This week felt like a threshold. One year quietly closed and another began, bringing with it that inevitable temptation to look backwards for a moment and compare the person standing here today with the one who stood here a year ago. And perhaps the nicest discovery was realising just how much can change without us noticing it while it is happening.
Work was busy, but purposeful. There were site visits, conversations, learning, planning and deadlines, alongside the usual unexpected things that appeared demanding immediate attention. Yet there was also a stronger sense of boundaries this week, of recognising when enough really was enough and allowing the working week to end rather than endlessly expanding to fill the available space.
There was also something fitting about spending part of the week thinking about change and impact. Sometimes we become so focused on outcomes that we forget to notice the chain of smaller changes that created them. Perhaps lives work in much the same way. The visible transformation is merely the end of a much longer story made up of tiny decisions, experiments, mistakes and course corrections.
And so this week feels less like the beginning of another year and more like arriving at a small viewing platform along the way. A place to stop briefly, look back at the road already travelled, and then turn towards whatever comes next. There is still plenty unfinished. There always will be. But for this week, perhaps it is enough simply to recognise: I’ve come quite a long way.
This week’s quote by Farrah Gray, an American entrepreneur, author and motivational speaker, is a powerful reminder about taking ownership of the direction of our lives. Most of us spend a considerable part of our lives working towards goals set by someone else. There is nothing inherently wrong with this. A job can provide security, purpose, experience, relationships and opportunities to learn. The danger comes when we become so absorbed in helping organisations or other people achieve their ambitions that we forget to ask what we want to create.
Building your own dream does not necessarily mean quitting your job and becoming an entrepreneur. Our dreams may involve writing a book, travelling, learning something new, creating financial independence, pursuing a creative passion, building a home, changing careers or simply designing a life that gives us greater freedom over our time. What matters is that some portion of our energy is deliberately invested in something that belongs to us.
The quote also reminds us that dreams rarely build themselves. They require time, persistence and often years of seemingly insignificant effort. Waiting until circumstances are perfect can mean waiting forever. Sometimes the most meaningful projects begin quietly, alongside everything else we are already doing. Perhaps the real question is not whether we should stop building other people’s dreams, but whether we are also making room for our own.
This week, the Bhagavad Gita, in verse 2.38, teaches us to treat success and failure alike. Life becomes exhausting when every outcome determines our peace of mind. We celebrate victories as though they will last forever and despair over failures as though they define us. Krishna offers another path. He asks us to focus on doing what is right rather than obsessing over what might happen next. Inner strength is not the absence of emotion. It is the ability to remain steady while moving through both success and disappointment. The more we anchor ourselves in purpose instead of outcomes, the more resilient we become.
This week, I learned to stop holding on to the outcome so tightly. Use affirmations and gentle shifts in your thinking to tap into the energy of abundance rather than falling into fear, urgency, or scarcity. Surrender the “how” and the “when,” and let yourself relax into life’s pace. The more you relax, the more effortlessly things begin to come together. And when the right opportunity, the right person, or the right shift finally arrives, it fits your life in a way it simply wouldn’t have before.
And on that introspective note, here’s to a wonderful rest of September, and to a week full of joy!
Today’s quote, often attributed to Abraham Lincoln, the 14th President of the United States of America, and who led the country through the American Civil War, is a witty reminder that sometimes silence is wiser than speaking simply for the sake of being heard. We often feel compelled to have an opinion about everything. Silence can make us uncomfortable, particularly when everyone around us seems confident about what they think. Yet speaking without enough knowledge or understanding can reveal far more than saying nothing at all. The quote encourages us to listen, observe, and think before contributing to a conversation.
There is also an important distinction between silence and ignorance. Choosing not to speak doesn’t necessarily mean we have nothing worthwhile to say. Sometimes it demonstrates self-awareness: recognising when we don’t know enough, when emotions are running high, or when our words would add little value. Asking questions and listening can often teach us far more than rushing to demonstrate what we know. The idea feels particularly relevant today, when social media makes it possible to respond instantly to almost anything. We are encouraged to react before we have had time to understand. Yet not every opinion needs to be expressed, every argument entered, or every provocation answered. There can be enormous strength in knowing when to remain silent. Ultimately, the quote isn’t telling us to be afraid of speaking. It is encouraging discernment. Words have greater value when they come from thought, understanding, and intention rather than impulse.
This week felt like one of those strange spaces between finishing and beginning. There was satisfaction in looking at something substantial and realising that, after weeks of decisions, revisions and seemingly endless little details, it was finally organised enough to close the folder, metaphorically and almost literally. There is something deeply satisfying about bringing order to what was once scattered.
But clearing one space inevitably makes room for another. Alongside the practical work came thoughts about the future: money, security, creativity, and how to build a life that isn’t overly dependent on any single path. These weren’t anxious thoughts so much as exploratory ones. What else could I create? What could I build now that might quietly support me later? The answers aren’t there yet, but perhaps asking the questions is the beginning.
There was learning too, including the slightly uncomfortable kind where you attempt something unfamiliar, stare at the screen wondering why absolutely nothing happened, try again, accidentally do something you don’t understand, and eventually discover that you have, in fact, made it work. Sometimes progress looks remarkably like confusion until you turn around and see what you’ve learnt.
And threaded through everything were the smaller things: thinking about family, planning meals, photographs worth stopping for, everyday decisions, and the continuing process of making systems work better rather than simply adding more to life. Perhaps that’s what this week was really about: editing. Finishing what no longer needs attention. Organising what remains. Learning something new. Looking at what comes next. Not a dramatic reinvention. Just quietly creating a little more room for the person, and the life that is still unfolding.
Today’s verse is 18.78 from the Bhagavad Gita. The final verse of the Gita serves as a fitting conclusion to this month’s journey. Notice that victory does not arise from strength alone. It comes from the union of wisdom and action. Krishna represents insight. Arjuna represents effort. One without the other is incomplete. Many people spend their lives gathering knowledge without acting on it. Others rush into action without reflection. The Gita teaches that lasting success emerges when understanding and effort work together. This verse is ultimately hopeful. It reminds us that we do not need to be fearless before we begin. We do not need perfect certainty before we act. We simply need the courage to move forward with wisdom as our guide. When clarity and action walk together, progress becomes inevitable.
Earlier this week, BB earned his first pay cheque. It is not a lot, but the first step toward financial independence. It’s hard trying to toe the line between giving them their independence and making sure they don’t spend all the money without saving the bulk of it because right now, other than personal expenses, they don’t have any other expenses.
This week, I learned that radical acceptance is the key to finding peace right where you are. But strong emotions often become major obstacles to cultivating that acceptance. We may have intense emotional reactions to other people’s actions, or to situations that feel unfair or unfavorable. The practice is to engage with these moments in ways that reduce our struggle and suffering. Instead of obsessing over catastrophic thoughts or insisting that “this shouldn’t be happening,” gently guide your mind in a more positive direction. What you need is a willingness to be at peace with whatever is unfolding. A big part of nurturing that openness is trusting that everything is ultimately happening for your highest good, even if it’s not apparent right now.
That’s all I have this week! Stay safe, stay positive and keep smiling!
This week felt long! Not necessarily because anything went wrong, but because some weeks simply ask more of us than others. There were early starts, long days, important conversations, meetings that required concentration, and moments when the working day stretched well beyond its usual boundaries. By the middle of the week, tiredness had definitely entered the chat.
Professionally, though, it was a significant week. There were conversations about leadership and the future, opportunities to listen to different perspectives, and the interesting experience of evaluating not simply what someone has accomplished, but what they might bring to the next chapter of an organisation. Elsewhere, a major project continued moving from concept towards reality. Plans became more concrete, partnerships were explored, documents refined, and several small but necessary pieces fell into place. There were disappointments too, including an outcome that didn’t go the way we had hoped, but even that quickly became a question of: What can we do with this instead?
Personally, this week reinforced something I’ve been learning repeatedly this year: energy is finite. There is a difference between being capable of doing everything and needing to do everything, and perhaps wisdom lies somewhere in recognising that distinction.And underneath all the activity was the ordinary rhythm of life: family, routines, conversations, small pleasures, and moments of quiet squeezed between everything else. If last week was hectic, this one felt intense. But it was also purposeful. Things moved forward. Decisions came closer. And as the week ends, I think I’ve earned the right to do something wonderfully unproductive for a while. Sometimes rest isn’t what happens after the important work. Rest is part of the important work.
Today, English novelist and playwright, best remembered for The Hundred and One Dalmatians Dodie Smith’s quote is a gentle reminder that some of life’s greatest luxuries cannot be bought. In a world where luxury is usually associated with expensive possessions, beautiful places, or exclusive experiences, Smith offers something wonderfully simple instead: the freedom to sit quietly and think. Contemplation requires very little. We don’t need special equipment, money, or even a particular place. We simply need enough stillness to allow our minds to wander, reflect, question, remember, and imagine. Yet ironically, this completely free luxury can sometimes feel incredibly difficult to obtain. Our days are filled with responsibilities, notifications, conversations, deadlines, and endless distractions. Even when we have a few spare minutes, we often instinctively reach for something to occupy them.
Smith’s words suggest that perhaps we underestimate the value of doing nothing except thinking. Contemplation gives us space to process what has happened, understand how we feel, and decide what truly matters. It allows ideas to emerge without being forced and gives us an opportunity to notice things that become invisible when we are constantly rushing. There is also something quietly rebellious about choosing contemplation in a culture that celebrates constant productivity. Time spent thinking may appear unproductive from the outside, yet it can bring clarity, creativity, gratitude, and greater self-awareness. Perhaps that is why contemplation really is a luxury. Not because it costs money, but because it asks us to give ourselves something increasingly precious: undivided time and attention.
In verse 2.47 of the Bhagavad Gita, Lord Krishna says much of our stress comes from trying to control outcomes. We worry about results before the work has even begun. We become attached to specific endings and measure our worth according to whether those endings arrive. Krishna offers a liberating alternative. Focus on the work. Focus on the effort. Focus on what is within your control. The outcome is never entirely ours. Paradoxically, when we release our grip on results, we often perform better. Fear loosens its hold. Anxiety loses some of its power. We become fully present to the task before us. This verse is not an invitation to care less. It is an invitation to care differently. Do the work wholeheartedly. Let the outcome unfold.
This week, I learned that most of the pieces shift and fall into place behind the scenes. Everything is aligning in your favor in ways you’ll only understand later. Before those changes become visible, we often have to move through periods of waiting, confusion, and uncertainty. As difficult as it may feel, you have to fully trust the process through the delays. Trust that everything is unfolding exactly as it should. Your power lies in the sure belief in the natural flow of your life. Release the need to control. Let your inner wisdom lead the way. Life is shaping you for something greater.
That’s all from me this week. Stay safe, stay happy and stay positive! Speak soon!
What kind of happiness are we really chasing? The quick flashes that brighten a moment, or the quieter kind that slowly shapes a life?
Happiness is one of those words everyone uses confidently and few people define carefully. Ask ten people what it means, and you will probably hear ten different answers. Yet most of us recognise two very different forms of it in our own lives. One appears suddenly and fades almost as quickly. The other arrives slowly and lingers, shaping the background of our days without drawing much attention to itself.
Two Different Experiences of Happiness The first kind is happiness in the moment. The second is happiness that stays. We rarely stop to examine the difference between them, but the distinction quietly shapes many of our choices. Should we enjoy the small pleasures available today, or should we postpone them in the hope of building something deeper and more durable? Is delayed gratification the mark of wisdom, or simply another way of pushing happiness further into the future? The answers are not as obvious as they seem.
The tension between these two types of happiness sits quietly inside many of our daily choices. Should we prioritise the small joys available today, or should we work towards a more durable form of happiness later? Should we delay gratification in the hope of something better in the future? Or is that simply another way of postponing life? None of these questions have simple answer. But the distinction itself is worth examining.
The Happiness That Passes and the Happiness That Stays Momentary happiness has a particular power because it is tangible. You can feel it in real time. It does not require patience or interpretation. A meal enjoyed slowly, a message from a friend, a walk in the evening when the air finally cools. These experiences are small, but they anchor us in the present moment in ways that abstract goals rarely do. In difficult periods of life, these brief flashes of happiness can be essential. When responsibilities feel heavy or circumstances are uncertain, it is often the smallest pleasures that carry us through the day. They remind us that life is still happening now, not only in the distant future we are trying to build.
Yet momentary happiness can also make people uneasy. For some of us, happiness that arrives too easily raises suspicion. If something feels good immediately, we wonder whether it is superficial or temporary. Perhaps it will disappear as quickly as it arrived. Perhaps it was never real in the first place. This suspicion is not entirely irrational. Modern life offers endless forms of stimulation disguised as happiness. Social media notifications, impulse purchases, and constant entertainment. These experiences are engineered to create small bursts of pleasure while asking very little from us in return. The result is a curious paradox. Happiness in the moment is both essential and potentially misleading. It can either refresh us or distract us. The difference often lies not in the experience itself, but in the role it plays in our lives.
A quiet cup of tea can be a moment of rest. But endless scrolling through a phone is also a form of momentary pleasure. One restores attention. The other slowly erodes it. So the question is not whether happiness in the moment is good or bad. The more useful question is whether it leaves us clearer or more depleted afterwards.
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The Slower Happiness that Builds over Time The second type of happiness is harder to identify because it rarely feels dramatic. It develops slowly through repetition. A routine that supports your health. A relationship that deepens over the years. Work that gradually becomes more aligned with your abilities. Even something as simple as financial stability can create a form of happiness that is less visible but deeply reassuring. This kind of happiness tends to feel less like excitement and more like steadiness. It lowers the background noise of life.
When people talk about building a meaningful life, this is usually what they are referring to. It is the accumulation of choices that creates a structure in which life feels livable. But this form of happiness has its own complications. Sometimes it does not even feel like happiness while it is happening. It simply feels like life becoming a little easier to live.
First, it requires patience. Many of the habits that eventually produce lasting happiness feel neutral or even tedious while they are being built. Exercise rarely feels magical in the moment. Saving money requires restraint. Learning a skill involves long periods of feeling incompetent.
Second, the pursuit of lasting happiness can sometimes become rigid. In an effort to build a stable future, people can begin postponing every form of enjoyment in the present. Life becomes a sequence of conditions that must be met before happiness is allowed.
Once this project is completed, I will relax. Once this goal is achieved, then I will enjoy life.
The problem is that these conditions rarely end. There is always another milestone, another responsibility, another improvement that seems necessary before happiness can finally begin. When this happens, the pursuit of lasting happiness quietly transforms into permanent postponement.
The Question of Delayed Gratification Few ideas are praised more consistently than delayed gratification. It appears frequently in discussions about discipline, financial planning, education, and productivity. The logic seems straightforward. If we resist immediate pleasures, we will eventually gain something more valuable. In many situations, this is true. Choosing long term health over short term comfort, or saving money rather than spending it impulsively, can lead to real benefits.
But delayed gratification is not automatically virtuous. It depends on what exactly is being delayed and why. Sometimes we delay gratification because we genuinely value something in the future more than the pleasure available now. In these cases, the trade-off is clear and intentional. At other times, delay comes from a different place. It may come from fear of enjoyment itself. When happiness has disappeared before, learning not to trust it can feel like a form of protection.
For some people, happiness feels slightly dangerous. If something is good, perhaps it will be taken away. If something comes easily, perhaps it was never deserved. The safest option is to keep happiness at a distance. Under those circumstances, delayed gratification is not discipline. It is a form of emotional caution.
There is also another complication that receives less attention. Sometimes people delay gratification for goals that are not truly their own. They pursue milestones that society approves of without pausing to ask whether those milestones actually produce happiness in their own lives. Years later, the goal is achieved, and the anticipated happiness never quite arrives. The issue was not patience. The issue was direction.
Seen this way, the difference between momentary happiness and lasting happiness is not simply a question of time. It is a question of how we relate to our own lives. One invites us to experience the present. The other asks us to shape the future.
When Spending Creates Happiness Money introduces another layer of complexity. On the surface, spending money often looks like the purest form of momentary happiness. A purchase provides immediate satisfaction and the promise of enjoyment. But the value of spending depends heavily on context.
Some forms of spending genuinely enrich life. Travelling to a place you have long dreamed of visiting, for instance, can create memories that stay with you for decades. Shared experiences with family and friends often fall into this category as well. In these situations, spending money supports happiness that extends far beyond the moment of purchase. Other spending serves a different purpose. It temporarily relieves boredom or stress without addressing the underlying problem. The satisfaction fades quickly, leaving only the impulse to repeat the experience again.
The difference between these two forms of spending is not always obvious at the time. But over months and years, the patterns become clear. Some expenses become meaningful stories in our lives. Others become forgettable attempts to fill empty moments.
The Quiet Influence of Hustle Culture Modern culture often complicates our relationship with happiness even further. In many environments, happiness is treated as something that must be justified through productivity. Rest should improve performance. Hobbies should develop marketable skills. Even relaxation becomes a tool for becoming more efficient later. This mindset leaves little room for happiness in the moment. If enjoyment does not contribute to long term goals, it begins to feel wasteful.
But a life organised entirely around productivity risks becoming narrow. People may achieve impressive milestones while quietly losing contact with the everyday experiences that make life enjoyable. Ironically, the absence of small, immediate pleasures often makes long term goals harder to sustain. Without moments of rest, humour, or connection, discipline eventually begins to feel like punishment. Lasting happiness rarely grows out of relentless effort alone. It usually develops when effort is balanced with moments that remind us why the effort matters.
Balancing the Two Forms of Happiness Rather than choosing between momentary happiness and lasting happiness, most people need some combination of both. Momentary happiness keeps life vivid. It reminds us that the present moment is not simply a waiting room for the future. Lasting happiness provides structure. It ensures that life does not drift aimlessly from one pleasant distraction to another. When either form dominates completely, problems begin to appear.
A life focused entirely on immediate pleasures often becomes unstable. Without deeper commitments or routines, satisfaction remains shallow and temporary. A life focused entirely on future happiness can become rigid and joyless. When enjoyment is constantly postponed, the future becomes a moving target that never quite arrives. The challenge is not choosing one type of happiness over the other. The challenge is recognising when one has quietly replaced the other.
A Slightly Uncomfortable Ending There is a final possibility worth considering. Sometimes our relationship with happiness says less about happiness itself and more about what we believe we deserve. People who distrust quick happiness often believe that good things should require effort. If something arrives easily, it feels suspicious. Perhaps it will vanish. Perhaps it was never real. At the same time, people who constantly delay happiness may be practising a form of protection. If you never fully allow yourself to enjoy something, you never have to risk losing it.
But life does not always follow these rules. Some of the most meaningful experiences in life arrive unexpectedly. A conversation, a friendship, a moment of clarity. They appear without careful planning and remain long after the moment itself has passed.
The deeper question may not be whether happiness lasts or disappears. The deeper question may be whether we allow ourselves to recognise it when it appears. Because happiness in the moment and happiness that stays are not always separate things. Very often, the happiness that remains with us began as a small moment we almost dismissed.
Life rarely delivers happiness in the neat categories we invent for it. And sometimes the difference between the two lies simply in whether we were willing to receive it. Happiness that stays often begins as happiness we almost ignored.
This was a short week because of the National Day long weekend giving us an extra day away from the usual routine. Somehow, though, nobody seems to have informed the rest of the week that it was supposed to be shorter. If anything, it felt as though five days of activity had been determinedly squeezed into four. Work was particularly hectic, with deadlines, meetings, revisions, decisions, and the inevitable last-minute changes competing for attention. There were moments when something that appeared finished suddenly needed another round of thought, and plans continued to evolve as new information came in. Yet beneath all that activity, there was progress. Things that had existed as ideas and conversations are becoming increasingly tangible, and the months ahead are beginning to take clearer shape.
Outside work, life continued with its familiar collection of small decisions and everyday preoccupations. There was planning for the future, thinking about finances and upcoming travels, making practical choices for home and life, and finding time for creative interests amidst everything else. Family life, too, continues to shift as everyone settles into their own routines and new chapters. Perhaps what struck me most this week was how many different versions of life can exist simultaneously. We can be busy and grateful, tired and excited, uncertain about some things while feeling completely sure about others. Not every week needs a single defining emotion. So, despite being a short week, this one somehow managed to feel very full. And as I head into the weekend, I’m quite happy to exchange momentum for a little stillness. Sometimes the best way to prepare for everything waiting ahead is simply to stop for a while.
This week’s quote is from Rabindranath Tagore, a Bengali poet, writer, composer, philosopher, and artist whose work profoundly influenced Indian literature and culture. In 1913, he became the first non-European to receive the Nobel Prize in Literature, largely for his poetry collection Gitanjali. He also wrote the words that became the national anthems of both India and Bangladesh. Clouds are usually associated with approaching storms, darkness, and uncertainty. In Tagore’s imagery, however, they no longer represent something to fear. Instead, the same clouds become part of a beautiful sunset. Nothing about the clouds themselves has necessarily changed; what has changed is the way they are perceived.
Life often works this way. Experiences that once seemed painful, disappointing, or disruptive can acquire a different meaning when viewed from a distance. A failure may eventually redirect us towards something better. A difficult period may reveal strengths we didn’t know we possessed. Even loss, while never becoming something we would have chosen, can deepen our appreciation for what remains. The reference to the “sunset sky” also carries a sense of maturity. As we accumulate experiences, perhaps we become less frightened by every approaching cloud. We learn that storms pass, circumstances change, and difficult moments are only one part of a much larger landscape. Some of the experiences that complicated our lives may even add depth, wisdom, and richness to the people we eventually become.Tagore’s words therefore aren’t about pretending hardship is beautiful. They are about perspective. We may not be able to choose every cloud that enters our lives, but with time, healing, and understanding, we may discover that even some of our darker experiences have added unexpected colours to our story.
This week, in verse 18.58, the Bhagavad Gita tells us that every life contains obstacles. Some are external: difficult circumstances, losses, disappointments, and unexpected changes. Others are internal: fear, anxiety, pride, and self-doubt. Krishna’s message is not that obstacles will disappear. Rather, it is that we need not face them alone. Whether we understand this verse in a spiritual sense or as a reminder to trust something larger than ourselves, the lesson remains powerful. Strength often comes from recognising that we do not carry every burden by ourselves. When we stop trying to control everything, we create space for wisdom, support, and grace to enter. Inner courage is not the absence of vulnerability. It is the willingness to move forward despite it.
This week I learned that authenticity is the key to living a life of freedom. When you let yourself be guided by your own inner truth instead of trying to fit expectations, life feels more fulfilling. You no longer feel pressured to maintain a curated version of your life or chase external narratives. The energy you once spent seeking approval can be redirected toward designing a life that makes you feel fully alive. The right opportunities and connections flow naturally to you when you choose yourself and stay grounded in who you are.
That’s all from me this week. Take care and remain positive because life is authentic!
Memories and Such 