Mulki’s cave

Day:Friday, 1st
Year :1989
Time: 00:09
Place : Alvesta, Sweden
Age: 28

Picture: Madre, padre, me. 1st birthday party. December 1st 1990

Ages 0-14: Sweden

Age 15: Kenya [spent half a year in Somalia+ Kenya at my behest so I could escape bullies that made life hell for me at school 😒]

Ages 16-21: Kenya [moved to Kenya permanently with my family after I finished 9th grade]

Ages 22-23: Egypt [ Moved on my own to study. Lived with friends]

Ages 24-25: Sweden [back after nearly 8 years abroad. First time fully acknowledging the teeters my mental health was in and how much moving around destabilized me as a highly sensitive person]

Age 26: UK [ temporarily moved to the UK in what in hindsight was me bypassing the healing I needed to do. I wanted to fastforward shit so that I could rejoin society as a ‘functional’ member. Fell into the clutches of highly toxic and manipulative people I thought were friends]

Ages 27-28: Sweden [ First time I’m accepting my existential task and my lot. Spent all this time in introspection, mindfulness and weekly sessions with a psychologist. Road to healing isn’t quick but it’s meaningful and long lasting.]

Theme of past year : Enduring the tension of paradoxes

Theme of this year : Allowing the divine will through my imagination, unhindered by fears or preconceptions

Zero point vibe

I recorded my life on my bare truth
I know that every emotion that stirs me to rise to an occasion will eventually take me all the way back to whence I began: my soul
I know that impure intentions laced with fear or lack always lead to being entangled in the spider’s web
I know cobwebs like the back of my hand
It’s taken over a decade, but I’ve reclaimed my power and cleansed all my corrupted files
So I know that the root of every thought and feeling and opinion will lead me deeper into my own core, enriching me because I’m not being consumed by others as a way to pay for the power I had outsourced

I own the masters of the music of my soul

divine timing

I honour…

The steps I began to take on a path that I didn’t continue on
The hope I had in what never came to be
The love I poured in those who betrayed me
The seeds I planted that never bore fruit
The words stirred in my heart that never dared leave my lips
The sentences I started writing but never finished
The fleeting happiness carried by my smile which never quite reached my eyes
The dreams I thought would lead me home
The people I thought would make me whole
The truths that left a gaping hole
making it painfully obvious how empty my heart had become
The connections I had to disrupt to continue on my journey
The convictions that turned out to be illusions
The havens that turned out to be mirages

Inevitably, I learnt my truth through either elimination or illumination. In that regard, my darkness has helped me just as much as the light because I’m neither the dark or the light, but the interplay of the two. I’m the lone tree in the meadow that sees the light of day and is seized by the cover of the night, and yet it always shows up for the dawn of a new day.


I’m going through yet another dark night of the soul. It’s been happening for a month and a half now. Triggers and detachment followed by a mind numbing void. A nothingness. No sound. No emotion. Eerie.

I’m agitated because I feel uneasy when I can’t make sense of a situation. Like a sitting duck. I rotate through my go-to resources that usually give me some clarity to go on, but not this time.


It’s like I’m a ghost and nothing I do has an impact. I’m effectively locked inside myself, facing my inner world that I’ve managed to evade all my life. An inner world that has been filled to the brim with all kinds of unbridled chaos and suffering. In some ways, that was more comfortable than this void. I guess I’ve been so attached to suffering and wounds because it was something familiar that I had gotten used to and for which I knew the procedures​.

But this void represents death to me. It represents the fear I have of the outside world; the fear of trusting and then being betrayed with no shelter or escape route in sight.

I’m clogged. I can’t read, watch movies, nothing. It’s like I’m in a transparent cocoon.
I want to run but I’m stuck. I don’t know why I’m stuck. I don’t know how to get unstuck. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t know and I don’t like the fact that I don’t know.

Learning to trust what isn’t yet.

Learning to trust what’s hidden.

Learning to trust that at the bottom of the ocean, inside hard shells lies pearls and my diving is not in vain.

My waiting is not in vain. I feel stuck because there are lessons too sublime to be taken in a hurry, on a whim.

وَمَن يَتَّقِ اللَّهَ يَجْعَل لَّهُ مَخْرَجًا وَيَرْزُقْهُ مِنْ حَيْثُ لَا يَحْتَسِبُ وَمَن يَتَوَكَّلْ عَلَى اللَّهِ فَهُوَ حَسْبُهُ إِنَّ اللَّهَ بَالِغُ أَمْرِهِ قَدْ جَعَلَ اللَّهُ لِكُلِّ شَيْءٍ قَدْرًا‏


whosoever is conscious of Allaah He will make a way for him to get out (from every difficulty)
And He will provide him from (sources) he never could imagine. And whosoever puts his trust in Allaah, then He will suffice him. Verily, Allaah will accomplish his purpose. Indeed Allah has set a measure for all things.}

[ at-Talaq 65:2-3 ]


​Don’t knock on doors that weren’t opened for you 
Don’t go where your soul isn’t comfortable 

Whatever you run from you’ll run into 

What’s yours knows you by the scent of your love

Sit in your solitude for a moment 

Your soul tribe are on their way

How are they going to find you if you keep running away from yourself?

Wonders are discovered in the blind world of vibes and feelings 

Let your soul lead the way 

You’re invited elsewhere 

Jo Cox: A fallen shero

I just found out that the British MP Jo Cox succumbed to her injuries. And this reminds me all too much about the similar fate the Swedish minister for foreign affairs Anna Lindh met. She was stabbed in broad daylight and later succumbed to her injuries. This was during the referendum regarding adopting the Euro.

I was in 7th grade at the time I believe, but her death is seared into my memory. I remember our Swedish teacher bursting into our classroom during a science class and telling us that she died. We were all hoping she’d pull through.

She was the last in a group of truth warriors for lack of a better word. She followed in the steps of Olof Palme who was also assassinated for his fiery revolutionary spirit ; his champion of the revolutionaries of Cuba and Cambodia, his no holds barred criticism of the neo-imperialist agendas of the Western powers, his sweeping reforms of the Swedish constitution that still stand till this day, though they are starting to wither away.

And like Anna Lindh, Jo Cox was a renowned humanitarian and she fought relentlessly for the Syrian refugees and was a resolute idealist who fought for humanity and championed for women.

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