Mindfulness

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.

Personal growth requires honest assessment of our blind spots, biases, and behavioral patterns that might be holding us back. In my many conversations with strangers, I’ve recently made a conscious effort to listen more and speak less. This seemingly simple shift has proven remarkably powerful for understanding others and, somewhat surprisingly, myself. People reveal extraordinary depths when given adequate space and your attentive silence. Strategic questions help navigate the conversation, but what truly matters is creating space for others to express themselves—and most people will naturally fill conversational gaps if you allow them.

Forming habits is surprisingly easy. Breaking them is often less difficult than we initially believe, with notable exceptions like nicotine addiction, which is notoriously challenging to overcome. I read Tiny Habits by BJ Fogg, which despite its verbosity, presents a solid core concept: begin with small, manageable actions and gradually build until behaviors become automatic. The inverse applies to breaking habits—quitting abruptly frequently fails, while incremental reduction often proves more effective.

Being present means consciously inhabiting the current moment—experiencing life as it unfolds without the constant intrusion of past regrets or future anxieties. This state of attentional presence forms a cornerstone of numerous spiritual and philosophical traditions, from Buddhism and mindfulness practice to Stoicism. It’s also foundational to evidence-based therapeutic approaches like cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), which teaches patients to anchor awareness in the present rather than spiraling into maladaptive thought patterns.

There’s a trope in New York City that you can identify tourists from their propensity to walk around staring up at the tall buildings. This isn’t necessarily meant to be interpreted literally, but rather it’s more about the fact that the tourists are fully present—taken aback by everything to look at, much of which is in the upward direction depending on where you are in the city.

I’m learning to get better at being bored. There have been times when I actively avoided boredom, in particular in my childhood I thought of boredom as a bad thing. I still tend to fill free time with “activities” more than I should. My go-to boredom fillers include reading, writing, taking walks, watching TV or movies (as much as I hate to admit it), and occasionally a video game (which, unlike TV, requires some degree of active participation).