Every now and then, I find myself caught in the web of trying to make sense of things. Why people behave the way they do. Why plans fall apart. Why some prayers are answered and others are not.
The world, if you look closely, refuses to be simple. And maybe, that is the point.
We like to think that peace of mind comes from clarity, that if we could just understand why, the world would feel lighter.
But I have learned that peace often comes from the opposite – from accepting that much of life will remain fantastically strange and complex.
You can spend your whole life chasing explanations and still end up restless. Sometimes, things happen that have no neat logic to them.
You meet someone by chance who changes your path completely. You miss a flight only to learn it was for the best.
You lose something, only to find something greater waiting. Life moves with its own rhythm, and the more you try to chart every note, the more you lose the music.
Our faith gives us some guidance here. We are taught that there is wisdom in what we cannot see, and that faith is not about having every answer.
It is about trust. It is about saying, “It is what it is,” not as resignation, but as recognition that there are forces at work beyond our understanding.
It is what it is
That line – It is what it is – may sound casual, but I think it carries deep wisdom. It means you stop wrestling with every odd behaviour, every disappointment, every twist in the script. It means you learn to live alongside uncertainty rather than against it.
Mitch Albom once wrote, “All endings are also beginnings. We just don’t know it at the time.”
I have always loved that line from his 2003 novel, ‘The Five People You Meet in Heaven’, because it captures something true about the way we live.
We rarely see the full picture while we are inside it. Sometimes we are too close to the canvas to see the painting.
Khaled Hosseini wrote in ‘And the Mountains Echoed’ (2013) about how every story branches out into others, that one act can ripple through countless lives in ways we cannot trace. It is the same with our own choices, you see.
A single word, a delayed step, a moment of kindness (involving strangers especially), might unfold far beyond what we will ever witness.
So, perhaps, the most peaceful thing we can do is to stop demanding to understand everything. Not because we are indifferent, but because we are human.
There is comfort in admitting that our view is limited. It gives us space to be gentle with ourselves and with others.
It reminds us that while the world may be limitlessly complex, our role is not to master it, but to move through it with awareness and grace.
Seeing the beauty in what is unfinished
When we accept this, we stop expecting the universe to explain itself at every turn. We start to see beauty in what is unfinished.
I have met people who seem at peace no matter what happens around them. They do not rush to analyse or overthink.
They do not search endlessly for reasons. Instead, they carry a stillness that seems to say, “This, too, belongs”.
I used to think it meant they had stopped caring. Now I think it means they have learned to trust that not every answer needs to be found right away.
It takes maturity to sit quietly with not knowing. It takes humility to admit that the world does not owe us explanations. And it takes faith – in whatever form we hold it – to believe that what is unseen is not necessarily unfair, only unshown.
So, if you are searching for peace, perhaps start there. Stop fighting to understand every twist in your story.
Some of it will make sense later. Some may never make sense at all. And that is fine.
Accept that life is beautifully complex. That people will surprise you. That some came into your life and stayed, but some went on their way.
That pain and joy often arrive hand in hand. That even confusion has a role in shaping who you become.
And maybe that is the secret – to walk through this fantastically strange world with curiosity, gratitude, and a kind heart.
Sometimes it just is.
-- BERNAMA
Ir Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, and the Principal of Ibnu Sina and Tuanku Bahiyah Residential College, Universiti Malaya.