The general rule seems to be this: the more abstract we make an event – that is, the more we see it in terms of its meaning to the mind, rather than how it feels to the senses – the greater the psychological pain that is created. The more we can zoom into the direct experience, and refrain from engaging with the story around it, the less of a pain in the ass it is.

It should be plain to anyone that for every concern that is duly handled, another emerges to replace it. Yet we are so prone to looking at our list of worldly concerns as if it is something finite that we can conquer. I suppose it is finite, but do you really want to be done with it? Strangely, the more I’m okay with everything being not quite okay, the better I am at moving the little things along to a place where they do feel okay.

It must have been a day of the purest pain and sadness, yet at some apparently forgettable moment, the horror went away, and now he’s joking around and it’s a normal day again. In this sense, time functions as a kind of true alchemy — it can dissolve any experience, no matter how permanent it seems as it’s happening, and replace it with another. sunny moments in the backyard in which nothing seems to be wrong.

Even when you’re browsing a website by yourself in your dim apartment, you’re doing it alongside many other real, physical people.

So if you feel inadequate whenever some form of the “achievement Olympics” comes up, don’t. We live in a society that is assesses people by what their lives produce, not what it takes to live them. Inner work is ignored unless it explains some outer work.

So even a little familiarity—the amount you gain from one steely sit-down with the thing—can dislodge major chunks of fear. For good.

As one astute tweet put it, “1999: there are thousands of websites, all hyperlinked together. 2019: there are four websites, each filled with screenshots of the other three.” ​ I just let the ideas fly. People did relate, usually, although—importantly, I think—sometimes they didn’t. That was okay, and expected. I was just saying things. ​ Long live the blog. Long live straightforwardly sharing what’s in our hearts.

That thought — Do I like who I am while I’m doing this? — has visited me a few times a year ever since, and I’m finally seeing how crucial a question it is. ​ Years can pass before you notice something’s wrong ​ This deficit only intensifies the need for comfort and gratification, and you gravitate towards more of it, when what you really need is more of the alternative. ​ We all have those moments where we feel like we’ve gotten away from our best selves. We might not know what’s gone wrong, but it’s clear something’s gone off, and we know we have to step back and reassess what’s important. ​ Self-esteem seems inextricably linked to the specific feelings of identity we get from the activities that make up our days. ​ Often, the healthy, fulfilling things we’ve drifted away from are things whose significance probably wouldn’t occur to us, until we start doing them again and see how much they contributed to our well-being ​ Compared to admonishing yourself to smarten up or try harder, this is like navigating life with a map and compass, rather than simply moving toward whatever terrain looks most inviting from where you are.

Going deeper rather than wider changed everything. But not in the way I expected.

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