Sukoon — a gentle life of food, light + everyday beauty

#7 a weekly letter of small moments that bring you joy

Welcome to Sukoon

Sukoon, an Urdu word for soft joy, peace + comfort—not just the kind around you, but the kind you feel deep in your chest, when your soul is quiet, rooted, smiling. It’s the warmth of the morning light after snowfall, the sound + scent of basmati rice gently bubbling on the stove, the soft chaos of a table after friends have left. The feeling of sinking into your cloud-like bed at night.

Sukoon lives in food, in memory, in joy that can’t be named. It’s that peace deep in your soul. The kind that lingers. A feeling that settles into your bones.

This series is a weekly photo letter; a way of noticing. All the images are mine, gathered from the daily moments in my life: flowers from the farmer’s market, café corners, hands in motion in the kitchen. Sometimes there’s a recipe. Sometimes just a quiet moment. Always, a pause. Rooted in the spirit of Spice Spoon and Cooking Without Borders, Sukoon is my way of living slowly—and inviting you to do the same.

Dear friends,

Today, I’m sharing a photo letter inspired by a poem by Pádraig Ó Tuama.

It reminded me of what we inherit, what we choose, and how we can still make beauty out of the chaos of life.

I suppose you could call it a life made of small joys. A life of Sukoon.

Me as a little girl.

I inherited my parents’ story, but I am writing my own now.

Loving enough in Ferrara, Italy.

By Pádraig Ó Tuama

That you were born and you will die.
That you will sometimes love enough and sometimes not.

My love for art and meaning.

That life is real
and if you can survive it, well,
survive it well with love and art and meaning given where meaning's scarce.

Writing my own story in Treviso.

His poem inspires me.

Please go create something today, even if it's small.

Especially if it's small.

It's how we write our own story and make this life and world more beautiful.

Living and loving, in Minden, Canada.

His poem reminds me, in the mornings, of life+love:

So you might as well live and you might as well love.
You might as well love.
You might as well love.

;Two people who were once strangers, and may well still be.’ My parents, a lifetime ago, in Piazza San Pietro, Rome.

That you began as the fusion of a sperm and an egg of two people who once were strangers and may well still be.

That life isn't fair.

That life is sometimes good and sometimes better than good.

-Pádraig Ó Tuama

‘That life is sometimes good and sometimes better than good'.’ In Minden, Canada.

And in those moments, as the sun drops behind the trees and field of goldenrods in Minden, I am reminded that this life is still ours to shape.

‘That life is sometimes good and sometimes better than good.’

My art, my Sukoon.

Until next time, may you find a little Sukoon this week.

All love, Shayma x

All photographic beauty in this newsletter is by me, unless otherwise credited.

Perhaps you’d like to read Sukoon #1?

If you enjoyed my writing, and it inspired you, I would be so grateful if you hit that ❤️ or share my post—it helps spread the word about my craft.