Sakinah Abdul Aziz

The full moon never fail to remind me of the value of forbearance and patience in the unfolding of events, of process, of journey in stages. "So I call to witness the rosy glow of sunset, the night in its progression, and the moon as it grows into fullness. Surely you shall travel from stage to stage. What, then, is the matter with them, that they do not have faith in the unfolding?" (84:16-19)

I pray for every thought of those who comes across my mind turns into a prayer For in haste, I forgot to utter the proper prayer For in haste, just silence from me For in haste, the world spins and you feel forgotten and left behind So I pray, for every thought like this, to be intended like a prayer praying nothing but, goodness. If a thought is all I could offer Then dear God, accept my every thought like a prayer.

2017 seems like a year of redemption for me in many ways which I'm deeply thankful for. Time factor has a lot to do with it and I'm grateful to attain a level of work-life balance that makes time for personal growth & development and to nurture my other interests. The defining moments were those of risk-taking and taking chances, stepping into discomfort and walking into unchartered territories. Be it showing up when it's difficult, having tough conversations, showing love even when it may come with no guarantees and risking pain, recognising my overly apologetic nature when I shouldn't have to in some situations, and learning that saying no doesn't need to bring along guilt. 2017 flew before me just like that, in a very good way, but it also confronts me with a feature of time we often overlook - the kindness and patience that it provides. Even if 2017 did not go the way we planned, time has been patient with us, as it has always been all these years. To see us...

Day-to-day monologue in relation to the sun. On a rare weekend evening: 'So catching the sunset' When craving kicks in: 'An excuse to get an ice cream/froyo on this sweltering day' On a Saturday afternoon: 'Time for a nap' During midday in office: 'Too hot to eat out, so gonna dapao' During monsoon season: 'Yas! Time to cycle or trek' While on vacation: 'Am forever chasing after sunsets and sunrise' Lately: 'Perfect weather to do laundry' (Is it I'm adulting?) • Thank you sun. We are almost there and then it is one full orbit when we get to meet 2018!

Probably since I was younger, I developed this goodbye routine where I would establish an eye contact, or a smile, or an enthusiastic wave, while seeing someone off. The moment I got down from a vehicle, and leaving the company of a friend or a special someone, I would search for their eyes and do my goodbye routine. And I see them off. It was funny how I suddenly thought about this. It dawned on me how this goodbye routine has faded away as the years passed by. I am doing it much and much lesser now. The last time I met someone I've been wanting to see, and that moment when I alighted, I couldn't do it. I thought it was due to the fear of goodbye, and that I'm terrible in bidding goodbye. It was not that I was terrible in saying goodbye. I was not afraid of saying goodbye because I don't believe in the finality of a goodbye, especially when today's 'goodbye's seem to be more within the context of physical separation. When it comes to connection, in toda...

The coastal regions we managed to visit in Taiwan were mostly rocky beaches which bore ferocious waves. I haven't stood before strong currents and winds in awhile, the kinds that sprinkle your lips salty and mess your hair in just one blow. I thought that if something could be represented by the crashing waves beating furiously against the rock formations that we saw, it would be wrath. I asked Nabsie to which she said, 'rage'. I held that thought for sometime before I realised that the waves would probably symbolise more than just wrath or rage. I decided that waves would symbolise passion the most. Tidal and rhythmic, always coming and going, inconsistently consistent, sometimes unwarranted and other times welcomed, sometimes quieter and other times louder, sometimes weaker and other times stronger, sometimes consuming and engulfing but other times forming calming melodies, sometimes they work with us and other times against. They take in various forms, at one time resemb...

Even after the advent of smartphones, public commutes (especially buses) continue to serve as my sanctuary for downtime and me time. It allows my mind to process the series of events during the day, to sit and gather with my thoughts when they are far remote from noise and let my mind wander and entertain whatever it wants. I look forward to reading in buses and trains and even coming up with ideas, or use the time to recharge mentally and physically. Since private cars have become an increasing commodity, I look forward to my solo commutes even more than I ever did before. It takes a lot more effort lately in face of the continuous promotion by Grab and Uber, the fact that my office is closer to home now and the irresistible need to sleep longer. But these commutes are necessary as they serve as that space for nothingness, that blankness to just be, lest I want to move without pauses from one task to another, like running on an autopilot. This is how I view my walks, cycling trips an...

If I was given that chance to restart life all over again, I would have danced the same. The same fluctuating rhythmic movements alternating between awkwardness and agility, through the dizziness and the blur, to the same tumultuous tunes. Sometimes the tune grows quiet, monotonous and the moves become edgy. And I would move as slow as a tiptoe. Sometimes it gets so loud I had to dance so fast to keep up that it drowns me, I had to search for and reel myself from this abyss. But I would have danced the same. The same moves - the twirls, the leaps, the crouching, the freezing, the bending over backwards, the breaking, the running; away and towards. Sometimes with crippling anxiety, doubt and fear, other times with passion, and other times with unquestioning obedience and total surrendering. I would allow myself to fall flat on my face, I would then nurse my scraped knees myself. Sometimes I would bury my face in the pillow, with shame and humiliation while questioning my worth. But I ...

I could have switched it on. But something in me resisted, as if camouflaging in darkness was the most intuitive thing to do at that moment. To remain obscure, to remain still, to embrace darkness as an innate element within us all. There's something comforting and alluring about darkness. You let light not penetrate the space, you momentarily handicap your vision. Your other senses start to come alive. You are able to seek light within, you become the illuminated, you become light. Your existence is no longer defined by external standards. You cease to exist, but your core remains. You allow yourself to be seen solely by its essence. And these utterings, they stop diffusing into the surroundings, instead the darkness becomes the vessel that teleports your prayers beyond. I rolled out the mat, I stood. Allahu Akbar. Where no one sees you, you only allow yourself to be seen by the Divine.

"I’m always inclined to believe that the best way of knowing [the divine] is to love a great deal. Love that friend, that person, that thing, whatever you like, you’ll be on the right path to knowing more thoroughly, afterwards; that’s what I say to myself. But you must love with a high, serious intimate sympathy, with a will, with intelligence, and you must always seek to know more thoroughly, better, and more." Vincent van Gogh