🧠 In Defense of Introspection The reflective connections made between where one was and where they are now inform where one goes next. Don't let billionaires convince you otherwise
💁♂️ Life is Yes Saying "no" creates the possibility of "yes," but discerning which to say isn't always easy. To get there, we have to explore the value of each option, and then...jump.
⛔ Life is Temporary Life will, eventually, end. Fully facing up to that fact and all its implications can help us find meaning now, while we still have time to live that meaning out.
🙅♂️ Life is No "No" is an essential word, and we say it implicitly more often than we think. That's a very good thing.
⏩︎ Life is (Too) Fast In world where things move ever faster, intentional slowness helps get more done and deepens appreciation for the world swirling around us.
🎙️ (Un)productive Hobbies The arc of my life, in terms of productivity, is a strange one. I think I've been missing something along the way. A comfortable upbringing found me apathetic, happy enough with average grades and better than average friendships that I felt little ambition to really try. Then I
❓The Questions Themselves Answers. We spend our lives in search of them. We are desperate for them, so desperate that we embrace slipshod shortcuts that allow us to circumvent the work we ought to put in to arrive at those answers. To cut right through it and get to the end as fast
📍Where You Are Let's start with a confession: Sometimes my best inspiration stems from Reddit. Take the Warrior-Scholar's Field Guide, for example. This is the grounding document for our college success curriculum at Warrior-Scholar Project boot camps. One section of the guide opens with the following quotes: “Pavlov probably
⇒ (Moving) Forward Hi! I've been gone for a bit. The reasons are both simple and complex. I'm coming back here in really the only way I know how: a post reflecting on major life events that eschews best practices for search engine optimization in favor of organically sharing
📖 21 Lessons From My Father When I was 21, my father called me. "Listen, Ryan," he began, using his signature line to transition from small talk to the real reason for any given conversation. "Enjoy this period of life. You'll never have another like it." I heard him, at