Mindfulness

At the yoga studio, many people come and go. Often, you encounter newcomers who treat their first yoga class like a HIIT workout. They rush through transitions, sometimes literally jumping between poses (āsanas). In their minds, yoga seems less like a deliberate flow and more like a race to the finish line. They might substitute five rapid pushups for a single, controlled chaturanga (often missing the pose’s subtleties), and fly through their upward-facing dog without syncing movement to breath.

I was recently banned from Rover, a specialized craigslist website for finding pet sitters and dog walkers. They didn’t specify why exactly, though I know the walker claimed my dog bit her. I find this claim suspicious since my dogs have never bitten anyone before, certainly not hard enough to break skin, and her story contained several inconsistencies.

I was sitting on the subway the other day and glanced up from my book to notice something that shouldn’t be remarkable, yet somehow was: every single person in my line of sight was staring at their phone. This wasn’t the first time I’d observed this phenomenon, but something about this particular moment struck me differently. It wasn’t just that everyone was looking at their phones—it was the mechanical thumb-scrolling and the complete disconnection from their surroundings.

I’ve been thinking a lot about boredom lately—specifically, how we’ve become so good at avoiding it. We reach for our phones at the slightest hint of downtime, filling every possible moment with scrolling, tapping, and consuming. It’s as if we’ve collectively decided that being alone with our thoughts is some kind of punishment to be avoided at all costs.

Reflecting on the landscape of my past mistakes, I’ve noticed a consistent pattern: moments when my ego seized the controls and steered me off course. The abstract concept of “staying humble” sounds straightforward until we’re faced with real-world situations that challenge our self-image. Only when something valuable slips away do we fully grasp what humility might have preserved.

Last January, I found myself trudging through slush-filled streets, my fingers numb despite gloves, mentally calculating how many more weeks until spring. A bitter wind whipped between Manhattan’s buildings, creating urban wind tunnels that cut straight through my layers. I don’t love winter. It’s certainly my least favourite season. While I grew up in a relatively cold place with an unpleasant winter, I wouldn’t say I’m better adapted to it than anyone else. I do, however, have an appreciation for the seasons and I try to (begrudgingly) enjoy winter just as much as summer.

Take a walk on any given day these days, and instead of staring at your phone, try looking around. If you want to do this on hard mode, leave the phone at home if you can manage. You might discover a fascinating world unfolding around you that many of us miss while scrolling through our digital lives.

Yoga exemplifies the powerful intersection of exercise and meditation. When most people think of yoga, they picture the physical practice of āsanas (poses) and vinyāsa (flowing sequences)–the aspects that provide a workout. Yet yoga transcends mere physical activity; it’s simultaneously a philosophy, lifestyle, and spiritual practice that engages both body and mind.

At some point in recent history, travel transformed from a luxury into a cultural expectation. The rise of social media has dramatically changed how and why we travel. A 2019 study found that 40% of millennials choose travel destinations based on “Instagrammability” rather than cost or cultural experience1. While technology has proliferated travel information and made the world more accessible, it has also shifted our motivations in subtle ways.

“High hopes, low expectations” has become something of a personal mantra for me. I could probably build an entire comedy routine around this concept. Many people navigate through life perpetually disappointed for one simple reason: their expectations tower far above reality. Whether in relationships, careers, or personal endeavors, they set themselves up for endless disappointment by expecting perfection in an imperfect world.