Hear me clearly when I say this: there are people who were alive yesterday, and today they’re gone.

If you were close enough to one of them, the news would have come as a shock. Unbelievable. You can’t comprehend it. What do you mean this person is dead? I just spoke to him last week. I was meant to see her next Friday. They were so young.

The reactions are universal.

Death is difficult to comprehend. It is defiant and disrespectful. It has no regard for age or social status. And sometimes when it takes, it takes without reason.

As a friend so aptly phrased it, this is “the fragility of life” — an unkind reminder of the certainty of our own mortality.

My earliest memory of a young person who passed was in the early 2000s. Her name was Pamela and I remember she was beautiful. Tall, lean, light skinned, athletic.

I was barely old enough to be in Primary 5. She was in Senior Secondary — maybe SS2, I don’t recall. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen, but she had breast cancer.

Her father, a wealthy and influential dignitary, had pleaded publicly in the state newspapers: “Crossriverians, please don’t let my baby girl die.” It was a headline so poignant and laced with despair that it dampened the mood on our campus for days. And the memory has followed me ever since — across states, countries, and now continents — stuck to the back of my mind like a piece of gum that refuses to be scraped away.

His plea, unfortunately, fell on defiant ears. The cancer was merciless.

A call to action.

To witness the unexpected passing of someone you knew well has a way of vigorously recalibrating your understanding of what it means to live — and if you’re introspective, you might find yourself solemnly considering whether your life so far has, indeed, been well-lived.

Has it?

Have you spent your time in this world well?

Have you contributed positively to society?

Have you done the things you said you would do?

Or do you squander time so arrogantly in belief that you “have time”?

“Now listen to me, you that say, “Today or tomorrow we will travel to a certain city, where we will stay a year and go into business and make a lot of money.” You don’t even know what your life tomorrow will be! You are like a puff of smoke, which appears for a moment and then disappears.” — James 4:13–14 GNB

“You are like a puff of smoke…” Let that sink in.

There is absolutely no guarantee that you’ll be here tomorrow, next month, or in five years time. So, how about you spend your time today doing what is important?

Live urgently.

Living urgently means not taking for granted the time that you have in the present moment. Letting go of fear and resistance to realize your life assignment. — Laiza

When you show up to each day with the awareness that life could end by tomorrow, you begin to see your time as the privilege it is — and you use it wisely.

“How long will you lie there, O sluggard? When will you arise from your sleep?” — Proverbs‬ ‭6‬:‭9‬ ‭RSV‬‬

When will you arise?

When will you sit up and get to work?

When will you stop procrastinating?

When will you?

Verse 6–8 of this chapter in Proverbs cites the ant as the ideal example of a creature that uses time wisely. “Without any chief, officer, or ruler, she prepares her food in summer, and gathers her sustenance in harvest.”

She “prepares”. She acts with purpose and she positions herself to execute her assignment. In GNB translation, verse 8 reads, “they store up their food during the summer, getting ready for winter.”

“Storing up food in the summer,” means doing the necessary work at the appointed time, because tomorrow could be winter.

Winter can represent a season in your life when you lose the ability or agility to do the things you need to do. It can also represent the end of your time here. But, you know who’ll be less inclined to worry about winter? The person who prepares for it.

So, prepare.

Preparation means doing what is necessary, showing up on time, and not putting off what you feel called to do.

Preparation means taking the steps that move you from dreaming to doing.

Preparation means taking action, urgently.

When you think of “urgency”, don’t see it as rushing without reason, or moving without direction. Urgency is obedience. You’ve received word on your assignment, you are clear on what it is you need to do, and you don’t waste time to do it — that is living urgently.

Verse 10 cautions the complacent: “A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of hands to rest, and poverty will come upon you like a vagabond.”

This “poverty” is more than a lack of financial resources. It is the poverty of unfulfilled purpose because you keep putting off the things that will bring you fulfillment; the poverty of wasted time because you keep squandering the hours you’ve been given; the poverty of unrealized value because you keep withholding what you have to offer the world; and the poverty of fruitlessness because you rarely plant, water, or nurture any seeds.

They who have ears, let them hear.

A graveyard of dreams.

What happens when you dream and don’t execute is that those dreams die and you have this graveyard in your mind of things you were planning and hoping to do. None of it becomes tangible, nobody sees it. It just goes to the graveyard of dreams — Jesimiel Damina

Now, wouldn’t it be terribly sad for you to die with everything you have to give still buried within you? Imagine what a waste of existence that would be — to die when you’re still so…full.

So, here’s an alternative: if you want something as bad as you want the thing that you can’t stop thinking about, don’t pile it up on top of the many other things you’ve wanted but never put in effort to get.

Instead, take action. Write the vision, make a plan, set a date to begin, and at the scheduled time, do. the. work.

Don’t get comfortable just dreaming.

Some of us get a high from people saying, “That’s a brilliant idea”, but then two years later, it’s still an idea. We need to break free from that. Life is short. You need to go from dreaming to doing.

There is a kind of comfort you get from just dreaming. It makes you feel like you are doing something or you have done something. You talk about it, but you don’t do anything about it, because dreaming feels like an activity for you. It gives a pseudo-execution energy but in reality you never execute. You just keep talking about doing it but you never actually do it!

— Blessing Abeng

Resist passivity.

Screwtape is a fictional senior demon in C.S. Lewis’ book The Screwtape Letters. His objective, as Kara explains, is to nudge people into passivity as a way of capturing their souls.

“The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able ever to act, and, in the long run, the less he will be able to feel.” — Screwtape

On Reddit, one user references a soul that said, “I spent my life doing neither what I ought, nor what I wanted.”

Die empty.

Imagine you’re on your deathbed — and standing around your bed are the ghosts representing your unfulfilled potential, the ghosts of the ideas you never acted on, the ghosts of the talents you didn’t use. And they’re standing around your bed, angry, disappointed, and upset. They say, ‘We came to you because you could have brought us to life, and now we have to go to the grave together.’

After sharing this analogy in his 2011 commencement speech at the University of Pennsylvania, Denzel Washington asked,

“How many ghosts are going to be around your bed when your time comes?”

To die empty, put plainly, means to finish your assignment. When our time comes, we should be able to say — as Jesus did on the cross before he took his last breath — “It is finished.” Our assignment complete. Our work done. And with that, we die — and rest — in peace.

To die empty also means to live fully: to make the most of what life offers, to experience rather than just exist.

To die empty means to give this world everything that you’ve got — your talents, your kindness, your love, and your best. It could be over in a second, so you might as well go out swinging.

It’s easy to go through life watching everyone unfold, spending days feeling small, wondering when it will be your ‘turn’. No city set on a hill can ever be hidden, no matter how much you try. When everything within you screams “I have nothing to offer the world” know that this is a lie. If you are planted by the rivers of water, you bloom in every season and you shall be fruitful. We read Matthew 25 & sadly realise we may just be the man in the parable who buried all their talent in the ground and never goes out to multiply because of fear.

Hiding the light within you is not humility, it’s dishonest. Be honest, you are bright. You will always be called, but my love will you multiply or will your talents die within you. I pray, that as you rise tomorrow, timidity, fear and anxiety of your future will be stripped from you, and instead you will receive the boldness to go forth and multiply. May you live to die empty. May we waste all our oil at His feet knowing we pleased the heart of God and served our generation well. — Mazino Malaka

How do you want to be remembered?

When George Lucas was a teenager, he almost died in a car accident. He decided “every day now is an extra day,” dedicated himself to film, and went on to direct Star Wars. — Austin Kleon, Show Your Work

To speak candidly, one of my fears is living a life so unremarkable that when I’m gone, no one can point to anything tangible I contributed to the world.

This doesn’t mean I want to end world hunger or make the Time 100. I simply want to offer as much value as I can to the people who need it the most — and to show up for the ones who rely on me to come through for them.

In MLK’s self-written eulogy, he states, very clearly, exactly how he wants to be remembered,

If you get somebody to deliver the eulogy tell him not to talk too long. Tell him not to mention that I have a Nobel Peace Prize — that isn’t important. Tell not to mention that have 300 or 400 other awards — that’s not important. Tell him not to mention where I went to school.

I’d like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King Jr. tried to give his life serving others. I’d like for somebody to say that day that Martin Luther King Jr. tried to love somebody.

I want you to be able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry. I want you to be able to say that day that I did try in my life to clothe the naked. I want you to say on that day that I did try in my life to visit those who were in prison. And I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity.

“Life, if well lived, is long enough” — Seneca.

I used to think of myself as a perfectionist. I preferred to have ideas fully formed, with the entire path precisely mapped out before I felt qualified to take the first step.

But in reality, I was a procrastinator. I used perfectionism as an excuse to put off doing seemingly hard things and I avoided the unfamiliar because it threatened to expose my perceived inadequacy. So, instead of giving my ideas the opportunity to exist, I buried them out of fear — fear of failing, fear of not knowing the perfect way to bring them to life, fear of being seen, and fear of being accountable to others outside of myself.

For many years, I sat with that fear. I let it suppress and sabotage me. I let it define my reality and dictate the opportunities I could access.

Now, I ask myself, who does that help? What does it profit me to leave an idea unattended for so long, hoarding it without ever putting it to use? How am I different from the servant who took his talent and buried it?

An even more unsettling question is this: why am I so centered on reaching a nirvanic destination? When will I learn that the only outcome of this obsession with perfection is paralysis? Can’t I see that protecting myself from failure becomes a failure in itself?

I remember reading something about seven years ago that said, “Path maker, there is no path. You make the path by walking”.

I went to search for it again and learned that it’s from a poem by the Spanish poet Antonio Machado pulled from his book Border of a Dream.

“Caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar.”

The direct translation is,

“Walker, there is no road, the road is made by walking”

Here’s the complete poem translated by Willis Barnstone:

Walker, your footsteps
are the road, and nothing more.
Walker, there is no road,
the road is made by walking.
Walking you make the road,
and turning to look behind
you see the path you never
again will step upon.
Walker, there is no road,
only foam trails on the sea.

Learning by doing.

I’m currently trying new ways of getting work done and what I’ve observed from my experiment is that the level of difficulty in doing a thing drops every minute I spend actually doing the thing.

I tackle it head-on, focusing on the very first thing I need to do to move an inch forward, then the next inch, and the next, until I realize I’m doing the thing — and before I know it, I’m done.

“Now,” I’d think after checking something off my list, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The answer was always “No.” And even if it was hard, I pushed through and did it anyway.

Sometimes, a thing only seems hard until you start doing it. As you do it, you expand.

I’ve seen this mindset work for small tasks, so I believe it can also work for big projects.

The toughest challenge, however, is staying the course despite discouragement, crippling self-doubt, and the looming shadow of past failures that demand an explanation for who I think I am to attempt this new thing after having failed before.

My current response to that is from the bible; Matthew 25:15, “He gave to each according to his own ability.”

This means that whatever I am called to do is within my capacity. So, I have no reason to be doubtful or afraid.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be invisible, behind the scenes, low-key. So much so that before getting into my first year of uni I had made a mental note to start wearing hijabs so that no one would really see me. A stupid and ridiculous thought, I know, but that’s the extent I was willing to go to be as invisible as possible.

My social anxiety is deeply rooted. I’m constantly overthinking situations, overanalyzing past events, and, until recently, shying away from any professional (and sometimes personal) opportunity that required me to perform in public.

This anxiety has been the source of many of my shortcomings. All too often, I cowered, made excuses, dropped the ball, went MIA, and failed to communicate properly.

But ultimately — and fortunately — it’s also what eventually led me to the person I am now.

Whenever I think about all the potential friends and cultural experiences I missed out on because I was too afraid to truly express myself, I find consolation in this fact: I much prefer that I retreated from the world so often and spent so much time in solitude that I built something far more important to me now than anything else — character. I am proud of the person I am inherently: honest, introspective, unpretentious, creative, and as one of my friends recently divulged, visionary.

Of course, there’s a lot more I can be — and a lot more I will eventually become — but I am confident that my current foundation is solid enough to build a skyscraper on. So help me God.

But, if there’s one thing I’ll never do, it’s lie to myself. This means that I’m very well aware of the craters in my personality and have begun the ‘long, arduous process of filling in the gaps’.

I’m no longer making excuses for my shortcomings, I’m creating systems to get good work done, I’m finally reading again, and I’m saying yes to doing meaningful things that push me outside my comfort zone.

I know myself well enough to understand that these things, as unrelated as they may seem, are the hurdles I need to scale to feel more confident.

And what else does taking up space mean, if not affirming my presence in ways that feel true to me, boldly contributing my unique point of view to the world, and finally breaking away from the cycle of self-doubt?

I can’t believe this is me talking, but I just maybe influenced to buy loafers.

The pair of loafers in question is the Solo Bordeaux Casual Loafer by LK Bennet that Iamdodos shared on her IG stories.

It was past 9pm at the time I saw it, and I spent the rest of the night concocting outfits in my mind that would pair beautifully well with loafers.

The strange thing is that before this moment, I’d never ever considered loafers as a choice of shoe to have in my wardrobe. In fact, in my sartorial universe, they didn’t exist.

So, to become enamored with them at first sight seemed unexpected, but deep down, I knew the root of this desire…

Enter Toronto; the city that requires me to wear covered shoes most of the year.

Let me explain why this is a problem.

I lived in Lagos most of my life, so I learned to exercise my style muscles in a tropical city where open-toe sandals and slippers are worn on a regular basis. My personal style leans primarily towards loose-fitting silhouettes and wide leg pants are the MVPs of my wardrobe.

Naturally, I pair these with strappy heels, single strap slip-ons, and on some occasions, mules. Based on everything I’ve tried, these pairings work best. So, you can imagine how inconvenient this new landscape has been for me.

Here, covered shoes reign supreme. New Balance and the Adidas Samba’s are paired with flowy pants and I personally don’t find that sneaker-baggy aesthetic appealing.

There in lies the problem.

In an effort to remove this thorn in my side; not being able to wear some of my favorite pants because they don’t pair well with bulky shoes, I’ve been casually hunting for any other kind of shoe that would be more suitable.

The first option I spotted was this Zara flat ankle boots. I stumbled on them at the store in August and just happened to be wearing a pair of wide leg jeans. I tried them on and they fit quite nicely and also felt very comfortable.

They reminded me of a vintage pair I spotted on Shope Delano but can’t seem to find on her page anymore. She’s also a wide-pants girlie and I like her style. So, if she wears something, It’s most likely that it’ll be my vibe.

Kate Spade also has a similar pair that’s now sold out, but the leather seems stiffer than the Zara’s.

I also previously considered this pair of tabis I found on Etsy. It’s flat enough to not ruche the bottom of my pants and covered enough to let me wear socks.

It wasn’t until the said first of October that a light bulb went on at the sight of Dodos in loafers. ‘Wait a minute,’ I thought, ‘loafers could most definitely work!’

That thought must have been a trigger because in the days that followed, I started seeing them everywhere. Which, regardless of feeling like I was just being primed, was actually an interesting observation:

We might be at the early stages of an emerging trend cycle

Loafers, as unassuming as they are — and reminiscent (to me) of secondary school uniform footwear, seem to have earned renewed appeal, and I apparently am not the only person thirsty for them.

Besides the definite need to fill a wardrobe gap, I have to question whether my sartorial appetite is actually lowkey influenced by trend cycles.

As in, in opposition to the belief that my taste is distinct and independently informed, am I just another shopper who is subconsciously primed to shop according to trends?

Yes, I’m not the kind of girl who’ll toss out something because it’s “no longer in fashion” and there are a lot of “trends” no one can pay me to wear. But, I still have to ask myself, “What if my personal style is not so personal?” What if my wardrobe is simply a smorgasbord of the outfits I admire during my doom-scrolls on TikTok, Instagram and Pinterest? What if we think we make independent style choices when in reality, we’re all dressing the same?

Also, does finding a trend interesting automatically mean that I don’t have a mind of my own?

Anyway, I’ll go ahead and buy myself a pair of loafers at some point in the nearest future because trend or not, I’m actually excited by them.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a morning person.

I used to view what I now recognize as my natural state — being a night owl— as an abnormality that needed fixing.

To be fair, maintaining a sleep cycle completely opposite to society’s usual hours has been unsustainable. Meetings, appointments, and similar obligations typically happen during the day, and from experience, I can tell you that working through the night and skipping sleep to attend a morning appointment often ends in disaster.

Over the years, I’ve struggled with this nocturnal habit, and no matter how many early-to-bed, early-to-rise streaks I pull off, I eventually relapse into my insomniac tendencies.

This means that any day I wake up late in the morning (10:00–11:30 a.m.) or early afternoon (12:00–1:00 p.m.), I immediately think, ‘Oh my God, I’ve lost the whole day!’ I then beat myself up for not going to bed early, renew my resolution to be asleep by 11:00 p.m. latest, and start the day feeling defeated.

But, that’s no way to live.

I realize this now because a new perspective came to me this morning when I thumbed the side button of my iPhone and saw that it was past 11:30 a.m.

Just as my brain was about to slip into its default self-reprimanding mode, a thought crossed my mind: You have time. Take this as the beginning of your day. You can still do everything you want to. And with that, a blanket of reassuring peace settled over my heart.

Of course, I know I can’t do this every day — wake up whenever I please. My time is not mine alone; there are other people who expect or rely on me to show up at specific times. Work (remote with flexible hours, but meetings are mandatory), friends (they‘re always understanding, but if we have plans, I need to show up), and family — same applies to them.

So, there are days when I have to sleep early, and I can manage that as long as I’m not forcing myself to do it every single day. If I feel more productive at night, I can schedule days that are suitable for working late and make an extra effort to shut down early the night before any time-sensitive commitments.

As a side note, I even have a ‘Stop doing’ list, and one bullet point says: Stop staying awake past 10 p.m. It’s better to go to bed earlier, then get up at 4 a.m. for a good simulation of the serene nighttime, which is when I typically work best. But so far, that hasn’t really worked out for me.

I’m writing this in real time, so this is a path I’m currently walking and I can’t say I know where it’ll lead. But if there’s one thing I’m confident about, it’s that I stand to gain more by reframing my mindset.

Instead of thinking, ‘Oh my God, it’s so late! I won’t be able to get much done today,’ I can choose a different perspective: ‘It’s the start of my day; how do I get through what I need to do today?’

This morning, as I sandwiched my croissant between a large slice of fried egg, my intrusive thoughts whispered, This should be a crime. That is, using a croissant as if it’s regular bread and eating it with eggs.

Is it not, though? Just another kind of bread? Do the French have specific instructions on how one should and should not eat a croissant? Am I smearing their tradition by consuming it in such an odd way?

This thought drifted into my consciousness because I spotted my flatmate peeping at my choice of breakfast through her side eye as she washed her own breakfast dishes.

I caught myself mentally calculating what this personal choice might signal to her about the kind of person I am, based on what I have chosen to eat.

Still on the same train of thought, I laid blame on my mother as I recalled a vague memory of her doing something similar before; pairing croissants with something unorthodox — and as it now seems, I might have inherited a bad habit.

I let this line of thought float around in my mind and then smacked it dead in the face with a counterthought, “Oya, come and beat me.”

This phrase has become my defense mechanism against people-pleasing. It’s a way for me to assert my choices, especially those that I feel might be seen as inferior to other people’s way of life.

Come and beat me is a challenge.

It’s like I’m on the playground with other kids and someone dares to ridicule my sand castle for being a bit peculiar. My response to them is that there’s absolutely nothing they can do about it.

It also serves as a great defense against intrusive thoughts that prioritize other people’s opinions and centers their preferences over mine.

Recently, as I was getting dressed to meet a friend, I found myself wondering if people would consider me tasteless for wearing New Balance hiking shoes on a casual day out. It’s a silly thought, but even if they think that, they can’t do anything about it.

So now, whenever I feel like I’m committing any kind of social “blunder”, I say this out loud, “Come👏🏽and👏🏽beat👏🏽me.” And it truly cracks me up, lifts my spirits, and makes me more assertive.

Since I wear things because I think they look nice and I eat food because I think it tastes good, social approval becomes irrelevant.

No one can beat me for the choices I make; culinary, sartorial or otherwise.

The worst they can do is think it to themselves or talk about it with others — none of which affects me.

This mindset has become a source of daily liberation for me.

On specific occasions, I couple it with “and so what?”

And so what if someone doesn’t like me? And so what if someone formed an unfavorable opinion of me based on a single encounter? And so what?

As an overthinker, I’m also a culprit of over-analyzing social interactions — most of which don’t really matter after the event. The alternative paths I wish I could have taken become irrelevant once the interaction is over.

So, I’ve found a way to free myself.

You too — if you don’t already have a defense mechanism of your own — can try putting these into practice when the occasion calls for it.

1. Challenge them to come and beat you
2. Ask, “And so what?”

I don’t mean to open on a melancholic note, but these are my train of thoughts at 3am on August 1st.

*Kachi is lost in thought*

I’ve been going through Mylene Mae’s really good content and thinking of all the cool things I need to do, but have taken so so so long to get around to.

I always found comfort in the belief that what I needed to be fully equipped for my creative journey could only be found through apprenticing with my creative icons and spending time under their tutelage.

Yes, while I recognize that in many cases, this approach bears good fruits, it has unfortunately not been an effective strategy for me.

I have tried and failed and lost time and now, once again, am at ground zero, starting afresh and recovering from the utter shame of fumbling so many good opportunities because of my lack of focus, proper guidance — I blame no one — and inability to pick one thing, stick with it, and see it through.

What I now find unamusing is the fact that everything I needed, I sort of already had. I was simply required to put them to good use, but didn’t.

Paradoxically, my merry-go-round led back to a conclusion I could have arrived at years ago, but perhaps was too emotionally immature to process.

The power is in the mind.

Typically, an admission of guilt of this nature would never see the light of the internet stage. It would be reserved for my private journal. But, for some reason, I’m drawn to publish publicly. A metaphorical self-scourging at the pillar. A recounting of my walk to Calvary before my sins were forgiven.

Despite the tone of this thought process, I’m in a happy place. I have peace and a reasonable degree of clarity. I am blessed.

You must equip yourself to swim first so you can stay afloat until the rescue ship arrives.

I have Jesus, and yes He is my savior, but I know deep in my heart that he wouldn’t have been able to save me without me.

Without me admitting that I was lost. Without me humbling myself to ask for His mercy. Without me seeking solace in His word. Without me making an effort to fellowship spiritually. Without me opening my heart to His ministrations.

I don’t feel like I’m completely out of the wilderness yet, and usually testimonies are shared after the storm has passed, but what shall it profit me to stay silent when the Lord has made a way? He is drawing me closer in spirit. He is deepening my knowledge of who I am in Him. He is opening my mind and heart to receive His instructions. All I have to do is be present, listen, and obey.

P.s. This is not some kind of declaration of liberation. I’m still very much working through my current reality in real time. I am not certain of anything in particular. I’ve simply decided to wake up and this is my “good morning” to you.

I enjoy being cuddled by Nostalgia. It rocks me gently and faintly hums the melodies of my comfort songs. Lights dim, lost in a wistful gaze, I smile at fond memories.

I’m reading a letter from my past self, she wrote to me in February 2023, and even though there’s a lot she expected that I didn’t deliver on, reading this letter does three things for me;

1. It reminds me of what was important to me then
2. It nudges me to refocus on what I’m losing sight of
3. It brings me joy. I’ve chuckled, cackled, and awwed all the way to the bottom of the page.

It took me two months to gain the courage to read this letter because — you can guess —my past predictions were out of sync with my current reality.

Regardless, the fact that I didn’t follow through on many things I intended to do doesn’t mean I didn’t make progress.

No, I didn’t get “un billet d’ávion” for my “shopping spree in Singapore”, but I did relocate to a different continent, get a well-paid job, and move into my first apartment.

No, my French isn’t significantly better, but I’ve gotten a tutor and I’ve been consistent. Let’s not forget that my 463-day streak on Duolingo is not a small feat.

So, here’s my prompt for you;

Write a letter to your future self. Don’t overthink it. There’s a website (and app) for it — futureme.org — but there are no rules. Write what comes to your mind, what’s important to you right now, and what you imagine for yourself in the future (be it a year from now, or two or five). Touch on your personal or career goals, finances, family, or friendships…whatever you want. You can write it today or wait till your birthday or New Year’s Eve.

The website is pretty self-explanatory, so just go for it.

When the letter is delivered at the future date you’ve sent it to, keep in mind that you don’t have to open it immediately. Remember, it took me two months to open mine.

Happy writing.

To John (f), for introducing me to this practice 🫶🏽

There’s nothing wrong with a simple life.

It’s perfectly okay to choose a path that involves you simply doing what you love and working on things that resonate deeply with you — even if it’s not a grand thing that other people marvel at when they hear about it.

By default, the majority gravitate towards people working on big ideas, whose personalities are larger than life and whose work makes the news and who are always active in public doing things and establishing their personal brands*.

This means that typically, in gatherings when people ask the question, “So, what do you do?”, they half-expect it to be something they’ll find impressive.

But simplicity rarely impresses people. So, therein lies our default; wanting to be this person who does impressive things and works at an impressive company in an impressive role so that when you do answer that question, you can see their eyes light up and their interest piqued. It’s like a tiny badge of social affirmation and if I’m being honest, one I had always desired.

Work done with love is dignified.

Your work can be meaningful without it being “grand”. You can be a competent and excellent professional without your work being the centre of your universe. That you enjoy it and it aligns with your personal goals, is enough. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.

I believe that bearing this in mind quenches the desire to be regarded as impressive. If everything gains the value of the love with which it is done, then grandiosity becomes completely irrelevant.

*This is my personal perspective and may not reflect the realities of other people.

I used to have this habit of lingering to admire a body of work I’ve completed, like a piece of writing or a photograph or some other thing that I’ve made (I’m always on one personal project or another even if I never finish or show it).

I sit with it like the rich man in the Bible who looked at his harvest, his heart swelling with pride and said to himself, “you’ve done well and can now retire.”

I overcompensate myself for completing that one brilliant thing and celebrate that tiny accomplishment for far too long when I could be spending time doing the next important thing.

Bad habit.

Get it done and keep moving.

That is what I constantly tell myself these days.

Rather than idolizing something that’s done and dusted — and in doing so, taking time away from the next thing I could be doing, I have resolved to detach; get it done and keep moving.

There’s so much more to be accomplished.