Nun: A Catholic nun at my elementary school got my friends and me in trouble for running (the school was tiny with too many students and didn’t allow anyone to run during recess). When the nun—who might have been Italian, I am not sure—stopped us, I uttered the only non-Chinese words I knew: “Oh my God!” The nun let my friends go, and I received standing punishment for the rest of recess.
Day 1 in America: When I arrived at San Francisco International Airport in 2007, my cell phone didn’t have service, so I went to a public phone booth to call my cousin, who would pick me up. En route to San Jose, I couldn’t find my phone and panicked. After searching through my backpack six times, I realized I had left my phone at the airport phone booth after I looked up my cousin’s phone number.
Loyalty program: As a college freshman, I frequented a small independent coffee shop on campus. One day I had an idea: the coffee shop could use a loyalty program—something like buy 5 drinks and get 1 for free—to boost its business. I pitched the idea to the owner, who said, “thank you, but no thank you.”
DMV: My driving instructor showed me the only route that the Los Gatos DMV (near San Jose) used for testing. During the driving test, I almost signaled too early during the test before the officer even asked me to make a left. I passed my driving exam with zero mistakes.
Black Friday: In my first year in America, my friends invited me to queue up overnight for Thanksgiving Black Friday sale at Fry’s Electronics. When the store opened at 5:30 am, the crowd went nuts after freezing in the cold for hours and was close to stepping on each other. I lost one of my shoes for 30 seconds but retrieved it amid the chaos. Despite having no car, I walked out of the store with a TomTom GPS.
Honest rating: During a phone interview for a summer internship, an interviewer at Morgan Stanley asked how I would rank my finance skills. I hadn’t taken a finance class then, so I gave myself 3 out of 10. I never heard back.
Skipping lunch: I once was at Apple’s Cupertino headquarters for an in-person job interview. Two associates said they would accompany me to lunch when the panel interview was over. I was dumb enough to not realize lunch was still part of the interview and said, “No, thank you. I need to go back to campus for class.” Again, I never heard back.
Partner: I once attended a 50-person summer party at an accounting firm partner’s house. When I bumped into the partner, I had a brain fart and said, “Thank you, Josh, for hosting the party. It’s fantastic.” The partner said, “You’re welcome. My name is Chad, though.” My career never advanced.
Target: I once had an assignment doing financial diligence (read: analyze numbers) on a company in Vancouver on behalf of a client. When the Canadian immigration officer asked for my reason for visiting, I said, “I’m here to investigate the target (the term we internally use to confidentially refer to a company potentially acquired).” The officer raised his eyebrow and took me to secondary screening.
Speeding: A cop once pulled me over for driving 45 miles per hour in a 25-mph zone. I apologized and explained I speeded because I had to go to the bathroom. He said, “Well, now you have to wait even longer,” and gave me a $480 ticket.
Delicacies: The three most exotic things I have eaten in my life are 1) snake soup at a wedding in Hong Kong, 2) cow eye tacos (tacos de ojos) in Mexico City, 3) a guinea pig (cuy) in Peru. I will eat none of the above again. Speaking of Mexico…
Corn: My wife was mortified that I bought corn in a cup on the streets of Mexico City. She said, “Did you not see the mayonnaise had been under the sun the whole day, and the container’s rim was black from the smog?” I survived—in fact, thrived—for the rest of the trip without diarrhea.
Wedding proposal: I proposed to my wife with a bracelet and a handwritten letter. I read the letter out loud in front of Inca ruins in Peru. No ring, but it worked.
Mezcal: My wife and I brought a hundred 50mL bottles of mezcal from Mexico back to the U.S. At the border, the customs officer said we exceeded the alcohol limit five times and would have to pay taxes. I said I was unaware of the rules and that the mezcal bottles were gifts for our wedding guests. The officer said, “Today is your lucky day—the United States government is giving you a break. Congratulations on your wedding!”
Credit card: While applying for a credit card, the website said I could add 3 users for bonus reward points, so I included my dad, my mom, and my dog. A card engraved with “Xing Chim” arrived two weeks later.
Yosemite: When I checked the weather before a trip to Yosemite National Park, the weather app said it would be 40F (5C), so I told my mom to only pack warm clothes as if it was snowing (she’s afraid of the cold). When we got there, it was 85F (30C). I realized I had checked the peak of Yosemite. We burned up and went home early.
Yellowstone: The day before flying to Yellowstone, I panicked when I realized no car rentals at the airport would allow underage renters (I was one month away from turning 21). My two other companions couldn’t rent a car, either, so we drove 1,000 miles from Berkeley and got there in a day to not lose out on the nonrefundable hotel rooms. It took us 18 hours to pass through Nevada and Idaho and enter Wyoming (I had never driven outside of California then.) The scariest part was the heavy fog at midnight—for half an hour the visibility on Interstate 80 was close to zero. We took a nap at a Walgreens parking lot in Reno for half an hour at 3 am along the way. I don’t recommend visiting a national park this way.
The other day I decided to write a list of 33 life lessons in one sitting. I ended up with 36. The exercise was fun! I highly recommend it.
I plan to do this every year and see how the list changes.
“Tell me more” is a complete sentence. Use it often.
Be 80% full. If you are hangry, you make bad decisions. If you are too full, you have no energy. The sweet spot is when you are satisfied enough not to think about food. Speaking of food…
Treasure friends from young adulthood. You will likely spend the most time with them for the rest of your life. Friends you make later in life are great, but they are different.
Money is a hygiene factor. You need enough to not worry. Beyond that, it’s a game. How you play is up to you.
Things are always changing. The more you cling to the past, the more you reject the present. That creates pain and suffering.
Every problem has multiple solutions. We get stuck when we assume there’s only one answer.
Know your options. Good decision-making starts with seeing the paths available. You always have more options than you think.
Choose. Make up your mind. Be deliberate with what you do. The ability to choose is an incredible gift. It’s also called freedom.
Three options if you are unhappy. 1) quit; 2) change it; 3) accept it.
Step away if you are stuck: Take a shower, do housework, or clean the garage. A bit of distance does wonders. Solutions come when you least expect them.
Walk. You can’t do worse after a walk. Motion shifts your perspective. Anywhere with trees or a body of water works well.
Sleep is an effective strategy. It solves problems that seemed intractable just eight hours ago.
Learn by starting. The only way to become fluent in a language is to speak it. The only way to write well is to write. When you start, you struggle. When you struggle, you learn.
Figure out the why. We often first jump into the what and the how, but why matters the most. What do you believe in? Why do this? Why do that? Why do anything at all?
Journaling keeps giving: Every day write down: 1) what made you happy; 2) what didn’t go well; 3) new ideas to try. Great use of five minutes of your time.
Get the right tool… If a (physical or digital) tool helps you do your work well and you will use it consistently, get it.
…but start with the basic model: Get the simplest option. You can always get a fancier one later. That way, you don’t waste money on something you realize you don’t need. Also, upgrades are fun.
Noticing is an underrated skill. Artists create beauty by noticing fascinating patterns. Entrepreneurs build a business by noticing an unsolved problem. Scientists discover breakthroughs by noticing irregularities in the lab data. Every interesting endeavor starts with an observation.
Care for yourself first. You can’t contribute when you are depleted. If you are sleep-deprived, grumpy, and uninspired, nothing you do is helpful.
Joy comes when you think of others. Lasting happiness is always shared. St. Thomas Aquinas defines love as “the choice to will the good of the other.” The Dalai Lama XIV calls it “wise selfish.” When you share with others, you feel happy yourself. If everyone is happy, being “selfish” or not doesn’t matter.
Start small. The best advice I have ever received. When in doubt, start with one. If you did one, you already won. 99% of the people didn’t do it.
It’s never too late. In a year, you will wish you started twelves months ago. Start now.
One thing at a time. Multitasking doesn’t work. You will do worse. It’s science.
Do itdaily. Ironically, it’s easier to do something every day than 2 times a week. You can forget about the day of the week.
Things compound. A small action or decision doesn’t seem like much on a given day, but if you keep at it, your path will look very different in 5 years.
Time doesn’t change things. People do. You do.
Write down what you plan to do. When you put ink on paper, it’s a soft commitment. You will be 10x more likely to do it.
Three most important things (MITs). Every day pick three MITs. Do them before everything else. Everything else afterward is a bonus.
Do the hardest things first. This relates to the previous point. Your cognitive energy depletes throughout the day. Save the easy stuff for later when you are tired.
Make lists. The simplest yet most useful tool. Shopping list. Project list. Movies list. Packing list. Meal idea list. What-to-do-when-your-in-laws-visit list. Make one. It’s fun, useful, and revealing.
Say no kindly. It’s okay to decline what you don’t want to do.
Say yes loudly. If you come across a great idea or an opportunity, jump on it. This is the reason why you say no to other things: to have space to dedicate to the things that matter.
Pick one battle. No need to be inundated by the many problems of the world. Many of them are out of your control. Instead, start with the problem in front of you. That’s what you’re called to do today.
Listen to your heart. If you don’t listen, eventually it will catch up to you. And you will have spent a lot of time on what doesn’t matter.
Call the people you care about. Partner, family, friend, whoever. Do it before it’s too late.
Technology has advanced at an unbelievable pace over the last few decades. Life expectancy is higher. Food arrives at our doorstep with the click of a button. No one ever gets lost again (as long as there is the Internet).
But when it comes to the things that matter, our ability to control them hasn’t changed much. Whether you get sick. Whether it is sunny this weekend. Whether something you care about happens or not.
Lamenting what holds you back is natural, but what if the constraints you face could be a source of strength?
Three remarkable individuals have transformed how I view challenges. Let me share their stories with you.
Story 1: Gillian, the problem child
When Gillian was eight, she struggled with school. Her classmates found her noisy and disturbing. Homework was never on time. The teacher told her parents she had a learning disorder.
The school was concerned. They sent her to a specialist to assess whether she should attend a special school instead.
At the doctor’s office, Gillian grew restless and started to fidget. Twenty minutes into the session, the doctor told Gillian, “I need to speak to your mother privately. Wait here. We’ll be back.”
The doctor turned on the radio on his way out. He whispered to Gillian’s mother, “Just stand and watch her.”
Something unexpected happened the minute they left the room. Gillian was on her feet. She moved to the radio music with natural grace. Her face beamed with joy.
After watching for a few minutes, the doctor turned to her mother and said, “Mrs. Lynne, Gillian isn’t sick. She’s a dancer. Take her to a dance school.”
Her mother hesitated at first but gave it a try.
The dance school in London became Gillian’s new home. She discovered a community: people like her who couldn’t sit still and used movement to think.
She started with classical ballet and then moved on to jazz, tap, and ballroom. The young lady learned it all, practiced every day, and flourished.
At sixteen, she joined one of the foremost ballet companies in Great Britain. Her talent quickly caught the city’s attention. Before she knew it, she was performing Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty all over the world.
After about a decade, her ballerina career slowly came to an end. Part of it was age, but mainly because she discovered a keen interest in choreography.
She started her own dancing company, even though the field was male-dominated. Female ballet choreographers were rare at the time. Despite her accomplishment as a dancer, many did not receive Gillian’s transition with a warm welcome.
It didn’t bother Gillian. She loved the art and was too busy breaking new ground. She innovated, took risks, and pushed boundaries.
The challenging sequences she created departed from traditional balletic movements. Her work delighted the audience and impressed respected composers like Andrew Lloyd Webber. Invitations to collaborate on large projects began to go her way.
Another decade later, she became responsible for some of the most successful musical theater productions in history on Broadway and beyond.
Her name is Gillian Lynne. Heard of Phantom of the Opera and Cats? She was the musical stager and choreographer behind it. She came a long way from being the problem child.
“I believe that every child is born with unique talents and gifts, and it’s up to us to help them find those talents and develop them.”
Gillian Lynne
Story 2: Steve, the unlikely athlete
Steve was devastated as he walked out of the doctor’s office.
Basketball was Steve’s calling. His talent was evident. He dribbled like a magician. He was an excellent shooter. He was even better at finding creative ways to pass.
He asked what the heck spondylolisthesis was.
The doctor explained that one of his vertebrae in the spine slipped out of place and onto the vertebra below it. This condition led to weakened muscles, which explained the tremendous pressure and pain in his back.
The doctor’s conclusion: he should not play professional basketball after college. One wrong twist could put him out of the game for weeks — possibly forever. The risk was too high.
The most brutal fact Steve didn’t want to hear: the condition was degenerative. It would worsen over time.
This threat, however, did not stop him. He didn’t believe that was the end of his career — it hadn’t even started.
One thing became clear to Steve: he must approach the sport differently.
He started to ask new questions: What should he do differently? How could he become stronger? What would it take to thrive in a game that favors physical strength — something he had less than everyone else?
The doctor and physical therapist prescribed a tailored regimen at his request. Steve religiously followed the plan: He trained his core with discipline. He stretched daily. He re-learned how to run, jump, and pass to avoid injury. Little by little, Steve worked out a system.
He knew he had to create space and minimize direct contact with others, so he mastered ball handling.
He surveyed the entire court at all times during a game. His priority was to create opportunities for his teammates. Only when uncontested did he finish a play with a graceful finger roll or a long three-pointer.
While on the bench, he rarely sat in a chair. Instead, he laid on his back on the floor. That helped reduce muscle stiffness and kept him in the game longer.
Steve had a long and successful basketball career despite getting injured quite often. Throughout his 18 seasons as an NBA player, he made over 9 out of every ten free throws across 1,300-plus games. His three-point percentage was 42.8% (about the same as Stephen Curry today). Most impressively, he contributed more than 10,000 assists. Only a few players have ever done that.
His name is Steve Nash. He is one of the best point guards in NBA history. That is not bad for someone who almost gave up basketball.
“I’m not the biggest, fastest, or most athletic guy, so I have to do all the little things to help me succeed.”
Steve Nash
Story 3: Temple, the social misfit
Temple’s parents were alarmed.
They were expecting the two-year-old to be like her siblings. Something was off, however. There was no eye contact when they talked to her. Instead, Temple was busy flapping her hands. She repeated the exact phrases over and over. She sometimes spaned around in circles for hours until she got dizzy and could barely stand up.
The doctor’s diagnosis: brain damage. In the 1950s, that diagnosis meant they didn’t know what it was (she would have been diagnosed today with autism).
Temple’s parents went for another assessment when she was four. The doctor’s recommendation was dire: send her to a state mental institution. Eustacia, Temple’s mother, refused. It would be unbearable to lose her daughter forever, she said.
After hustling for options, Eustacia found a school meeting Temple’s needs. She also started Temple on speech therapy, which helped, but the success was mixed. Her classmates at school still ridiculed her for constantly repeating herself. They gave her a nickname: “tape recorder.”
Once at 14, Temple got angry and threw a book at a schoolmate. The school expelled her. Shortly after, her parents divorced.
Everything was falling apart.
After she got expelled, Temple spent the summer with her aunt. She discovered a deep sense of connection with the animals on the farm, who seemed to understand her better than the humans.
It was then that Temple spotted a funny-looking machine. It is known as a squeeze chute, which holds cattle tightly while they are examined, marked, or treated. Temple became fascinated. She wanted a similar machine to hug herself to feel safe and secure.
She started spending all her time reading books on machine design. As she did, her challenge in understanding text began to fade away. With the encouragement of a science teacher, she built a makeshift squeeze machine. It calmed her anxiety through her teenage years and young adulthood.
From that point on, Temple became engaged. Even though she was a slow reader, she graduated from college with a degree in psychology. She went on and pursued a master’s and doctorate in animal science.
Temple became a professor 30 years after she discovered her love for animals. In addition to advocating for animal rights, she pioneered humane and effective livestock-handling systems. Her designs helped reduce animal stress and injury. She spoke worldwide and raised awareness for autism and neurodiversity.
Her name is Temple Grandin. She is currently a faculty member at Colorado State University. In 2010, Time listed her as one of the 100 most influential people in the world. Her category: “Heroes.”
“I am different, not less.”
Temple Grandin
Takeaway
A British dancer and choreographer. A Canadian basketball player and coach. An American professor and animal advocate. Born in different parts of the 20th century.
These three inspiring individuals shared nothing in common on the surface, but an underlying thread connected them all: each was told there wasn’t a future. Their limitations were too overwhelming. Their control was too little.
None of them took the judgment as the final verdict.
What can we learn from them? I see five lessons.
Lesson 1: Go around the limitation
We face constraints at any given point: money, time, health, skills, or opportunities. The limitations are real, but they are not the problem.
The real issue is that we get stuck. We assume there is only one way to overcome the obstacle in front of us. That’s false.
Steve Nash had limited physical strength. He couldn’t compete on power or height with the big guys in the league. He would be a fool to do so.
However, building bigger muscles wasn’t the only way to play the game. Once he realized that, he uncovered other possibilities. He used his instinct to move the ball around. When he needed rest, he rested. He made layups when no one paid attention and took shots from a safe distance.
A limitation tells you one thing: you can’t go forward this way. It also means another: you can explore all other viable possibilities.
You are liberated when you see and accept your limitations as they are. You don’t have to run away anymore. You can experiment with other ideas that will help you get unstuck.
Life is a paradox. When one door closes, another opens — but only you choose to see it.
Step back and ask: What are the other available paths?
It’s time to get creative.
Lesson 2: Ask, “What Now?”
“Why” is an irresistible question when something goes wrong.
Temple Grandin could have dwelled on why she was autistic and anti-social her entire life, but she didn’t (at least not all the time). Steve Nash could have done the same with his spine condition.
Asking why something happens can generate insights, but spending a lot of time on it rarely yields a better answer.
The truth is we all inherit a set of circumstances. Most things in life are out of our control. Some people don’t try very hard and have it easy. Others work incessantly and still struggle.
Comparison with others, however, is a dead end. What you will get is anger, frustration, and despair.
The point is not about other people. It’s about you. Of the things you can control, what do you choose to do? How will you exercise your freedom?
When you ask, “what now,” you become curious. You shift your focus from what you lack to what you have.
Given your set of constraints, what are your options? What assets do you have? How do your past challenges offer a unique perspective? How can you turn your pain into valuable lessons? What does your gut say?
These questions move you forward.
If the road ahead is unclear, you can approach it like a puzzle. Start with the answers you’re surest of and build from there. Don’t be afraid to guess. Don’t be afraid to move on from a solution that isn’t working out. If you are stuck, put it aside and return later. It’s your puzzle. Solve it any way you want.
Focus on what you can do now.
Lesson 3: Develop what brings you joy
Gillian couldn’t have possibly planned her career. To her, dancing was captivating. The work itself was the reward. Opportunities emerged as she kept moving.
Even when others in the industry didn’t recognize her initially, she was too immersed in her work to worry.
When you do what you love, you become alive. Joy transforms your perspective. The energy is palpable and attractive. It’s life-giving.
You may say, “I don’t know what I like.” Then it’s time to discover. Take a class on something you don’t know. Explore art. Solve a new problem. Build, fix, or break something (you can do it gently). Make something useful or fun or both for someone you love.
You won’t like everything you try. Most will initially feel hard and unnatural, but some will leave an impression. Pay attention to those. If you worked through a difficult challenge but still want more of it, that’s a sign you are onto something.
You are off to a start if you are lucky enough to know what you love. Play with it. Dedicate time to the craft. Find inspiring work done by others.
Don’t build a grand plan. Just start. Get moving. Take small risks. Use your gifts. Follow what moves your heart.
Opportunities will emerge if you work on what makes you tick. I don’t know what they are. No one does. That’s for you to find out. Welcome to life!
Lesson 4: Accept help
Steve Nash couldn’t have played a competitive sport without medical advice. Temple Grandin couldn’t have become a professor, a speaker, and an activist without speech therapy from a professional.
We all want help, but we hate asking for it, even though intellectually, we know no one can survive on a lonely island. Nor do we have to.
As you embark on your journey, you will face roadblocks. If you look closely, though, help is usually close by, but only if you ask for it.
The universe works in a mysterious way. Help may come from a neighbor, a friend, or a colleague. It may be a conversation, a link to an article, or a passage from a book.
People are more eager to help than you think. They are waiting for you to take the first step. So ask, listen, and test the advice you get. If it doesn’t work, try another one.
For a long time, I refused to ask for help when I couldn’t find something in a store or something at home broke. It was such a simple thing, but asking for help seemed weak.
Now I do it: little to lose and much to gain. I highly recommend it!
(Conversely, share what you know if someone asks for help. It’s a small world. Things go around. You will receive more when you give.)
Lesson 5: Do the work
Gillian honed her Pointe work. Steve improved his physical conditioning. Temple practiced social skills. They did it every day, even if it was uncomfortable.
You can ask for advice, read books, and buy fancy tools. What matters most, however, is to do the work. This means to create, to act on the knowledge, and to keep trying despite the resistance.
If you are a scientist, head to the lab. If you are a designer, sketch. If you are a lawyer, prepare the best case for your client.
If you read a book, take notes. If you learn a language, speak it. If you sign up for a class, apply the learning in real life.
It can be scary to do the work. You enter into unknown territory. You don’t know what to expect. You also fear being exposed. What if people make fun of you? Will it fail? Will you look stupid?
Surely a few things may go wrong, but the better question is: Does walking your path matter more than staying put? Does the benefit outweigh the risk? Is the growth worth the price?
Every precious thing requires a leap of faith. It doesn’t mean we don’t fear. Instead, we go forward with the fear and be open to what’s to come. Every time we act, the path slowly reveals itself.
It starts with doing the work.
Conclusion
Next time you hear yourself saying, “If only I didn’t have this holding me back…”
Remember the lessons from Gillian, Steve, and Temple:
A couple of years ago, I learned a strategy: inversion. It has helped me discover simpler solutions to tricky issues and avoid unnecessary work.
To invert is to turn a question upside down. Instead of attacking a problem with brute force, we work backward: what if we do the opposite? What if we avoid the obstacle altogether?
Some examples:
• You spend a lot of time on some report that no one cares about. Instead of doing it every month, is it possible to kill the busywork?
• A client is hard to work with and adds little value. Instead of stressing about their unreasonable demands, can we let the client go?
• A coupon is expiring, but I can’t think of anything I need. Instead of looking for something to buy, what if I throw the coupon away and move on?
Life is a paradox. For every amazing thing in the world, there is another just as disturbing.
The world is filled with unbelievable landscapes and deadly disasters; breathtaking sunsets and depressing winter nights; tree-lined shopping streets and heart-breaking encampments two blocks away (look no further than Berkeley or San Francisco).
It’s also home to anonymous donors and sleazy scammers; bold artists and Internet trolls; the Dalai Lama and Vladimir Putin.
Sometimes I can’t help but wonder: is this all the same world?
One strategy I use to offset the negativity that comes my way is to expose myself to the same amount of beauty.
Overwhelmed by catastrophes? I put the news away, go out for a walk, and look up to the sky.
A reckless driver cuts me off on the highway like he’s playing Mario Kart? I look for another driver who gestures to me to go ahead with a smile.
The guy at the pizza shop gives me an attitude for no apparent reason (and the pizza isn’t even that good)? I patron the noodle shop across the street where the owner beams with pride when he serves homemade broth and extra cilantro.
The point is not to ignore the negative, but to remind myself to see both sides of the paradox as it is.
In order to figure out what I need to do next, I must first stay sane. A balanced view of the world helps.
I recently reconnected with two friends. At the end of both conversations, I found ourselves saying, “We should connect more!”
Then I wonder: how much is optimal?
Interestingly, the conversations are enjoyable precisely because we don’t connect often. Every topic is fresh. All stories are intriguing. Questions flow.
If we meet up every day, it won’t be as enriching.
A relationship wilts if there is no contact. But too much time together risks staleness or even conflicts. Presence is essential, and so is absence.
Balancing closeness and distance is an art. It requires ongoing experimentation. What applies to me may not apply to you. What works today may not work tomorrow.
There’s no one-size-fits-all.
But if we get the balance right, the relationship thrives.
Every precious thing in life requires a leap of faith: to be vulnerable and to move forward without knowing what will happen.
If you have an enriching friendship or relationship: some time ago, you mustered courage and reached out at the risk of being ignored or rejected.
If you have a personal or professional opportunity to make an impact: at one point, you said yes when it was unclear what you had signed up for.
If you have created something you are proud of: you presented the work at the risk of ridicule.
If you have a skill or a hobby: you probably went through periods of frustration and felt unsure whether you would ever improve.
If you have gone on a memorable journey: the parts you likely remember the most are the people and the experiences that were never part of the plan.
If the above is true, we can conclude: embracing the unknown brings life. It’s in walking into the unknown that our path begins to reveal itself.
What stops us from proceeding is often the fear of getting hurt. What if people make fun of us? Will it fail?
Surely things can go wrong, but the better question is: does walking our path matter more than staying put? Does the benefit outweigh the risk? Is the growth worth the price?
All this is not to say that we must take undue risks or expose ourselves indiscriminately. That would be unwise and unnecessary.
Instead, take small risks first, listen to your heart, and course-correct as you go. Once you start moving, signs—words, people, opportunities—will emerge and guide you.
The path ahead will look nothing like what you have imagined, but it is uniquely yours.
I want to share with you a practice that has transformed my life. I have been doing it for more than two years. It makes me happier. It helps me make sense of a bad day. It gives me a sense of clarity.
This practice is a five-minute daily review. The method is inspired by an exercise called the examen, developed many centuries ago by St. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits. I further simplified the practice and made it my own. Every morning, I answer three questions and note my answers in a journal.
1. Gratitude
The first step is to look back at the last 24 hours. Then ask: What are you grateful for right now? Doesn’t matter what it is. Note it. Some examples:
A delicious meal with family
A fun get-together with friends
A comfortable bed
A sense of peace when seeing the clouds in the sky
An inspirational line from a book
Kindness from a friend, a co-worker, or a stranger
Produced work you are proud of
Did vigorous exercise that made you feel alive
Tried something new for the first time
Gratitude is one of the most underrated superpowers. It shifts our focus from what we lack to what we have. Gratitude affirms that good things exist. We are free to enjoy them as they are given to us.
“If you’re grateful, you’re not fearful.” Benedictine monk David Steindl-Rast once said. Gratitude casts out fear. That makes it easier to experience joy with what we already have. It’s simple. It’s free. And it’s powerful.
2. Reflection
The second step is to review the challenges in last 24 hours. What do you see in your day? Sometimes we go through a hectic crazy day without being aware of what happened. This step gives you space to observe.
Pay attention to what you did, how you felt, and what left an impression. What was difficult? What made you sad or angry? Did you feel tense, empty, or discouraged? If something didn’t go well, what could you have done differently?
3. Resolution
The last step is a natural extension of your reflection. What are one or two things you will commit to doing (differently) today?
Did you feel grumpy working in front of the computer all day yesterday? Perhaps a short walk after lunch today will improve your mood. Did a comment yesterday hurt someone? Maybe you should say sorry. Did you waste too much on your phone? You can try leaving your phone in another room for a couple hours so you can focus the most important work.
You don’t need to come up a laundry list of complex, overhauling changes. One or two simple things are enough. The point is not to be hard on yourself, but to see the possibilities within your control. Think of this as making small tweaks in the system. You can get creative, experiment with a tiny change, and see if it works. Then resolve to doing it.
Putting It Together
This three-step program—gratitude, reflection, and resolution—is not complicated. Yet it could be the best five minutes you spend on a given day. It allows you to make sense of what’s going in your life. It gives you a holistic perspective. At the end, you arrive at small actionable steps you can take.
There’s no success or failure in this exercise. You simply learn to see things as they are. You experiment and see what works. Every day you learn something new. Not from other people, but from yourself. You can’t find better, more relevant lessons from anywhere else.
Once you do this for a few weeks, the benefits will become even more obvious. Things that seemed like a big deal on a particular day will look trivial after a while. You will start to see patterns over a timeline. You will gain a better perspective of your life that no one else can offer you.
You will be surprised by how much you can learn from yourself.
As Lunar New Year approaches this weekend, it dawns on me: I have lived almost half of my life in America.
In the early days, I lived as if I had never left home: spoke Cantonese all day, read Chinese books, and hung out with Chinese friends. When I started working, I hid my Chinese-ness in all possible ways because the identity seemed like a disadvantage.
Neither felt right.
I have since discovered a third option: embrace where I come from and where I am. This middle way frees me to be creative. Mix filial piety with open communication. Combine humility and fearlessness. Put my head down and speak up when it counts.
Why choose between A or B when A and B is possible?
One interesting contrast between English and Cantonese speakers is the way they describe what they do.
English speakers tend to assert an identity: I’m a teacher. He’s a photographer. She is a great basketball player. Cantonese speakers prefer to state the verb: I teach (我教書). He likes to take photos (佢鍾意影相). She plays basketball really well (佢打籃球好勁).
The English way of thinking is powerful. An identity shapes your beliefs. If you believe you are a marathon runner, going on a long run is natural. The behavior is expected.
There is, however, one limitation: you can establish an empty identity and fail to follow through with any action. Painters that don’t paint. Artists that don’t create. Entrepreneurs that don’t start businesses.
The best strategy is to combine the two: state the identity and act.
One time Confucius (孔子) was with his students. A student named Zi Lu (子路) asked if it was a good idea to immediately put a teaching into practice. Confucius urged him to wait and be patient.
Later Zan You (冉有), another student, went to Confucius with the same question. Confucius said, “You should practice it immediately.”
An observant third student noticed the contradiction. He asked Confucius to clarify. Confucius replied, “Zi Lu is impulsive, so I slowed him down. Zan You is cautious and tends to give up, so I pushed him.”
Every one is unique. Every situation is different. There’s no one-size-fits-all.
Before starting a creative project, the voice says: you need more prep! More research, more planning, more studying.
That voice is loud and obnoxious. Writer Steven Pressfield calls this voice the Resistance. It takes you on detours like getting a somewhat related certificate, envy other people’s achievement on LinkedIn, or worrying about where the money comes from.
No, no, no. These are the Devil’s plans: to wear you out, to overwhelm you, to lead you down frustrating dead ends. You don’t need that certificate (yet). You don’t need to spin your wheels on how others get to where they are. You don’t need to quit your full time job (yet).
What you need is to start. Do the actual thing. What are they? Poets write. Chefs cook. Comedians tell jokes. Designers design. Painters paint. Artists create. Make stuff. Share your work. That’s what you need to do.
Brad Bird is a film director, animator, and producer at Pixar. He led the production of two major computer-animated films: The Incredibles and Ratatouille. Both movies won the Oscars.
When asked whether Pixar tries to “find out what the customers want,” Bird explained his approach during an interview:
“My goal is to make a movie I want to see. If I do it sincerely enough and well enough—if I’m hard on myself and not completely off base, not completely different from the rest of humanity—other people will also get engaged and find the film entertaining.”
Jesuit priest Anthony De Mello on cultivating work you love:
“You must cultivate activities that you love. You must discover work that you do, not for its utility, but for itself.
How many activities can you count in your life that you engage in simply because they delight you and grip your soul? Find them out, cultivate them, for they are your passport to freedom and love.”
The best task management system I have used so far:
Write down three to five most important to-dos in the morning*
Do the hardest things first
Say no to everything else (you can say no to)
Check your progress on the list throughout the day
Discard the list at the end of the day. Start again the next morning.
*I usually use a post-it note or my journal. I have experimented with many productivity systems in the last 15 years. They are all too complex. Keep it simple.
If a project feels difficult, break it down into smaller components. Start with the easiest one. Gain momentum. Focus on one thing at a time. For example:
Planning a trip? Decide on dates and budget, research travel options, book flights, reserve accommodations, and map out a rough itinerary
Decluttering a closet? Pull out everything, sort each item into a keep or donate pile, bag the donate pile, research a place that accepts donation, drop off.
Writing a document? Jot down ideas, do research, summarize research, draft*, revise, edit, send.
As Henry Ford said, “nothing is particularly hard if you break it down into small jobs.”
*My wife, who wrote a lot in her younger days as an eng. lit. major in college, advised me to separate ideation, drafting and editing more than five years ago. I never listened. I kept trying to perfect each sentence as I wrote. My output was dismal. Somehow I couldn’t figure out why.
In recent months I have come around and agree that she is right after all. Sometimes ideas just take time to sink in, right?
Doesn’t matter what it is, how insignificant it appears, or whether anyone notices.
Take the long way home. Learn a new word. Do the exercises at the end of the chapter. Review old photos. Find a better way to solve the same problem.
If we do that daily, we will have experimented over 360 small ideas a year from now. Many will be duds, but we will find at least a dozen gems in between.
Above all, our mental muscles will grow stronger. Facing the next unknown will become just a bit less scary.
I took time off and disconnected from work email over the holidays. On the first day back, I noticed a familiar reaction before opening the inbox: sweaty palms. My mind raced. My stomach tightened.
Anxiety is anticipating failure in advance. “Did something blow up? What went wrong? What did I miss?”
Intellectually, I knew probably nothing happened. And if something did happen, I knew I could face the issue, break it down, and handle it.
Anxiety still arose nonetheless.
I returned to a practice I’ve been working on: observe the emotion, watch it evolve, and get curious. What if I write about it? When revealed, it has nowhere to hide. It loses its grip. It melts away.
What new things are necessary? What is missing in the plan? What other goals should be on the list?
But equally, if not more, important is what to subtract.
What goals must I remove? What stuff has cluttered the space? What bad habits must I shed? What unhelpful assumptions must I leave behind? What resentment must I let go?
When we remove the baggage that no longer serves us, we make room for what’s important.
The items most accessible in our environment often determine what we do in a given moment.
If there are potato chips on the counter, I will likely eat them. If the phone is my pocket, I will likely check it. If the TV is on, I will likely watch it.
We can exploit this by making the important things easier to access. For example, put fruits and vegetables in a visible location to eat healthier. Carry the book you want to read. Lay out supplies on the desk to encourage more creative work.
Conversely, we can increase the barrier for the things we want less of. For example, charge electronic devices in another room. Remove an overused app from the homepage. Hide the chocolate chip cookies behind the cabbage.
Changing the environment alone doesn’t determine whether we do something or not, but it has a huge influence.
When we start a new project or develop a new habit, it is tempting to go big right away: read an entire book, run three miles, or play an instrument for five hours.
But by doing too much at the beginning we risk burning ourselves out. I can’t tell you how many times I quit an endeavor within a week.
Another option is to start small. Do a little on the first day. Make it easy. Read one page. Walk half a mile. Practice one chord. Then ramp up slowly.
Never underestimate the power of a small step. Going from zero to one is already an achievement.
Labels, when abused, are licenses to be desensitized. When labels are all we use, we stop understanding. We reduce someone people to a single phrase.
“Mary is an engineer.” What if she quits tomorrow? Does that fundamentally change who Mary is?
“Tony is wealthy.” We see mansions, fancy cars, and lavish parties. How about his hopes, his struggles, and his love?
“Jimmy is Chinese.” What does being “Chinese” represent? Bruce Lee? Kung Pao chicken? Good at math? Eats bats? Can’t write English? I am none of the above*.
If we believe in a label, it becomes a fixed lens we use to filter the world. In many cases, facts no longer matter. Existing assumptions prevail. Disapproving information, even right in front of us, changes nothing.
As Søren Kierkegaard said, “Once you label me you negate me.”
The seasonal Christmas lights remind me of Thomas Edison.
After experimenting with thousands of filaments, he discovered a material that would glow well and last a long time for an electric light bulb. His effort literally lit up the world.
Was he a genius? Certainly. But more importantly, he did a lot of work.
I wonder how many dark moments he endured along the way.
*Note: Contrary to common misconception, Edison did not invent the light bulb. He built on inventions done by many scientists before him. However, Edison did advance light bulb design and contributed to the commercial success of electric lighting.
Bronnie Ware, an Australian nurse who spent more than a decade with the seriously ill, recorded the top 5 regrets from her patients at the end of their lives:
I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.
I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
Generally speaking, it’s a good idea to cut out and remove some of thethings that are unnecessary. This may apply to the things you have at home, the activities you commit to, the work you do, the code you program, the process you follow, the memo you write. Why do we include more than it needs to be? To fill up the space with fluff? Or make it look like more work has been put into it? It’s like back in the day we used to adjust line spacing and page margin and add some BS paragraphs to make our school papers look like there are more pages. We don’t have to do that s**t anymore. We have graduated.
Scenario I: A driver says a trip takes an hour. En route, there are accidents and road constructions. The journey is delayed to two hours. We are angry that time is “wasted.”
Scenario II:A driver says a trip takes three hours. En route, barely any cars are on the road. The journey is shorted to two hours. We are delighted.
Same amount of travel time, but opposite experience. All depends on expectations.
In between his mediocre military career and his presidency, Ulysses S. Grant went through a period of setbacks and financial difficulty.
To support his family at one point, he had to sell firewood—hardly a glamorous venture for a West Point graduate. His ex-army colleague was shocked, and said, “Great god, Grant, what are you doing?”
Grant replied, “I’m solving the problem of poverty.”
No shame in doing whatever it takes to get through a difficult patch in life*.
Pyrrhus of Epirus was an ambitious Greek king and a strong opponent against early Rome. In the Battle of Asculum in 279 BC, he triumphed against the Romans but destroyed most of his own forces.
In Pyrrhus’s own words, it was “a victory that is not worth winning because so much is lost to achieve it…If we are victorious in one more battle with the Romans, we shall be utterly ruined.”
This is now called a pyrrhic victory, where the deep losses outweigh the gain. Winning a battle, but losing the war.
A football match looks like futile effort most of the time.
A team makes a fantastic midfield play with delicate passes, but the ball is stolen last minute. Back to defense.
Here comes a promising free kick opportunity, but the header goes wide. Back to square one.
The striker finds a rare opening during transition, but misses the shot. Still nothing on the scoreboard.
Every game is filled with dozens of failures. Some hurt more than others. Great teams, however, do not dwell on the errors. Instead, they let go immediately. They reset. They focus on the next play.
Nothing seems to get through? Keep trying. Pay attention. Pass better. Communicate more. Change formation. Take some risks. Knock on every door.
Without the 99% of hard work that appears fruitless, the 1% of glory will never come.
Does today feel like a grind—an endless cycle of work, chores and obligations—only to repeat again tomorrow? How can we freshen things up when life feels dull?
One thing to try: be curious.
Spend a few quiet moments and check in: what’s going on? If you don’t feel alive, you must have some idea of how feeling alive looks like. What’s missing? Is it rest, attention, or connection with others? Or is it joy, freedom, or a sense of purpose?
Whatever comes to mind is okay. Give it space. Acknowledge it. There’s no right or wrong answer. That’s simply where things stand.
Then ask: what’s one small thing you can experiment today?
Pick up an old hobby, do a kind thing for a friend, or have that conversation you’ve avoided for months? Read a good book, go for a vigorous run, or sit in a church when no one is there? Seek advice, accept a new challenge, or say no to a commitment because you are simply too exhausted?
This is not an easy question. The path forward requires us to change, to do what our mind resists, and to keep trying.
But as poet Robert Frost said, “The best way out is always through.” To have a breakthrough, you must first choose to be willing to break through.
Even if asking these questions is difficult, it’s worth a try. After all, what’s more important than your happiness?
When a crisis happens—and it does—a sound first step is to be still.
Pause. Breathe. Acknowledge the emotions: fear, shock, dread, sorrow, or anger. Be compassionate with yourself, but don’t let the emotions take over. They are not the priority. Your response is.
When the stakes are high, clarity is critical. If you remain calm, you see more. You can evaluate your options.
There will be an urge to just do something. Anything. When emotions are high, the first idea is unwise. Hasty decisions will make things worse.
Ask instead: what facts don’t I have yet? What are my options? What are the hidden opportunities? Where can I get advice? Who can help?
What does my gut say? How about the mind? Which one makes more sense?
Which path am I called to take?
Always take a few moments. More if you need to. Your decision matters. Take the time.
However, stillness is not paralysis. You can’t freeze and do nothing forever. Uncertainties always remain. All options are imperfect.
When the time comes, choose the best option, respond with courage, and be open to whatever comes next.
You have done your part. The outcome is out of your hands.
Once upon a time, there was a rich man. One year, his land produced a bountiful harvest. The yield was so abundant that he ran out of storage space.
Facing his tremendous success, he concluded: “I shall tear down my barns and build larger ones. There I shall store all my grain and other goods.”
He went on to tell himself: “Now as for you, you have so many good things stored up for many years, rest, eat, drink and be merry!”
But God then said to him, “You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?”(1)
Each of us has a barn.
Every day we work hard to build it up. We store material resources: food, shelter, money, and other tangible things. We also accumulate psychological accolades: fulfillment, recognition, a sense of progress in life. More is better than less, we assume. Ultimately, we hope this barn brings us happiness.
As we age, it’s worthwhile to pause and ask: is this barn serving me, or am I serving the barn? Have we, along the way of life, turned the barn-building into an end itself in an attempt to fill the insatiable desire for happiness?
The danger is that our eyes become fully fixated on the barn itself, rather than living. Attachment to things—the desire to hold onto something forever — is guaranteed to bring dissatisfaction and suffering. Everything we gain merely becomes another source of loss. We then attempt to pacify this anxiety with even more, which leads to a vicious cycle: The more we have, the more we lose.
Perhaps this is why Jesus said, “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed. For one’s life does not consist of possession.” Underneath greed is insecurity, a sense that we are not good enough as we are. When we identify our worth through stuff, or the ephemeral pleasure that stuff brings us, it’s a slippery slope to emptiness, especially given our short life.
We come into the world empty-handed, and we will be the same when we depart.
How else can we view our relationship with the barn? One other option is view ourselves as a tenant, and the barn as a toolbox for peace and tranquility.
A new car, a bigger house, more money in the bank—none of these is necessarily a problem. In fact, they can be wonderful. Resources are important for our well-being. Having a barn can free us from emotional disturbances, so we don’t have to constantly worry about where the next meal comes from or whether we can afford the place we live.
When we are healthy and free of emotional burden, we can be physically and emotionally more available to others: our family, friends, and neighbors in need. We can have the mental space to be creative and do our best work with the gifts we have. We can thrive and feel alive by fulfilling our potential in service of others.
The key is to be detached from the barn. Enjoy it while you have access to it, and be okay even when that access goes away. Strive for equanimity — or what the Greek calls apatheia—so you have freedom from the disturbance of worldly things.
If we observe closely, we often live anywhere but in the present moment.
Our mind dwells in the past, or projects into the future. We kick ourselves for the mistakes we have made, or salivate over a vision of happiness that never seems to come. When that happens, we miss this very second. We overlook what’s right in front of us — the people we love, the beauty in this world, or the opportunities that quietly presented themselves. We are too busy looking everywhere but here and now.
How can we live this second in a more fruitful way? Three ideas may help.
1. Recognize our ability to choose only lies in this second.
The past is gone, and the future has not yet arrived. Our freedom to choose resides only in this moment.
Think of it this way: every second we are given an opportunity to cast a new vote for who we choose to be. What qualities do I want to cultivate? What version of myself do I long to be? How can I be 1% better this second than the last?
If I care about my mother, I can call and tell her I love her now.
If I want to support my wife, I can listen to her with understanding now.
If I aspire to be a writer, I can grab a journal and get my hands moving now.
What are we called to do now? Pay attention, then choose. Do it. Be it.
2. Remember this second is a gift.
Every day we are unconditionally given brand new twenty-four hours, with the backdrop that our life on this earth will eventually come to an end.
Memento mori — “remember you will die” — is an old philosophical idea. Acknowledging death is not morbid, no more than recognizing gravity is at work. We see it, we know it, but we don’t think about it.
Reframe death this way: If we live forever, there is no point in doing anything today. If there is no death, there is no life. The powerful combo of life and death propels us to act.
Why not use this gift to its fullest, knowing that we are merely tenants in this world? This will give you a proper perspective to ignore the trivial things. Stop worrying about how others view you, or the possessions you have, or the gossip of the day. Is that how we want to use our precious gift?
3. Orient Your Life Around Love
The Catholic theologian and philosopher St. Thomas Aquinas defines love as “the choice to will the good of the other.”
When we truly love someone, we go beyond our own gains and benefits. Our genuine concern becomes others’ well-being.
What does the person in front of you — family, friend, neighbor, colleague or stranger — need? If you want to build a better world, don’t plan for great things in the future. Instead, start with the person right here.
Acting out of love this way may be unglamorous in the worldly sense. Sacrificial love goes beyond the warm and fuzzy feeling. Instead, it calls for patience, understanding, and compassion. As Mother Teresa once put it: “True love is love that causes us pain, that hurts, and yet brings us joy.”
Why would we base our choices on such love? Because it gives our life meaning and purpose. Sacrificial love is a sure way for lasting, life-giving joy.
Recall the love you have received in the past — perhaps from a parent, a mentor, or a dear friend — and how their kindness has transformed your life for the better. This love transcends time: their will for your good continues to live within you today. Isn’t that a beautiful thing?
You can choose to do the same for others.
How do you know which is the path of love? If you are not sure, go for a walk. Then quiet yourself, be still, and listen to your heart. Your heart always knows the path of love. Follow it, do your job, and then everything will fall into place.
Give to everyone who begs from you; if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask them again. Do to other as you would them to do to you.
Luke 6:30-31
Sometimes when I drive towards the highway around where I live, I encounter an ethical question. A red light at the freeway entrance forces me to stop. A person under the highway overpass is waving a sign “Hungry. Anything helps!” Sometimes the person approaches each vehicle to make sure he or she is seen.
What should I do? In my mind, there are three options.
Ignore the person.
Acknowledge the person but do not give anything.
Give.
For years, I opted for option 1. I would look ahead and pretend that person doesn’t exist. A few narratives run through my head and justify non-action. If I roll down the window, will that person attack me? Will I catch covid? What if the person spends the money on drugs and alcohol? If the adult is accompanied by a child, is giving going to enable the adult to exploit their child for money? And above all: What’s the point of helping one person, when there are thousands more?
I uncomfortably wished the green light would come sooner to rescue me from dread.
Recently, through, I started to give $5 or $10 if I carry the cash. I don’t know what inspired this change. It might have been to relieve my own guilt. It might have been the starfish story, where the woman chooses to throw a starfish back into the water one at at time even though there are many more. It might have been the quote from the bible: “Give to everyone who begs from you.”
The biggest motivation is perhaps to fight my own mind, and its tendency to create stories and project outcomes. It’s a fight for my freedom and not let the chatter in my mind dominate my choices. The possibility of me getting hurt or sick from interacting with the person is 0.0000001%. If that $10 can fill that person’s belly for the day, or get a drink of water desperately needed, that benefit outweighs the risk. The upside is far greater.
All I can do in this situation is to give that person a small option, let go of the outcome, and wish for the person find a better path forward. Once the money changes hand, it’s up to that person to choose what he does with it.
I would have preferred that option if I were in that person’s situation.
With every breath, the old moment is lost; a new moment arrives.
Lama Surya Das
One thing we haven’t stopped doing since we are born is to breathe. Every moment, our body performs a series of complicated motions to bring in air that gives us life. Unlike most things in our modern world, this gift is unconditional and available to everyone. We don’t need to force anything. Nature is ready to supply the air. All we need is to accept this gift by breathing. Our body knows what to do. Oxygen flows in, and keeps our heart going.
It’s a beautiful reminder that we — humans, animals, plants, and all beings — are interconnected through the same air we breathe. We are not on our own island. We need each other and nature to thrive. Together we are one body: you are the arms, and I am the legs.
Every breath is a reminder of our life and death. We can’t survive for a few moments without breathing. We die with every out-breath. We are born with every in-breath. The past moment is gone. The new one arrives.
Sometimes we get stressed. We forget to breathe. We get caught up by the problems and suffering of everyday life. This happens to all of us. We think about the past and the future. When that happens, pause for a second. Remember: all we have is this moment, this breath. Don’t forget the life in the now.
Peace and joy can only be found in this moment, not in some distant future. The past is nothing but a series of “nows”. You have this moment now. What are you going to choose to do?
“Time is free, but it’s priceless. You can’t own it, but you can use it. You can’t keep it, but you can spend it. Once you’ve lost it. You can never get it back.”
— Harvey Mackay
When we awake every morning, we get twenty four brand new hours. Everyone gets the same until they die. It doesn’t matter whether you are rich or poor, educated or illiterate, ethical or evil. It’s a free, unconditional gift that runs at 60 minutes per hour, regardless of who you are.
But we often forget that time is a gift. We live as though we have an unlimited store of time. We are busy chasing ephemeral things like pleasure, money, power, honor, or recognition by others. Or we are too consumed by what could have happened in the past or what will happen in the future.
No matter where you are, take a deep breath and remind yourself of the present moment. This very second is gift. The millions of decisions you made before this moment don’t matter nearly as much as what you choose to do now.
Each moment is a new opportunity. Even when external circumstances are beyond our control, no one can rob you of this moment. You have freedom to make a choice. No matter how terrible yesterday went, you can reset today.
Since you can’t deposit time into a bank account, you must also choose what to spend it on now.
So, will you be a channel of love, joy, and peace in this beautiful, chaotic world? Will you choose to be a slightly better person this second than the last? Will you say one kind thing to the person you love? Will you give more than you receive? Will you fully embrace this moment regardless of how sweet or bitter it tastes?
“To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.” once wrote.
Mary Oliver
Losing someone you love is difficult. There’s no way around it. All your plans, hopes and dreams are now shattered. The deep joy you once experienced has turned into gut-wrenching sorrow you didn’t think was possible.
When that happens, don’t pretend everything is the same. It’s okay to admit that your world has been fundamentally disrupted and rearranged.
Grieve, fully. Let your tears stream down. Keep crying if your body calls for it. When you do, lean in to the feeling of deep sadness. Experience it fully with openness, tenderness, and compassion. The sensation will come and go like waves in the ocean — sometimes fierce, sometimes gentle.
Our grief is nothing but a sign of how much we loved. It is also an invitation to reexamine our priority and how we use our limited time on earth. Are we going to retreat, or are we going to move forward with courage?
The hard fact is: Life never guarantees to turn out as we expect. We want control, but we have little. Anyone’s physical body — including our own — can cease anytime. When the time comes, we must learn to let go. Not only the physical body, but also the “what-if” questions about what could have happened.
As time passes, don’t feel guilty to feel happy again. It’s not cheating on the dead if we laugh too much or become playful. Instead of dying with the dead, we can choose live for them.
Don’t be scared to choose love again.
Be comforted that our spiritual love persists. The people we love never leave us. They will remain in our heart forever.
Our whole life is ahead of us now. And our loved ones will want us to celebrate each moment and choose a full life.
There is an appointed time for everything, and a time for every affair under the heavens.
A time to give birth, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to tear down, and a time to build.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-4
Some moments call us to let go. Limiting beliefs that were once useful. Bad habits born out of boredom, sadness, or anxiety. Untamed desires that disturb our peace. Once we see them, we can choose to tear down what no longer serves us. When we loosen our grip, we have a chance to be reborn.
Some moments call us to courage. When we face setbacks. When we wrestle with fear. When the future is unknown. Remember: We can always take a moment, steady ourselves, and return to our breath. We will find peace in God. From there, we can muster the bravery that we thought wasn’t there, and proceed amid uncertainties.
Some moments call us to experience our emotions. Fully lean into the experience without attachment. Rejoice in laughter. Grieve in tears. Dance with your body, mind, and soul. Live the moment with openness. Look at the rise and fall of emotions with curiosity like clouds in the sky. Eventually everything shall pass, and you will have lived.
When we stop fighting the calling of the present moment, we reduce our suffering and move into acceptance. If we listen carefully, our heart always knows the right thing to do. We can choose to respond to what’s asked of us, and find peace and joy in each appointed moment.
