I grew up in an idyllic small town surrounded by mountains and forests. As my parents’ only child, I was sensitive from an early age, full of questions and feelings. Because both my parents had to work, I was often on my own and had to become independent quickly. From my first year of life, I was separated from them for most of the day and went through the daycare, kindergarten, and later the school system shaped by socialism, until the political change in 1989. I often felt different from the other children: quieter, more thoughtful, deeper.

When the years of political and social upheaval began, I felt this contrast even more strongly. On the one hand, all that was new, glittering, and superficial was alluring - and at first, I was drawn to it. Yet the older I grew, the more I noticed that it was not what I was truly looking for.

I longed for something deeper, more meaningful, something lasting. So I came to love silence and solitude. I withdrew into nature or into myself, away from the busyness around me. Drawing and writing became a way to express what was inside me, things for which I had no explanations.

To make more time for creative work, I studied Fine Art. But I soon realized that the art world was not for me. I never enjoyed treating art as a commodity or excessively glorifying the artist. To me, every person is an artist in their own way. Art should be less about business and the cult of personality and more about expressing inner growth and maturity.

In search of meaning and clarity, I hiked the Appalachian Trail during my studies: 3,500 kilometers alone on foot through the forests of eastern America. Only a backpack on my back, in a time without mobile phones and social media. With curiosity, openness, a camera, and a notebook for writing and drawing, I recorded that special experience. The journey gave me many thoughts, insights, and quiet moments that have shaped me for the rest of my life. It likely also paved the way for what came later.

At that time, I was especially preoccupied with the theme “To Have or To Be” (Erich Fromm) - our relationship to possessions and how they influence our sense of happiness. On trips to Indonesia, I met people who, even in what to me were the poorest conditions and almost without possessions, still smiled and showed a deep humanity. That left a lasting impression on me. They showed me that happiness does not come from what we have, but from the inner state - from a conviction that makes hardship bearable and leads to inner contentment.

This is how I eventually found faith and Islam. For me, it was the natural outcome of all my previous experiences, thoughts, and feelings. I married and moved to Indonesia. A new life began there: with a different language, a foreign culture, and many challenges. I became the mother of six children. We lived simply, often with little, but supported by faith. It was important to me to raise my children in an Islamic environment, in a setting where everyday life itself is a challenge. I wanted them not only to learn their religion but to live it - for faith never to feel foreign, but instead to feel natural.

There were also years of trials. Illness accompanied me, and the greatest loss came when my youngest son died after birth. Weeks of undetected eclampsia followed, and my own life was at risk. It was a time of pain and struggle.

But over time, I found strength again. Step by step, I returned to life - calmer than before, more mature, and strengthened in faith. My children grew more independent, and I was able to take more time for myself. Thus, I returned to my passion for creating: this time not driven by doubt or pressure, but with clarity and a goal in mind.

While the traditional art world, with its glorification of the artist and trade in exclusivity, never appealed to me, Min Sakinah is something different. It is not about my name or status, but about a vision. My designs are not meant as luxury objects, but as quiet companions in everyday life: small reminders that strengthen us inwardly and bring calm.

This is how Min Sakinah began. For me, it is more than a project - it is a vision. It expresses my inner self, my experiences, my search for calm and depth. Every drawing, every layout, every design is made by hand - on paper or on a digital drawing tablet. None of it is AI-generated.

My intention is simple: with what I create, to pass on something I once missed - in my search before and after embracing faith. Often, I felt alone with my questions, feelings, and doubts. Social media was still in its early days. Finding like-minded people was difficult. As a convert, I stood between two worlds: the old life I had left behind and the new path I had to grow into - unlike Muslims for whom faith had been a given since childhood.

This is only a short summary of my journey so far. Today I continue, step by step, with what I love: to grow as a person and as a Muslimah, to create, to write, and to support others who are also searching.

Insha’Allah, I will share more of my experiences and insights after the hijrah in the future. Perhaps they will be an inspiration or support for some of you to find, begin, and walk your own path.

My designs are available printed on everyday items at minsakinah.com. They are meant to accompany us, strengthen us, and give a feeling of home. By purchasing one of my designs, you support me in earning a halal income - and bring me closer to my heartfelt wish to see my parents in Germany again. They have grown older, and as their only child, I am far from them.

Please support me with your prayers that in this life, they may still accept faith in the Creator. My deepest wish is not to lose them forever, but to find them again in Jannatul Firdaus and to be united with them for eternity. Aamiin.

Anna @ Min Sakinah