Never imitate. The moment you copy someone you abandon yourself. And the world already has enough copies. CLC
Never imitate. The moment you copy someone you abandon yourself. And the world already has enough copies. CLC
You are not special because you are better than others. You are special because there is only one you. CLC
Sometimes you feel embarrassed about something you said or did. You replay it. Overthink it. But then I step back and ask myself - does it really matter? Most of it lives only in my head.
Look up at the stars for a second…and suddenly that “big” thing becomes very small.
Well said.
Truth is simple - story is what helps it reach us.
Thank you for sharing that about your father -
there’s something very powerful about being able to remember without so much pain.
And I appreciate the recommendation.
I took a quick look at Reaper Man - it feels like one of those quietly philosophical works wrapped in humor.
Adding it to my list.
I’ve noticed something. The deepest truths rarely sound complicated. The more someone tries to impress you with complexity, the more I start to doubt. Truth usually lands simple. Quiet. Almost too obvious. And that’s why many people miss it.
Thank you Lee
Those last weeks, I was driving to the hospital after work every day. Berries in one bag. Newspaper under the arm. Quietly slipping "Merci" chocolates to the nurses, sometimes with folded bills inside. Nobody asked me to do that. I just needed to feel like I was doing something. Anything…
I’m writing this down before my memory cleans it up. Because I’ve noticed something about my operating system… the harder the experience, the faster the sharp edges fade. Not the facts. The facts stay. But the weight of the moment - the cold, the hospital smell, the silence on the other end…
A year ago this week, my father died.
It feels like another lifetime. It also feels like yesterday. Both things are true at the same time - and I still don’t fully know what to do with that…
People keep asking: “When will I be happy?” “When will things finally work?” But maybe the wrong question is being asked. Maybe the shift happens when you stop asking what life will give you - and start noticing what is already moving through you.
Consciously Lost Club
People keep asking: “When will I be happy?” “When will things finally work?” But maybe the wrong question is being asked. Maybe the shift happens when you stop asking what life will give you - and start noticing what is already moving through you.
Consciously Lost Club
Sometimes we think we are searching for truth. But often we are just searching for someone to confirm what we already believe. Real learning starts when you allow yourself to be wrong. Not comfortable. But very clean.
I remember one evening years ago.
We were already in the car.
The engine warm.
Music low.
She asked where we were going.
I said I didn’t know yet.
We’d see what the road gave us.
It wasn’t playful.
It wasn’t meant to test her.
It was just true.
She didn’t like that.
She wanted something concrete…
One of the purest joys: seeing good people finally get what they've always deserved.
They grow. They receive. No jealousy - just quiet warmth.
Like watching fire catch properly after too long struggling with wet wood.
I’m not writing motivation. I’m not asking you to subscribe or follow. I’m not asking you to read me.
If this caught your attention, it’s probably because you don’t always know what to do either.
I wander. I drift. But I know my limits and my principles.
If that resonates, walk alongside.
Relationships. Work. Life. Soul. This is what I want to write about. Not theories - situations. At work. With partners. With friends. Being consciously lost doesn’t mean running away. It means allowing yourself to wander without abandoning your values. That’s the line I’m walking.
I don’t write to help you optimize your life.
I write about what happens
when optimization stops working.
When principles cost you people.
When loyalty isn’t rewarded.
When being honest is inconvenient.
No gurus. No soft advice.
Just real stories and better questions.
Essays →