The cheesecake I had for lunch still lingers in my stomach. The new watch that just arrived reminds me of earlier times. A small reminder of the present moment: simple, physical, ordinary.
I feel as if I am living in a world of quietness, introspection, and simplicity. There is less noise, less urgency. Instead, there is space to sit with thoughts and let them unfold slowly.
I find myself planning my future and contemplating the meaning of my life. I let different emotions wash over me — doubt, curiosity, excitement — while making sure that life continues moving through small actions.
Sometimes I wonder whether the passion we are told to pursue is, in part, a kind of illusion. The modern world urges us to “find our passion,” to chase it relentlessly, as if it were a product waiting to be purchased. Yet passion is often quieter and more personal than that. It grows slowly and privately, not always in the places where we are told to look.
What truly brings joy, I think, is the experience of encountering something new: a new world, a new field, a new kind of energy, even a new lifestyle. These are not things we simply buy or inherit, they are things we explore, choose, and learn about.
At the same time, I notice a strange change in myself. I have become almost too comfortable letting AI help me with things. It feels convenient, but also slightly unsettling. To explore and make use of this technology, it sometimes seems that I have to set aside a small part of myself — or at least pause my own inner voice for a moment. Perhaps the real challenge is not resisting the technology, nor surrendering to it completely, but learning how to use it without losing the quiet center of who we are.
Found something interesting: Socrates warned in Phaedrus that writing might weaken memory because people would rely on external texts.
Hannah Arendt wrote “Thinking itself is dangerous,”
RoofGazers 