MAY 1 — Last week, I found myself stuck in traffic on the way back to UM after grabbing lunch with a long-lost friend at a banana leaf restaurant in Section 17, PJ. It was one of those moments where every traffic light seems to conspire against you, and the clock is merciless. My next class was set to start at 2:00 PM, and it was already 1:45 PM. My instinct was to fidget — check my phone for a quicker route, mentally rehearse my lecture, or curse the slow crawl of cars.
But then, for reasons I can’t quite pin down, I did something unusual: I turned off the radio, set my phone face-down, and just… sat there.
I looked out the window. The late midday sun was casting shadows across the road, glinting off a row of parked motorcycles. A group of students walked by, laughing over something I couldn’t hear. And in that moment, I felt something I hadn’t in a while:
Stillness.
In a world that glorifies hustle — where every minute must be productive, every task optimised — it’s easy to forget how to be still. We’re conditioned to fill every gap with noise, whether it’s scrolling through WhatsApp (both for new messages and statuses), replying to emails (work and personal), or playing out the script for your next appointment (meetings and meet-ups).
But what happens when we pause? What do we discover in the quiet spaces we so rarely allow ourselves to be in?
I am reminded of a line from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring, where Gandalf tells Frodo, “Not all those who wander are lost.” We often equate stillness with stagnation, as if pausing means falling behind. But sometimes, it’s in the wandering — in the quiet, unhurried moments — that we find clarity. That we find ourselves.
As a biomedical engineering professor, I’ve spent years teaching students to tackle complex problems, to design systems that save lives. But I’ve also learned that the best solutions often come not from relentless grinding, but from stepping back. From letting the mind breathe.
And this isn’t just about work or teaching; it’s about life too. How often do we rush through our days, checking off to-do lists, only to realise we’ve missed the moments that matter? The way a student’s face lights up when they finally grasp a concept that you were explaining in class. The warmth of a quick Terima kasih from a stranger for holding the door open. The simple joy of belanja (treating) your friends or colleagues for lunch on hari gaji (pay day).
These moments are the colourful threads that weave the fabric of our lives, but they’re so easy to overlook when we’re always racing against the clock.
The Stoic philosopher Seneca once wrote, “You must linger where you are to know where you are going.” In our race to the next milestone—whether it’s a research grant, a promotion, or just making it to class on time after lunch hour—we forget to linger. To ask ourselves: Why am I doing this? Does this path still feel like mine?
I’ll admit, being still isn’t easy. Our brains are wired for motion, for distraction. That day in traffic, my fingers actually twitched to grab my phone, to fill the silence with something, anything. But the more I leaned into the discomfort, the more I realised how much I’d been missing.
So, here’s my challenge to you: carve out a moment this week to be still. It doesn’t have to be long — five minutes will do. Turn off your devices, step away from your tasks, and just be. Notice the world around you — the hum of the air-cond, the weight of your coffee mug, the rhythm of your own breath. Write down what you feel, what you see. You might be surprised at how much clarity a single pause can bring.
And as it turned out, I didn’t make it to my 2:00 PM class on time that day. I walked into the lecture hall a few minutes late, my students already flipping (nowadays more like scrolling) through their notes. But something was different. My head was clearer, my thoughts more focused. Instead of rushing through the material, I taught with a calm I hadn’t felt in weeks, and the discussion that followed was one of the liveliest of the semester, if I remember it correctly.
That brief moment of stillness in the traffic jam didn’t just get me through the delay — it made me better for it.
Because in the end, life isn’t about how fast we move or how much we achieve. It’s about the moments we choose to linger in, the spaces where we allow ourselves to simply be. So, the next time you’re stuck in traffic — literal or metaphorical — don’t reach for the noise. Embrace the stillness.
You might just find it’s where the magic happens.
* Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering and the Principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College, Universiti Malaya. He may be reached at [email protected].
** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.
