs, and every angry sheikh lecturing with so much intensity lool and every human that has to be reminded to smile and every meme collection that I would have otherwise sent you while you complain about the spams haha. The list is long but you get the gist?

My prayer is that you’re in a better and happier place; both physically and emotionally. May Allah place you under His wing of mercy. May He love you, may He take care of you like you did with me… and more, may He bless you, and may He fill your soul with peace, joy, and tranquility.

This is how I choose to let you go– You might be away but still in my duas.

I say thank you for everything. Thank you for being you.

Stay safe favourite human…please take care of your soul 🙂

Love,

Sierra.

***

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Mental Health

5 WAYS TRAVEL ENHANCES POSITIVE GROWTH

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This article (edited version) was first published on ‘Travel Log Magazine’ an insert of Standard Newspaper on 5th September, 2019.

Have you ever walked on the streets and seen someone selling very random things like belts or pesticides and thought to yourself, ‘How often do people buy such stuff? How much does this person earn at the end of the day? Is it ever enough? Are they living a miserable life? Are they content?’

Therapists will almost always advise their clients to take a walk as often as possible. This is because there is a lot to contemplate about once you step out of your home. There is so much growth to be experienced in going out, travelling, exploring…there is always a lesson to be learnt.

Here are some wonderful ways in which travel leads to inner growth:

1. Travel is the break you desperately need. Everyone needs a time-out from the normal daily pattern. Sometimes we get too engrossed in the routine, we forget how many parts of ourselves die within us or talents that remain unexplored or magic that will never be unleashed. With traveling, you get to interact with nature, breath in fresh air, watch sunrises and sunsets and take a boat ride across the ocean. It is an opportunity to break from all the city noise, the traffic jams, the toxic air, the fast foods; an opportunity for new experiences. Indeed a monotonous life is not worth being called life.

“I travel a lot; I hate having my life disrupted by routine.” – Caskie Stinnett

2. It pushes one out of their comfort zone. Now if you’re used to one particular thing in your locality and it is not available at this particular instance, you are left with no choice but to explore the other options you have. It pushes you to talk to strangers, ask for directions, taste food you wouldn’t otherwise taste and maybe even participate in group activities with people who don’t even speak the same language as you do. At this point, you are not at total liberty or in control to have things your way. You come face to face with change. You’d have to make sacrifices and compromises. You’d have to comply and obey rules of Foreign land. As they say, when you go to Rome, you do what the Romans do.

“Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” – Miriam Beard

3. It humbles you. Honestly it does, especially when you go out of your typical scenarios and locality. You meet people with intriguing stories, people who’ve fought hard and survived, people who struggle to make ends meet, people stuck in very heart breaking situations. You meet children hawking, begging you to buy from their nuts or cookies, you meet very old and frail men and women seated in intense heat, trying to earn from their own sweat; people who create their own happiness with the little they have and who are content despite what they lack.

It also gives one a very different perspective on life and people. It is a great reminder for one to be grateful, to appreciate what they have and to remember that always, there is someone going through worse than you do or what your community does.

“I am not the same having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world.” – Mary Anne Radmacher

4. Exploration enhances your creativity and story-telling abilities. Being around nature, different culture, different people opens up an entire other world for you. You get to learn new things, do new things and experience new, exhilarating, thrilling adventures. You get to hear other people’s stories, you get new ideas and all the moments bring forth to you many possibilities.

“Travelling — it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.” – Ibn Battuta

5. An opportunity for introspection. One can’t possibly know everything about themselves if they stay all their lives stuck at the same place, same situations and with the same people. You know how they say if you want to truly know someone, you have to travel with them? This is why. You get to see their patience being tested, their immediate reactions, their excitement for trivial things, their mood during exhaustion, which foods they prefer or totally hate…Yet sometimes one doesn’t even know these things about themselves. It is not until they are in the situation itself, does one get to know who they truly are and what they feel deep inside. It makes one reflect and question themselves. This is the best chance for one to introspect and evaluate their emotions and behaviour.

“The best journeys in life are those that answer questions you never thought to ask.” ― Rich Ridgeway

Without travelling, without exploring, one doesn’t really get to experience the world in all its beautiful colours. You just get to see it in the shades of black, white and grey only. You don’t get to have life-changing encounters, or embrace humanity or appreciate the little things in life. You don’t get to taste kindness and witness love and light in human form. You don’t get to be amazed by the creations, by our similarities and great differences and how they make this world a more wonderful place. As the Moorish proverb goes, ‘He who does not travel does not know the value of men.’

Do not let financial constraints cage you in limited space. You don’t necessarily have to fly to a location across the continent for you to spread your wings and explore. Even sitting by the ocean some blocks away from your home or exploring your own locality can be therapeutic enough. We all need a breather, a moment to reflect and introspect.

“To travel is to evolve.” – Pierre Bernardo

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Creative Fiction

SILENCE

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Silence. Silence is over-rated. Silence is golden, but not so golden. I know silence because I have mastered it. My current read is ‘Silence is my mother tongue’ by Sulaiman Addonia and the last time I talked to anyone is months ago.

As I hit rock bottom and eventually made it my permanent home, silence is the only way to speak. Silence until you hear your own fading heartbeat. Silence until your legs warm up to the extremely cold water as you continue drowning. Silence until it becomes sharp and loud, your body disappearing into the blueness. That’s how much I relate to silence. That’s how much I am the silence.

Staring at my mirror, I touch the strings of my grey, white hair. Wrinkles staring back at me. Cheeks flabby like inflated balloons. How did I get old too fast to notice? If I died in this empty house or went missing right now, no one will notice immediately. The first person will notice a week later at least. In the midst of her shuffling between her busy schedules, it will strike her. Silence is not always good. She will remember. In the midst of her jolliness, she will remember me the way you remember that you left a child all alone at home or when you lose a toddler in a busy supermarket. Sudden. Almost in a panic. God knows she cares.

The second one will notice roughly a month later. No blame whatsoever because that’s how we roll.

My son would be the last one to realize. News would get to him as the stranger he’s become.

I lie down on my bed, hands stretched apart wondering how to do this the right way. He’s leaving the house. He wants to start a new life in a new city with some of his friends. He had said it so casually like I was but a nanny to him. How does one live alone after their entire lives revolved around one person and they left? How does a fifty five year old woman restart her life afresh? How do I break the habit of worrying about his asthma whenever the weather gets too cold? Or cook food just for one? How do I be myself without him?

He has grown now. He wants to go after his dreams. Build an empire of his own. Make new friends. Have a new family. But what does that leave me with?
I know how this works okay. I know. First comes in the distance. Then the busy schedules and less conversations. Then less visits home. Then the small talk, hurried phone calls. Then silence.

I know how this works because that is how it went down with everyone else. He was the only one left and that too, I am losing now.

I don’t want to be the selfish kind of mother. I don’t want to cage him. I don’t want to tighten my grip on him way too much until he slips away in between my fingers. He already slipped though. But how do I let go of him without losing him entirely? Is that even possible? Fathomable?

How do I start self-discovery at this age and time? How do I ask myself what is really my favourite meal after his, became mine? How do I identify what I love about life when I see a drone flying past and I smile because I love what he loves? Does that even make sense?

I don’t have friends. Okay, I have two out-of-this-world friends who have many other friends. That makes me very dismissible. Very much replaceable. I don’t have friends because I thought being a dedicated mother would cover it all. Because his friends became my friends and my sons too. Because I could always expect to walk into the house and see him with a group of them fighting over food. I didn’t prepare for this. No one prepared a single, obsessive mother of the day she will have to let go of not just her son, but her life as well. Because now, how do we untwine all that we have? Our entire lives? Emotions, Books, Thoughts, the pictures in the album, moments. How do we share them between us like, ‘This is mine, this is yours.’ How do I even know what was really mine for my own sake and what was mine because he was in it?

Listen to the silence in my room. In my house. In my big, empty house. It reminds me of my own soul. Lost within all the familiarity.

How do I love without being the enemy? How do I respect his decision of moving on without crying, without it eating me up like wasted wood on fire? How do I deal with nostalgia; the literally painful pangs of missing him without going insane? How do I become the good, understanding and supportive mother without losing my essence? The very thing I was living up for?

Apparently this is how life is. Everyone eventually leaves. Whether it is by travelling, going after dreams, changed priorities, death, unresolved matters, masks falling off…whatever it is, they eventually leave. How then can I hope for love as intense as my own from anyone? At this age and time? How then do I expect to ever get in return what I give out without holding anything back?

If I died or went missing, barely anyone would notice. And now, I am losing the only beautiful thing in my life. Tell me, tell me…how do I love and let go without losing him entirely?

SILENCE.

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