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I met my younger self for coffee today.
She was an hour late, but I came in a little early.

“She must be choosing her shoes.”
I thought to myself as I scribbled in my diary.

Finally, she walked in with her glowing face and glimmering confidence.
I waved at her as she continued to look for me in the corner.

She was dressed in vibrant bold red.
I preferred the quiet confidence of black.

She waltzed in her six-inch glittery black stilettos
while I sat comfortably in my white sneakers.

Her bag was so perfect but too tiny for me.
I showed her mine, full of dreams and limitless possibilities.

She carried a book with her; of course, she loved reading so much.
I showed her the first one I published.

Her eyes were filled with countless questions.
I smiled at her and said, “You’ll find out.”

She was careful, measuring her words, always trying to please.
I told her to be honest and let things be.

Her coffee order was dolce with extra sugar.
Mine was hazelnut with no syrup.

She wanted to try every path.
I advised her to choose one and go with all her heart.

She feared so many things.
I reminded her to believe in herself.

She held onto regrets and traumas I can barely recall now.
I told her to let go and see the magic in freedom.

She dreamed of achieving a million things.
I smiled and said, “Let’s settle for ten thousand, please.”

She showed me the places on her bucket list.
I showed her the pictures of those on my phone.

She was both a mess and a masterpiece.
A tear rolled down my right eye as I saw, for the first time, so much beauty in chaos.

She loved roses.
I loved peonies.

She cared a little too much about how she appeared.
I reminded her that beauty always reflects from within.

She poured herself into others, always giving.
I told her, “That’s not my cup of coffee anymore.”

She was always a good writer but didn’t know where to start.
I showed her the first book that inspired me to write.

She was afraid to tell her story.
I placed a little courage in her hands.

She was hesitant to let the world in.
I whispered, “Open up, it’s okay.”

She was surrounded by laughter, by voices filling the space around her.
I introduced her to my own sweet little world.

She bragged a little about the loved ones who always had her back.
I wanted to tell her about the people who stayed when the seasons change.

She was fearless but afraid of losing too much.
I reminded her not to lose herself while holding on too tight.

She wanted all the answers at once.
I taught her to trust the unfolding.

She was bruised a little, carrying her pain quietly.
I helped her write it down instead.

She still smiled through her pain, keeping it like a secret.
I reminded her, “It’s okay to cry too.”

She always picked a corner seat far away and safe.
I taught her how to make her own place.

She looked a little anxious sometimes.
I taught her to slow down and breathe.

Her room was overflowing with chic bags and glittery heels.
Mine was filled with space – and a lot of space.

She looked at me in shock. “That could never be me,” she said.
I smiled but couldn’t disagree.

She absorbed everything carefully, taking it all in like a sponge.
I taught her how to let it all out into words.

She hesitated, just like she always did.
But for the first time, she wanted to try.

She carried so much stuff, thinking she needed it all.
I showed her my magical bag – full of love, memories and so many sparkles.

Her calendar was packed with a million things.
I reminded her to add a few “do nothing” days.

She loved being on the top of the world – with tall skyscrapers and city lights.
I laughed and said, “Wait until you get on that pole.”

She always searched for love in people and places.
I showed her the tattoo on my shoulder.

She played me her playlist.
I told her, I still listened to hers whenever I missed her.

She loved dressing her barbie dolls.
And I showed her the same in my wardrobe.

She was afraid to share everything with her mom.
I told her, “Mom is my best friend now.”

She painted sunsets in her drawing book.
I showed her the most picturesque view outside my window.

She always waited for people to include her in their plans.
I showed her how to create her own.

She doubted me a little.
So, I handed her one of my magical pouches.

She peeked inside and found nothing but glitter.
I smiled and whispered, “I gave you the magic. You’ll fill it up yourself.”

As she hurried off to her next plan, she apologized once again for being fashionably late.
I smiled and thanked her wholeheartedly, for giving me the perfect moment to write my favorite piece.

P.S. This poem is inspired by Jennae Cecelia’s Deep in My Feels.
I’d love to see your version of it!

Okay, I must confess — I am not the best with directions sometimes.

Most of the time, maybe.

But not all the time.

There’s still that 0.0001% when I’m actually right. But I don’t brag about it.

But maybe, just maybe, life isn’t about always knowing the way. Maybe it’s about getting lost, seeing unexpected sights, taking the longest route, and realizing that even wrong turns can lead to the right moments.

This poem is for everyone who has ever felt lost — whether on the road or in life.

My Left or Your Right?

You say go left, I heard, go right,

Now I am more lost, but what a beautiful sight!

You point this way, and I take that one.

Maps confuse me, what’s North or South?

Just say left or right!

“Wait, my left or your right?”

Turn around? Maybe try again?

Wait… wasn’t this where I began?

Okay, nonetheless – let’s start again!

So, my North is your South, and your East is my West,

Which way’s faster? Let’s just take a guess!

But wasn’t the last guess a complete mess?

I give up and just took the longest way,

I’ll get there… MAYBE someday.

Or maybe I won’t. But who really can tell?

And speaking of getting lost… I just finished writing my next book, all because I got completely lost on my Japan trip last year. What was meant to be a straightforward journey turned into an adventure of wrong turns, beautiful surprises, and unexpected inspiration.

Maybe that’s the beauty of it all — sometimes, we need to take the wrong path to find the right story.

When was the last time you were completely lost but found something incredibly beautiful?

Elegance in darkness? They would call me silly to admire the darkness in life…

Whenever you think of the word dark, what’s the first emotion that comes to your mind? Hopelessness? Fear? Uncertainty? Or if you’re going through a rough, bumpy road, you might also relate it to pain. That’s what I exactly thought as I stepped into the elevator on my way to work this morning. The elevator was dark, but its edges glowed with soft, beaming lights — just like my thoughts, flickering between shadow and clarity.

My mind was clouded with thoughts, swirling with affirmations to forgive myself and others as I move on to this new chapter in life. A chapter I want to be beautiful. A chapter I will make beautiful.

Since I came in a little early, I wanted to spend this time reading something good — or at least that’s what the app on my phone reminded me to do. And what are the odds that the book I opened was In Praise of Shadows by Jun’ichirō Tanizaki?

A book that speaks volumes about the shadows and darkness.

And the best thing I read in it was — elegance in darkness — and it just stuck with me.

Like how important it is to be in the dark, where no one can find you. Or even try to find you if they wanted to.

Of course, it’s painful. It’s full of uncertainty. The weight of it sits heavy on your chest, thick with the clouds of anxiety and questions no one seems to have answers for. But nobody talks about how important it is to experience this pain.

You won’t know the light unless you have passed through the darkest tunnel.

You won’t look within unless the world has shut all its doors in your face.

You won’t find the resilience within you unless you’ve battled the kind of emotions that pull you down like a sinking stone, dragging you to the bed of the ocean, deeper than you ever thought you could go.

You won’t discover your own strength unless you’ve had to hold yourself up when there was nothing left to lean on.

You won’t see the rainbows unless you’ve stood through the storm.

Why does no one talk about the elegance of darkness?

And the person you become after you pass through the darkest storms?

Maybe because it’s not seen. It’s felt. And if you’re in the tunnel right now, don’t rush through it. There’s elegance in the darkness too. The kind of elegance you’ll see only when you reach the end of this tunnel!

So hang in there, a little more. I promise it’s beautiful out here!

I was watching a TED talk this afternoon and the speaker’s vivid description of his life in prison really struck me. A former prisoner talked about how, in prison, you don’t have much control about what you do and how you live your life. You are told when to wake up, when to eat, when to exercise, and when to go to bed. Every minute is decided for you and you don’t have anything in your control.

And all of this suddenly hit me — And isn’t that eerily similar to how we live?

We follow the exact same routines every day — we wake up at the same time, go to work, meet deadlines, scroll through our phones, chase the same goals, and repeat. And, continue to repeat until we are exhausted and stuck. As stuck as the Hem who took an eternity to move out of the maze and finally choose a life of his dreams. We continue to lie ourselves that we have control because we’re the ones choosing this, but are we really? Or have we just accepted the rules that were set for us long before we even questioned them?

Aren’t we all the prisoners of our schedules and checklists and goals? Of our responsibilities and our expectations? And not just that — we are prisoners of our own minds. We believe we have to do things a certain way because that’s how it’s always been done and superimposed on us. We believe we have to run after success, stability, approval. But when do we stop and ask ourselves: What if I want something different? What if I want more than just a routine? What if I create my own path to get out of this never-ending maze?

The truth is, we won’t be set free until we decide to be. Until we give ourselves the gift to break the pattern. Maybe it’s waking up tomorrow and choosing to do one thing differently — taking a different route to work, starting a new hobby, saying no to something that drains us or simply adding a few minutes to reflect what we truly want. Maybe it’s questioning the beliefs we’ve been conditioned into for years. Maybe it’s understanding that freedom isn’t just about time; it’s about choices we make and paths we follow.

So, are we really free? Or have we just convinced ourselves that we are?

And more importantly — when will we finally set ourselves free?

Today started as one of those days I was sure would be productive.

FYI, it’s a Sunday, and I am silly to call it productive and I know it! Nonetheless, I had planned so much, and for a planner like me, that’s what keeps me going. But, as life always screams (which I always fail to listen), “No plan is also a good plan.”

It wasn’t anything big — just small cancellations and I ended up staying home all day – which I rarely enjoy.. I love having a plan, and if Plan A fails, I need Plan B. Sitting at home, doing nothing, is not my thing!

By the time I finally managed to get out of the bed and decided to book a spa appointment for myself, it was already seven. If nothing happens, spa always happens!

But as I was getting ready, my phone rang — it was my mom.

At first, I thought, I’ll call her back once I’m on my way. But something stopped me, and I picked up the call.

And thank God I did.

What started as a casual conversation turned into a 99-minute heart-to-heart (yes, she texted me the exact duration after the call). It’s funny how life works sometimes. I thought I needed the spa to feel better, but what I really needed was to talk to her.

During the call, she told me about how excited she’d been about a cosmic event the day before. I had mentioned it to her in passing, and she’d shared it with her friends, my brother, and my sister-in-law and everyone she possibly met.

Then she said something that stopped me in my tracks:

“I made a wish for you. I wished for you to have the best life partner.”

That made my heart melt. :))

But what she said next made me skip my heartbeat. She told me she had also wished happiness for someone I’d been struggling to forgive ( I is me here). She said it so simply, so easily, “I just want all the happiness for her as well.”

It hit me like a wave. Here I was, holding on to resentment, replaying old emotions in my head, while she had already moved forward with such grace and forgiveness. Like it was that easy? Or maybe it was.

As easy as letting go of the balloon – that I was still holding so tight, and so tight that I was hurting myself without any realization.

It also made me realize how much unnecessary weight I’d been carrying —emotions, grudges, and moments that no longer existed. Moving on is not always easy because we cling to emotions longer than we should. Or at least I did.

But maybe sometimes, it’s easier than we think, I’m glad I picked up the call – and I’ll practice forgiveness more often. Not just for others, but versions of me that I didn’t accept before.

I feel so light.. suddenly.

Sometimes, the best plans aren’t the ones we make for ourselves.

They’re the ones that happen when we simply pick up the phone.

Isn’t it strange how your definition of some of the most basic things you’ve learned over the years shifts as you grow up? I was – and still am – often told that you’re only successful if you’re financially independent enough to buy crazy things and live other people’s dreams.

For a long time, I thought that too.

I imagined success was about ticking those boxes, chasing a life filled with everything they said I should want. But as I came further, I began to realize that there’s beauty and freedom in simply owning your time, doing things you genuinely enjoy, working on something that brings you joy, and—perhaps most importantly—letting go of what others think about how you choose to spend your time, money, or energy.

A lot of you have already asked and might know this too – but since I have been quite disciplined with the luxuries in my life, I decided to jot everything down first thing this morning. These days, my mornings have become something sacred, something intentionally mine. I don’t like the feeling of being in a rush, so I make sure to be ahead of time. I also love the quietness of the morning, along with the birds chirping, with soft waterfall music playing and candles lit in my room. Sometimes I am lucky to spot my favorite Magpies from my window. There’s a sense of calm in that moment, a grounding peace that sets the tone for everything that follows in my day.

Of course, I never start my day without praying, it helps me stay grounded before anything else begins. I also almost never skip my meditation, affirmations, and innercises in the morning too. It’s the best time to reconnect with myself, and to ask myself what I want, who I am in this moment, and what I hope to become.

Then comes my gratitude journal – which I have been writing religiously since the summer of 2019. Every morning (sometimes later during the day), I make a list of ten things I’m grateful for. Some days, that list overflows to a hundred or two hundred; and trust me, there are days when I struggle to write even one or two. But no matter how I feel or where I am in my life, I don’t skip it. This practice has helped me program my mind, body, and soul to find beauty in even the simplest moments.

And yes, I do make an effort to keep away from my phone in the morning – so if you’re waiting on a morning message or expecting an immediate reply, know that I didn’t see it. Please give me a heads-up at least twelve hours in advance if we’re meeting in the morning; otherwise, I’d be at the destination looking at my phone IN TOTAL SURPRISE (but no disappointment) – yes, I rarely check messages between 9 p.m. and 9 a.m. I love taking intentional breaks from screens to simply be in my zone, undistracted – it’s a real luxury.

Evenings, too, I love having beautiful, calming endings to each day. After work and early dinner, I try to do my RESET meditation—letting go of anything I don’t need to carry forward. (Here’s the link if you wanna give a try anytime.)

And as the night settles, I let small, pretty rituals take over: a face massage, a dark room with a few candles lit to soften the space, and a good book that holds me until my eyes grow heavy. I don’t rush here to finish the pages, no urgency to learn something new,  just gentle unwinding. I love practicing being in the moment in these hours.

I do leave social media out of my evenings intentionally, just as I do in my mornings. So, yes, that’s it.

I love the quiet hours, love being in bed by 10, and nothing else is more tempting than following my own evening routine every day.

Do you follow a routine every day? If yes, I’m curious, let me know!

P.S. There are other boring things (not mentioned above) that I don’t skip in the morning, like my coffee (hazelnut these days), making my task list for the day (Yes, I never skip this, not even on a Sunday or Christmas), and doing my skincare.