#lucky-day

#lucky-day

Social anxiety and depression had other plans, leaving me in an ugly cycle of self-isolation and rumination. Terrified of rejection, I'd meet someone interesting during one of my English lectures and invite them out for frozen yogurt in my head.

Devon Hase states, 'People are trying desperately to fix, optimize, or escape their way out of relationship difficulty - and suffering more for the effort. Social media has made this worse! We're surrounded by images of perfect partnerships while quietly drowning in our own ordinary struggles.' This highlights the pressure couples feel in the age of social media.

You're allowed to enjoy nice things. Both elements—the nice things and being allowed them—were equally important. She was a fervent believer in the restorative power of a treat, taking herself out for solo breakfasts most weeks (a bacon muffin and a cup of coffee in the cosseted calm of Bettys Tea Rooms), ordering chips at the slightest provocation, staying in chic hotels she had a pre-internet gift for ferreting out and being coaxed by department store salesladies into buying expensive unguents.

And then I was sitting by the water's edge at a cafe, watching the houseboats bob by, when I realised: I was literally totally fine. No one stared, no one cared, and I had the whole afternoon ahead of me to be used entirely at my leisure. It wasn't lonely, I realised, but peaceful.

The following by John Steinbeck supports a well-lived life. "Greatness lies in the one who triumphs equally over defeat and victory." Steinbeck is encouraging us to risk fully participating in life, with both defeat and victory being inevitable. It means living life on life's terms, doing what we can to minimize being defeated by either defeat or victory. Let's look more closely at what it means to be defeated by defeat.

The oil tycoon J. Paul Getty was rumoured to have said that his three rules for how to become rich were: Rise early. Work hard. Strike oil. It's one of those eminently quotable remarks because it captures something we all know to be true, that luck and chance have as much to do with success as anything else. Yet we don't value people for their luck.

In the interview, Tweedy dropped a line that's been echoing in my head, "Do not postpone happiness." This is so deceptively simple yet psychologically sharp, and it rings true to how I try to live my life. Most of us don't mean to delay joy. We tell ourselves we're being responsible: After this deadline...after the kids are older...After I lose the weight...After I finally feel less anxious...then I'll really live.

As an Asian-American kid growing up to an immigrant mom in North Carolina, I was taught to follow the rules (no exceptions). I was a Boy Scout, graduated top of my class and was hired by Goldman Sachs immediately after graduating undergrad. I had followed what I thought was the "right" path. I was living in the greatest city in the world (New York City, of course) and working at one of the best companies in the world ... but none of it felt right.

I thrive in unfamiliar environments and get a kick out of last-minute plans and spontaneous adventures. So, it's hardly surprising I became an almost-accidental "digital nomad" - a term I've always found incredibly cringe-inducing, for the record. By "accidental," I mean it happened gradually. From weekend trips from London to Marrakech and Marseille, to a month in Barcelona, and six weeks exploring Europe by train, the more I traveled, the more I wanted to see.

People at peace with aging don't stop exploring. They take up watercolor painting at fifty-five. They join book clubs discussing genres they've never read. They learn new technologies instead of complaining about them. This isn't about proving anything to anyone. It's about maintaining that sense of wonder that keeps life interesting. When you're genuinely engaged with learning something new, you spend less time lamenting what used to be.

An old definition of the word fate is "the will of the gods." We might say that it is a fitting metaphor, as it suggests that fate comes from a source much larger than ourselves. Its immensity will stretch way beyond what is in our control. We can ask: How can we create a life that reflects our dreams and what we hold to be important, when so much lies outside our sphere of influence?

One of the more unexpected tools now circulating in these high-pressure circles is tapping - a technique involving rhythmic stimulation of specific points on the body, paired with focused language, to influence mental and emotional states. Advocates claim it can restore clarity and control in minutes, whilst sceptics are sure to brand the technique as 'woo-woo'. The truth, as ever, sits somewhere between the two.

These three relationships started the old-fashioned way (forget the apps), with romantic stories that could have been lifted straight from a rom-com

What's the big idea? Why do we fall into the same patterns-whether that's people-pleasing, perfectionism, or emotional numbing-even when we know they're not good for us? These strategies help us feel safe, but replacing that armor with inner strength lets us move with freedom instead of fear. Listen to the audio version of this Book Bite-read by Kati herself-in the Next Big Idea App. 1. Control is a survival strategy.

Twice a month, I go to my eye doctor for injections that slow the loss of my vision. The waiting room is always filled with quiet tension-fearful eyes, deep breaths, people trying not to crumble. I sit and breathe, waiting for my name to be called. And every time, without fail, there is a woman-maybe in her late fifties or early sixties-who enters already furious. Before she even sits down, she's fighting with the receptionist.

When I visited flourishing groups, I noticed that being with them felt different. They possessed a vibrancy, a switched-on responsiveness that showed up in their bodies. Their posture, in general, was relaxed; their heads were up and their interactions were fluid. Aliveness was the word I kept writing in my notebook: a feeling of being carried along in a river of energy that was headed somewhere good.

There is a particular form of blindness that afflicts the fortunate-a blindness to the quiet miracles of ordinary existence. We walk through our days surrounded by what a patient once called "unexperienced happiness," moving through gifts we no longer recognize as gifts, breathing blessings we've forgotten are blessings. It often takes a brush with loss to restore our sight. This is a meditation that can perhaps grant us more mindfulness than hundreds of seminars. It's about the obvious that we sometimes simply no longer see.