If the external image is a reflection of the inner state of consciousness, then on this first day of 2025, I feel I’m not doing too badly. The sea lay before me like a mirror, the air was alive with birdsong, and I was in the company of old friends. I was home.
This is where I’ve always come whenever I needed to just be. Today, on the first of January, the sea did not disappoint—it reflected the skies in calm perfection. If this is any indication of the year ahead, I welcome it. And if not, I still embrace what’s to come. At this stage of life, I have little to lose. What lies ahead is another chapter, and I intend to make it exciting and challenging in its own way. I feel I’ve lived my life as fully as I could.
This jetty lies just a mile from where I was born, back in 1949. Back then, none of these homes existed—the area was sea and open land. The low hill behind the jetty is actually a landfill, reclaimed from the ocean. These pylons, jutting from the water, once held up huts where fishermen kept their gear. All of this, I’m told, will soon disappear under the push of development.
I’ve written about this place before—this sacred space. The Malay Fisherman's Jetty, located off the Lim Chong Eu (Jelutong) Highway, is more than just a spot on the map. It's a sanctuary. I was accepted here, welcomed by the community of fishermen and wanderers. I spent fifteen years among them, sharing tea and stories, watching the sun melt into the Strait, learning the lessons of humility and the truth of impermanence. Some of the friends I made here have already left this world.
Lately, I’ve been visiting less often. I can feel the detachment slowly setting in—a quiet farewell. This place has been a spiritual refuge, just like Green Gulch Farm in the Bay Area, Sand Point in the Aleutians, or that old farmhouse on Humboldt Road in Wisconsin. Wherever I lived, I found a spot to sit, watch, and reflect—my form of meditation before I even knew to call it that. Just a man quietly escaping the noise of the world.
And now, the time has come again for transition. A Hijrah. A move to the East Coast—to Terengganu. I am saying goodbye: to friends, to relatives, to over a decade of life in Georgetown. This move isn’t just physical—it’s spiritual. I feel it deeply. It must happen. Nothing stands in the way.
So begins 2025—with this resolution. With my Lord’s will, I’m preparing to step into this new phase of being.
In the stillness of the ocean, I find the truth:
I do not belong in one place. I belong everywhere.
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