When you think of life as only a checklist, a system to optimise, a ladder to climb. You're on a slippery slope, my friend. Life is beneath your feet, in the grass, in the breath you just took.
There's no final
version of you waiting in the future. The version of you that has it all figured out doesn't exist. And that's not a failure — it's the invitation.
You're here not just to execute but to experience.
I've been guilty of this. Tying my peace to productivity. Thinking I'll finally exhale when the next draft is done, when the book is out and when the feedback is
good. But that kind of peace always has a condition. And peace with conditions isn't peace — it's a performance.
Singer talks about becoming whole by accepting life as is. Not by fixing, forcing, or fighting it. But by stopping long enough to actually feel it.
That's when life becomes real, making me a better
writer.
I find that when I slow down, I start noticing things again — the rhythms, the symbols, the tiny miracles we take for granted. The way a shadow falls across the desk. The way music changes your mood without permission, the way a moment is shared with someone you love can be more nourishing than any accomplishment.
That's life
talking. That's the experience Singer is pointing to.
It's not an escape from pain, either. It's a willingness to be touched by it.
Rainer Maria Rilke said, "Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final."
In fiction, I build
worlds where characters evolve by confronting their realities — not escaping them. That's not just good storytelling. That's real life.
The heartbreaks, the losses, the quiet disappointments — they don't stop you from living. In fact, they may be the most alive you've ever felt.
We evolve not by running from the present but by surrendering to it.
When you're in "doing" mode all the time, you're in the future. When you're always chasing, you forget to arrive.
Alan Watts once said, "Life is not a problem to be solved, but an experience to be had."
Amen to that!
I still work. I still strive. But I no longer mistake the doing for the meaning.
The real work isn't what I produce. It's how I live. How open am I to the moment. How much of me is actually here.
Singer's wisdom reminds us that life is the point. Not just the success. Not just the achievement. Not the neatly tied-up narrative but
everything. This breath. This moment. This awareness.
So don't abandon your life in the name of progress, that is a price not worth paying.
Don't miss the moonlight while chasing the sun.
Don't forget that the thing you're searching for might already be here — waiting
quietly in the background, hoping you'll pause long enough to notice it.
This life — raw, unfinished, imperfect — is not something to get through.
It's something that's with you now.
And the moment you remember that? That's when you come alive again.
Peace, love and power.
