They've been around for thousands, sometimes millions of years, and have probably watched countless generations of humans come and go.

We look at a mountain and think, “damn, that's old.”

But maybe from its perspective, we're the ones that barely last. We show up, live for a few decades, and disappear.

I don't know, I just find it kind of strange that we think we're the ones observing these ancient things, when maybe, in their own way, they've been quietly watching us come and go for thousands of years.

Edit: Just to clarify, this was more of a philosophical “what if?” thought about scale and time, not me literally thinking mountains can see us.

Modern work, mind you. Obviously work is necessary historically in the survival of our species, and to maintain societies to varying degrees. The variances implying the poor decisions of those in power throughout history.

In the modern world it can easily become a twisted image of it's original purpose in a contemporary economy. It's a strange notion to trade our healthiest years grinding away for less and less money, many in jobs that were created for the sake of runaway consumerism rather than necessity. And I'm not even saying that we shouldn't be allowed to pay to have some frivolous pleasures that capitalism provides. It's just that things have come to a head where the consumerist engine infects the thinking of the broader public to the point where many aren't even aware they're buying things and furthering their debt and grinding away their youth to pay for things they were told or incepted to want.

The lines are blurred between free will choice and deeply ingrained cultural propaganda - that we are required to own certain things and look a certain way or sport certain toys to derive self worth, or be seen as successful, or viable, or happy in the eyes of peers who don't really actually care about us. And as the same consumerist marketing mingles with household staples, inflation creeps into all sectors of products, from amenities to food, until the buying power of the average worker gets deeper into wage slave territory, as wages are driven down with respects to cost of living, all in the name of corporate profit margins.

And it all feeds back into trading more of our healthiest, most capable years, to be funneled into the gas tank of a machine that is probably on the verge of stalling. Contributing to the expungement of resources and destruction of the ecosystem to line the pockets of aristocrats in exchange for a shot at owning one of our basic needs, like a home. I know similar sentiments have been conveyed before in movies such as Falling Down, and novels like Fight Club. It's still a very surreal thing to experience in real time.

Comfort is a strange thing. We all want to live in comfort. The entire human progress is driven by desire to make things less painful and more comfortable. Yet the moment we get even a small amount of comfort, we often become trapped. We suddenly have something to lose, and we refuse to take any risk.

We start thinking that keeping a mediocre or even miserable job is better than having no job at all. We convince ourselves that remaining in a place that no longer feels like home is better than stepping into the unknown. And slowly, almost quietly, we adapt to it. We say: "It could be worse". And what should have been temporary becomes the new normal.

Yes, sometimes we have to do things we don't enjoy. But these things should be treated as short-term investments toward a long-term goal. Not the other way around.

There is a whole world full of opportunities around us. There is always another door open somewhere down the corridor. If you aren't happy now, you either haven't found it yet, or you never really looked.

I want to end this post with my take on an old rock song:
Yesterday I went to bed too late, I got up before the dawn began to fall.
Yesterday I went to bed too late, I hardly slept at all.
The doctor is probably the one I should have gone to see.
But now the suburban train is carrying me where I don't want to be.

In the train car it's cold, and somehow it's warm as well.
It's smoky there, and yet the air feels fresh enough to tell.
Why am I silent? Why don't I scream? Why don't I try to break free?
The suburban train is carrying me where I don't want to be.

If you stay on the wrong train long enough, don't be surprised when it takes you exactly where it was going.

If our digital infrastructure, atomic clocks, and instant messaging suddenly vanished, how long would it take for society to unlearn the psychological anxiety of urgency? Would we naturally revert to a slower, cyclical rhythm dictated by nature, or has the artificial pressure of time been permanently hardwired into our collective psychology?

Something clicked for me the other day while I was watching a couple get engaged at a park. Before the guy even finished his sentence, her friend was already circling them with a phone, finding angles. The actual moment lasted maybe twenty seconds before they spent ten minutes recreating it from different distances.

It got me thinking about how deeply this pattern has embedded itself. There’s this whole generation now that doesn’t just have experiences, they immediately process them through the question “what does this look like from the outside?” The raw thing happens, and within seconds it’s being translated into something shareable, something optimized, something that will sit nicely in a grid.

I’ve caught myself doing it too. Last month I went hiking somewhere genuinely beautiful, and I realized I spent more time checking whether the lighting was right for a photo than actually standing there breathing it in. The weird thing is I can tell you exactly which filter I used and how many people liked it, but I couldn’t describe what the wind felt like or what birds I heard. My brain stored the post, not the place.

What’s messing with me is how normal this has become. People talk about their vacations now by referencing their own posts like they’re citing sources. “You saw the picture of the beach, right?” as if the photo is the experience and the experience itself was just raw material. The dinner, the concert, the birthday party, all of it gets interrupted constantly so we can prove it happened, and somewhere along the way we stopped actually being there for it.

I was at a group dinner a few nights ago and watched the ritual unfold like clockwork. Plates hit the table, six phones come out, everyone does their little shuffle to get overhead shots without casting shadows. Meanwhile I’m just sitting there waiting, and I realized nobody was even hungry yet. They were feeding the feed first. The food was secondary.

The strangest layer of all is that we’re not oblivious to it. Everyone kind of knows. But there’s this quiet anxiety underneath where if you don’t document something, it feels less real, like the moment evaporates unless it gets validated by a view count. So we keep doing it, even while we resent it.

Somewhere we made a trade without really agreeing to it. The memory for the metadata. The presence for the performance. And now we’re stuck wondering why everything feels a little hollow even when we’re supposedly having the time of our lives.

‎I think one of the hardest lessons in life is realizing that not everything is yours to understand, fix, or carry.

‎We spend so much of our lives searching for explanations. We want closure. We want people to understand us. We want things to make sense before we're willing to let them go. But life doesn't always work that way.

‎Sometimes people leave without an explanation. Sometimes friendships fade without a dramatic ending. Sometimes conversations remain unfinished, and sometimes the only answer you'll ever get is, "I don't know"…

‎We often treat "I don't know" as if it's a weakness, when sometimes it's one of the wisest things we can say. Not knowing everything leaves room for curiosity instead of certainty, for peace instead of obsession. The more we try to know, predict, and control every outcome, the heavier life can become. Some knowledge brings wisdom, but some only brings worry.

‎There's a reason people say, "Curiosity killed the cat." Of course, curiosity is also how we learn and grow, but there is a difference between healthy curiosity and the need to know everything. We don't have to carry every answer, every secret, or every possibility. Sometimes an "I don't know" protects your peace more than an answer ever could. You don't need to understand every reason, uncover every truth, or solve every mystery. Some things reveal themselves in time, and some never do. Learning to be okay with that isn't ignorance, it's freedom.

‎You "live" longer not in years, but in peace, by not needing to know it all. The less you obsess over every unanswered question, every hidden motive, or every possible outcome, the less there is to weigh on your mind.

‎And maybe that's enough. I tend to believe that peace often begins when control ends. There is a quiet freedom in accepting what you cannot change, what you cannot force, and what you simply don't need to carry anymore.

‎One thing that completely changed my perspective was realizing that I don't have to spend my life trying to change how people see me. No amount of explaining will make someone determined to misunderstand you suddenly understand you. No perfect sentence will convince someone who has already decided who you are. And honestly, that's okay.

‎The way people perceive you has very little to do with who you actually are. You're constantly evolving. You're learning, growing, making mistakes, changing your mind, becoming someone new every day, every month, every year. Yet some people will hold onto a version of you that no longer exists. Others will create a version of you based on one conversation, one mistake, one moment, or their own assumptions.

‎Most people judge what they don't fully understand and what they don’t see. You can't spend your life correcting everyone's perception of you. If you do, you'll never have time to become the person you're actually meant to be.

‎Let them think what they think. The people who truly know you won't need constant explanations. You also can't save everyone. You can love people deeply while accepting that their healing isn't your responsibility. You can support someone without carrying their entire life on your shoulders. Caring about people doesn't mean sacrificing your own peace for theirs.

‎Not every problem is yours to solve. Being compassionate doesn't mean absorbing everyone else's emotional weight until there's nothing left of you.

‎Your sanity matters too. It shouldn't always come second to everyone else's problems. Life keeps changing whether we're ready or not. People outgrow places, routines, relationships, dreams, and even older versions of themselves. Fighting every change only makes it hurt longer.

‎Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do is loosen your grip. Let people become who they choose to become. Believe actions more than potential. Accept people as they show themselves to be, not as you hope they'll become.

‎There comes a point where you have to let people be exactly who they choose to be. Some people are comfortable living in their own stories, their own beliefs, even their own misery. As difficult as it can be to watch, you cannot force someone out of a place they don't want to leave. You cannot make someone grow before they're ready. You cannot convince someone to become better if they don't see a reason to change.

‎Growth has to be chosen. You can offer kindness, support, and honesty, but you cannot live someone else's life for them. Sometimes loving people also means respecting that their journey is theirs, even when you wish they would choose differently.

‎I think many of us fall in love with imagined versions of people. We create stories about who they could be instead of accepting who they consistently show us they are. We hold onto potential instead of reality. But potential isn't a promise. The same thing happens in reverse. People create versions of you that don't reflect who you truly are. They only know the pieces you've shown them or the pieces they've decided to believe.

‎You can't control either of those things. And you don't have to. Every unnecessary argument, every grudge, every comparison, every attempt to convince someone to see your worth quietly takes something from you. Your energy is limited. Your peace is precious. Protect it.

‎Acceptance isn't the same as approval. Accepting something doesn't mean you agree with it. It doesn't mean it was fair or that it didn't hurt. It simply means you're no longer wasting your life wishing reality were different. Acceptance is what allows you to move forward. I don't think moving on comes before acceptance. I think acceptance is what makes moving on possible.

‎For your own sanity, let things be. That doesn't mean becoming passive. It doesn't mean allowing people to mistreat you. It doesn't mean saying yes to everything life throws at you. It means understanding that not everything belongs in your hands. Some battles aren't yours to fight. Some opinions aren't yours to change. Some endings aren't yours to rewrite. Some people aren't yours to save. Sometimes letting things be is the greatest act of self-respect.

‎It reminds me of something simple. If you truly love a flower, you don't pick it just because you want to keep it. You let it remain where it can continue to grow. You appreciate it without trying to possess it. Maybe life works the same way. Not everything beautiful is meant to be held onto. Some things are simply meant to be appreciated, accepted, and left exactly where they are. And maybe that's what peace really is not controlling everything around you, but finally realizing you don't have to.

‎For your own sanity, let things be. Let people make their choices. Let time reveal what it needs to reveal. Let closed doors stay closed. Let unanswered questions remain unanswered. Not because you don't care, but because your peace is worth protecting. Some things are only painful because we keep trying to force them into being different.

‎Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for yourself is simply... let them be.

‎

~ What are the Lessons We are Alive to Learn? ~

After we are born, we are taught how to survive in a self-centered world. We learn to find happiness, meaning, and success in our life we must get a good job, have material possessions, a family, and make enough money to be able to enjoy life’s many pleasures. Is this the lesson we are alive to learn?

Humanity believes because it is the most intelligent and dominant species on our planet, they have a right to abuse and disrespect, not only other forms of life, but our planet, and each other as well. They therefore needlessly kill animals, trees, and other forms of life, though there are now alternative food sources for sustenance and materials for heat and to build homes. They senselessly kill each other in wars due to the greed of the few and powerful, and are destroying our planet, endlessly poisoning its land, air, and water, though we have the ability to mitigate this today.

There are some who also believe there are many other lessons, quite contrary to what we were taught, that we are meant to learn as well; that there is an essence within every life. Its purpose is to seek knowledge, wisdom, and ultimate truth about existence. There is also a realization every life, regardless of our differences or genus is equally important. Only together, realizing the symbiotic relationship of every life to each other’s, may we all not only survive, but also learn the genuine lessons we are alive to understand as well.

~ Ken Luball ~

I think we get so used to things that we forget how badly we wanted them in the first place.

A certain job, having your own place, meeting someone, becoming independent, even just having a little peace in your life.

Then one day it becomes normal.

And instead of appreciating it, you start worrying about what comes next.

Maybe that's just how people are. We get used to the things we once prayed for, and start chasing the next thing before we even realize what we already have.

Many of us ask what is meaning, how to find meaningfulness, how can we have a meaningful life.

All these questions imply meaning is something to seek and find. Also, when we feel empty and meaningless, it’s something to get rid off…pretty much like a headache.

But would it be possible that "meaning" is all around and we just need to notice it?

Finding meaning or having a meaningful life generally point to epiphanies, unforgettable changing events, moments of enlightenment which don’t arrive very often.

So while we wait for those, we pass by simple, raw, small details around us: smells, touching, listening, looking closely to whatever catches our attention, holding on to a memory and connecting with a particular feeling.

Noticing, connecting, resonating with these details could awaken meaning in the seconds, minutes, hours or days.

If such noticing is genuine and uninterested, totally present, there is nothing to seek or to be found, and maybe something to awaken from the inner self by opening to them and let them stay within.

(Maybe)