By Nur Diyanah Hayyuni

“So, where are you going?”
Quran 81:26

I’ve always longed for solitude, for a moment of silence in a world that’s constantly loud. The desire to be alone, no thoughts, to simply be, without the noise of responsibilities or expectations, has lingered in me for years. Before the retreat, I found myself overwhelmed by dunya matters; juggling school, work, and other commitments. My soul was calling out for purpose and direction, but my body felt stuck, weighed down by a system that often stripped away my Iman without me even noticing. Despite that, my art was the last thread keeping me grounded. It became my form of remembrance, a way to still hold tightly to something sacred, even when everything
else felt far.

I had once clung to temporary pleasures things that gave me brief moments of joy or distraction, but they always left me feeling emptier than before. All
I had left was guilt, and a deep yearning to break free, to escape from everything that was holding me back. A part of me wished I had the courage to let go, to run toward something I know is real.

After finishing my final year of studies, I felt a shift. My dear friend Ain and I both sensed it was time to come back to what we had left behind. We returned to our weekly Tuesday classes, hoping to reconnect with the roots of our faith. During one of the sessions, Ustaz Sameer mentioned an upcoming Muharram retreat. Ain and I looked at each other with heavy hearts, we were fresh graduates and didn’t have the funds. Still, Ustaz encouraged us to just sign up.

That day, as we walked to the MRT, we made a du’a. It was simple and sincere, asking Allah ﷻ to make a way. Alhamdulillah, He did. The process was made easy, and we were able to go. The retreat gave me and taught me the beauty of stillness, silence, and simplicity. The type I was seeking for my whole life. I never had a moment where my thoughts were silent, for most of the times, I always feel like I’m in a rush for something, to a point that I realise I can’t function properly on normal days.

But now, I’m learning to sit with myself. To stop consuming things that quietly stain my soul. I realised how deeply interconnected everything is and how even a small vibration in our environment can affect our hearts. That awareness pushed me to redirect my energy toward pursuits
that feel more meaningful and more lasting.

Will I ever find what my soul is truly seeking? Perhaps not fully in this world. But, I believe intentions matter. I hope to be accepted and acknowledged by Allah ﷻ, not for achieving perfection, but for sincerely trying.

One of the most impactful moments of the retreat was during muraqabah (spiritual meditation). I remember feeling overwhelmed, it felt like people were moving and rushing around me, there was a restlessness that I couldn’t ignore. At times, I gave in to my curiosity and opened my eyes, only to force them shut again, determined to stay focused. I drifted in and out of consciousness, wondering when it would end, questioning how long I could stay in that state. Then, something changed.

I heard waves, soft at first, then gradually louder, surrounding me in darkness. The chaos faded, and I found calm in the rhythm of the
ocean. I let myself sit with that sound, even though the goal was to seek Allah ﷻ in stillness. In that moment, I struggled to pull my attention back, the water source I heard was too captivating. But, maybe that too was a sign or a reminder of Allah’s presence even in unexpected places, in the rhythm of nature, in the silence beneath the noise.

Being in a space surrounded by people who were all seeking something similar, people striving to realign their hearts was powerful. We learned about the maqam of Rasulullah’s 18th grandson and reflected deeply on the different levels of Iman. We humbled ourselves before Allah ﷻ, relearning what it means to surrender, to truly trust. These lessons scratched at something deep in my soul, a part of me that had been dormant.

Weeks after the retreat, something happened that gave me clarity, a moment that brought everything together. I’m still processing it, and still learning how to seek those peaceful moments within the busy rhythms of everyday life. Perhaps I’ll share it another time, inshaAllah. But, I know in my heart that I wouldn’t have had that moment of epiphany if I hadn’t gone on this retreat. The timing was perfect. Divine, I would like to add.

I will forever be in debt to Ustaz Sameer for encouraging us to go, for seeing the potential in us even when we were hesitant. And above all, I am grateful to Allah ﷻ for guiding me back, for opening doors I didn’t knock on, and for planting the seed of intention in my heart when I didn’t have the strength to move.

This verse from the Qur’an continues to echo in me:

فَأَيۡنَ تَذۡهَبُونَ

“So, where are you going?”
Quran (81:26)

It’s a question I ask myself all the time, one that grounds me whenever I begin to drift. The retreat wasn’t just a break from the world. It was a return. A return to the self, to purpose, to Allah ﷻ.