Inspiration Archives

It’s Not Money But Being Useful That Makes Us Happy.

Meaning, Purpose and engagement with life = Happiness

“I’m fed up with life. I feel miserable. It’s like everything is against me,” he said, “my doctor has had to up the dosage of my anti-depressants.”

Listening to my friend talk about his hardships made my blood boil. This guy had everything going for him—money, a great wife and kids, several homes all over the world, a burgeoning business and good friends around him.

Images of his last holiday to the Maldives, the one thousand euro wine bottles he often drank, and the Rolex watches he wore flashed through my mind.

I immediately judged him for being entitled, spoiled, and not grateful for the life he had.

To me, he was in the top 3% of people alive. So how can he dare complain? Talk about living a privileged life in a world where the disparity between the elite and the rest is at its highest ever.

Finally, I couldn’t sit through his monologue. “Oh, please. You have so much goodness in your life. I don’t think you can complain, as I can’t about the privileged life we both live.”

He looked at me with a scornful smile. “Just because I have money—the money I made with my own two hands—doesn’t mean I have no right to vent about not being happy. We all have different battles to fight.”

Of course, he was right. I had no right to judge. He had created his successful business independently and invested his money wisely. Just because he was rich didn’t mean that I could assume he had to be happy as well.

The next morning, after journalling and examining myself, I realized many people had probably used the same argument against me during my midlife existential crisis in 2008.

I was well-off, healthy and had good relationships around me, but I was depressed only to go see a psychiatrist who prescribed anti-depressants to me.

I recoiled at how I must have sounded, too.

I texted my friend a long apology and decided to work on my issues instead and write this post, hoping he would read it.

None of us has the right to judge, question, or criticise people who are genuinely unhappy for whatever reason. We have no right to dismiss their pain or differentiate pain according to some hierarchy.

Pain is pain. Unhappiness is unhappiness.

Yes, we often need a dose of reality to awaken us and see that we are not in such dire circumstances. But what if he can’t? What if he can’t see a way through? What if all the trauma he’s suffered as a kid was finally catching up on him? (We’ve all suffered trauma, whether it’s low-key or heavy.)

I wrote in my journal that I needed to be more compassionate, understanding, and supportive of anyone who has had the guts to express their pain and not hide behind masks.

I’m regularly hard on myself, too, often dismissing my own pain as insignificant compared to others’ misfortune. I also needed to be more self-compassionate.

I believe that pain and suffering are alarms raised by our physical and emotional bodies to signal that not all is well. They nudge us to start asking questions about our mental well-being.

What traumas and unanswered questions have we ignored? Pain can become a gift, but only when we see it as a hurdle to overcome rather than a block. It is a gift if you see it as the point where the universe pushes you to change your road map.

We live our lives just like a rocket going to the moon. It is, of course, about 95% of the time – and it gets there only because of constant, tiny re-adjustments along the way.

The ‘Gifts of Adversity’ are those things that seem like detours but turn out to be tiny adjustments that help guide us to our destination. They start off as little hints and then become stronger messages, and if you continue to ignore them, they finally hit you hard as adversities.

When we start digging into our psyche, we notice how enslaved we are by our ego, which has paralyzed us with fears, self-pity, and resentment. We see that our old ways of living are not serving our new ways of being.

Back in 2011, in a one-on-one coaching session with Bob Proctor, I explained to him that I’d felt ambivalent about my life, as I had made money but wasn’t happy. He said, “Then it’s time you challenged yourself and played a bigger game.”

Perhaps, after making so much money, my friend needed to find something new and purposeful to do.

Sebastian Junger’s quote from his book Tribe comes to mind: “Humans don’t mind hardship; in fact, they thrive on it; what they mind is not feeling necessary. Modern society has perfected the art of making people not feel necessary.”

From the way we treat our bodies to the way we connect with people, we need to have meaning, a purpose, and some big intentions regarding how and what we want to create with our lives.

Below are the hard questions I asked myself to get myself out of my disheartening time:

What keeps me in the highest vibration all the time?
Is my business really what I want to do now?
Are the relationships I have serving my real truth?
What are my unique gifts?
What am I here to do?
How can I serve humanity?

Without my friend’s sad, expressive words to himself and us, it’s easy to avoid those big questions, even when our bodies and energy levels have been whispering them for months.

Living consciously means making ourselves feel necessary like we’re an important cog in the universe’s constantly moving wheels.

Because we are the universe.

Lost in Distraction.Languishing in Life.

Lately, I’m feeling restless. My mind is everywhere. I can’t focus for long on any task. What makes it worse is that I feel down whenever I don’t concentrate on the given task.

These glum feelings are low-key, more like a decrease in positive emotions and not outright negative ones. Perhaps the new term, languishing, describes these feelings perfectly.

Languishing entered our lexicon sometime after the Covid pandemic, which generally means a pullback from life and not being fully engaged. But also importantly, not depressed or very sad.

Maybe, Ironically, an Instagram version of depression.

I retraced my behaviour—that’s why journaling plays an important role in my life—and found that for most of 2023, I’d start my mornings with Twitter (Now X) and the internet instead of a book.

With the constant toxicity on the platform—the squabbling between opposite views on the several wars happening in the world, the slanderous rumours about my football team and the many idiots boasting how they have accumulated 100k followers, I was a wreck before my day even started.

Definitely Not what Thich Nhat Hanh had in my mind about a mindful morning.

One morning, I saw it clearly. I have an attention span of a toddler. What happened to my four-hour writing sessions?

I suspected that there was something broken in our collective attention. I see this lack with my colleagues in our team meetings. I see it with my children and friends when everyone is on their phones instead of engaging in meaningful conversation.

But I never thought it could lead to me becoming a fidgety, restless soul who was walking away and not towards the inner peace and freedom I craved.

Attention is not like a beating heart that comes naturally to us. It’s similar to our muscles. It’s adaptable and versatile but will atrophy if we don’t use it. Neglect it, and it slowly withers away.

Ted Gioia, in his fantastic article, said: “The fastest growing sector of the culture economy is distraction. Or call it scrolling or swiping or wasting time or whatever you want. But it’s not art or entertainment, just ceaseless activity. The key is that each stimulus only lasts a few seconds and must be repeated.”

With our attention fragmented, everything has become superficial and instantaneous. Tech Startups have replaced old-age companies. Blog posts are read more widely than books. Social media has overtaken TV. YouTube and TikTok instead of worthwhile movies. Ozempic and not ‘good eating’ is fast becoming the answer to losing pounds.

The worst of all is our connection with each other. We don’t meet face to face. Instead, most are on dating apps, gaming platforms or social media, where nothing deep about anyone can be revealed. How you look and what you wear and possess make you more interesting than what you think or say.

I always recall what Richard, my MFA tutor, told me back in 2017: to write well, you must “Stay narrow, go deep.”

Without going deep into anything, whether it’s a conversation, a movie/book or a problem at work, we don’t truly engage, and we are left with a feeling of not enough—we get spurts of laughter and happiness but no true joy.

Nothing deep can be reached quickly, and nothing meaningful is easily achieved.

Our challenge is that the smartest people on this planet are working on hijacking our attention. They’ve understood what lies under attention.

It’s the neurotransmitter dopamine. It’s not a pleasure chemical as it’s often touted to be, but more about the pursuit of pleasure.

Dopamine is a molecule of more. It activates our desire circuits from within. It flags the appearance of anything that can help us survive. It makes us want it right now, not caring if we genuinely want it or not. The smell of a cinnamon roll makes me stop and buy one, even when I’m full.

Dopamine wants to ensure you survive. So it’s telling you to take that reward now as you never know if it will be available again.

So, what’s wrong with surrendering to the dopamine ride?

In Dopamine Nation, Dr. Anna Lembke explains that when we experience an influx of dopamine (pleasure), our body must immediately follow it up with a painful crash so that it regulates itself back to normal.

Scroll on social media for too long, or eat the doughnuts that look so yummy, then you’d feel irritable, anxious and lack the motivation to do anything.

But what makes all of this even worse is the fact that, like being addicted to cocaine, we need more dopamine to get back to our original state—we are in a constant place of ‘not enough.’

If you agree with me that we are losing the fight against the tech geniuses, the question then is, how can we fight back?

These are some ways I’m reclaiming back my attention:

Mornings are sacred. No social media or internet during my early hours. I leave my phone in another room and read while drinking my coffee. I then journal/write.
I’ve quit Twitter. I go on Instagram and LinkedIn only in the afternoons and never in the mornings.
Single-tasking: Doing one thing at a time. Recently, on a business trip, while taking the elevator down to the reception, I didn’t get my phone out and order an Uber. Instead, I conversed with the other guests and checked out before ordering it. Yes, I waited an extra 5 mins for the Uber to come, but it felt good to do one thing at a time. It was a small but albeit worthwhile win.
Walking without listening to music or a podcast. (Not as easy as it sounds)
At work, I’m now closing my laptop for a few hours and just wandering around, talking with team members.
I’m having more one-on-one conversations both at work and with people that I care about. (Hint: Sav, I’m still waiting for you to make time for me this week.)
Committing to all the mindful activities—walking, reading, writing, yoga stretching, being in nature, playing Padel —that the self-aware preach. Remember, attention is a muscle that atrophies.

Khalil Gibran on Love: A Poetic Journey

I smashed the phone against the wall, and it shattered into pieces.

I dropped to my knees and prayed to be released from this thing called love.

It was our third big fight in one month.

I was in my last year of college and 18 months into a relationship. The earlier passion had long since worn off, quickly replaced by arguments and misunderstandings. Our different interests, values and visions of the future surfaced in every minute detail of the present.

We both knew we had reached the end, but were just too afraid to admit it. Finally, she left college, left the country, and went back to her home. We’ve never spoken since.

That experience marked me. It confused me. How could something so good turn out to be so ugly? I was way too young to comprehend the full intricacies of love.

How can we genuinely describe love? It’s not one feeling, but a thousand-and-one feelings that burrow into our being and infiltrate every cell of our body. Love changes the way we think, feel, and speak. Love makes us act stupid and godly—sometimes all within a few minutes. It can take us to great heights of ecstasy, but also bring us down into an abyss of agony.

So then, how can one word or a few sentences possibly express the full meaning of love?

Thankfully, we have the poets.

And if you ask me, poets don’t come better than Kahlil Gibran. Every time I read his words, I start to feel an inner tingling in my heart, and my soul begins chirping like the nightingale he so lyrically describes. I cling to his every word as if it were God speaking directly to me.

Gibran wrote in both Arabic and English, and his best work was produced in the era of the roaring twenties in New York City. He was influenced by the free thought and exuberance of that time, and he was regularly associated with W.B. Yeats, Carl Jung and Rodin. His seminal book, The Prophet, is amongst the best-selling books of all time—after The Bible and Shakespeare’s collections.

There is a simplicity and beauty to his writings that reach far and wide. He offers spiritual and philosophical musings on love, God, family, work, death and so many other threads that unite humanity.

And it is his incredible exploration in ‘The Prophet’ that, I believe, tells us all we need to know about love:

“When love beckons to you, follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams

as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”

And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.”

Gibran’s thoughts changed my perspective on love. I now see love not as something I can choose but rather as something that chooses me. Love, in taking us on a rollercoaster ride and unlocking the vaulted gates to our hearts, is actually purifying us—making us the best version of ourselves.

Love, when allowed, will “descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.”

Don’t be afraid of opening your heart and what ensues.

11 Quotes By Kahlil Gibran That Are Indelibly Stamped In My Heart.

There is one book I carry with me wherever I go: The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.

Every time I read a few pages, I start to feel an inner tingling in my heart, and my soul starts chirping like the nightingale he so lyrically describes. It’s true that I cling to his words harder than the average person because we both come from Lebanon. However, his great fame and works both as a poet and an artist have had a profound effect on many people around the world.

Gibran wrote in both Arabic and English, and his best work was produced in the era of the Roaring Twenties in New York, USA. He was influenced by the free thought and exuberance of that time, and he was regularly associated with W.B. Yeats, Carl Jung and August Rodin. His seminal book The Prophet is amongst the best-selling books of all time after the Bible and Shakespeare’s collections.

Though critics initially ignored his books, they have influenced world leaders like J.F. Kennedy, The Beatles and many millions around the globe. There is both simplicity and beauty to his writings that reach far and wide. They offer spiritual and philosophical musings on God, love, family, work, death and many other threads that unite humanity.

Below are 11 quotes from Gibran that I read regularly and that are indelibly stamped in my heart:

1) “Your daily life is your temple and your religion.”

2)“You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.”

3)“Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”

4)“Your children are not your children.
They are sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.”

5)“Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.”

6)“You give but little when you give of your possessions.It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”

7)“I love you when you bow in your mosque, kneel in your temple, pray in your church. For you and I are sons of one religion, and it is the spirit.”

8)“No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge.The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, gives not of his wisdom but rather of his faith and his lovingness.If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.”

9)“When you love you should not think you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

10)“Say not, ‘I have found the truth,’ but rather, ‘I have found a truth.’ Say not, ‘ I have found the path of the soul.’ Say rather, ‘I have met the soul walking upon my path.’ For the soul walks upon all paths. The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed. The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.”

11)“Work is love made visible. And if you can’t work with love, but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of the people who work with joy”

If you had to choose one, then which one would it be?

2024: The Year of Living Mindfully

Source: Substack

“I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve (or save) the world and a desire to enjoy (or savor) the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.”― E. B. White

I’ve always been a goal-chaser.

Most years, I set too many goals. I accomplish many of them but end up dissatisfied when they are achieved and tormented with guilt if they are not.

However, in 2024, I want to take it slow, do away with the structure of goal-setting and instead adopt a more casual approach to living.

I’m adopting the US Navy Seals slogan: Slow is Smooth. Smooth is Fast. I will emblazon it in front of my writing desk and in my mind.

The overarching theme of my year will be to lessen the pressure I put on myself. To take things slowly. To reduce the overwhelm, the choices and the anxiety that ensues— “To arise in the morning and savour the world.”

I want to be like the river that meanders slowly through a lush, tranquil forest, taking its time as it navigates around bends and obstacles, but despite its slow pace, its path remains smooth and efficient, eventually leading to a wide, peaceful lake.

The truth is that we exist on earth for only a short while. So why can’t we occasionally treat life as an exciting adventure, trying to make the best out of it while allowing it to unravel its many mysteries?

Not every activity must be a means to an end. Sitting on the sofa does not mean I have to watch TV. Taking a walk does not need to be measured for distance and speed. Watching the birds in nature doesn’t have to be labelled as a mindful exercise to be done on Wednesdays at 5 pm.

During the COVID-19 outbreak and that month when I had to remain at home and isolated, the slowing down was somehow forced onto me. It proved to be a window on how I wanted to live.

However, when the isolation ended and life got back to normal, I quickly went back to my old ways of doing, and everything resumed being urgent.

In order to be able to live this life of Slow is Smooth. Smooth is Fast; there are a few concepts to adopt.

A) Think More Long-Term

To think in ten-year periods, instead of two or three years, means playing a long game that we can both win and enjoy. Doing so means we can focus more on creating systems than setting goals.

With these systems, I’m doing something on a regular basis that makes me better and more content in the long run, regardless of immediate outcomes.

I don’t get the instant gratification that achieving a goal can give, but I also don’t carry the stress of not reaching a goal.

B)Less is More

We burden our lives with too many unnecessary choices, putting ourselves under pressure and not saving the much-needed energy for the bigger things in our lives.

We invite alternatives in our lives, not because we want the best option, but only because we’re bored with what we are doing. We are bored not due to a lack of choices but rather because we are not content with ourselves.

We feel that we are missing out on something. We compare what we are doing with what others are doing and presume it would give us more joy to do the things that they are doing.

Between 2015 and 2020, I read a book a week and averaged about 45-50 books a year. Over the last few years, due to company, family and social needs, I just haven’t been able to maintain that momentum. Not reading that many books has made me feel inadequate and unworthy.

For 2024, I’ve committed to 15 books instead. It’s a more gettable target that sits well with all my other responsibilities.

C)Say No

Whether setting new objectives, taking on new hobbies or adopting new habits, we overestimate how much time we have in a day, week, month and year.

In 2024, I will not attempt to restart my meditation practice. I’ve been on and off my meditation practice for the past five years. Every time I stop, I feel like a loser. So why start and get disappointed when I’m obviously not ready?

I’ve also deleted Twitter(X) as not only does it take much of my time, but it also makes me more anxious and angry.

D) The Sunk Cost Fallacy

We often keep doing something just because we’ve already spent time, money, or effort on it and not because it’s the best choice now. We make decisions based on what we’ve already done, not what’s good for the future.

Last year, my company spent a lot of money, effort, and time studying whether to open another branch in another city, only for me to pull the plug at the last minute.

I thought long and hard about abandoning our efforts, not because it was wise and right to do so (it was) but only because I felt burdened by all the team’s efforts during the feasibility study.

What’s gone is gone. So, there is no point holding onto it when it won’t serve us.

This easy, casual approach works better now that I’m 55 and that I have a good sense of what I truly enjoy and want in my life.

For me, I have redefined what success means to me. It’s not more money, running marathons or getting on the New York Times bestseller list that drives me.

Instead, I just want to enjoy and improve in my areas of focus so that I can:

Run my business with surgical efficiency.
Write. Improve my writing. Engage with writers and readers.
Be as healthy as ever. Eat more protein. Move daily by doing strength exercises, workouts, walking, and playing Padel. Sleep well. Take the right supplements.
Travel adventurously.

Hurry Slowly in 2024.

The Daily Practice That Changed My Life

A few Christmases ago, everyone but me was having a good time.

I was sick in bed, struck by some mysterious virus. I had looked forward to this break after a hard and energy-sapping year, but in the chaos and melee of people that is the holidays, I had somehow lost my bearings, my grounding, and finally, my well-being.

I had stopped doing the things that made me feel good. The things I’d spent the last few years cultivating in my life.

Namely, I’d stopped my daily practice.

Following Annie Dillard’s wisdom, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives,” I had spent the whole year establishing and formalizing a set of non-negotiables that would underpin my daily life. These practices, when I observed them consistently, filled me with contentment and magic, and a feeling of being enough. They were the culmination of all the work I’d done on myself—all the self-awareness and self-knowledge I gathered—in the past five years.

To follow them meant getting into action, changing my behaviors, and ultimately my outcomes. Each morning, I primed myself for what I would do for the rest of the day—and the rest of my life. I was building small bridges that led to my soul.

However, it’s always easier to follow our habits when we are in our own environment. When we step out of it, and our routine times and places change, it becomes much harder. On my holiday, I missed one habit and then another, and everything snowballed out of control. And without realizing it, I closed the door to my soul.

Within a few days, I became restless, anxious, and then violently sick. My mood transformed from relaxed and fun to a swarm of negative thoughts. I became miserable as doubts and recriminations overtook me. I was now in a deep funk.

Was I reversing all the changes and progress I’d made within a two-week holiday?

Was my practice so fickle as to fail at the first sign of a challenge?

I was now counting the hours and days until I could get back to my physical home and my spiritual abode—my daily practice.

I returned home on the third day of the new year and was relentless in recovering the routines I had so meticulously created. Within a week I was back on track, and my next goal was to continue with my practices during my next two planned trips—one in February for business, and another in March to visit my son.

Because of my Christmas experience, I was extra vigilant this time ‘round. I set an intention for the rest of the year to complete my routines with a minimum of an 80 per cent level of achievement. I also added the caveat that, when I was away, I could lessen the time I spent on my routines. For example, I might journal for two pages instead of three, or substitute walking in the city for my exercise routine.

I wanted to make it as easy and practical as possible to remain connected to my soul. I finally recognized that to persist with my daily practice was to say: I love myself. I value myself. I fill myself with enough love and self-esteem that I can give back to others.

It’s like what they always say on the plane. When there is an emergency, we must put on our own oxygen mask first and then help others, including our own children.

These six non-negotiable rituals are my spiritual oxygen. They always take priority.

Rising Early

This is the keystone habit upon which all the others rely. There is something magical about waking up before anyone else. It has to be before the sun so that I can glimpse that orange-yellow ball of fire igniting the sky and my being. There is a quiet peace all around, punctuated by the whispers of the birds that grow into a symphony of sounds. It’s as if I’m one with God, residing in the Garden of Eden, albeit only for 30 minutes.

Meditation

I’m no Buddhist monk, and I still struggle with meditation. I often sit for long spells where my mind is active. However, I do notice a cumulative effect on my inner peace when I’m consistent with it. There is something I can’t quantify that makes it work. My meditation practice is a simple one; I follow my breath in and out for 20 minutes. Every time my mind wanders, I gently prod it back without judgement.

Journalling

Every morning, I write three hand-written morning pages as prescribed by Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way. In them, I dump everything and anything that comes to mind in a stream of consciousness manner. This has a cathartic effect on me, and I find that I manage to tackle issues that have become urgent in my subconscious mind and are bubbling to the surface. I hardly ever go back and read my journals; they are gone and assimilated.

Exercise

I love exercising in the morning, as it gives me so much energy that overflows into the rest of my day. I’m filled up with endorphins and feel like Alexander the Great going after his next conquest. However, I keep it simple so it’s doable and I don’t arrive tired to work. It could be a light jog, a quick high-intensity interval training routine, or a basic strength workout, but nothing longer than 30-40 minutes. I am not to be Mr Universe or a super athlete but rather to remain healthy and high on endorphins.

Reading

I try to read for an hour a day. That could be in the early morning, evening, or just before I sleep, but I must read. Reading is soul-nourishing and has opened me to new worlds, ideas, and lives I could never have imagined otherwise. Some authors have become virtual mentors and soulmates. I could say I learned how life works solely from Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet. I know much about the slums of Mumbai even though I’ve never been there, thanks to Gregory David Roberts’s Shantaram. Reading is also one-half the practice to better writing.

Writing

I write for an hour a day, usually after coming home from work in the early evening or early morning, especially as I awaken very early these days. I’ve found joy in this “systems approach” I hadn’t used before. This daily hour of writing adds up after a week, and if I add some extra ones on the weekend, I can total 10 hours a week.

That’s much more than when I used to binge-write once a week. I’m also now in a constant writing mood. Ideas flow; true to Hemingway’s words, “the well is always overflowing,” and I leave it without emptying it. Writing is the language my soul uses to express itself and share itself with the world—I’ve denied it for far too long to stop now.

The point is not what habits to do, but to do what is relevant and sustainable in our lives, and consistently. I started with one habit, and over five years, it slowly grew to six as I learned what made me come alive. I made the practices easy at the start so that it was hard to fail. What became an hour, or 1,500 words of writing, started out as only 300.

Apart from the blip over Christmas, my daily practice has now been consistent for the past 18 months. I feel this daily practice that I’ve found and enjoy so much is the result of all the work I did to find my authentic self. This daily practice not only grounds me and protects me from negativity all around (especially mine), but also serves to make me receptive to abundance and joy in my life.

These are the rituals that work for me. Some may resonate with you, while others won’t. I believe everyone should have a core, sacred rituals in their life. For some, reading might be replaced by watching movies or documentaries. Writing could become creating shopfronts or websites. Meditation might instead be some form of prayer.

I encourage you to take some time to carefully develop the rituals that will become the bedrock of your life.

The Daily Practice That Changed My Life