I’m starting to wonder if some people are actually… there. Not physically—they’re standing right in front of you—but emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Last week, I asked someone close to me for a simple favor that takes 30 seconds. The response? Nothing. Just radio silence…
Do you ever feel like you love your family but operate on a completely different frequency? A photo from McDonald’s—my sister and 85-year-old father sharing junk food—stayed with me in an unexpected way. I could see the effects of time and caring for everything alone since Mum..
Yesterday, cycling to work in the pouring rain at 56, I wondered: am I being authentically myself, or just making the best of circumstances I’m secretly embarrassed about? When you say ‘it’s all relative,’ are you finding genuine peace or making sophisticated excuses?
After twenty years teaching English in Japan, I’ve watched brilliant women—nurses, office workers, mothers—lose focus during lessons, checking reflections in phone screens, fidgeting with clothing. When did the pressure to be constantly ‘desirable’ become so overwhelming?
Today’s toilet paper run shouldn’t have been noteworthy. Yet between my apartment and the shop, I caught myself doing it again—that internal check-in that’s become familiar since 419 days ago. Am I dressed appropriately? Did I acknowledge neighbors properly? Do you…
For twenty years in Japan, I’ve taught English while my own Japanese remains embarrassingly basic. I cycle instead of driving, avoid complex conversations, settle for second-best in countless ways. Have language limitations shaped your choices?
After my wife of twenty years left for America, I found myself grabbing the wrong jeans from my closet—a simple error that made me question everything. When external stability masks internal turbulence, how do you recognize mental health? What anchors you these days?
In tricky times, you feel it—the weight piling up, pushing us down. Schedules that grind, habits that drag, grudges that stick long after their usefulness expires. Some burdens become so heavy people contemplate checking out altogether. But what if that stuck feeling is just an illusion?
Ever catch yourself holding tight to something and wonder why? We sometimes store all kinds of baggage. Some things anchor us, others weigh us down. What’s one possession you’d say goodbye to if you knew you needed to lighten the load?
Ever catch yourself aiming for something that doesn’t truly resonate? I once watched a man, uncomfortable in a suit he despised, chasing a reward he didn’t really want. Why do we trap ourselves in these patterns? What’s the one pursuit you’d willingly exchange for inner peace?