Wanderhoney.Com

It’s raining outside—my all-time favourite weather. There’s something about the sound of rain that makes everything feel softer and slower, as if life itself is gently telling me to pause. Sitting on my sofa, I’m wrapped in a fluffy cardigan I rarely get to wear, gazing out the window. My feet are snug in socks, and I’m holding a steaming cup of green tea, the one my partner brought back from Türkiye last April. For a moment, I wish time could just stop.

As I take a sip, I think about how much I’ve always hated Malaysian weather—the endless heat, the humidity that clings to your skin, and the headaches that follow after spending too much time outside. It leaves me feeling irritable and drained, which is why I treasure rainy days so much. On days like this, I can’t help but imagine myself in a cosy cabin deep in the forest, surrounded by misty greenery, watching the rain dance on the leaves outside. It sounds perfect, doesn’t it?

For years, I’ve been manifesting the idea of moving abroad. Norway, perhaps? The thought of crisp, cool air and long, peaceful winters always draws me in. My brother Peter once said,

“You’re the ONE person I know who really should leave Malaysia. You don’t belong here in so many ways. Actually, why haven’t you left?”

He said that because he knows how differently I think and live my life compared to most people here—how I crave deeper connections, a similar way of thinking and a more intentional rhythm of life. His words have stayed with me, like a gentle nudge toward something bigger. Maybe he’s right, or maybe I’m just romanticizing the idea of somewhere else but on days like this, when the rain softens the edges of everything, it feels like the world agrees with me—just for a little while.

Today is one of those lazy days when I can sit on the sofa where I let myself simply exist. As cosy as it feels, my mind still wanders. Life has been a lot to process lately—moving too fast, too unpredictably—and sometimes I feel like I’m just trying to keep up.

There’s this quiet tug-of-war inside me:

I want to be happy and grateful for all that I have, but there’s also this sense of being out of place, like I’m missing something and can’t figure out what I should do in life.

Sometimes, I just want to stop and rest, letting my thoughts take a backseat. But then, guilt creeps in—”Am I wasting precious time as the clock keeps ticking? Should I simply be grateful for what I have or should I push harder for the things I desire?”

I’m reminded of the verse: 

“Indeed, Allah would never change a people’s state [of favor] until they change their own state” 

But how? I’ve been trying my whole life and still don’t know what to do. Some people seem to stumble into luck, while others, like me, can try and try but still feel stuck. Is this my destiny? I want to accept it, but a part of me still wishes I could shift it toward something better. It’s hard to explain, but it’s a feeling that lingers.

Maybe I’m still learning to embrace where I am now, even if it’s not always perfect. I used to pride myself on being strong and perfectly okay on my own, living my life. While I still value those parts of me, I’ve realized that being strong doesn’t mean I have to have it all figured out.

It’s okay to take it slow.

It’s okay to feel uncertain.

It’s okay to just be.

Rainy days like today remind me of that. They’re an invitation to stop chasing and start noticing—the warmth of a cup of tea, the softness of a cardigan, the stillness of a quiet moment, the gentle flicker of candlelight in the corner. They’re a gentle reminder that even when life feels overwhelming, there’s so much to be grateful for.

Ok, for now, I’ll let the rain lull me into a quiet nap. Maybe I’ll wake up with lighter thoughts, or maybe I won’t—and that’s okay too.

I’ll let the rain do its thing and embrace the calm it brings.

Until then. X, Hani