Happiness may not live in one place or one moment. Perhaps it is found in the spaces between letting go of the past, embracing the present, and trusting what tomorrow may bring.
Happiness lives in three places In letting go of what was In releasing yesterday’s shadows And making peace with every loss …
Happiness lives in three places In enjoying what is In noticing the colours around me The streets, the sky, the little joys I might have missed …
Happiness lives in three places In trusting what will be In believing that every uncertain road May still lead me somewhere I am meant to see …
Happiness lives in three places In letting go, living now, and trusting tomorrow … And somewhere between the three I found a little more peace within myself …
#roksanatales
Sukha: a Sanskrit word for happiness, ease, inner peace, and a sense of well-being
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Now, tell me, How’re you? How do you find your peace?
Please don’t gift me another notebook Really. Really
I love them far too much Too much. Too much
Every beautiful cover whispers my name Whisper. Whisper
I tell myself, “This is the last one” Last. Last
Then another one appears with lovely paper Oops. Oops
Now my shelves look like a stationery festival Help. Help
Some are waiting for poems Waiting. Waiting
Some are waiting for sketches Waiting. Waiting
And some are simply waiting for the perfect first page Someday. Someday
So if you love me, give me a hug instead
Enough. Enough
#roksanatales
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A little confession…
I truly love notebooks. They hold dreams, poems, sketches, random thoughts, secret little notes, and even complete gibberish. There is something magical about a fresh page waiting for a story
The funny part is, I already have more notebooks than I could possibly fill. Yet every time I see another beautiful one, I wonder if I should bring it home too. I honestly have no idea when I’ll ever use them all, but somehow, I still can’t resist …
Do you also collect notebooks faster than you can fill them, or are you someone who finishes one before buying the next?
I love people Who carry kindness calmly, Like a small light in their hands … They do not wait for applause They simply move through the world With softness in their voice And calm in their heart …
I admire those Who naturally have morals and manners Not because someone taught them to perform goodness But because respect lives inside them They greet people warmly Listen without rushing And leave others feeling valued …
I notice people With self awareness and common sense They pause before speaking They understand that words can stay Inside someone for a long time So they choose honesty with care And silence when silence is kinder …
I feel safe around those Who have consideration for others They think beyond themselves They notice tired faces, unspoken feeling, Small discomforts in crowded rooms Their kindness pays attention …
I appreciate people Who move through the world gently Without making it everyone else’s problem They carry their struggles with grace They do not spread hurt everywhere they go Even in difficult moments They try not to wound others …
I respect people Who care without keeping score They give because their heart tells them to Not for praise Not to collect favors Not to remind others later Of everything they once did …
I hold close the people Who don’t make noise about their goodness There is something rare about them No performance, no loud display Just humble decency, day after day The kind of people Who simply are …
#roksanatales
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Bonhomie means a warm, friendly, and relaxed kindness in a person’s behaviour. It describes someone who is naturally pleasant, easy to be around, and makes others feel comfortable without trying too hard. The word is derived from the French bonhomme, meaning ‘good-natured fellow’ …
What are 5 everyday things that bring you happiness?
I believe, happiness doesn’t arrive as something grand. It comes in small, almost unnoticed moments …
For me, happiness lives in being at home, my little temple, my sanctuary, where I can sit in stillness, eat slowly, and feel safe within my own space …
It lives in walking, step by step, with music in my ears, letting my thoughts soften and settle somewhere amidst people, places, environments, nature, and the roads …
It lives in creating, picking up a pen or brush, I let myself write or paint without pressure. Words and colors become a place to rest, where emotions flow freely and something within me feels understood …
It lives in simple connections, a conversation, a shared cup of tea or coffee, or even just knowing someone is there, without the need for too many words …
And it lives in faith and reflection, those moments when I pause, pray, or sit with my thoughts, connecting to the higher powers, trying to make sense of life’s uncertainties, and finding just enough strength to keep going
These are my five everyday happinesses. Small, gentle, and steady! They carry me through everything …
A heartfelt letter from a mother to her daughter, celebrating self-worth, independence, and personal growth, with gentle reminders to protect health, build financial stability, travel, and nurture creativity
My Darling Ma,
You are enough. For yourself. By yourself. Never, ever forget this
From the very beginning of your life, you have carried yourself with grace and strength. As a daughter, as a girl growing into your own light, as an elder sister, a friend, a wife, a daughter-in-law, a colleague, and most importantly, as a human being, you have always tried to do what is right and what is best. That is something no one can take away from you
There will always be people who point out what you could have done better. Let them. Do not react to every voice. Not everyone will understand your journey, your intentions, or your worth. When they cannot see your value, rise higher, vibrate higher, and remain rooted in who you are
Whatever comes into your life, promise me this: Never compromise your health. Never compromise your financial stability.
Take care of your temple — your body. Protect your mind — your peace. Earn your own money — always. Stay physically strong and fiercely independent. Strength is not harshness; it is security, dignity, and freedom
And my princess girl, Noor e Jannat, pray and travel more. Be grateful and see the world. Keep writing your journals and share your wisdom with the world. Keep reading your books. Keep hosting your journal gatherings. Keep creating spaces where hearts can breathe
Live fully. Grow boldly. Stand tall
This is just a little letter your mother wanted to write to you. Remember that you are capable, worthy, and powerful in ways even you may not always see
Some days, I’m more aware of my shortcomings than I allow others, or myself to see. I see where I fall short, where I hesitate, where I choose comfort over courage. I know my flaws. I do not hide them from myself, and I cannot hide them from God.
And yet, when I pray, something honest rises within me.
I come as I am, not polished, not proud. My prayers are not rehearsed performances; they are pure offerings shaped by need, regret, hope, and longing. I pray because despite everything, I still believe in mercy. I still believe in being heard
Perhaps this is what sincerity truly means. It’s not the absence of sin, but the refusal to turn away. I am learning that returning, again and again, is itself a form of faith. Even when I feel undeserving, I show up. Even when my heart is tired, I speak
Thats how always humbly I place my imperfections in God’s hands. Because I believe, no other can handle it like Him. I do not ask to be seen as perfect, only as honest. And for always, that feels like enough
#roksanatales
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Now tell me, Where do you place your imperfections?
I came across the idea of Swedish death cleaning today, and it stayed with me longer than I expected. Not because of the word death, that part feels inevitable and oddly neutral, but because of the tenderness behind the idea: easing the weight for those we love …
Margareta Magnusson writes about sorting not as an ending, but as an act of care. A way of saying, I see you. I don’t want to leave you overwhelmed. That makes sense to me. Deep sense …
Sorting through a person’s life after they are gone is a herculean task. Grief itself already bends the spine; belongings can make it heavier. Each object asks a question: Should I keep this? What did it mean to them? Am I dishonouring them if I let it go? I wouldn’t want my family to carry that weight on top of their sorrow …
The biggest declutter I dream of is invisible, yet massive: millions of photographs. Faces, skies, meals, moments, saved out of love, fear of forgetting, or the hope that one day they’ll matter again. I wonder if they will feel like treasures… or burdens. Perhaps it’s not about deleting everything, but about choosing what truly tells a story …
Then there are my words. Countless musings, half-written thoughts, simple musings, & reflections stored away for “someday.” I imagine my grandchildren, & great grandchildren, curious, gentle readers, finding joy not in everything I ever wrote, but in the pieces where my voice is clearest. Maybe my task is not to preserve all my words, but to organise them with intention, like letters rather than clutter …
And the coins. Oh, the coins! Little metallic memories gathered from here and there. Each one once felt like a discovery, a moment of wonder. I don’t want to lose that magic, but I also don’t want them to become meaningless weight in a drawer. Perhaps they deserve a story, a frame, a reason to exist beyond accumulation …
Magnusson says you don’t have to be old to begin. Even in your thirties, when drawers no longer close and closets resist you, it’s already time. I like that permission. It takes death out of the centre and places living there instead …
I don’t know how far away I am from the end, and maybe that doesn’t matter. What matters is this: decluttering feels less like letting go, and more like choosing what love looks like when I’m no longer here …
For now, I will begin gently. Not with fear. With care.
#roksanatales
a vision board of decluttering and organising things in an aesthetic style
As a teenager, she would watch her sisters tilt their faces toward the light, their lashes casting long shadows over eyes that shimmered with beauty. When she looked in the mirror, her own eyes seemed smaller, plainer, framed by short lashes. It stung her heart a little, like a tiny splinter she couldn’t quite pull out …
Over time, she began to reclaim them. She traced deep kajol along her lids, soft & dark, like ink drawing a doorway. Her eyes lookd wider, more alive. People began to say she looked striking, and for the first time, her eyes felt truly hers …
Then life changed. Grief came quietly, like water filling a low space. In her reflection, she noticed it, the sparkle that once danced in her eyes had turned gentler, dimmer, like smoke fading after a flame. Her eyes began to carry stories of long nights and silent endurance. She didn’t always want others to read them …
So she reached for her sunglasses. The cool plastic rested against her temples, the tinted lenses washed the world in sepia. It felt like drawing a curtain over a window. Behind them, she had privacy. No one could see the sadness flicker and ask, “Are you okay?” …
She’s learned something through this little ritual, and that is, sometimes covering up isn’t vanity; it’s survival. The layers we wear, sunglasses, kajol, even a careful smile, are small stitches tht hold us togther until we’re ready to heal …
Sometimes, she still wonders: what would it feel like to step into the light barefaced, to let her eyes tell their truth, and to trust the world not to look away?
#roksanatales
Her eyes carry stories the world is not yet ready to read
Roksana Tales 