Happiness is a direction, not a place.
― Sydney J. Harris
Something I’ve learned from four years of writing is that you cannot write (or live) well without a clear idea of where you want to take yourself.
Direction is everything. We’re often guessing through many parts of life when we should instead be taking our time and figuring it out. We take shortcuts and make lazy decisions. We choose the “easy way out” when small tasks feel mentally taxing. We create a mess and take too long to clean it up. We lose our sense of self for years and only realise when we’ve deviated too far.
In school, I developed an insatiable curiosity for questions and connection. I enjoyed listening and studying, seeing how well I could absorb information or stories and recite them long after. I had moments of extreme assertiveness that taught me a lot of good and got me into trouble. I paid attention, I learned what I didn’t want, and, most importantly, I learned how to be myself.
You can lose yourself at this phase, both in a good and bad way. Peer groups want you to grow up like them to fit in—thinking, talking, and acting the same. Sometimes, it was better to seek solace in the local library and unlock your mind on your own terms. It’s easier said than done to figure out your sense of direction at this point, but not doing so can—and often does—instil a worrying habit in people that roots itself for years, even decades.
The habit of careless mistakes (which I’m guilty of). In London, there’s an insane rush when you look around and get a feel for the city’s essence. People are in their own world, looking only ahead and wanting everything now. People speedwalk everywhere, including around the local park. There’s hardly a sense of presence. No care for attention or devotion or respect for taking your time.
People are riddled with multiple obligations calling at once. We spend our energy planning or talking about plans. We don’t stop to understand how or why we respond to things a certain way. Everyone wants to be a few steps ahead all the time.
It can be a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, you’re more receptive to new situations because you’re used to fast changes. You may also have several ideas of where to go over the next 2-3 years of your life, and that can bring some form of comfort. But on the other hand, you take no advantage of the moment you’re in right now. You don’t know what to do when things go wrong. You get stuck easily, and you find it hard to breathe when anxiety kicks in because you’ve forgotten how to breathe out. You’re left absent-minded because all that matters to you is the destination.
Life is like a muscle
In essence, life is like a muscle. The only way to build it is to do it slowly. I like yoga and pilates as practices because they force you to move and think slowly, focus on your breathing, and deepen the stretch. Take your time and connect with your body.
The lesson here is to learn how to go fast and go slow. Life will always demand you to do certain things quickly, and that’s fine. But you must train yourself to do the rest carefully, slowly, and with thought. Show up for yourself with pride and confidence—and take your time to figure out where you’re going.