Essays on memory, identity, and the unspoken parts of being human.
Learning How to Learn At thirty-nine, I discovered I’d been studying wrong my entire life. The revelation came while watching Arash do homework. His methods looked chaotic—drawing pictures for math problems, pacing while reciting French vocabulary, acting out historical events with his toys. My educational conditioning screamed “inefficient.” But when I tested him later, his
I remember Anne Hathaway was Shakespeare’s wife. I don’t remember what my mother said to me three days before she died. The conversation happened. I was there. She said something important—I remember knowing it was important at the time. But the actual words? Gone. Meanwhile, Anne Hathaway sits permanently filed in my brain, taking up
The Fear of Being Too Late to Start At forty, I discovered I was born to teach. At forty, I could no longer afford to learn how. The recognition came while helping Arash with his science project. We were building a model solar system, and I found myself explaining planetary orbits with a patience I’d
I’ve been praying in Arabic for thirty years. Five times a day. The same words. The same verses. I know them by heart. I can recite them perfectly. But I don’t know what most of them mean. My Arabic is functional. I can read the Quran. My pronunciation is decent. But understanding? That’s different. I’m
Professor Rahman sat three tables away at the café. I saw him immediately. Macro economics, ten years ago. Brilliant. Intimidating. I had questions about something I’d read online—digital currency, blockchain, terms I didn’t understand. I asked the waiter instead. Kamal was maybe twenty-five. He brought my tea and I asked him. Do you know anything
Scrolling through high school reunion photos, everyone commented “best years of our lives!” Then I opened my old diary and discovered how brutally my memory had edited the truth.
The Achievement Trap: When Success Leaves You Empty You got it all. The job, the house, the relationship, the recognition. Every box on your mental checklist has been ticked, every goal you set has been reached. You should feel triumphant, complete, finally at peace. Instead, you’re sitting in your success feeling like you’re drowning in
“There is a peculiar violence in living someone else’s life while convinced it is your own. The recognition, when it comes, is both liberation and grief. Standing there with that beige shirt, I understood that authenticity isn’t about rebellion—it’s about the radical act of listening to your own voice.”
We are experts at reading the sky and illiterate about our emotional weather. Learn to forecast your inner climate—notice pressure systems, predict storms, and choose responses that steady the mind.
We tell ourselves we want answers. But buried beneath our seeking is a darker truth—we’re often more comfortable with the mystery than with revelation.
What if the person they love is just the gift shop version of who I actually am? The fear is ancient, probably cellular—this terror that love is conditional, that it can be revoked upon closer inspection.
We have more ways to reach each other than any generation in history, yet we feel profoundly alone. Constant connection creates deeper disconnection. We’re connected to everyone and close to no one.
“These words found the feelings I couldn’t name.”
“Like finding letters I wrote to myself but never sent.”
“Writing that makes you stop and remember what it means to be alive.”
Curated insights, thoughtfully delivered. No clutter.
