malbaan

[malbaan]

there’s something very special about secondhand books. a ghost of a stranger’s hand lurking, their scrawled thoughts remain, some even leave tears and ink, and coffee stains. the whole experience is seemingly intimate. those dog-eared pages, forgotten bookmarks, the remnants of a reader who dreamed. questions surfacing - who held these pages? such is the power of literature: it connects even the most far-off individuals under ideas that compels them to yearn

[malbaan]

How do you fall back in love with life?

clean your room.  clean space, uncluttered space, space that doesn’t have miasma clinging to it can work wonders.  clean the dishes.  sweep.  take out the trash.  peel the clothes off the floor and wash them, and then actually fold/hang them.  take a long shower.  scrub behind your knees.  brush your teeth.  (this can be utterly exhausting, but try to get it done in a day, if you can.  the end result is worth it.)

pull out your notebook.  it doesn’t need to be a new notebook, but preferably one that you don’t usually write in, or that you haven’t touched in a while.  fuck moleskins.  the yellow legal pad will work fine.  sit in your room, or in the park, or in the library, and write a list.  count clouds.  describe all the colors that you see, and note patterns that arise.  sketch the cracks in the walls.  note the shape light makes when it enters a space.  talk about what the air tastes like, smells like.  what sounds are there?  even the white nose, break that down: air planes, fans, cicadas, anything.  remind yourself that you are sitting in the middle of a space brimming with detail.  remind yourself that you are not in nothingness and emptiness.  your world is fathomless.  it has potential.

drink cold water and try to eat something that isn’t processed.  it does not need to be fancy.  buy yourself an apple with the change between your couch cushions.  eat it outside.  if you’re someone who walks, walk somewhere afterwards, just to stretch your legs.  take your fucking meds.  remember that its a good thing that you are inside your body.  your body is a fantastic and endlessly intricate machine, and even though society has smacked a bunch of poisonous ideas on it, that doesn’t change its inherent worth and splendor.  take care of it.

read a novel.  underline your favorite lines, and write phrases that twist your heart inside your chest on the back of your hand with an ink pen.  read a novel like it’s poetry.  read poetry, something decadent but unpretentious.  watch a movie you haven’t seen before.  if there are free art galleries near you, walk through one.  take your time.  let yourself bask.  if there are patterns in what makes your soul ache, write those patterns down – marbles arches or soot crumbling bricks or dandelions or descriptions of dresses or whatever it is, write them down.

your chosen family is important.  remember, they picked you as much as you picked them.  the love has no obligation.  it is given freely and it is given from a place of compassion.  you are not a burden.  if you need to breathe, take a minute by yourself and just exist, but remember to go back to your people.  when they need you, listen and be gracious.  always be gracious.  the universe sometimes remembers things like that.

listen to new music.  link jump on youtube or related artist jump on spotify or ask the chap beside you in the cafe what their favorite band is, and listen to that.  listen to something that you don’t usually listen to.  we tend to tie up a lot of memory with music.  we are falling in love again.  the soundtrack needs to be specific to that.  

allow yourself to indulge in romantics.  press flowers in old books.  play movies with subtitles and mouth the words.  dance in your room.  wear something that makes you feel good, even if you wouldn’t wear it in public.  write your chosen family letters, even if you hand deliver them.  write poetry, even awful poetry.  revel in its awfulness.  eat dark chocolate and when your chosen family want to go out, try to go out with them sometimes, even if its just to the market.  

[malbaan]

[malbaan]

What you think of me has nothing to do with who i am

[malbaan]

توكل

Everything will work out in the end. You don’t need to know how. You just have to trust that it will.

September 14, 2017

[malbaan]

[malbaan]

“All the ups and downs are grace in different wrappings, sent to refine consciousness. Say thanks to them all.”

— Mooji

[malbaan]

“But have you said this to yourself? “I forgive you for everything.“”

— Seeker (Rhiannon Johanna)

[malbaan]

gentle reminders

attention is not love

attachment is not connection

the bare minimum is not effort

[malbaan]

"if you don't heal from what hurt you, you'll bleed on people that didn't cut you"

[malbaan]

Thanks to my degree every moment I'm having to work on my thesis I realize more and more how absolutely worthless this dunya is

[malbaan]

"Perhaps the misfortune that you do not like, leads you to a beautiful destiny that you never dreamed of."

لعلَّ البلاء الذي لا تُحبُّه، يقودك إلى قدرٍ جميلٍ لم تكُن تحلُم به

[malbaan]

عندي وطن ضليت بس اشتاق اله

— I have a homeland that I’m constantly longing for.

[malbaan]

swaying

i find myself easily swayed by the words of others. somehow the way they gargle their syllables holds more impact then the way mine spill out. i want to let their words roll off into the wind, and if it truly serves from a place of goodness and kindness, may it brush against me fondly. i hold my compass, may it always point north and not let the magnetic energy of others twist its arrow sparingly. my path is my own.

[malbaan]

“You are worth finding. Worth knowing. Worth loving. You and all your one million layers. Always hold that close.”

— Danielle Doby

[malbaan]

““Surely my daughter Fatima is the leader of all women from the beginning to the end. She is part of me, and the light of my eyes, she is the flower of my heart, and is my soul… whenever she stands in the presence of her Rabb, her light illuminates the skies for the angels, like stars shine to people on earth.””

— Prophet Mohammad (saww)

[malbaan]

lost youth

depression and anxiety have seized my youth by the throat but there is no such thing as lost time. i extend my fingers and grasp the soft hands of the present. i cling to its hangnail. i am still here, in its now. i am stronger. i am better. youth will inevitably wither away, even if for some it was sprinkled with smiles and warm embraces. mine serve as cold reminders of what to leave behind as fading memories. what not to recreate in a violent cycle of sabotage. the present is fresh. the future filled with new beginnings. i am lovable and capable to love. i am alive. i can feel my pulse for the first time.

#poetry #journaling #self care #short prose