7/31

How rare is it to find someone whose worldview and life purpose—whose innate interests, intrinsic motivations, visions for the future, perceptions of work, happiness, sadness, the human condition—align perfectly with yours? Humans are different—and that’s a feature, not a bug.

Yet it is often an arduous task to constantly remember this in our interactions. Whether in the office, the church, the school, the laboratory, or the bakery, when we’re called upon to do something together this truth suddenly becomes elusive. Most of us are excessively predisposed to selfishly sulk and to bicker, rather than silently observe, learn, and start discourse. Although we can probably acknowledge that most of humanity’s greatest achievements required a collective effort among a group of individuals unified in purpose and in intent, we end up shying, or perhaps cowering, away from greatness because of self-centeredness.

As Seth Godin might say, “I don’t know what you know, I don’t believe what you believe, I don’t feel what you feel, and that’s okay.” It is the courage to move forward because of our differences, not despite them. The key to success in this collective effort is finding a way to capture the hearts of individuals on vastly different walks of life, to tap into the vastly different lessons learned only attainable from a lifetime’s worth of mistakes, to break each other free from the short-sightedness and myopia that often blind us from a greater truth.

7/30

Just remember—to not fight with yourself, to think that your emotions and intuitions are extraneous and dispensable, to believe that the only pathway to truth is through reason.

Let reason and emotion alike serve you as a guide, being subjugated as a slave to neither.

7/29

Fond memories are warm, familiar, and never fail to incur a sense of longing, an indulgence in reminiscence and, in some ways, a profound appreciation and gratitude for both the experience, and life itself.

Yet if we roll back into those moments, we seldom feel the same way in that very moment. Nothing about what happened has changed. All that changed, was us.

Is it because we long to dilute the pain and suffering of the present with a rose-colored past?

Is it because of the necessary consequence of our malleable and transient identity and values?

Is it because time and space has inexplicably warped our perceptions?

What purpose does it serve?

7/25

I will no longer be afraid of nightmares.

They serve as a stark reminder that the current status quo—the expected outcomes, the tireless routines day in and day out, this predictable experience of life that I deem as reality—can and will be warped by time and circumstance, by malevolence and iniquity.

In a very strange way, they ground me; they exhort me to eschew complacency—to not to pretend as if I’m free from adversity and free from visceral fear, to not live as if I was shielded in some protective bubble.

There is far worse, unimaginable evil and terror out there in the world that not even my subconscious can conjure up in dreams. Thus, may I live my days going forward remembering that with genuine seriousness and attentiveness, in every moment recognizing that I can make a difference in that fight.

7/24

Suffering—terrible in the present,

Essential in retrospect.

Nothing changed but the way that we feel.

If we can change our feelings in the present, then we can find the truth within faster.

If we cannot, then all that’s left to do is wait—to allow time and space to warp our perceptions.

What more?

To live our days with intention, with kindness and sensitivity to ourselves and to others,

To be conscious of the role that we each play in each of our stories,

To seek to learn at every moment, ever aware of our ignorance and bias,

To constantly question what is right, what is reasonable, what is good,

So as long as we can do that, what more can be asked of us?

Enough

It always seems as if there is not enough time in a day, and if we take the time to realize it, there probably isn’t enough in the entirety of our lives either.

But perhaps the key to having enough time is to simply reconstrue what enough even is. It can take years, decades, or a lifetime to find purpose, belonging, and fulfillment—to elicit that wisdom and awareness ensconced in each of our souls. And regardless of our sense of patience or desperation, we cannot know whether the time allotted to us is enough.

Negligence

Just because it’s someone else’s problem, doesn’t mean it isn’t yours also.

If I possess the energy, the willpower, and the wisdom for change, to not act upon it is to neglect my duty as a human being.

An Update

It’s been over a half year since I started this blog. I have no doubt that it has been one of the most important commitments that I’ve made in my life. It has given me clarity and confidence in thought, a reason and a will to press on, and vision and purpose in the scope of my life. Some of the oldest posts in this blog originate from my journal, which I began in December of last year. While to some degree I yearn for the carefree and freely expressive nature of journaling, it doesn’t put me on the hook; it neither provides any form of accountability nor any sense of generosity on my part. It didn’t take me long to realize that I’m emotionally mature enough and ultimately far too self-aware to benefit from the emotional venting characteristic of journaling; I seldom must write my feelings down, either to make sense of them, or to mollify the unrest that emerges from the heart.

It’s also been two months since I started working for Proof. I am extremely grateful to have stumbled upon work that I can be proud to do, an organization that I can be proud to be in, and people that reciprocate love, kindness, and sensitivity. Despite approaching the opportunity with skepticism and stoicism—having learned the mistakes of my previous venture back into Paris Baguette in 2021—I do recognize that to some degree I have once again formed an emotional attachment to the work itself and the outcome of the work. Sometimes, in moments where my eyes have glazed over by weariness, or where I’ve simply detached myself from the reality of the present moment, it all feels like a dream—interposing memories of Jon’s entrancing loquaciousness and knack for storytelling, realizing that I’m actually here with the man himself, and ultimately engendering in myself the confidence that I can make a positive difference here.

I have decided that I can be at peace with the idea of committing my heart to do what it is compelled to do. I understand that it limits my bandwidth and my emotional energy that was originally focused into these reflections, and I wish to embrace that temporary limitation. And while I’ve garnered a profound sense of connection to the work and the people that now surround me, in my mind, I also vow that I will take the due diligence to frequently pause and remember—that even if all is lost, if nothing works out, and if everything is in vain—that I still have plenty of time, resources, and opportunities ahead of me to accomplish the mission I originally set out to do six months ago.

To any of you that follow this blog—while it was never the true intent of it to gain publicity or accumulate following—thank you for dedicating a portion of your life, however miniscule, towards reading what I have to say. And to those of you that I know personally, thank you for being part of my life, and part of my story.

I know

I know what I set out to do. All that’s left is to do it.

Nothing more, and nothing less.