Salaam Dearest Friends,

Heading into 2026- subhan’Allah. Like really- subhan’Allah!

Cliche of all cliches but it only seems like yesterday we wrote ‘Farewell 2024’ (actual newsletter!) and now we find ourselves—with some trepidation—saying, farewell 2025.

Every January, the language of renewal seems to be getting louder and louder. New year, new intentions, new plans, new versions of ourselves that we feel immense pressure about stepping into overnight. And we find ourselves wondering: who is this really for?

Because we don’t know about you friends, but ‘refreshed’ is not necessarily the energy we’re carrying with us into 2026. Sometimes yes, but not all the time, not always. 

Islam, we think, already knows this about us. 

Our rich tradition is not built around one dramatic, eureka moment of transformation.

It is built up on bricks of consistency and the cement of return. The slow, often fraught work of building ourselves, brick by brick—up, down, right and left—to Allah again and again, sometimes with energy, sometimes with nothing but habit and or need. 

We pray five times a day not because we are expected to get it right once, twice- even a gazillion times, but because we most certainly will wander. We fast every year not because the previous Ramadan transformed us beyond need, but because there is still meadow within us all: room for things to take slowly without all being dragged into bloom. 

There is still meadow within us all. 

The lunar calendar rejects the neatness of alignment. Stay attentive rather than settled: this is alignment with the sticky, messy humanness of our human form. 

So what does it mean when we keep treating renewal as something that should be motivating, clean and clear? Because it is costly to be told, over and over, that this is the moment to start afresh, especially if you are mid-struggle. 

So maybe this is the question we can sit with at the end of this year:

Where are you being invited to return?

Hidayah [guidance] is not a single insight we acquire or a singular object of possession in the way we understand what it means to own and possess. Often, we have proven that we cannot hold hidayah on our own so by the Graciousness of Allah, it is received and received again. 

Islamic time assumes forgetfulness and weakness. It assumes that what we were given once may need to be given back to us in another form, at another stage of life, when our hands are steadier or our need is clearer. This is why the same verses strike us differently years apart, why the same acts of worship crumble us and help us rise again only after they have failed to do so before. This is the wisdom of Al-Hakeem, Al-Aleem, Ar-Rashid.

So let’s think of renewal as return. 

And of course, under no illusion that this time- this time, we will finally be finished. 

And as the year turns, Ramadan approaches too. A season that arrives knowing we will forget and remember, try and falter, fast and break and yet- still be graced with its presence again and again. 

There is room, even here, for intention. If needs serve, then let this be a season to gather those intentions, those longings, those half-formed hopes as a du'a to hold. A du'a vision board can be a great way of doing that to declare not who you will be, but a sweet, human suggestion of what you are still asking for.

In this vein, we're sharing Minara's du'a vision board for those who want a companion for this process:

Upwards and onwards [and down, right and left of course!] we go into 2026, messiness and bravery and most crucial, Al-Hakeem’s assistance all in hand❣️

Oh Allah! Bless us during the months of Rajab and Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

We’re taking a short break from the newsletter next week but from the bottom of our hearts, jazak-Allah khayr for being here with us.

How are you return-setting for 2026? Let us know 💜.

Love and du’as,

The Minara Team