I know you’ve been holding a lot lately, not just in your hands, but in your heart. You care so deeply, and it shows in all the little ways you’re trying to help, to listen, to stay steady. I see how much thought you’re putting into what might ease someone else’s pain, how to show up not just with love, but with wisdom …
You may never have the perfect words or solutions, and that’s okay. It’s not about fixing everything. It’s about being there, consistently, quietly, with care. That kind of presence does matter. That kind of love is enough …
It’s also okay to feel tired sometimes. To question if you’re doing enough. To wonder if your efforts are really helping. Just remember: your intentions are rooted in love, and love is never wasted. Rest when you need to. Trust that showing up with honesty and patience is a healing act in itself …
Keep going gently. You’re doing better than you think …
Even on the days when your strength slips away and your heart feels too heavy to carry, know this, it’s okay to rest, to feel, to fall apart, because your worth was never measured by how well you pretend to be okay …
Saying ‘It’s okay’ can become an invisible shield we wear to protect others from our truth, but healing begins when we let our silence speak, and allow ourselves the grace to not always be okay
Even nature does not hide its hurt; the sky weeps, the trees shed, the earth cracks, and in doing so, it finds its way back to balance. In embracing its own cycles of pain and release, nature teaches us that healing is not found in silence, but in allowing ourselves to feel, break, and begin again. So must we …
How many times I say ‘It’s okay’ But know that it’s okay to be not okay …
After arriving in Malé, my son and I took a short ride across the water on a cheerful little troller and arrived at Villimalé, a quaint residential island just a breath away from the city, yet carrying a world of its own. We really loved it from our first glance
At Malahini Resort, we met quite a few Bangladeshi brothers. One of them was Anwar, from Cumilla. He would often talk to us and check in to see how we were doing. The day before we were to leave the resort, he found out that we’d be spending a day in the capital, Malé. That’s when he suggested, ‘You should visit Villimalé (Villingili). It’s really beautiful, peaceful beaches, and you’ll get a glimpse of how the locals live by the sea.’
My son and I decided to follow Anwar’s suggestion. And that’s how after arriving in Malé, we took a little time to check in and freshen up at the hotel and then set off for Villingili
Vilimalé greeted us like an old friend, quiet, colorful, and full of life in the most unassuming ways. We arrived in the afternoon, when the sun had begun to soften and the island was slowly waking up from its midday rest. We strolled along the beach, letting the rhythm of the waves guide us, and quickly realized that this wasn’t just a place, it was a gentle rhythm of living.
Everywhere we looked, there were tiny glimpses of humanity, sweet nothings, really, but the kind that make a place unforgettable. We saw two youngsters sitting on a swing, lost in deep conversation, as if the world around them had vanished. Just a little further down, two elderly citizens mirrored the same scene, also on a swing, equally absorbed in their own quiet exchange. It struck me how conversation, across generations, had found its sacred space here
The island had spaces carved out for everyone. Recreational areas were sprinkled thoughtfully across the land, inviting both the young and old to step out, breathe, and belong. As the sun began its descent, we saw more and more people emerging from their homes, children playing, families gathering near the shore, neighbors leaning against colorful walls exchanging daily stories. There was a profound simplicity in it all, a culture of connection, held together by time, tradition, and tide
One thing I adored was the palette of colors, houses in hues of blue, pink, and green added a joyful softness to the streets. Local buses trundled along quietly, connecting corners of the island, making life easier not just for tourists like us, but for the people who called this place home
At one point, I stopped by a humble juice stall and, with a bit of curiosity, asked the shopkeeper if he had any old coins to exchange for my Maldivian rufiyaa. To my surprise, he smiled warmly, searched through his collection, and found some for me. It wasn’t just a kind gesture, it felt like a small act of honor, a way of saying we see you, and we care. That exchange stayed with me; you know, respect can live in even the smallest interactions
Vilimalé may be a little island, but it left a great impression on us
True that beauty lives not just in landscapes or luxury, but in everyday warmth, in shared swings and sunset talks, and in the quiet magic of simply being present, with a place, and with someone you love
If you ever visit the Maldives, don’t forget to stop by the little island of Vilimalé. Whether you’re there for a stroll, a swim, or simply to slow down, Villimalé feels like a hidden corner of everyday island life
Light pours in like a gentle guest She stands where warmth meets wonder Paint in her hand, soft power in her stance The table glows with quiet intention Each colour catching a piece of the day …
Let Go, and Let Bloom Mindful Drawing Moments by Jian Bird Creates
It’s so satisfying to host sessions like Mindful Drawing Moments’ – what began on a quiet day with a simple act of curiosity. I invited a few willing souls to join me in the pattern artworks I usually create to calm my mind and return to myself. One participant became two, and slowly, word spread. That’s how ‘Mindful Drawing Moments’ was born: gently, organically, like something blooming in its own time …
Since then, these sessions have become spaces where self-help and creativity meet. Through themes like Kaizen, Kintsugi, Manifestation, Self-Love, and Mindfulness, each gathering offers more than just art, it becomes a mirror, a soft release, a shared breath …
Our recent sessions, themed ‘Let Go and Let Bloom,’ invited participants to reflect through drawing wildflowers, free, untamed, purposeful. Dried flowers from my mother’s garden were placed on the table, not just for beauty, but as a quiet symbol: that even after loss or struggle, something fragile and meaningful can still remain …
The way the participants picked up color, poured their thoughts into shapes, and shared reflections was deeply moving. There was no pressure to be an artist, only an invitation to be present …
We began with simple prompts, one that echoed was: ‘Never mind what they’. Almost all said: ‘think’. And so the letting go began …
From releasing judgment to choosing kindness, from holding space for others to forgiving ourselves, each voice in the circle added something honest and real. The drawings bloomed with color, but more importantly, so did the people …
The session closed with open hearts and softened edges. And with each event, Jian Bird Creates now offers a Certificate of Participation, a small reminder that showing up for yourself is something to honor …
Some things are worth waiting for Like the first drop of rain after a long dry day Or a flower opening when the sun feels just right … Love waits too, likethe moon behind a slow-moving cloud It doesn’t rush, doesn’t shout … But grows quietly, likeroots under the ground The heart keeps hoping, silently, day after day Like the sea touching the sand again and again Love returns when it’s ready And when it does, it feels like breathing again
Isn’t it something, how many words we’ve shared today? After all this time, I didn’t expect it, but I think, in my deepest heart, I was waiting for your letter, your voice between the lines …
Lately, my world has felt like a storm, emotionally, mentally, a whirlwind of moments and moods. But even within that, you drifted into my thoughts today. And with that thought came a soft realisation: I was still waiting to hear from you …
Perhaps that says something, not just about timing, or connection, but about how some souls hold a kind of gravity, silently, years after years. Even from a distance, they stay. They stir something gentle, something true. How they have a quiet way of returning, just when you need to hear from them!
I once read in ‘Married to Bhutan’ how being near a river can slow you down, how just standing beside water can make you feel calm and present. That thought stayed with me. And maybe that’s why your words today felt so familiar, like the sound of water flowing, unexpected yet comforting …
Maybe it was one of those days when she missed someone in the middle of every chaos happening in her life, and she realised it wasn’t only emptiness, but it held love. Then she scribbled a few lines to express how the heart still keeps speaking to that significant someone …
She called it ‘Still Love’, because, love, when it’s true, doesn’t go away, it simply grows within …
Today, I poured watercolours onto the paper. I didn’t control the flow. I just let them move, soft, wild, honest …
It felt like life. Sometimes, it makes no sense. But still, I move with it. I let it run through me. I follow what feels true, even if no one else understands it …
Nothing made sense today. Nothing went as planned. But I chose to go anyway. Go right. Go forward. Go my way …
Because even when nothing goes right, I can still go right … In my own way …
The butterfly effect means small actions can lead to big changes. Like a butterfly flapping its wings and causing a distant storm, one quiet choice can shape our future. It shows how everything is connected, even simple moments can lead to powerful transformations over time …
Over the past year, I’ve seen this truth unfold in my own life. A single decision, to take a walk, go on a journey, or say yes to a trip, or to start painting, led to deeper healing and new strength …
There was the trip to the Maldives, a place that was never on my list. I hadn’t planned it, yet it turned out to be a gentle gift. I didn’t know I would need that much in my core, and I would love so much of the stillness of the sea, the crystal-clear color of the water, the softness of the days, it all felt like life was giving me something I didn’t know I needed …
Now, as I reflect, I see that letting myself explore the unknown began with small, quiet steps. Like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, those moments created ripples I’m still feeling today …
So many tragedies happen in the world every day. Today, June 12th, a plane crash in Ahmedabad reminds us how unpredictable life is. If you miss someone, tell them now. Let them know they matter. What are you waiting for?
You live in the hush between footsteps Where city streets hold the calm of your stride And your coffee becomes a quiet ritual No rush Just the rhythm of your own becoming …
The world moves, but you are not chasing it Shopfronts blur behind you like pages already read Your strength wraps around your soul Here, and now, in the heart of the everyday life …
Anchoring everything without demand, May, 2025, Oxford Circus, London
Hiraeth/ Welsh (/ˈhɪər.aɪθ/ or /ˈhɪər.æθ/) A homesickness for a place you can’t return to, or that never was. It’s a deep longing, part memory, part desire, for something lost, or something just out of reach.
How alluring it is to see you in dreams How elegant it is to feel your silence drift in Quiet as breath between words Anchoring everything without demand …
Every day, I travel a familiar path through this part of East London, from Snaresbrook’s Hermon Hill Road toward Goodmayes, often by bus. Before the journey begins, I wait quietly near the Wanstead station, where the city unfolds like the first lines of a beloved poem. I watch people drift in and out of the morning, some rushing, others strolling, each absorbed in their own little universe. The rhythm of their movements, the fragments of conversation, the laughter, even the silence, they all stir something in me.
I take pictures as a ghost photographer, quietly capturing moments that might otherwise vanish. There’s a delicate poetry in the shifting light and long shadows, in the reflections on bus windows, in the way sunlight falls across the pavement or lingers on a shop sign. Sometimes, a smell from a bakery or coffee shop floats in the air and feels like comfort. The shops along the Wanstead path are as alive as the people, restaurants bustling with breakfast prep, a florist arranging colors into bouquets, a gallery with its newest display catching the eye of a passing child. Everything is vivid, but not loud.
And yet, amid all the brightness, I sometimes notice someone who seems distant, or heavy with thought. There’s a pause in my chest when I see them. Loneliness wears many faces, and it appears even here, in this lively, fragrant, light-drenched place. I wish, in those moments, that no one ever had to feel alone. But I understand that they do. We all do. Everyone needs someone, at every stage of life.
This stretch between Snaresbrook and Goodmayes, through Wanstead, past the little park on one side and the tapestry of shops on the other has become more than a route. It’s a quiet collection of fleeting stories, of the poetry that lives in passing moments
I am simply here, watching, witnessing, and sometimes framing the world with a silent lens, hoping to hold onto the feeling that makes someone want to read a line twice ….
In the most vulnerable moment As I painted these magnolias I felt the quiet plea for understanding ….
Breathing peace, calm and mindfulness Into each gentle stroke, I imagined a mind in turmoil Needing patience more than correction …
That’s a healing feeling To meet another’s struggle with still hands and an open heart As if cradling a flower that blooms differently, but no less beautifully …
As I painted the magnolia in watercolor in midst of the most vulnerable part of my life, I felt it to my core and each petal reminded me of how delicate and unique every person is, specially those living with mental challenges.
This artwork and poem are a reminder to approach others with patience, gentleness, and empathy, just as we would care for a blooming flower
Can we learn to hold each other with that same tenderness?
Also, what is the true meaning for empathy to you? What actions can we take for being a true empathetic human being?
If healing means honoring each small win with love, then yes, I’m all in.
Life lately has felt like a handful of mismatched puzzle pieces, confusion, mistakes, fatigue, sudden changes, and that quiet weight of uncertainty. The Edinburgh trip, though planned in a hurry, reminded me that not all plans bring peace. Sometimes, even with good intentions, things get messy, emotionally, physically, logistically. It was far from perfect. And yet we pulled it off. Safely. Together.
Somewhere on the train ride back to London, while everything inside me felt scrambled, I painted tulips. Just small strokes. Just a quiet orchestra of colour, blooming gently across paper. This little painting feels like a symbol now, not of the trip itself, but of surviving the chaos around it. Of still choosing to make something tender while in motion.
Healing, I’m learning, isn’t about always getting it right. It’s about showing up for myself anyway, in illness, in confusion, in exhaustion. It’s about pausing to notice the small things: a safe return, a single flower, a quiet breath. That’s where the love lives. In small, steady steps forward
What is ‘NORMAL,’ really? The idea often feels like a moving target, shaped by culture, context, and conformity. When we pause to question it, we see that ‘normal’ doesn’t truly exist as a fixed standard. Instead, it’s a narrow box that fails to hold the complexity of human experience.
Each of us carries a different rhythm, a unique way of seeing, feeling, and interacting with the world. This diversity is not an exception to normalcy, it is normal. Whether our minds move fast or slow, whether we speak loudly or quietly, whether we process emotions deeply or more logically, WE ARE ALL DIFFERENTLY NORMAL
Conditions like autism, depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, ADHD, and many others are often framed as ‘disorders,’ yet they are also variations of the human brain, different operating systems, not faulty ones
These ways of BEING deserve understanding, not stigma. They bring creativity, insight, resilience, and new ways of thinking into a world that needs all kinds of minds.
When we judge people based on whether they fit into a narrow mold, we all lose something. We overlook talents, silence voices, and create shame where there could be celebration
It’s time to broaden our idea of what it means to be human, and honour every variation within that spectrum.
So, let us remember: there’s no single blueprint for being OKAY, for being WHOLE, or for being RIGHT.
There is no such thing as ‘normal’ that fits us all, but there is a powerful, inclusive normalcy in our differences. And that’s something worth embracing
What would change if we stopped asking, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ and started asking, ‘What’s your way of being in the world?’
This reflection is shared in honour of Mental Health Awareness Month (May), a time to challenge stigma, open up honest conversations, and recognize that mental health is health. Celebrating the beautifully varied ways we all experience the world reminds us that difference is not disorder, and understanding is the first step to acceptance.
Let’s make space for every mind, every story, every voice
Edinburgh, Scotland (2nd of May, 2025)
Ubuntu- a Nguni Bantu term from Southern Africa meaning ‘I am because we are.’
It reflects interconnectedness, shared humanity, and the idea that everyone’s way of being contributes to the whole
Have you ever spent time with someone who has bipolar disorder? What was it like to be around them during their depressive episodes or manic phases? Did you notice anything in particular about how they acted or how it made you feel?
You might say it’s easy for me to say this But let me put on your shoes and step into your struggles your pain your heartaches your betrayals your despair and your losses
Even then, with all of it held in my heart, I’ll still say this:
Allow yourself to be as messy as you need. It doesn’t matter as much as you think, it doesn’t define you. What others or even you see as chaos doesn’t take away from your worth or who you truly are
And in this moment, an idea arrives gently, like a tide: Jian Bird Creates’s next Mindful Drawing Moments will be inspired by the Greek word Meraki, a beautiful reminder to create with soul, with love, and with heart, even when it’s messy
Unlearn the need to be perfect Learn to embrace imperfection
I’m in the Maldives right now, and I never imagined I could fall so deeply in love with the blue, aquamarine shades of the ocean
This corner of the Indian Ocean is casting a strange kind of magic within me, washing away the noise, softening my thoughts, and filling me with a calm I didn’t know I needed
Sometimes, all it takes is water, sky, and silence to remember who we are beneath it
If you love the ocean, don’t miss the Maldives, its turquoise beauty will stay in your heart forever …
Why is love so sweet? Maybe love is sweet because it doesn’t ask to be explained It shows up in the smallest gestures A glance held a little longer A smile that stays even after you’ve looked away …
When I write ‘I♥️’ I’m not writing a word I’m pointing toward you … Toward the way your presence softens the edges of my day … Toward the way love makes ordinary moments glow … You are what I mean Without needing to say anything more …
After quite a while, I’ve written something that resembles a love poem, if it can be called that
The words came to me unexpectedly. I suddenly thought, ‘Why is love so sweet?’ And just like that, the rest flowed through me as if it had been waiting all along
On a different note, I’ve recently been watching the Netflix series When Life Gives You Tangerines’ and maybe, in its quiet moments and tender storytelling, it’s been softening something in me, opening a space where words like these could return
Funny question! Have you seen this Netflix series, ‘When Life Gives You Tangerines?’
‘যার যার গল্প, তার তার কাছে তীব্র সত্য!’ ‘Each person’s story is an intense truth to them.’
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how often we compare struggles and pain, as if one person’s suffering is somehow more valid than another’s. But the more I look around, the more I realize: every soul carries something heavy
What breaks one heart might barely shake another, not because one person is weaker, but because we all come from different stories. Different pasts. Different support systems. And that’s why empathy matters so deeply
Society often teaches us to appear strong, to move on quickly, to say things like, ‘At least it’s not worse,’ or ‘Others have it harder.’ But those words, even when meant kindly, can shut someone down. They create distance, when what we really need is connection
Empathy isn’t about fixing. It’s about feeling with. It’s about sitting beside someone and saying, ‘I may not fully understand, but I’m here with you.’
Empathy is not just emotional intelligence; it’s a spiritual practice, a way of mirroring Divine compassion in a world that often rushes past quiet suffering
In my faith, His mercy, ‘Rahmah’ is infinite. He sees every hidden struggle, every silent tear. Only God truly knows the weight of our burdens. Only He sees the full picture of our hearts. And He calls on us to reflect that mercy in how we treat one another
The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, ‘None of you truly believes until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself.’
So maybe today, let’s stop comparing struggles and pain. Let’s choose softness, gentleness, and grace. Let’s lean in. Let’s pray for one another. And above all, let’s be kind. Let’s remember, we are never truly alone. Our Lord is always with us.
LA HAWLA WA LA QUWWATA ILLA BILLAH There is no strength and no power except through God
Roksana Tales 