Tag: #happiness

A slow shift into a more peaceful life

It feels like my life is hitting a new equilibrium point. My energy fluctuations feel less chaotic, and basic tasks are no longer feeling like a struggle.
Yesterday, I went to the sea-side on the Belgian coast. I went with a similar group of people to the ones I went with a year ago. It was a nice day, and the ocean waves are always a calming sight.
But what was noticeable was how much calmer I was about life compared to a year ago. Things are certainly not perfect, but I feel like things feel more settled.

The slow descent into anti-sociability

It’s like the movies. I’m in one of those cool, funky hostels in the South of Spain. It’s a Saturday night, and I’m chilling in the trendy living space. A mixture of nationalities, interesting stories and diversity. This is the moment where the magic happens.

But when I look up, I see four people in opposite corners of the room. They are all scrolling on their phones. No acknowledgement or pleasantries. Just some Instagram reels, then they eventually wander off to bed.

I haven’t been to a hostel in some time, but apparently this is the descent of hostel culture. What was once an opportunity to meet random travellers now has turned into refuging into solitude from a life of solitude. What happened?

Daring to Dream (of owning a printer)

No person can full transcend temptation.
We may like to pretend that we can. But deep down, we all know that we have our weaknesses.
For me, I was too enticed by its allure. The power of autonomy and freedom. The status symbol.
Yes, that’s right. I was seduced into buying a printer. It was sitting there on the street at the princely sum of €5 at the neighbourhood ‘sell your random stuff’ market. When I saw it, I knew it would be a gamble. But I thought it was worth it, after all, what is €5?

Surrendering to the winds of the world

For the first time, I played with the notion that I may never recover. Perhaps the energy of old will never return. My new existence is one of exhaustion and management.

This may sound defeatist, but I don’t think it is. I do believe that I will recover, slowly, but surely. But considering how long this has gone on, and realistically how far off anyone’s expectation this has been, it’s not beyond the realms of possibility to think that I may never get better.

Rather than sounding bleak, there is a sense of simplifcation that comes with such a thought. No longer do I need to constantly find this something that I need to fight. No longer do I need to feel like I am delaying my life to a magical ‘when’ time. It allows me to be present, and not worry too much about the future. There is a freedom in this.

Aging and the Quest to Find Peace

I’ve come to the conclusion that my happiest days will be my final ones. I think I will live a long life, and I think I will be fortunate to retain relatively good health up until the end.

In those final few years, I will be at peace. I will, perhaps finally, feel free. No pressures from society. Enough financial security to live out my last days. And, most importantly, my internal pressures to serve others finally satiated.

It’s probably odd for me to talk about the end of my life. Indeed, I think it’s actually somewhat taboo. Going past our ‘prime’ years in the big cities is some frightening thought. The idea of even mentioning death brings up such discomfort that people avoid it at all costs.

The lost art of keeping discipline

Although I’ve learnt the game of ‘celebrating my successes’, it’s always been one that I’ve done because I’m meant to, rather than because I feel naturally inclined.

In my previous management roles, I used to talk to my staff about the importance of ‘cashing the cheque’ – when a good piece of work had been done, it was important to sing about it from the rooftops. Otherwise, all that hard graft would most likely go unnoticed. I accepted this as part of the game, even if I had a personal distaste for it.

Yet there is a fundamental issue when our value comes from the showing rather than the doing. The laborious, harder graft has become devalued.

Living life in a protective bubble

When I hear the word bubble these days, it’s often used in a somewhat pejorative sense. In fact, I’m probably the one using it in a critical manner. I often lament people living too much in their own comfortable bubble, or indeed the Brussels infamous ‘EU bubble’.

Yet this week I reflected that there is some value in having a sense of bubble around us. For me specifically, I’ve started imagining the idea of having a protective bubble whenever I am in social situations. This helps me stay grounded and give a sense of safety, wherever I might be.

Choosing a more private life

For the last number of years, my modus operandi has been to increase my visibility. More networking, more connecting and more socialising.

In truth, I’m not sure I was particularly successful at it. I’ve built some good connections along the way, but they have broadly remained at surface level. Whilst it’s nice to have acquaintances, many end up being a case of mutually watching one other’s Instagram stories. I might have a conversation every now and then. It could be after a few months. Sometimes, it’s after a few years.

For some, it is understandable. We live in distant places. Regular physical interaction is not possible. It was my choice, after all to up sticks and move from my country of birth. For others, it’s just simply a case of diverging life paths. We are different people, and so the connection has naturally loosened.
But often, it’s not about distance.

The key when you get locked out

We often use the metaphors of ‘keys’ and ‘doors’ in the world of personal development.

But on Monday, it had a far more literal meaning for me.

When taking the bins out, I shut the door behind me. I didn’t realise I didn’t have my key, effectively locking myself out.

It’s the sort of general mishap that we all face at some point in our lives. But it’s not so much about the event itself, but what we tell ourselves about it.