Fortunate Life

  We are taught that change must begin with a blank page. A fresh start. A clean slate. As if becoming better requires erasing everything that came before. But your life is not a notebook. It is a living story. And you don’t rip out all the pages because one chapter was painful. You turn the page. For so long, I believed that growth meant starting over. That if I wanted a better life, I had to become a different person altogether. Leave behind the past, forget the missteps, distance myself from versions of me that didn’t get everything right. But life doesn’t work that way. You don’t wake up one day completely new. You wake up aware . And that awareness changes everything. The idea of a clean slate is comforting because it promises relief. It tells us we can undo mistakes, rewrite decisions, and escape the weight of our history. But real transformation is not about escape — it is about integration. You carry your past not as a burden, but as proof that you lived, trie...

There comes a quiet moment in life when you realize something important: you don’t actually need a brand-new life — you just need a clearer one. It doesn’t arrive with fireworks. No dramatic announcement. No life-changing event that forces your hand. It comes in stillness. Maybe while washing dishes. During a long travel when you’re staring out the window, watching the world move while your mind goes somewhere deeper. Or in the middle of the night when your thoughts won’t rest and your heart finally speaks. You begin to feel it: something inside you wants to shift. For a long time, we are taught that transformation has to look like destruction. Quit the job. Walk away from toxic relationships with acquaintances or friends. Move to a new place. Change everything. We imagine that growth must be loud, painful, and disruptive. But real growth is rarely that dramatic. Most of the time, it is subtle, internal, and deeply personal. It is the decision to stop living on autopilot. Th...

Sometimes life teaches us its deepest lessons not in thunderous moments, but in quiet ones — when we find ourselves alone with our thoughts, sipping tea, scrolling through memories, or simply noticing the way the sky shifts toward dusk. As this year comes to a close, more often than not I find myself looking back, not with pressure, but with curiosity. I’m curious about what this year taught me. What it gave me. What it asked of me. What I surrendered. And what I fought for. I think we all know, deep down, that we can’t change the past. Regret comes not from what happened, but from how we responded to it and whether we treated ourselves with enough love, patience, and honesty. That’s what I’m learning now — that regret is not a punishment from life, but a teacher if we’re willing to listen. So as I prepare to release 2025, I don’t want to do it with regret. Instead, I want to let go with gratitude, learning, and intention. 1. Accept That Every Experience Was a Lesson First, let y...