29 lessons, 29 candles
lessons I'm taking with me into twenty nine
listen while you read (if you’d like).
•Prologue•
On the morning of my 29th birthday I was told to walk to shore. ‘A woman is outside, she says she knows you’, they say. Barefoot in the sand, I walk slowly through the fog only to find an empty beach. A comforting vastness. Who were they referring to? It must be a distraction. They’re going to surprise me.
As I begin to turn back, I see her.
Two arms resting on a monobloc chair. Sun spots on the back of her hands spread out like a constellation; a star for every wish she was brave enough to make. Hair as black as night, with the shine of a raven, and waves of white carefully (and messily) inked in. I see her. On the sand, in the chair. Her feet bare and not a day over twenty five. She takes after her father in that way. I see her. The same shy smile, only with lines of memories carved around it like stories in a cave. I see her. A fringed scarf over her shoulders and a necklace from her parents she never took off. She looks out at me through the morning mist and smiles softly over the sound of the waves, recognizing me well. The same black hair, the same shy smile, the same necklace. There was something familiar about her. As the mist dispersed, I found myself in a curious squint — it was me, an old me, sitting where the sidewalk ends. The minute I recognized her, she began taking her leave upon the shore slowly, finally prepared to rest peacefully with the knowledge that I am as she once believed to have left me — living as honestly, fully, and vibrantly as I possibly could.
I don’t know everything (and never will), but I find comfort in the lessons I’ve learned thus far that are keeping me soft, holding me safely, and making me strong —
Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. So no, you aren’t silly for smiling at the sky or sticking your head out the window or running wild in a field whenever you can. I think its silly not to.
While I know myself now more than I ever have, I also feel like I’ve only scratched the surface. It’ll be that way until we die, I think. The discovery never ends. We’re only ever becoming and never truly arrive.
Stop spending time with people who don’t make you feel good.
Chamomile or sage tea before bed every single night without fail. Thank me later.
Tell your parents you love them even if they’re uncomfortable saying it back. It may be what they hold onto after a really horrible day.
If you feel like you deserve better, say it. Sometimes it takes saying it to believe it.
The older you get the hotter you become. Just depends on how much inner work you do.
Stop feeling weird or uncool for liking the things you like. It’s a literal waste of time.
Sometimes the intimacy lies in someone trying to understand you. The questions, the curious face, the deep listening, holding you and feeling your sadness while you cry, even if they don’t understand how such a thing could affect you so much. The very fact that it did is enough to sit in it with you.
Don’t be afraid to ask staff at a restaurant or cafe to fix your order. Just be nice about it.
Be completely yourself so your people can find you, but also so you can keep you.
Sometimes therapy comes in the form of visiting familiar places as a new version of yourself and seeing it with fresh eyes.
Rizq (sustenance, provision) comes in so many forms. Pay attention to all that you’ve been blessed with. This will make you a happier and kinder person.
When your parents have a story to tell about their life, no matter how silly or small, listen. That’s a part of their life you never witnessed that you would never know unless they shared it. They’re here now but they won’t be forever. Listen to understand them better, to love them better. You’d be surprised how much understanding them will help in understanding yourself as well.
Stop taking things personally. Your skin will thank you for it.
We’re all only getting older. All of us. We’re all headed for the same fate. So in the grand scheme of things, ask yourself, is it worth it? (it may be yes, just don’t let it be for too long)
The delay is part of a much grander plan so enjoy the path on the way to the garden and trust that its leading you there.
You can be soft and unf*withable. You can be soft and have boundaries. You can be soft and know what you want and deserve. You can be soft and walk away from things.
There is always so much more to learn. How exciting!
You are allowed to want more for yourself while also being grateful for what you have.
Make time for your siblings, for your parents. The memories don’t have to end after you leave home. Be the one to get the plan out of the group chat, no matter how annoying it may be. You may regret it one day if you don’t.
Do not apologize for or feel ashamed of the things you need to do to take care of yourself/stay sane and the time you need to do it.
It could be worse. It could always be worse.
If you don’t own your talents and successes and work and gifts, no one else will. Be bold!! Who cares!!
You will outgrow people you never thought you would. But you will also love people you never thought you’d love. Trust that when one chapter ends another begins.
Dance as often as you can wherever you can with the people you love.
Call your mom for creative advice. She knows way more than you thought she did.
Surround yourself with people you can learn from, people you can play with, people you can cry with, people you can try new things with. No one was made to be everything for you. Not even you.
Hope is never a waste of time and love given is never lost. Where there is light there is life.
Take what you need.
— With love,
Dana Najib
Happy birthday 🤍🤍loved reading through this.
Especially loved this line “You can be soft and unf*withable. You can be soft and have boundaries. You can be soft and know what you want and deserve. You can be soft and walk away from things.”
The older we get and the more experiences we have with the harshness
of the world, the more being soft becomes a deliberate choice
I can see myself coming back to this over the year. Beautifully written, full of softness, nostalgia, and hope. Thank you for sharing Dana ❤️