Mariyam Mohamed

It is the end of the year—a quiet pause between what has passed and what is still possible. All of us have grown, in one way or another. Some areas have flourished; others still ask for patience and work. Some wrote goals with good intention but did not take action. Others took small, consistent steps forward. Wherever you are right now, one thing remains essential: begin each day with hope and gratitude for being given another chance. This season always takes my mind back to school days—the time of year that brought the purest joy. Trips, laughter, long days under the sun, and swimming in the sea until our skin wrinkled and our minds felt free. Among those memories, one stands out clearly:  Kuda Bandos . Many of you will remember it—the tiny picnic island near Malé where families, classmates, and friends gathered. I still remember jumping off the jetty, racing each other to reach the deep rock, competing not for medals but for laughter and pride. Time slowed in those moments. We w...

In the past few years, I stopped counting how many times I have asked for training, corporate coaching, and speaking opportunities. If I had to guess, it must be over a hundred. My mentor, Jack Canfield, taught us a simple but uncomfortable truth: keep asking . Most people will reject you. One may say yes. The real learning, he said, is to not take rejection personally —to learn it consciously. That lesson stayed with me, but it was tested many times. When Rejection Is Not Just a “No” Jack once shared how, when he and Mark Victor Hansen were trying to publish Chicken Soup for the Soul , they approached over a hundred people. They were rejected repeatedly. What hurt most, he said, was not the rejection itself—but the words that came with it . Some mocked them. Some laughed. “Who would read a bunch of stories?” they were told. Had they stopped there, that book would never have reached millions of homes around the world. Rejection is rarely neutral. It often comes layered with judgm...

I have met many leaders across different fields, and one recurring issue I observe—especially within the Maldivian working culture—is the silent fear of being replaced. Seniors often feel threatened by juniors, particularly fresh graduates who arrive with the latest knowledge, new tools, and modern language. What they often lack is experience—something that can only be earned through time, mistakes, and real-life exposure. In an ideal world, this gap would be bridged through coaching and mentoring. Seniors would guide, juniors would learn, and organizations would grow stronger. But this is not always the reality. Even in my own field, I have personally experienced this dynamic. The Illusion of Replaceability What I have come to understand over time is this: no one can replace you . Your way of working, your way of handling people, your emotional intelligence, your lived experiences—these are not transferable. Yes, another individual may go further in the field, rise faster, or becom...

Most of us carry thoughts we never invited. Some arrive quietly, others come like a ripple that suddenly turns into a flood—one thought pulling another, until the mind feels crowded and restless. Often, we do not even know where these thoughts come from. Some are shaped by our external experiences, words spoken to us, moments that hurt us. Others are born from our own assumptions—stories we tell ourselves without ever knowing the full truth. I remember falling into these floods of thought myself, especially during moments of downfall. Loss, disappointment, and uncertainty seemed to open the gates of my mind. Thoughts kept coming, one after another, and the more I engaged with them, the heavier they felt. Yet, as awareness grew, I began to notice something important: not every thought was true . Some were afraid to speak. Some were ego. Some were pain replaying itself. This experience mirrors what I see in many of my clients. Overthinking is rarely about thinking too much —it is about...

This story is shared with the full, informed consent of the client. To protect privacy and uphold ethical practice, all identifying details have been changed, and no names are disclosed. In our Maldivian context, we often hear stories of men cheating on women. There may be truth in many of those stories—largely because women speak up. What we rarely hear are stories of women cheating on men. Not because it does not happen, but because men often suffer in silence. They carry their pain quietly, withdraw, or move on without ever naming the wound. As I sat across from my client, I saw something that statistics and social narratives often miss: a man whose heart was deeply broken. The pain was visible in his eyes. Life had been drained out of him, not because he was weak, but because betrayal shakes the very foundation of trust, identity, and safety. This was a woman he loved, trusted, and empowered. A woman he believed was his partner in faith, life, and parenting. Yet she chose someon...

Friday has always been more than just a day of prayer in the Maldives. It is a day set aside for family. Despite differences, disagreements, and unresolved tensions, Friday lunch after Jumu’ah becomes a pause button. A moment where extended families gather, sit on the same floor, eat from shared dishes, and remember that relationships matter more than disputes. This is a practice deeply rooted in Maldivian culture—a relationship-oriented culture shaped long before modern life became hurried and individualistic. I remember as a child, Fridays meant going to my aunt’s house early in the morning. The day began with food preparation. Adults cooked together, children prayed together, and laughter filled the house long before lunch was served. There was a sense of belonging that did not need explanation. One game I remember most vividly is Gandufilla . Two teams would be formed. One person would hide under a bedsheet while the others made funny sounds to confuse the opposing team. They ha...

  As a child, I remember lying in bed and wondering where I go when I fell asleep. My body would rest, yet I felt elsewhere. I could hear sounds around me—voices, movement, the world continuing—but at the same time, I was somewhere different. Sometimes I met people I had never seen before. Faces unfamiliar, yet oddly close. I often wondered: Will I ever meet these people in real life? Even today, as an adult, there are moments when I see faces that feel familiar, though I know I have never met them. That childhood curiosity never left me—it only deepened. Now, as I learn about sleep, the soul, and the human mind, I begin to understand these experiences through both religion and science . And the more I learn, the more I realise how little we truly know, especially about the soul . Sleep in the Qur’an: A State Between Life and Death The Qur’an speaks about sleep in a way that is both profound and unsettling. It does not describe sleep as mere rest, but as something far deeper. Alla...

I have often observed how quickly people say “I went worse” —a sentence that quietly nullifies another human being’s pain. When someone shares a hardship, instead of listening, we instinctively compare, justify, or override their experience with our own. As I sit at tables and listen to conversations, this pattern repeats itself. Pain becomes a competition rather than a moment for connection. What is lost in that moment is not logic, but humanity. Another pattern I observe is even more unsettling. When someone has gone through a divorce, heartbreak, financial downfall, or the loss of a loved one—and another person later goes through something similar—we often fail to empathise. Instead of softening, some people push the other away, minimise their pain, or make them feel smaller. I believe this behaviour is deeply linked to unhealed trauma. When pain is unresolved, seeing another person suffer can activate one’s own suppressed wounds. The mind then protects itself through distancing, s...

Photo: The President's Office file photos/ PSMnews As I was riding along the road near Rasfannu Beach , I noticed the usual sounds of life—laughter, people swimming, and children playing. Then suddenly, the mood shifted. I heard shouting from the side of the road. A man was hitting another man. I usually do not stop for scenes like this. But something inside me asked me to pause—to speak. So I did. I asked them to stop. Another man came closer and asked what was happening. The angry man said that while he was swimming, the other man, smaller in build, had taken something from his belongings. He had checked his items, then returned and hit the man again. I was not sure what was missing. He still had his phone and wallet, so it must have been something of great value. Standing there, I felt sorry for both of them. I did not see anyone steal anything. I cannot judge. But the body language of the smaller man suggested substance use—something many of us sadly recognise in the Maldi...

I did not choose to speak about the conscious mind because it is popular or comfortable. I chose it because  human beings live by the choices they make . And every choice begins in the mind. I am not here to claim wisdom or authority.  I am simply a servant of God.  Some may understand this path, and some may not. That has never been the measure. When truth is seen and deliberately ignored, it is not neutrality—it is a quiet act of surrender to the whisper of Satan. Ignorance can be excused;  conscious denial cannot . The moment this truth became clear to me, I knew I could not remain silent. Even if what I know is little, sharing it is a responsibility. Knowledge is not given to be stored; it is given to be  used in service . And so, I speak—not to convince, but to remind. The world is filled with people who know the truth, yet still choose otherwise. This reality is not new, nor is it unique to our time. It began long before the creation of humankind. When All...

  I have had the privilege of meeting leaders in many fields — from corporate executives to community changemakers. Once, a leader told me something that has stayed with me: sharing personal stories can make one appear weak, especially in corporate training, where image is important . I could not help but wonder why humans seem so concerned about appearing strong in front of others. Do we really have to always get it right, always look solid, always hide the bruises beneath the surface? Today’s research from psychology and leadership studies says something powerful: vulnerability is not weakness — it is a source of connection, trust, and growth. Why We Fear Appearing Weak Humans are wired to manage impressions . We often assume others will judge us negatively if we show uncertainty or emotional exposure. This stems from a social fear of being perceived as less capable — especially in cultures or workplaces where perfection and confidence are celebrated. Many people believe th...