Issue No. 92

As I grow older, I find myself yearning for something that once seemed so distant—an inner stillness, a deep-rooted contentment that no trophy, praise, or milestone could ever provide. Looking back on my younger years, I see now how much of my life was spent chasing after achievements, believing they would fill the void within me. Yet, despite the accolades and rewards, satisfaction always remained just out of reach. My mind was a restless machine, perpetually searching for the next conquest, never allowing itself to rest.

Growing up, I was fiercely competitive—not because I loved competition, but because I craved validation. I believed that success would earn me the admiration and approval I longed for from my parents. And while their praise brought temporary gratification, it was never enough. Each victory only fueled the fire for more. If I won one race, I wanted to win the next. If I excelled at school, I pushed harder to be the best in extracurriculars. The cycle was endless, and with each new goal came another layer of pressure. Nothing satisfied me fully, and nothing lasted long enough to quiet the relentless voice inside my head telling me to keep going, to do better, to achieve more.

For years, my mind operated like a hamster wheel, spinning endlessly without pause. There was no room for stillness, no space to simply be. Even moments of triumph felt hollow, overshadowed by the anxiety of what came next. I didn’t realize then that this constant striving wasn’t bringing me closer to happiness; it was pulling me further away from it. By fixating on the future, I missed the beauty of the present—the laughter shared with friends, the warmth of family dinners, the simple joy of sitting quietly under the sun. These were the things that truly mattered, yet they slipped through my fingers unnoticed.

Now, as I navigate adulthood, I feel the weight of those years pressing down on me. The pressures I once thrived under now feel suffocating. Responsibilities pile up, time moves faster than I can grasp, and the energy I once had for relentless ambition has waned. What I crave now is not another achievement or recognition—it’s peace. A mindful, silent prosperity that doesn’t demand anything in return. I want to savor every moment, to breathe deeply and fully inhabit the here and now, because I know how quickly time slips away.

When I was younger, I couldn’t wait to grow up. Adulthood seemed like the ultimate prize, the culmination of all my efforts. I dreamed of independence, of being free to make my own choices and carve my own path. But now that I’m here, I understand the bittersweet irony of growing older. Time speeds up when you least expect it. Days blur into weeks, months into years, and before you know it, half your life has passed you by. Responsibilities multiply, and the simplicity of childhood feels like a distant memory. Now, instead of rushing forward, I wish I could slow down—to stretch each second into eternity and hold onto the people and experiences that bring meaning to my life.

This shift in perspective hasn’t come easily. It’s taken years of burnout, reflection, and self-awareness to recognize that peace isn’t something you achieve through external means. You can’t buy it, win it, or earn it. Peace comes from within, from learning to let go of the need to constantly prove yourself. It’s about embracing who you are, flaws and all, and finding joy in the ordinary. It’s about valuing relationships over accolades, presence over productivity, and gratitude over greed.

But there’s a deeper truth I’ve come to understand: our brains aren’t wired for constant happiness. Evolutionary psychology reveals that the human brain has a negativity bias—studies show it responds more actively to negative stimuli than positive ones. As neuropsychologist Rick Hanson explains, the brain clings to negativity like Velcro but lets positivity slide off like Teflon. This design helped early humans survive by focusing on threats rather than pleasures. Happiness, then, isn’t meant to be a default state—it’s fleeting, momentary, and dependent on external conditions.

Peace, however, transcends these fluctuations. When you’re at peace, you cultivate gratitude for what is, regardless of external circumstances. Whether burdened by challenges or basking in ease, you trust in your ability to endure. Inner peace grants clarity, allowing you to see beyond the chaos of the moment. It’s far more enduring than fleeting happiness or pleasure—it’s the essence of resilience.

I’ve started practicing mindfulness, carving out moments in my day to sit quietly and simply exist. At first, it felt strange—almost uncomfortable—to stop moving, to silence the chatter in my mind. But over time, I’ve come to cherish these pauses. They remind me that life isn’t a race to be won; it’s a journey to be savored. Whether it’s watching the sunrise with a cup of coffee, listening to rain tap against the window, or sharing heartfelt conversations with loved ones, these small moments hold true peace.

If I could speak to my younger self, I’d say: “Slow down. Take a breath. Your worth isn’t tied to achievements—it’s inherent.” Growing older has taught me that life isn’t about accumulating victories; it’s about balance, gratitude, and nurturing the soul. Peace isn’t passive—it’s a choice to release the past, quiet anxieties about the future, and embrace the beauty of now. Though I can’t slow time, I can choose how I spend it. Today, I choose peace.

Until next week,