There are books you read, and there are books that quietly rearrange the inside of your head. Haruki Murakami’s Novelist as a Vocation falls into the second category. It is not a sentimental guide on how to write. It is a clear and almost technical look at how a writer builds a life, choice by choice, habit by habit.

Murakami began writing later than most. He owned a jazz bar and lived a routine that had nothing to do with literature. Then one afternoon at a baseball game, he felt a thought land in his mind with surprising certainty. He could write a novel. He went home, closed the bar at night, and started.

Murakami began writing later than most. He owned a jazz bar and lived a routine that had nothing to do with literature. Then one afternoon at a baseball game, he felt a thought land in his mind with surprising certainty. He could write a novel. He went home, closed the bar at night, and started.

The book is filled with sharp and practical observations like this.
He writes about how ideas often come when you are away from home and out of your familiar patterns. He explains what to do when you have no idea what to write. He talks about characters as if they have their own logic and simply use the writer as a channel. He believes imagination is a muscle, and like all muscles, it needs training.

One of the most memorable parts of the book is his belief that writing is physical. He runs every single day. He is strict. He keeps a routine. He treats writing the same way he treats distance running. You build stamina. You stay steady. You show up even when you do not feel like it. Good sentences come from a body that is awake and a mind that is disciplined.

He also states something many writers avoid saying out loud.
The first book is often the easy one.
The second is where most people stop.

The book is not romantic about the writing life.
Murakami does not chase awards.
He has a very small circle of friends.
He values solitude.
He focuses on the work.

Novelist as a Vocation is a thoughtful look at the discipline behind creativity. It is about constructing a life that allows you to write, choosing habits that support the work, and understanding that stories are built slowly and honestly.

Highly recommended for anyone who writes, or anyone who simply wants to understand the quiet machinery behind a creative life.

Their program features selections from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker the unmistakable sound of the holiday season and a perfect match for an evening at Kantoor.

The concert takes place on the 13th of December inside NALA Kantoor an intimate setting where music and design meet effortlessly. Before or after the performance you can enjoy a coffee from Ghostbird downstairs a small ritual that completes the night.

We have one hundred seats so bring your friends and your family and make it a night out. Seats are limited and registration is required. Sign up through the QR code on the poster or online. And since this is our Christmas edition we invite everyone to arrive in something festive.

Kantoor After Dark begins with the Nutcracker.
Reserve early and be part of this beautiful night.

Saturday mornings are sacred again. I have started Chinese brush painting at the Bintang Arts and Culture Center, taught by the wonderful Laoshi Kit. I needed something to pull me away from my phone, and this does exactly that.

What looks simple is, in fact, incredibly hard. Painting bamboo is not easy. The ink bleeds, the paper moves, and once you touch the brush to the surface, there is no turning back. It takes focus, calm, and patience. Three things I am still learning.

We start with bamboo because it teaches everything. When you can paint bamboo, you can paint anything. Every stroke carries a lesson: balance, rhythm, scale, proportion, breath. You have to understand anatomy; how a plant bends, how a bird perches, how the composition holds together. You cannot draw a tiny bird beside a giant stalk of bamboo. It is about harmony, not decoration.

Chinese brush painting may be thousands of years old, but it is the perfect training for modern design. It teaches control and freedom at the same time. You learn that beauty lies in precision, patience, and knowing when to stop.

My early paintings are far from perfect. The bamboo leans too much, the ink runs wild, the birds look confused, and yet I love every one of them. They remind me that mastery begins with humility, and that sometimes, the best way to learn balance is simply to let the brush flow.

There’s a way of being that reminds you the wild is not something to be conquered or escaped, but something to be understood, respected, and loved. That is the universe my friend Shaik Reisman has built in the heart of Hulu Langat, through his beautiful project Malayajunglecraft.

On his Instagram, you see more than survival workshops. You see a philosophy of life. Every image is composed with intention, the light through the leaves, the rhythm of hands working with nature, the quiet strength of simplicity. It’s a visual poem about balance, patience, and the art of doing things well without the need for perfection.

Shaik teaches you how to live with nature, not apart from it. How to build, cook, and create in the wild, but also how to see. His world is pure wabi-sabi, the beauty of imperfection, of doing things with care even when they’re not flawless. Because when you are truly present, every small act becomes beautiful.

And if you decide to stay the night on his land, you’ll understand what I mean. His property sits within a fruit tree orchard, where mango, rambutan, and jackfruit trees watch over you as you sleep. You wake to birdsong and the soft light of morning filtering through green leaves. Shaik will cook for you, and yes, the toilets are very nice. Everything is simple but thoughtful, crafted with the same care he brings to his teachings.

I have deep admiration for people like Shaik who remind us that beauty is not reserved for studios or galleries, but also lives in the soil, in the wood, in the fire, in the rain.
If you want to rediscover your own rhythm, follow @malayajunglecraft and, if you can, visit his world in Hulu Langat. You might just find that the most beautiful universe is the one designed by nature itself.