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Foreword
In a world that often demands relentless productivity and unyielding positivity, The When You’re Feeling Down Book by Subandi Kamis offers a much-needed alternative: permission to slow down, to breathe, and to navigate life’s challenges with gentleness. This book is a deeply reflective, profoundly personal, and yet universally relatable guide to overcoming the stagnation that often accompanies difficult times. Subandi skillfully weaves together mindfulness, personal narrative, and philosophical wisdom, creating a guide that is neither clinical nor didactic. Instead, it is conversational, poetic, and deeply human—a companion for those who find themselves lost in emotional stillness. His approach is reminiscent of cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and behavioral activation strategies, but instead of focusing on rigid frameworks, he provides a gentle, intuitive path forward. The book is structured around small, intentional acts—waking up, washing dishes, walking, painting, preparing food—each of which serves as a metaphor for progress, healing, and self-care. These everyday actions, often dismissed as mundane, become acts of mindfulness and agency. Subandi reminds us that recovery, whether from stress, grief, or burnout, does not require grand gestures but consistent, deliberate steps forward. From a longevity medicine perspective, this book aligns with what I emphasize in my medical practice: resilience, sustainability, and self-awareness as fundamental to health. Longevity is not just about physical optimisation—it is also about cultivating emotional and psychological endurance. Subandi reinforces this through his exploration of patience, imperfection (Wabi-Sabi and Kintsugi), and finding meaning in transitions (Ikigai and Lagom). A particularly moving aspect of the book is its storytelling. Subandi draws from personal experiences—his time studying in the UK, his relationships with his family, and the lessons passed down from loved ones. These narratives are both personal and universal, reminding us that everyone encounters moments of stillness, uncertainty, and longing. For readers looking for a structured self-help book with numbered lists and action plans, this might not be it. Subandi instead offers something far more valuable—a sense of companionship. He does not dictate solutions but invites the reader into a shared space of reflection and movement. The book does not push; it nudges. Ultimately, The When You’re Feeling Down Book is a gentle yet powerful reminder that progress is not always about acceleration—it is often about finding peace in the present moment and trusting in the return of the winds that will carry us forward. Dr Pengiran Haji Hishamuddin Pengiran Dato Paduka Haji Badaruddin.Bartley Clinic, Singapore
The Doldrums: Prologue
I am reminded of the doldrums - a nautical term originally used by sailors in the 18th and 19th centuries that refer to the calm, windless regions near the equator, where sailboats, dependent on the wind, could become stranded for weeks. Without momentum, these ships would drift aimlessly, their crews left waiting, hoping for even the faintest breeze to push them forward. The doldrums were more than just a test of patience; they were a test of endurance and perseverance, requiring those on board to maintain the ship, prepare for movement, and believe that the winds would return. And they always did.
Many of us experience our own personal doldrums, moments where life feels stagnant, heavy, and unmoving. We wake up with a weight on our chest, finding it hard to push forward, struggling to regain a sense of direction. Some days, even the smallest actions - getting out of bed, taking a shower, eating a meal - can feel overwhelming. We are adrift, waiting for a change, unsure when or how it will come.
What you will find written here is for those moments—for anyone who has ever felt stuck, unmotivated, or lost in the haze of a difficult day. Blending positive psychology with storytelling, this book offers a step-by-step approach to moving forward - gently, patiently, and at your own pace.
Like the sailors tending to their ships in the doldrums, we, too, can prepare ourselves for movement, even when the winds of change have yet to return. The smallest actions, when done with intention, can create momentum, steady us, and gently guide us back to the current.
You will find snippets of my own story, drawn from personal experiences with family and life’s many challenges. While not the main focus, these reflections provide a personal perspective, with insights that I hope will resonate with you, helping you to illuminate your own path and progress forward.
I leave you, dear reader, with these words: wherever you are, whatever doldrums you’re facing, know that the air will stir again. And when it does, you will be ready.
Pengiran Subandi Pengiran Haji Kamis
When You Don’t Feel Like Waking Up - 1
The day feels daunting. Your eyes are still closed, but the weight of the morning presses against you, and you can hear the rain tapping softly at your window like a reminder of the grayness outside. You open your eyes. You can see through the window the sky is thick with clouds, heavy and unmoving, casting everything in a dull, muted light. It feels easier to stay where you are, wrapped in the stillness, untouched by the world.
You want to step outside. You close your eyes and imagine the damp earth beneath your feet, cool and rich with the scent of rain. In your reverie, you walk forward, even if the air is thick with uncertainty. The mist clings to your skin, the wind murmurs through the trees, and the sound of water, unseen but near, calls you ahead.
You think of a lake, and it suddenly fills your vision. You see the surface, once disturbed by the storm, has settled into a perfect reflection of the sky. The clouds, the shifting light, the stretch of grey and cyan—all of it mirrored as though the world above and below are one. The air is not lifeless. You smell the petrichor. You hear the rustle of leaves, the distant cry of birds, the hum of insects hidden in the underbrush—everything moves, continues, carries on.
The sun begins to break through, the grey and cyan sky gradually turning to blue, spilling warmth over the landscape. It touches your skin, spreads across the water, turns the droplets on the leaves into tiny prisms of light. The world is not static. It is not bound to one moment, one feeling, one storm. It moves. It changes.
And so do you.
The rain has passed. The lake remains. The sky is wide, bright, waiting. Take a deep breath. Exhale. Clear your mind, and your heart. Fill them with positivity. Feel the positivity permeate your very being, tingling at your fingertips, crackling even.
Now open your eyes. Wake up. Stand up. Face the day with a quiet confidence.
And … Live.
Begin The Day - 2
Let’s move. The space between where you are and where you need to be feels vast, very far away - stretching endlessly. But don’t worry. You do not need to conquer the day all at once. You only need to begin.So start small.Sit up, even if it feels like the weight of sleep still clings to your bones. Swing your legs over the side of the bed and plant your feet on the floor. Feel the ground beneath you. It is solid. It will hold you.Stand.Step into the shower. Turn the water on and let it run for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm as it hits the tiles. Feel the warmth rising, the steam wrapping around you like a quiet invitation to begin again. Step forward and let the water meet your skin, a soft but certain reminder that you are here, that this moment belongs to you.Let it wash away the weight of the night - the hesitation, the tiredness, the thoughts that clung to you in the dark. Feel it rinse away the heaviness that settled in your chest, the sluggishness in your limbs, the doubt whispering that today will be just as hard as yesterday. Let the warmth spread across your shoulders, down your back, over your hands. Close your eyes. Just breathe.There is nothing to solve right now. No pressure, no expectation. Only this moment. The water, the warmth, the sound of your own breathing. You don’t have to feel ready for the day yet. You don’t have to carry everything forward right now. You only have to stand here, letting the water remind you that you are alive, that you are still moving, that you have another chance.And for now, that is enough.Get dressed : reach for something soft, something that feels like you. Maybe it’s a favorite sweater, the one worn just right, the fabric familiar against your skin. Maybe it’s a simple, clean shirt that reminds you that today is new, that yesterday does not have to linger longer than it needs to. Choose something that makes you feel comfortable, secure - whole, even if you don’t feel entirely whole just yet.Button the shirt, pull up the zipper, adjust the sleeves. Feel the fabric settle against your body, grounding you, forming a layer between you and the world. This isn’t about looking perfect or impressing anyone. This is about wrapping yourself...
A Gentle Shift into the Day - 3
At this time of the day, you don’t have to be rushed to make your plans. Let me repeat and rephrase that - you don’t have to make your plans right now. There’s no need for a list, no need to map out every hour, no need to push yourself into something that feels heavy.Instead, just ask yourself one question:‘What would make today feel a little bit easier?’Not everything. Not the whole day. Just one small thing.Maybe it’s stepping outside for some fresh air. Maybe it’s finishing a simple task that’s been lingering. Maybe it’s just giving yourself permission to rest without guilt.If thinking about the day ahead feels like too much, then don’t think about the whole day. Shrink it down. Just think about the next step.If writing things down helps, write down just one thing. Not a long list. Not a heavy commitment. Just one gentle nudge forward.And if even that feels like too much, then don’t worry about it. The day will unfold on its own. You are not behind. You are not failing. Here’s a thought - just one small thing. Not a task. Not a responsibility. Just a quiet invitation to engage with the world, to remind yourself that you are still connected to something beyond the weight you’re carrying. It doesn’t have to be big. It just has to be something.Maybe it’s as simple as looking through the window. Notice how the world moves outside, whether it’s still and quiet or alive with motion. Notice how the world moves. Effortlessly, without waiting for permission. The wind carries leaves from one place to another, a journey without destination. The birds glide, not in straight lines but in arcs, spirals, and unseen patterns only they understand. There is no rush, no hesitations - only movement that follows its own quiet rhythm.Somewhere, people are going about their day. A person rushing to catch a bus, another pausing to tie a shoe, someone staring at their phone, lost in a world of their own. Each of them carries thoughts, worries, stories - entire universes within them, just as you do. We move through the same world, but never in quite the same way.The earth turns beneath you - it spins, as it has for billions of years. You the observer - is one person among billions. You are unique. And the world simply moves - not demanding, not...
The Simplicity of Walking - 4
If you feel like stepping outside, go for a short walk. Not with an end goal, not with urgency, not to be productive -but simply to move, to feel, to reconnect with the world beyond your thoughts. Step forward, not because you must, but because your body deserves the rhythm of motion, your lungs deserve fresh air, and your mind deserves to be reminded that there is more to existence than what weighs on you.Let your walk be effortless. No pressure to go far, no need to measure distance or time. Walk slowly, if that’s what feels right. Or stop whenever you like. There is no competition, no finish line, no expectation.As you move, bring your attention to the world around you. Notice how the light meets the pavement - does it stretch long shadows across the ground, or is it soft and diffused, wrapping everything in warmth? Pay attention to the leaves - they do not hurry, yet they do not resist where the wind takes them. They simply move, trusting the breeze.Listen carefully. The world hums in the background, always in motion, always alive. The distant murmur of conversation, the hum of an engine, the chirping of birds, the rustle of branches swaying gently above. The world is speaking, in its own way, in a language beyond words.You don’t have to match its pace. You are not behind. You are not late. Life moves, but it does not require you to move at the same speed. You are allowed to move slowly. You are allowed to pause.Feel your feet meeting the ground with each step. Feel the slight breeze against your skin. This moment is yours, unclaimed by anyone else. This movement is yours, belonging to no one but you.And perhaps, as you walk, something shifts - not suddenly, not dramatically, but subtly. Perhaps your breath deepens. Perhaps your thoughts settle, just a little. Perhaps you realize that forward motion, no matter how small, is still motion.And that is enough.Walk, not to escape, but to return - to yourself, to the present, to the quiet understanding that you are here, and here is exactly where you need to be.I have a story for you : not too long ago, I was studying at a British university. I would walk the 30 minutes or so to the university in the mornings taking a scenic route - a rather lonely...
A Gentle Guide to Painting - 5
When the world feels heavy and your thoughts seem tangled, pick up a brush, a pen, a pencil or even your fingertips. You don’t need skill. You don’t need a plan. You only need to begin.Look at the colors before you. Don’t overthink - let your emotions choose for you. If you feel calm, maybe a soft blue or gentle green speaks to you. If you feel restless, perhaps bold red or deep purple feels right. There is no wrong choice - only what calls to you in this moment. Dab your brush into the color. Watch how it gathers, thick and vibrant. This is the beginning of something. You are starting something.Place the brush on the canvas or paper and move it without hesitation, without judgment. Maybe it’s a single line, a curve, a shape that forms without thought. It doesn’t have to be anything. It just has to be. Notice how the paint moves. Watch how it spreads, how it blends, how it becomes something new the moment it touches the surface. Just like you, it is in motion, transforming, evolving.With every stroke, every mark, you are releasing something. A thought, a feeling, a tension you didn’t even know you were holding. There is no need for words, no need to explain. Just let the movement happen. Feel the rhythm of it - the gentle drag of the brush, the way the colors mix on the page, the sound of bristles meeting the surface. This moment is yours, undisturbed, unclaimed by anything else.Maybe the lines are uneven. Maybe the colors aren’t blending as expected. Maybe the picture looks nothing like what you imagined. That is okay. That is beautiful. Let it be raw, let it be messy, let it be exactly as it is. Just like you, it does not need to be perfect to be worthy.Pause for a moment. Look at what you’ve made - not with a critic’s eye, but with kindness. This is a part of you, expressed in color and shape. This is something that did not exist before you put it into the world. And in creating it, you have proven something powerful: that you are still here, that you are still capable of bringing something new into existence.Put the brush down. Take a deep breath. Whether the painting feels finished or not, whether it makes sense or not, you have done something...
The Art of Washing Dishes - 6
When the world feels overwhelming, even the smallest tasks can seem impossible. But house cleaning - simple, repetitive, grounding - can be more than just tidying up. It can be a quiet act of self-care, a reminder that even in small ways, you have control, you have movement, you have the ability to create order where there was once disorder.Start small. There’s no rush. No expectation of speed or efficiency. Just one action at a time. Allow yourself to arrive in this moment, to be here fully - not thinking about the past, not worrying about the future, but simply standing in front of the sink, hands steady, body present.Look at the dishes before you - not as a chore, not as an obligation, but as an opportunity for something simple, something rhythmic, something grounding.Feel the cool surface of the counter beneath your fingertips. The weight of the dishes, stacked in quiet anticipation. Let your hand rest on one of them, its surface smooth, solid, waiting. This is where you begin.Turn on the water. Listen to its sound. The first rush, forceful and clear, then settling into a steady stream. Feel the warmth as it runs over your hands, the way it spreads across your skin, loosening tension, signaling comfort.Add the soap. Watch how it moves. A small drop turns into countless tiny bubbles, rising and vanishing, each one a fleeting moment of creation and release. There is something beautiful in this - the way something ordinary transforms with a single action.Pick up the first dish. Hold it, feel its weight, its edges, the way it sits in your hands. This is your only task right now. No distractions, no worries - just this dish, this moment, this motion.Let the sponge or cloth glide over its surface. Notice the circular motions, the way the soap clings and then dissolves. If there are stubborn spots, don’t rush, don’t force - just let your hands work gently, patiently. This is not about speed; this is about presence.Rinse. Watch how the water takes everything away. The soap, the grease, the tiny specks of food - all of it swept into the drain, disappearing as if it was never there. A fresh start. A reset. A quiet, effortless renewal.One dish at a time, one small victory at a time. Feel the satisfaction of completion, of something that was once cluttered now becoming clear, clean,...
Gently Prepare your Food - 7
When you’re feeling down and not feeling well - physically or emotionally - eating can feel like a task, an obligation, something distant from your needs. But food is more than just fuel; it is warmth, it is comfort, it is care. Preparing a simple meal is not about perfection or complexity - it is about offering your body something kind, something easy, something that says, ‘I am taking care of you.’ If the thought of cooking feels overwhelming, start small. No rush, no pressure. One step at a time.You don’t need to prepare anything elaborate - just something that is gentle on the stomach, easy to make, and brings a small sense of warmth. A good meal can be light but nourishing, mild in flavor, and simple in preparation. Something like a warm bowl of oatmeal with honey, a soft scrambled egg with toast, a light vegetable soup, or even a banana smoothie. Pick something that feels right for your body. If you don’t have much appetite, even a simple piece of toast with a little butter is enough.Before you begin, pause. Look around your kitchen. If it feels messy or overwhelming, take one deep breath. You don’t need to clean everything - just make a little space for yourself. Clear a small area on the counter. Gather the ingredients so you don’t have to search for them. If standing feels difficult, sit while you prepare. This is not a race. This is an act of care, a moment to be present with yourself.Now, start slowly. If you are making something warm, feel the quiet comfort of the process. Crack an egg into a bowl and whisk it gently, noticing the softness of the motion. Heat a pan, melt a little butter, and let the warm scent fill the air. Toast the bread while the eggs cook, stirring slowly as they come together into something soft, something whole. If you’re making oatmeal, measure the oats, pour in water or milk, and watch how they swirl together, thickening, settling into something warm and nourishing.When the food is ready, take a moment to plate it with care. Place the toast neatly, let the butter melt in golden streaks. Pour the oatmeal into a bowl and sprinkle a little cinnamon on top. Small touches matter. This isn’t about presentation - it’s about acknowledging that you have done something for yourself.Now, find a...
When Your Energy Ebbs in the Afternoon - 8
The afternoon is always different than the morning. You feel it in your body, in your thoughts, in the quiet slowing of everything around you. The sharpness of the morning fades, and in its place, a kind of heaviness lingers. Maybe you feel restless, unable to focus. Maybe you feel tired, as though the day is already asking too much of you. Or maybe it’s simply a quiet stillness, one that feels neither good nor bad, just there.This part of the day can feel long and slow, stretched thin between what has passed and what is still ahead. And yet, you are here, in this moment. Don’t rush, though. You may feel heavy, but instead of pushing against the fatigue, pause for a moment and notice it. Embrace it. You do not have to force energy where there is none. You do not have to pretend you feel differently than you do. Simply allow yourself to be here, as you are.Take a slow, deep breath. Feel the air enter your lungs, feel it expand your ribs, and then slowly let it go. Try it again - this time, noticing the exhale, how your body softens just a little as you release it.If you are sitting, let your shoulders relax. If you are standing, feel the ground beneath your feet, steady, unmoving. You are here. You are present. The weight of the afternoon is real, but it does not have to carry you away.When your energy ebbs and dips, it is easy to sink into stillness, to stay where you are. But movement, even the smallest kind, has the power to shift something within you.If you can, stand up and stretch. Reach your arms above your head, feeling the gentle pull in your muscles. Roll your shoulders back, loosen your neck. If standing feels like too much, wiggle your fingers, stretch your legs out, move in any way that feels good.Walk, even if just to the next room. Even if just to the window to see what the sky looks like. Open the window if you can, feel the air shift around you. Step outside if possible, let the world remind you that it is still moving, that you are still moving.Maybe what you need is a small reset, a moment to refresh and reconfigure yourself. It can be something as simple as drinking a glass of water - do it...
The Bend in the Trail. - 9
I had been hiking down the trail with my friends for almost 30 minutes. My objective - a raised platform at the edge of the hill that provided a grand view of the Great Smoky Mountains, at the border of North Carolina and Tennessee.Some interesting facts : the Great Smoky Mountains make up the subrange that forms part of the Appalachians Mountains - an ancient and majestic range in the United States. The Appalachians stretch across the eastern North America from the United States’ Alabama to Canada’s Newfoundland. Historically inhabited by the native American people such as the Iroquois, Shawnee and Cherokee, it is a majestic mountain range, and has to be observed personally to be really appreciated. As we progressed through the trail, my senses were heightened by the ease of the rolling hills and its enticing forest. I kept an eye out for the black bears, and bobcats that I thought were supposed to roam in the vicinity. Yet, none of the animals appeared thankfully, perhaps dissuaded by the relatively large number of people on the trail that day. We were nearing the part where the trail veered to the right, when a man emerged from it. ‘It’s another hour to the platform, guys! The trail’s pretty bad!’ He said, helpfully, a friendly smile on his face.We thanked him, and continued on our way, pacing ourselves for what would probably be a few more kilometres of difficult hiking. As we rounded the bend however, we had to laugh. There, in front of us - just a few metres away was the platform. It had been hidden well from view by the trees and thick undergrowth of bushes near the trail.Life is much like that experience on the trail. We often overestimate the difficulty of what lies ahead, based on information received from others, or from our own mental projections. The friendly hiker’s information - ‘It’s another hour to the platform’ and that the trail was quite bad instantly set a new mental framework - causing our group to brace ourselves for an extended energy sapping trek. In reality however, the platform wasn’t far away, and the trail was smooth. The expectation was simply built on false information. This is where our mindset, resilience and the power of perspective cross paths. The anticipation of a longer and difficult trek was heavy in our minds. That fear of difficult things...
The Beauty of Imperfection - 10
There is beauty in things that are not perfect. You may not always notice it at first, because so much of the world tells you to seek something that is polished, flawless, complete. But perfection is an illusion - one that often leaves you feeling like you are always falling short, like something is always missing, incomplete. What if, instead of chasing perfection, you learned to embrace things as they are? What if, in the cracks, in the uneven edges, in the things that feel unfinished or imperfect, you found something meaningful, something beautiful? That is the essence of Wabi-Sabi, a Japanese philosophy that sees beauty in imperfection, impermanence, and incompleteness. It is really a way to see the world differently, to appreciate what is raw, natural, and real - including yourself.Take a moment to look around you. Find something that is not perfect - a piece of furniture worn at the edges, a favorite mug with a chip in it, the way light falls unevenly across the room. These might seem like flaws. But what if you saw them differently? What if you saw them as proof of life, of history, of character?Imperfection is not a mistake - it is a sign of authenticity. A tree does not grow in perfect symmetry, yet it is no less beautiful. A book with worn pages, a sweater with fraying threads, a face with lines that tell stories - these are not things to be fixed. They are things to be appreciated, honored.And so are you - your imperfections, your flaws, your moments of uncertainty and struggle - they do not take away from who you are. They make you who you are. They make you real, human. And there is always beauty in that. Not everything in life needs to be complete for it to have value. A song can still touch the heart, even if its chords are incomplete. A painting can still be powerful even if it remains unfinished. A journey can still be meaningful even if you haven’t reached the destination yet.Think about something in your life that feels incomplete. Maybe it’s a project you haven’t finished, a goal you’re still working toward, a version of yourself you haven’t yet become. Instead of feeling frustration, what if you accepted this incompleteness as part of the process?The world and everything in it are always evolving, always shifting. There is...
Cooling the Fire of Anger - 11
Anger arrives suddenly - a spark, a flare, a fire that surges through you before you even have the chance to catch your breath. It can feel all-consuming, overriding, tightening your chest, tensing your muscles, quickening your pulse. Your mind races, your words sharpen, your hands clench. Maybe someone has wronged you. Maybe something has gone terribly unfair. Maybe it’s frustration - built up over time, now bursting through the seams of your patience.There have been many definitions of anger through the ages. The philosopher Seneca characterises anger as ‘a form of madness’. According to him, anger overrides reason leading to irrational and destructive behaviour. Aristotle defines anger as ‘a desire, accompanied by pain, for conspicuous revenge caused by a perceived slight’ - the slight being an insult, offense or disrespect handed to you by someone. The affected person thus feels belittled, dishonoured or treated unfairly. But anger, for all its intensity, is not the enemy. It is a signal, a message from within you. Your amygdala - the part of the brain that is responsible for processing emotions, detects the threat, sending a distress signal to get your attention on it. What happens next, however, is up to you. Do you let it consume you, burning uncontrolled? Or do you learn to cool the fire, to bring yourself back to balance? This is where your prefrontal cortex - responsible for logical thinking and impulse control play a role in regulating the emotional response.Take note that anger is not just an emotion - it is a reaction, a physiological response, a deep-seated instinct. Psychologists define anger as an emotional state that varies in intensity from mild irritation to full-fledged rage. It is the body’s way of responding to threats, injustices, and frustrations.Anger stresses your body. The sympathetic nervous system - the part that prepares you for action releases various stress hormones. You get adrenaline in your blood stream that increases your heart rate, alertness energy level. You also get cortisol - a primary stress hormone that raises blood sugar and suppresses other functions that it deems unnecessary such as digestion, for the moment. Your blood pressure spikes - as blood is directed to major muscle groups, readying you for action. Your muscle tenses, your face turns pale, you get sweaty, and your vision sharpens and focuses on the cause of the anger.At this stage, your system is screaming for release....
Loss and the Bottles of Sand - 12
Port Dickson - Ma’amoriah my grandaunt told me one day in her dining room. ‘I got that from Port Dickson.’ Nechee as I called her was showing me her collection of tiny bottles - each of them filled with sand and testimony to the beaches that she had visited over the years. The one she was referring to came from the Malaysian beach of Port Dickson.I examined the treasures that were presented before me - glass bottles with stoppers, each with a small piece of paper inscribed in Nechee’s neat handwriting. The bottles were displayed in a corner of her dining area easily overlooked by passersby and visitors. The bottles looked plain but not plain enough to escape my detection and curiosity.For the next few minutes we talked about the places she had visited, we talked about her sons and daughters and the rather unexpected gift her youngest son Mohammad had bought for her while studying at military school.‘Your uncle Mat bought me pyrex dishes,’ she had said bemused at the thought of her teenage son's thoughtfulness. I had been in touch with her son via letters. He seemed so grown up being away at a Military Academy in Sungai Besi, Malaysia. Back then, writing letters was the way to communicate aside from telephones - the internet and messaging were still years ahead.I had a lot of catching up to do with Nechee. I was also quite content to let her do most of the talking. We had just arrived back in the Sarawak town of Sibu, and after the usual formalities of her meeting my mother, she hinted for me to stay behind. My mother, understanding our dynamic, simply smiled and left us alone in the dining room, and made her way back to my grandparents’ house nearby, where we were staying for the trip. In that moment with Nechee, I was transported back to my childhood. I had once lived close by, and whenever I went missing from my grandparents’ home - a frequent habit of mine - there was a good chance I could be found in her kitchen, a small boy enjoying his treats and cakes prepared by his Nechee. With her, I never had to talk much: just being there was enough. I would sit, be present, and curious, with the occasional questions. The stories and explanations would flow effortlessly from her, captivating me as...
Lagom and Ikigai - 13
The door of the house opened and an elderly European man smiled at me. I was slightly taken aback, as Lars - for that was the gentleman’s name - was dressed in the traditional Bruneian sarong of kain pelikat and shirt. I had expected a more European attire, but this was Brunei, and Lars was married to a Bruneian.We went into his living room, and talked over tea and pastries about his history - his home country of Sweden, his vocation, and how he’d met his wife. Our conversation then focused on the reason why I had made the arrangements in the first place to see him.For that, Lars stood up, and walked over to the coffee table a few steps away from us. There were 3 water bottles of varying sizes arranged from left to right. He pointed to the first one - the smallest bottle. ‘This is too little,’ said Lars, his finger lingering on the bottle. Then he shifted his attention to the rightmost bottle - the largest of the three. ‘And this,’ said Lars, tapping it lightly, ‘is too much’. I smiled and nodded - already knowing where the conversation and Lars’ demonstration were heading towards.‘Now this,’ said Lars, pointing to the medium-sized centre bottle, ‘is just right.’ He smiled at me, and proudly declared his conclusion ‘This is lagom’.The Swedish concept of Lagom translates to ‘just the right amount’. To the Swedes, Lagom is the essence of life, an approach for living life in moderation. The Swede with the Lagom approach would strive for that balance or equilibrium, utilising it in his or her navigation of life. Instead of excesses or deprivation, Lagom emphasises balance, moderation and contentment - and promotes living in a way that is sustainable, mindful and harmonious.In today’s fast paced world, you are increasingly demanded to do more - more productivity, more commitments, more achievements. Doing well at work and doing well in your personal and family time can sometimes feel unachievable. The key to achieving this is balance, but balance does not come from doing everything. Balance comes from doing enough. With lagom - a fulfilling life is not about extremes but about doing the right amount - just enough to get a sustainable balance between work, leisure and your personal and family time. Lagom suggests that you can work efficiently while also enjoying life equally. When it comes to...
Patience and Strength - 14
A few years ago, our son Akmal - then 12, complained of muscle and joint problems. He had trouble walking, moving and breathing and had to be hospitalised. His joints were also dislocating with an alarming regularity. We struggled to get a clearer diagnosis, unable to get a name for his condition. He missed months of school. My wife Mona contemplated quitting work to take care of him. Hospital floors became my bed and office as I fired off my work emails at 2am and 3am. Lunch and dinner became an exercise in logistics as our family wrangled with normality. We negotiated with his teachers and talked to his principal. Our neighbours Jules and Allie became more than just friends - they became family. They stepped in without hesitation, helping to pick up the older children from school, and looking after them whenever my wife and I were at the hospital. At work, I was fortunate to have an understanding boss, Dato Jamain who recognised the weight of our situation. He allowed me the flexibility to rush to the hospital for the countless doctor’s consultations, even in the midst of meetings that I knew were important to him. His support gave me the space to focus on Akmal. In an environment that often prioritises work productivity over empathy, such kindness is a rare gift - one that I will always be grateful for.Through it all, our son fought silently. He never complained about his pain, but we could sense it in his quiet moments, and in the way his body tensed. We knew that the pain was unbearable when the tears came - though rare. We did everything we could to make him as comfortable as possible. As his condition worsened, his falls became more frequent. One particularly bad episode in the shower left him bruised and bleeding after he hit his head on the faucet and slipped onto the floor. Fortunately, Mona heard him fall and got him out, scraped and bleeding.Despite his yet-unnamed condition, Akmal’s strength, spirit and unwavering courage gave us hope. He never let his struggles define him, and in a moment that reflected his quiet resilience, he asked for a ‘Smile More’ T-shirt - popularised by the American social media influencer Roman Atwood. It was his small but meaningful reminder to keep pushing forward. To support his mobility, we bought him a small wheelchair. Wheelchairs...
Transitions : A Day of Change and Perspective - 15
The day had started dimly, the sun yet to rise, its absence making the December morning feel even colder. The air carried a crisp, wintry stillness, a quiet invitation to return to the warmth of bed, to delay movement, to surrender to comfort. But instead, I pushed myself up, resisting the pull of inertia. There was something about the early morning - the solitude of it, the purity of the air - that I knew would make the effort worthwhile.Stepping outside, I felt the cold press against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth I had left behind. The running track adjoining my hotel lay empty, the world still caught in the pause between night and day. I started to run, my breath rhythmic, my body slowly adjusting to the movement. There was no one else around, and strangely, I found comfort in the loneliness - not an emptiness, but a space for reflection, a moment to reconnect with myself.The first few kilometers passed in quiet determination. My footsteps fell in sync with my breath, the steady cadence of exertion grounding me in the present. Then, as if on cue, the sun began to peek through the sky, breaking free from its veil of clouds. It was slow at first - a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a golden hue stretching tentatively across the horizon. But then, like a quiet promise fulfilled, the morning unfurled itself. Light touched the earth, the cold air softened, and the new day made its presence known.I slowed my pace, breathing harshly as I transitioned into a cool-down. The sweat on my skin made the cold air feel sharper, but I welcomed it. I had moved through the resistance of the morning, and now, I was ready to embrace the day.Back at the hotel, the transition continued. A hot shower washed away the last traces of fatigue, the warmth replacing the chill that had clung to me. As the water cascaded over me, I let the weight of the morning slip away, a quiet reset, a moment of renewal.Dressed and refreshed, I made my way downstairs for a light breakfast. The dining area hummed with soft conversations, the comforting clink of cutlery, the gentle aroma of coffee and freshly baked bread. Each small action - a sip of tea, a bite of toast, the way morning light filtered through the tall windows - felt...
Sleep : Winding Down for the Night - 16
We’re almost at the end of the book. And this section of the book corresponds to the end of a day. If you are reading this at the end of your day, let’s go over a few things : the day is ending. Whatever has happened, whatever words were spoken, whatever moments passed—good or not so good—they are now behind you. The evening air settles around you, softening the sharpness of the day. The world is slowing, and so can you.Remember : you are not just preparing for sleep. You are transitioning into rest, allowing your body, your mind, and your heart to let go of the weight they have carried. This is not about shutting everything off suddenly. This is about easing positively into stillness, creating space for calm, making peace with the day before you surrender to the night.Contrast that to earlier in the day, when the morning arrived—it may not have greeted you with a full warmth. Yet. you had taken an effort, and had pushed through—awake despite the weight of yesterday pressing against your chest. That morning, you had feared that the day ahead would be like an uphill climb. It would have been easier for you to stay in bed, to turn away from the world for just a little longer. But instead, you had risen. Not because it was easy, not because you felt ready, but because you had chosen to move forward - one small step at a time.The first step had been the hardest (All first steps are hard), but you had taken it. You had placed your feet on the floor, stood, stretched, and breathed. The morning air had met your skin, cool and fresh, a quiet reminder that you were here, that you had been given another chance. The past had not held you down - you made sure of it. And by the same virtue, the future too had not demanded answers. Your approach had only been focused on the present. And in that moment, you had done what you could. You had taken yourself to the shower, letting the water wash away the night’s hesitations. You had dressed - not to impress, but to feel ready. You had made a simple breakfast, not out of obligation, but because your body had deserved care, had deserved nourishment. You had begun, in whatever way you could.The day had moved forward,...
The Return: Epilogue
The sea had been still for days. Aye, it was—a cruel, unbroken calm that stretched across the horizon, where the sky and ocean met in a haze of stillness. The doldrums had seized the wind, leaving the Galapagos adrift—her sails lifeless, her crew restless.It was a waiting game—one that tested patience and spirit in equal measure, and stretching both to their limits. The men, seasoned by years at sea, had kept busy. The deck was scrubbed, the rigging checked and rechecked, the sail secured, and the brass fittings polished. By all means, the ship was as ready as she could be. But still, the wind had remained absent, forsaking them.During the day, the sun burned mercilessly overhead, its heat unrelenting, the absence of the wind suffocating. In the evenings as the day cooled, the crew gathered on deck under the moonlight, recalling old times, their voices surreal, carried far over the water in the eerie silence of an unmoving, unforgiving sea. Some men took the opportunity to clear their minds, some prayed - whispering into the indifferent air, while some simply stared out at the horizon, willing for it to change. Yet the sails remained inanimate, defiant as days blurred into each other, into one long sluggish abomination.Then, one morning, as the sun burst through the horizon, its golden beam canvassing the water, a ripple broke the stillness. A pause, and then another ripple. A whisper, barely there, rustled through the rigging. It was so faint that for a moment, they thought it was imagined. But then—a stir in the canvas, a tremor in the mast, and a shrill whistling through the rigging.The wind had returned.The first breath of air was met with a stunned silence of disbelief. No one dared to move. But then the captain stood tall, his weathered face breaking into a grin. ‘All hands on deck!’ he bellowed. ‘Hoist the mainsail! Unfurl the canvas! And brace the yards! Make her ready!’The men scrambled into action, their malaise abandoned. Hands gripped ropes, feet found rhythm, canvas snapped on rigging, and the Galapagos —once a prisoner of a still sea— shuddered and began to move. The sails billowed, catching the long-awaited wind greedily, erupting a cheer from the grateful crew.Laughter and more cheering, and the ship leaned ever so slightly letting the wind push against her once more. Then she surged forward, seemingly singing to the exhilarating rush...
