212

There are undoubtedly many things that we can interpret from social cues and nonverbal language. But we use them as clues, not as facts. They suggest a course of action for us, not demand them.

Our state of being, the fabric of who we are has become infinitely more complex as our language and culture has evolved over time. The amount of truth that we can grasp merely from the fragments of our intuition is miniscule. When there are vast networks of depth to our characters and values, innumerable subtle nuances and idiosyncrasies in our behavior, and countless inconsistencies in our perception when attempting to interpreting the world and people around us, how can we be so sure?

However exhausting or wearisome it may be, there is no substitute for taking the time to understand other human beings through honest conversation.

211

There is always a second chance—a second chance at thinking about things differently, so that we don’t have to suffer any more in the mind than we have to. In fact, there are hundreds, if not thousands of chances we are given in our lifetime.

Instead of thinking what things could’ve been in the world, think about what things could’ve been in our minds.

210

None of us are free from criticism, and none of us are free from the responsibility of giving it.

Our culture makes it difficult for us to be generous in a genuine, serious way. It is uncomfortable to point out what is wrong with both ourselves and those around us, what we can do better, and why. And yet that is at the very center of a resilient culture, of a beautiful society, and of a life worth living.

When we conflate criticism with antagonism, we destroy possibility. We undermine ourselves and everyone else in this collective quest to find truth, meaning, and purpose, for it cannot be found by wallowing in misery, by being mired in conflict, or by basking in complacency.

209

Another day lived with kindness, humility, gratitude, and mindfulness.

And another day I can rest easy.

What more can I ask for?

208

It is easy to be grateful for what we have, but we rarely express enough gratitude for the things that we don’t have.

When we have currently is but a infinitesimally small fraction of what the universe could have given us, but didn’t.

207

Remembering how insignificant I am in the scope of the universe,

remembering how little I actually understand about the way things will be, much less how they should be,

remembering how these present struggles are merely one part of a greater story,

I realize how invulnerable I can be to abject suffering—free of the dread that comes from the bitterness I might feel against this world, others, and this existence.

206

The sun rises, and the sun goes down.

The earth turns and tilts, but never leaves its orbit.

Waves crash against the shoreline, and then they recede back into the ocean.

Day in and day out, we consign ourselves to routine.

We believe so firmly that today, that next week, that next month, that next year, will follow the same pattern as its former counterpart.

It’s a pattern by which we can use as a frame of reference for the rest of the chaos of life that pervades us. It’s predictable—until it isn’t. The reality always is that today, the earth, and the sun is never quite that same as it was yesterday, or whatever pattern it seems to repeat on. Everything is always shifting, and there will inevitably come the day when the sun ceases to rise, when the earth is shrouded in darkness or viciously fragmented into pieces, when there are no waves and no ocean, and everything that we understand as the world around us—our sense of time, our sense of place, our sense of what it means to live—seems to fall apart.

Never forget how fragile and transient we are, how many conditions we need to survive, let alone feel content or happy, and how naïve we are—to think that every day will be the same, and even more so, to think that we will come out being the same as well.

205

I’s never as if we don’t have a solution to our problems; all problems have solutions.

We’re just too impatient to see it through—to just wait a little longer, whether for the world or for ourselves to change.

204

Love is always conditional not because it it always transactional. It is conditional because there are prerequisite circumstances in which we, as humans, can love.

Because we do not possess infinite time nor energy,

because we need a reason to love,

because we cannot understand everything,

because our emotions exist,

our love must be conditional.

But with what time we have,

with what reason we can muster,

with the modicum of understanding we’ve accumulated,

with the heart that we’ve fostered over the course of our lives,

we can love with a love that is profoundly selfless, irrevocably pure, and absolutely powerful.

203

Before we rush to judge others and stand upon a pedestal of righteousness, let us remember how we were in our worst moments; let us remember the dejection and shame incurred by our own lives’ most critical mistakes; let us remember how it felt to lose all hope; let us remember what we all lost along the way; let us remember how much at one point we so desperately wished someone was just a little more kind, a little more forgiving, a little more understanding of us. Let that contrast our presumptuousness and contempt.

If we can stand to bear our own hypocrisy, then surely, let us continue forward in haughtiness.

And if we cannot, then all that’s left is to love. And to forgive.