Fortunate Life

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...

  Today I sat quietly and thought about responsibility. Not the kind that involves work, deadlines, or obligations to others, but the deeper kind. The responsibility I have for my own inner world. My thoughts. My emotions. My reactions. My peace. It is easy to blame circumstances when I feel unsettled. A message. A tone. A delay. Someone’s behavior. I catch myself thinking, If this did not happen, I would be fine. But Stoicism gently reminds me that while I cannot control what happens outside of me, I am always responsible for what happens inside me. This realization feels both heavy and freeing. Heavy, because it means I can no longer point outward when I am unhappy. Freeing, because it means my peace is not at the mercy of other people’s actions. Today, something small triggered an emotional response in me. Nothing serious. Just a familiar feeling of being overlooked. I noticed the reaction forming before it fully took shape. The thoughts started quietly. Maybe I am not impor...

Today reminded me how tempting it is to prove a point. To explain myself. To correct misunderstandings. To make sure my side is heard and validated. There is a quiet urge inside me that wants to be understood, especially when I feel misread or unfairly judged. I think this is very human. We all want to be seen clearly. But today, I noticed something else. I noticed how heavy it feels to carry the need to be right. There was a moment earlier when I could have defended myself. I could have explained my intentions, clarified my words, and pointed out where the other person was mistaken. And for a brief second, my mind started preparing its argument. I felt my body tense, my thoughts sharpen, my emotions rise. Then I paused. I asked myself a simple question. What will this give me. Will it bring peace. Or will it only satisfy my ego for a moment. The answer was clear. So I chose silence. Not the kind that comes from fear or avoidance, but the kind that comes from wisdom. The kind tha...

Today, while scrolling through my feed, I came across a video about The Top Five Regrets of the Dying by Bronnie Ware. I have seen this list before but for some reason, seeing it today felt different. Maybe it is because I am now fifty and life looks and feels more real. I know that time moves in one direction and I am not getting any younger. I know that one day I will also leave this world and the thought stayed with me longer than expected. There are still so many things I have not done. So many dreams I postponed. So many moments I let pass because I was busy or afraid or unsure. That is why the video resonated with me. It felt like someone gently tapping my shoulder reminding me that I still have time to choose differently. Here are the five regrets Bronnie Ware heard in her years as a palliative care nurse. As I reflect on them, I realize they are not just regrets from people at the end of life. They are guidance for those of us still living. I wish I had lived a life true to mys...

This morning I sat with my coffee and watched the light slowly fill the room. I noticed how peaceful everything felt. Quiet. Uncomplicated. And I realized that the only time my life feels heavy is when my mind starts wrestling with things that are outside my control. It is almost embarrassing how often I do this. I replay conversations in my head. I wonder what people are thinking about me. I try to guess outcomes. I try to shape situations that are clearly not mine to fix. I hold on to timelines that do not belong to me. And every time I do this, I lose my peace. I am learning that there is a boundary in life. A simple invisible line. On one side are the things I can influence. My attitude. My choices. My reactions. My habits. My words. On the other side are the things that are none of my business. How people behave. What they choose to love or neglect. What they give. What they withhold. The pace of life. The unpredictability of the world. And yet, I still find myself crossing tha...

  While browsing Facebook, a short reel appeared on my feed. It was Tim Minchin giving a graduation speech, and somehow his words stayed with me long after the video ended. It resonated with me in a way I did not expect. So I thought I would share it here, in case someone else needs these reminders today. Every now and then, someone gives a speech that does not just entertain but quietly rearranges something inside us. Minchin’s words are blunt, warm, funny, and surprisingly comforting. They remind us that life is not a straight line and we do not need to pressure ourselves into knowing exactly where we are going. Here are the nine lessons from his speech, shared in a way that helps us reflect on our own little journeys. You do not need to have a grand dream For most of our lives, we were told to “dream big” as if having one huge clear dream is the only way to succeed. But Minchin reminds us that it is perfectly fine to be micro ambitious. Focus on the small task in front of yo...

Today I learned something about myself. Or maybe it is something that has been quietly growing inside me for a long time. I am becoming someone who pauses. Someone who does not let every emotion spill out the moment it arrives. Someone who chooses their response instead of letting reactions take over. It still feels a little strange to admit this, because I have never been the overly reactive type. I rarely say things I do not mean. I rarely send messages I later regret. I am usually careful, even when I am hurting. But in the past, my emotions would stir so strongly inside me that I could feel the urge to respond quickly, as if speaking immediately could save me from misunderstanding or disappointment. Those were the moments when I wished I had given myself more time to breathe, because clarity always arrives after the first wave of emotion. Stoicism teaches the value of the pause. That small moment between stimulus and response. That breath. That quiet space where the heart softens...