In which I speak to myself, and write to you
2021 was the year of noticing patterns. Being plucked out of your familiar habitat and plunged into new territory sets life in a new light which allows you to see your patterns anew. (E.g. I have made a habit of ‘waiting’ for things in life, how I unconsciously dissociate in conversations). Undoing patterns will change the tint and texture of your life.
Time is a finite resource. You can learn how to use it, and manage it.
Time is malleable — tasks will expand and compress to fill the time you allot to them.
Time is an illusion. The only thing that is true is here and now (etc, etc).
Out of an infinite number of permutations and combinations, God hand-picked this sliver of time for you.
Indulge more in the singular, cell-sweeping high of defying your boundaries, of enacting a kind of mutiny against your instincts, of expanding your perception of the possible. Allow yourself that luminous moment when, right after you do something uncharacteristic of yourself, life suddenly becomes larger and widens and expands.
How comfortable you are is not a reliable metric for whether something is good for you. Don’t trust precedent or familiarity as an indicator of growth.
Thinking deeply is a blessing and a curse. Wield it wisely.
Thinking is not being. (Is the real me the ‘thinking’ me, or the quiet part of me which cannot verbalize or articulate things but knows them to be true?)
The glorification of ‘thinking’ in daily life breeds compulsive and anxious thoughts which treat themselves as chores and mandates. Try surrendering to the silence within you — that quiet core, that reservoir of wordless knowledge.
Never extrapolate from your fears.
Reconciling the life I had so painstakingly planned for myself with the way life has unfolded has been one of the most wrenching, soul-sapping tasks of 2021. Ultimately, I can relinquish and surrender the dream, but I can’t shake off this gnawing sense of unfairness, of the scales of justice being somehow imbalanced. It’s like finding out that the ladder I had been climbing for the past x years of my life actually led nowhere — that the moment I was ready to harvest, I actually had to start all over, change the soil, plant new seeds.
For now, the pyre of my dreams still burns. I can still smell the smoke, am still cradling the ash.
Beyond the borders of disappointment lie plains of possibility.
This density of disappointment will be a lesson in recalibration, in perspective, and in mining for pockets of possibility. When the outward does not work out, the inward will buoy and bolster you.
Sometimes you ask for something, and don’t get it. But equally sometimes you don’t ask — don’t even know to ask — for something and will get something better.
Tomorrow is unknown to you. Don’t project a fixed form onto the future.
There is strength in surrender.
Perspective is the antidote to tunnel vision, and gratitude is the wellspring of perspective.
Perspective is also the portal to resilience.
There is a directly proportional relationship between disconnecting from the ritual busyness of daily life and finding perspective. The more you replenish, the more you will renew your sense of ‘why’?
Change is rarely drastic or dramatic. The landscape of your life changes incrementally each day until you land in a new life.
Life changes and habit changes are not theatrical, but occur in daily investments which compound over time. Ease into habits, instead of plunging into them.
When you’re trying to bring about a life change, start from the minimum (least demanding, low threshold for failure, low barrier to entry), not the maximum (very demanding).
On What Lasts
What you do for yourself, you leave behind. What you do for others, you take with you.
On Faith, Family and Friends
These are your anchors and constants. Let them tether you.