“How could you be patient in matters beyond your knowledge?” - Khidr to Musa, (Al Kahf: 68)

In every hardship I've faced in life, I’m grateful that there are always Al-Quran verses that offer solace. This time, it's the story of Prophet Musa (AS) and Khidr in Al Kahf: 65-82. The story begins with Allah informing Prophet Musa that there is someone on earth wiser than him. Prophet Musa immediately embarked on a quest to find this righteous person, later revealed as Khidr. Musa asked Khidr if he could follow and learn from him, to which Khidr responded, “Verily, with me, you will never be able to have patience.”

“How could you be patient in matters beyond your knowledge?”, he continued.

Khidr warned that Prophet Musa would not be able to remain patient, as he lacked the knowledge and wisdom behind the upcoming Khidr’s actions. However, Musa insisted he would stay patient and obey Khidr’s instructions. Khidr agreed but asked Musa not to question anything until he explained it later.

It did not take long for Musa to question Khidr. When they boarded a ship, Khidr made a hole in its deck. Utterly shocked, Musa protested at this bewildering act. He protested again when Khidr killed a young boy, which seemed unjustified. Once more, Musa protested when Khidr repaired an almost collapsing wall in a town whose people had been hostile towards them. As Musa repeatedly demonstrated his disapproval, Khidr finally bid Musa farewell.

“This brings me and you to a parting of ways. Now I shall explain to you the true meaning of things about which you could not remain patient. As for the boat, it belonged to poor people who worked on the river, and I intended to cause a defect in it as there was after them a king who seized every [good] ship by force. As for the boy, his parents were believers, and we feared that he would overburden them by transgression and disbelief, so we desired that their Lord should grant them a son more upright and more tender-hearted. As for the wall, it belonged to two orphan boys in the city, and under it, there was a treasure that belonged to them. ...... This is the true meaning of things with which you could not keep your patience.” (Al Kahf: 78-82)

If I put myself in the place of the boat owner, I would be really upset about what happened—not knowing that Allah was protecting me from a greater danger. If I were to lose something, like a son I love, I would grieve and feel broken—not knowing that Allah would provide me with a better fate.

This journey serves as an analogy for how even a prophet is tested on patience. In a sense, we are all like Musa in our own journeys. Just as Musa strove to make sense of the events, so do we in our lives. It felt agitating because the bigger picture hadn't been revealed to us. We encounter decrees of Allah that appear harsh and situations that defy our logic, because divine purposes may not be immediately apparent. As a result, we might lose our patience along the way. 

When faced with trials, I will remind myself that my understanding is limited and that there are divine reasons behind every circumstance. I will embrace the unknown with humility, recognizing my limitations in comprehending the complexities of fate. Just as Khidr's actions were ultimately revealed to be acts of justice and mercy, perhaps the hardships I endure carry hidden favors and lessons. I will presume everything, even the seemingly unfavorable, as a blessing. I will be patient with the difficulties and believe that Allah’s fate is the best.

Now, I shall find peace in the journey, knowing that Allah's wisdom encompasses all things. These broken roads will lead me somewhere beautiful, I prayed.

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“Have you ever noticed when you’re tired, your fingers don’t grip things as tightly as they should? That things slip through them more often than you wish? I feel as though I am those fingers and life is slipping through me.” - Kelsey Danielle, Life and Other Things.

For the past 30 days, I've been battling a relentless headache and occasional nausea. This isn’t just a minor discomfort; it’s a constant, throbbing reminder that I’m not okay. Waking up each morning, I find myself already exhausted, worried, and feel uneasy. When I moved or walked, I noticed that I was somehow not adequately stable. This persistent pain and anxiety have seeped into every aspect of my life, making even breathing feel heavy.

It coincidentally happened when I was emotionally worn out. It added a chunk of sadness to my already sorrowful self. Now, it’s as if my heart is carrying an invisible huge burden that I can’t quite shake off. I've cried many times, even when I told myself that I was strong enough for this. There were moments where I said, “If I should be honest, I feel like it’s beyond my ability.” No matter how hard I tried to stay positive and grateful, this time I miserably failed. I simply couldn’t be collected enough for this.

The last time I felt this emotionally drained was six years ago when I was diagnosed with mild scoliosis.

Work, which used to be a source of fulfillment, now feels like an uphill battle. I’ve struggled to perform properly, and the guilt of letting my colleagues down weighs heavily on me. The pressure to meet expectations, both theirs and my own, is overwhelming. If I tell them, they would be understanding and supportive, but I can’t help but feel that I shouldn’t be a nuisance.

There were constant questions that played on repeat in my mind: How do I handle everything when it feels beyond my capacity? To whom should I rely? After all, I am just an ordinary person who needs consolation and help at times. I’ve always pulled myself to be strong and resilient (well, I don't have any other choice), but these days, that strength betrayed me. Most of the time, I am okay with facing everything by myself, but in this case, I was afraid to face it alone. This time around, my world crumbled down as I tried to keep everything intact by myself.

I feel like I have been abandoned. That life abandoned me and left me alone suffering. I wished I was stronger and braver. But truthfully, nobody is entirely strong and brave in facing life, I guess.

I'm typing this in the Jakarta Islamic Hospital while accumulating all the bravery left to face the reality I've avoided. Out of nowhere, I found renewed courage and calmness. A sudden profound sense of peace washes over me while tears stream down. I feel that as long as Allah is with me, I can be at peace. It’s the biggest comfort to realize that it’s okay even if nobody's around, I can always rely on Allah.

I walk through the hall while whispering to myself, “No, Iim, life isn’t slipping through you.”. In that quiet moment, I've come to realize that life could feel overwhelming at times. We are human, and it's natural to have moments of struggle. I remind myself that I am not alone in this journey. Allah is always with me, patting my shoulders and saying this isn't beyond what my soul can bear.

Allah didn’t abandon me, neither did He hate me (inspired by QS 93:3). His beautiful fate isn't slipping through my fingers. I will hold that belief with me tightly.  

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(I haven’t been able to respond to comments, DMs, and emails due to my condition. Thank you for your understanding and patience.)

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“There is a word in Korean, ‘in-yeon’. It means providence or fate… It’s an ‘in-yeon’ even if two strangers walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush,” – Past Lives (2023)

Recently, there were moments when my mind occasionally wondered about where fate would bring me. Then fatefully, I stumbled upon a movie that eloquently talks about fate namely “Past Lives”, written and directed by the talented Celine Song. In Korean, there exists an expression for providence particularly regarding human connection: “in-yeon”. The narration of the Korean proverb 옷깃만 스쳐도 인연 (“even simply brushing clothes with someone is fate") made me pause the movie and think deeper. It suggests that a seemingly insignificant encounter with someone on the street, when the edges of our clothes brush, is fate. That the presumably minuscule scenes in our lives carry within them the destiny.  And for 2 individuals to eventually marry each other, they have 8.000 layers of in-yeon between them. 

In Islam, we're taught of qadar (divine decree), where even the fall of every single leaf is governed by Allah’s will.

I can write a long essay on how beautiful the movie is—the storyline, cinematography, dialogues, performances, and everything. However, I am here today to specifically talk about my thoughts about fate after watching the award-winning movie. This isn't the first time the concept of “fate” in Korean culture has been discussed and caught my attention. In Reply 1997, the series also delves into its role in human relationships.

“Some people believe they are born with an invisible red string tied around their little finger… The string is tied to a person they’re destined to be with. However, it’s hard to find out who is the person at the other end.” – Reply 1997

In Islam, too, we find the notion of predestined connections between individuals. It is said that who we will end up with was inscribed 50.000 years before the earth was created. 

So, my heart should be at ease, right?

Despite the comforting embrace of destiny, an unsettling unease grips my heart. Even within this framework of destiny, where I should find solace, there remains an element of uncertainty I couldn’t help but be worried about. Sometimes I sensed that my paths are not predetermined in their entirety, but rather shaped by the choices I make and the people I encounter along the way. It whispers to me that while fate may guide us, we are, to some degree, the authors of our own stories. 

Hence, I fear I may have avoided a fate that will eventually bring goodness.

What if, in my haste, I've overlooked the subtle signs that guide me toward him? What if that someone has crossed paths with me but I barely register? What if he slipped by, unnoticed? 

What if, in my hesitation, I forfeit the chance for a love?

What if my destined other half is forever beyond my reach?

I am haunted by the possibility of missed connections, of souls meant to intertwine and then destined to remain forever apart instead. 

But also I am afraid that I will give up too early.

Thus, I couldn’t help but think about it over and over while grappling with my own destinies. If there is someone on this earth who is destined for me, why does it feel so impossible to find him? Should I just give up on the idea that somewhere someone is also looking for me? Borrowing Past Lives' analogy: Is there someone out there who shares 8.000 layers of in-yeon with me? Truly, as mused in Reply 1997: “If the red string of fate really exists, where will mine end?”.

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source: Hyundai

Journalist: “Everyone’s talking about the driveway to the past. To when do you want to go back to if you could visit?”  

Choi Jung Hoon: “Hmmm. The moment I decided to become a singer?  My mom always had her compilation album in her car and listening to it…”

Recently, I stumbled upon a captivating collaboration project between Hyundai and Jannabi titled “Pony”. It's not often that an advertisement captures my attention so thoroughly. This particular ad isn't just something to skip through—it's one I find myself happily watching again and again. Among the many factors contributing to its standout appeal, storytelling undoubtedly takes the spotlight.

Have you heard that storytelling is the future of advertising? In this instance, Hyundai borrowed Jannabi’s profound storytelling skills in a package with the story itself.

Jannabi, a South Korean indie band, has gained widespread acclaim for their exceptional lyricism, nostalgic melodies, and musical finesse. Their raw authenticity has endeared them to audiences across generations, propelling them to commercial success that surpasses typical indie boundaries. They became a prominent name, headlined big festivals, topped music charts, won awards, and appeared on major TV programs --all while keeping full control over their artistry. Becoming an independent artist while gaining mainstream recognition, don't you think it is too good to be true?

No wonder, people were curious about the secret behind Jannabi’s triumph in getting the best of both worlds. Frontman Choi Jung Hoon credited his mother's influence for inspiring his career path as a singer-songwriter. Her enthusiasm for music shared through car rides with him, introduced him to influential musicians and shaped his artistic ideals. This piece of story clicked with the fact that Jannabi’s songs sound like “the music you heard in your parents’ car”. It makes all sense that the band’s tunes always feel warm, nostalgic, and unique yet somehow familiar (and humans love familiarity). Walking on top of Jannabi’s noteworthy popularity, it instantly became a well-known story among South Koreans.

Hyundai, recognizing the potency of this narrative, seized the opportunity to advertise in a unique way. They collaborated with Jung Hoon to create a song inspired by his memories of listening to his mom’s favorite tunes in her Hyundai car. The video beautifully depicted him being transported to 1975 in a classic Hyundai retracing her youthful passion for music, closing it with a seamless transition to the present-day Hyundai model he drives. It's a subtle yet powerful message highlighting Hyundai's enduring presence across generations. They implied that the manufacturer has served South Koreans for generations without even saying anything about it in the video.

Through Jannabi's vivid storytelling and heartfelt expressions, listeners find themselves drawn into narratives that resonate on a deeply personal level. The song tapped into shared experiences and emotions of sitting as a passenger in their parents’ cars. The lyrics allowed listeners to empathize with the joy of youth, passion for something, and the dear memories of their parents. This is why storytelling will always win against any advertising methods. It evokes emotions that resonate with audiences, encouraging the listeners to reflect on their own experiences and relationships.

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Heath and Starr in their book “Making Numbers Count” called it a “landmark”--where we leverage existing well-known information to create our narratives. As people already knew this “landmark”, it would be easier to take people on the journey. In this case, as the story of how Jung Hoon’s mom shaped her son's career was popular among the people, it served as the landmark that brought people into the narratives Hyundai wanted to create. This is a powerful move that I, as a storytelling enthusiast, must applaud.

In a world packed with advertisements competing for our attention, only the ones that touch our hearts and souls endure. Hyundai has leveraged Jung Hoon's stories about his passion for music and his bond with his mom which are potentially the collective stories of many people. The story belonged to many people and as an implication, it created an "unconscious" sense of belonging to Hyundai.

To conclude, the shift from product-centric advertising to narrative-driven storytelling has fundamentally changed the way brands connect with consumers. Because at the end of the day, stories are the things we remember, cherish, and share the most. They will stay forever with us. I meant, you still remember the fable or fairytale you heard as a kid, right? Those stories will forever etched in our minds, even without us trying. Those are the "landmarks" we all dearly keep in our hearts.

The "I Want to Touch People's Souls Like Jannabi's Songs", 

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