215

“Sorry” ceases to make sense if we believe that things couldn’t have happened any other way. If the world, and our minds, are locked into an inevitable course, one event causing another, then what is there to be sorry for?

But “sorry" is not so much that we are apologizing for what has been done, or that we truly believe we had it in ourselves to do things differently, but more so that we vow to do better next time—that our mind and our heart has been changed by the stark reality of circumstance, and of consequence.

214

The tendency to over-romanticize can strengthen affection.

Loneliness will only make the moment of finding the right person more momentous.

The discomfort associated with uncertainty will only make finding certainty that much stronger.

Self-doubt can become humility.

Self-centeredness can become assertiveness.

In all this, there is always a choice. And the choice is to see our traits neither as good nor bad, not deficient nor beneficial, but simply existing.

213

The very fact that we can even consider life as a facetious, non-serious endeavor—something that we can go about laughing with contempt, to wander blithely in ignorance, to denigrate the value of this world and those around us—is by the far most profligate display of our privilege.

For those that have to forcibly endure hardship after hardship, for those that are tormented incessantly by evil forces, and for those that wish for a modicum of the luxuries that we take for granted every day of our complacent lives—there is no choice but to take life seriously, if not for themselves, then for those that they love.

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.