The Lost Art of Sincere Advice

In the new year, I hope we learn to let people slaughter their cows.

Like the Israelites who lingered over questions, narrowing what was once clear, I hope we remember how full the human heart already is.

Many are quietly carrying their own doubts, their own negotiations with fear and faith.
They do not need sharp tongues but warm shoulders.

And if you believe your words rise from sincerity, I hope you remember how Islam first bloomed. Not in large crowds or public declarations, but in closeness.

In family.

In friendship.

In trust shared hand in hand.

I hope you ask yourself how near you are to those you speak harshly to; how careful your tongue is with something so sacred.

Whether your words are offered with sincere presence, with eyes met and hands held, or released from a digital distance where no warmth can reach.

I hope this is the year we learn the quiet courage of stepping back from all that is said to us, of softening the noise we have grown used to and choosing to still persist.

I hope it is the year we tend to our own prophetic qualities with patience and humility, before turning our gaze outward.

I hope it is all of this
––– gaining closeness for ourselves.