• 13 Dec, 2025 *

This week felt quieter, but not in a dull way. More like something settling into place. I noticed how often I create friction for myself by asking the moment to be different from what it is. More energy. More clarity. More motivation. When those don’t appear, I tend to push. And almost every time I do, things tighten rather than open.

That realisation showed up most clearly in my meditation practice. I stopped thinking of it as “meditation” and started calling it a sitting practice. It sounds small, but it changed everything. The pressure dropped away. I no longer felt like each sit had to reach some depth or insight. I just sat. Some days it was steady. Some days it wasn’t. But I showed up, and that consistency felt more honest than chasing intensity. It reminded me that depth comes from continuity, not force.

I saw the same pattern play out in a very ordinary situation. I was blocked in by a car and felt the familiar irritation rise up. There was a moment where I could see it clearly. The belief that being annoyed might somehow improve the situation. It never does. Instead of feeding it, I repeated a mantra while I waited. Nothing external changed, but internally something softened. It was a small moment, but it mattered. It showed me that practice is no longer something I do only on the cushion. It’s available when things don’t go my way.

I also noticed how often my mind still leans toward the future for a sense of wellbeing. I catch myself remembering periods of my life that felt good because there was something ahead of me. A trip. A plan. A possibility. When I look more closely, what I’m really remembering is a sense of openness. Not the event itself. That openness is available now, but the habit of projecting happiness forward hasn’t fully dissolved yet. Seeing that feels like part of the work.

Creatively, there’s been an important correction. I keep feeling the pull to explain, teach, or package what I’m doing for others. And each time, I realise I’m not there yet. This is a making phase. The work needs to speak before I do. When I focus on producing rather than explaining, my confidence grows naturally. When I rush to interpret or share prematurely, it thins out.

There’s also a quieter relationship forming with fear. News cycles, technology anxiety, and talk about the future can still shake me, but they don’t grip in the same way. I’m better at seeing them as patterns that come and go. I don’t need to collapse into them or fight them. I can orient back toward gratitude, toward the simple fact of being alive, toward the immediacy of what’s right in front of me.

Lately, thoughts about death and sleep have been intertwined too. How I fall asleep matters. What state of mind I feed before rest matters. I’m starting to see night-time not as a shutdown, but as a training ground. Letting go of unfulfilled desire. Softening mental habits. Choosing where attention rests. It feels like preparation, not in a morbid sense, but in a deeply human one.

If there’s a theme to this week, it’s learning to trust what’s already here. Trusting simple practice. Trusting creative momentum. Trusting that I don’t need to rush into the next identity or role. When I stop forcing depth, it finds me anyway. And when I stop trying to outrun the moment, life feels steadier, clearer, and more workable just as it is.