work

Someday Soon

Starting something new feels like stepping into a rain-soaked muddy puddle. I jump in and notice the mess. Tasks turn into Herculean labours. Cleaning the cardboard boxes in the cupboard above? Easy, until I find old report cards and spend hours reminiscing.

Beginnings are intimidating. Like the first day at a new school, the first word of this blog post, or that first step of a run when your last run is but a distant memory. Unknowns paralyse me. I cling to my cluttered garage and unread books.

“Someday Soon” whispers that tomorrow is better. It lures me with some immediate thing that must be done. Call the plumber. Check in on the US Election. But tomorrow is a myth. It’s where productivity goes to die. Meanwhile, today slips away, and my grand plans remain just that—plans.

I’m too good at imagining obstacles. Writing a book? The blank page mocks me. “What if it’s terrible?” I think. And so, it remains unwritten.

Beginnings are messy, awkward, and imperfect. But they’re also where great things start. I need to embrace the mess. Dive into the muddy puddle. It does not have as much muck as I make it out to be.

Starting is about momentum. Newton’s First Law: an object at rest stays at rest; an object in motion stays in motion. This applies to me, a “Someday Soon” adherent. I write in my journal, ‘Take that first step, and the next ones come easier.’

So, I plan to break tasks into bite-sized pieces. Clean one shelf. Write one page. Small victories build momentum. Soon, I’m not just starting—I’m continuing.

I need to be kind to myself. Fear of failure is powerful. But failure is part of the process. Every great achievement had false starts and mistakes. I must allow myself to fail, be imperfect, and learn as I go.

The hardest part is often the first step. Lao Tzu said, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” So, I take that step. Write that sentence. Clean that shelf. Drink that health mix, even if it tastes like bad client feedback.

Starting isn’t as daunting as it seems. Silence “Someday Soon.” Embrace the mess. Some wise human quipped, “The best way to get something done is to begin.”

Ok, we are rolling. At least until the next station.

The Irony of Comfort and Happiness

Bill Bryson often says it like none else.

And isn’t that true? We rush to make life easier, happier, more fulfilled. Yet, in the hustle, we forget to pause and ask if it’s all meaningful.

What if we shifted focus?

What if we sought less, simplified more, and made space for what truly counts? Comfort and happiness are fleeting; meaning endures. Perhaps it’s time to pause and ponder.

Beneath the Paint: What the Ambassador Teaches Us About Power

Few cars have held space for such extremes as the good old Ambassador. It stood tall, equally at ease ferrying the powerful bureaucrat and the tireless taxi driver. One car, two worlds. The only difference? A coat of paint and, perhaps, a red beacon on top.

A fresh polish, a new badge, and suddenly, power shifted. But beneath it all—the same engine, the same steel frame, the same unmistakable bulk navigating potholes and people alike.

Isn’t that how life works? Titles, uniforms, status—coats of paint that shape perception but not the core. Strip them away, and we are all running on the same fuel—hopes, fears, and the daily need to keep moving.

Co-holding is about recognising this shared essence. Power and purpose can sit side by side. The taxi driver and the bureaucrat, the leader and the led, the privileged and the everyday worker—each playing a role, each moving forward.

And at the end of the day, the Ambassador carries them all.

#stories #culture #life #ordinary #traveller #instatravel #instapassport #blogger #travelblogger #blogging #travelinsights #traveladdict #traveltheworld #wanderlust #destinations #entrepreneur #startup #disrupt #fun #metaphor #love #story #latergram #work #meaning #conversation #love #cars #ambassador

Choose Magic: The Wonder of Everyday Moments

A bubble floats, catching the light, shimmering with impossible colours. A child watches, wide-eyed, as if witnessing pure magic. And maybe, just maybe, they are.

Because magic isn’t in the moment—it’s in how we see it. Every day hands us the same raw materials: time, people, possibilities. We can treat them as ordinary, or we can see the shimmer, the wonder, the fleeting brilliance.

The moment offers the opportunity. The magic is ours to make.

Here’s to a week filled with wonder!

Vagamon Hills: A Climb Worth the View

The hills of Vagamon do not just sit quietly. They call out, but only if you listen. The winding roads, the tall trees, and the gentle slopes hide their invitation. “Come,” they seem to say. “Climb, and you will see.”

Climbing is never easy, but the best views come after effort. And when you reach the top, it all feels worth it. The air is fresher, the world looks different, and the journey suddenly makes sense.

As the sun begins to set, the colours change. The hills turn gold, then orange, and finally a soft shade of dusk. The wind picks up, moving through the freshly cleaned road, making the plants dance. They bend, they sway, they follow the wind’s lead. They seem to smile, happy to be part of this moment.

Maybe we should be like them. Climb, adjust, move with the changes, and enjoy the journey.

So, which height are you climbing today?

 (at Vagamon Meadows)

Michael Jordan’s Lesson: The Real Test of Success Starts After You Win

Michael Jordan once said, “Success doesn’t stop when you get there.” And he would know. Winning wasn’t his final goal—it was just a checkpoint before the next challenge.

Reaching the top is one thing. Staying there? That’s the real test. What changes when you get there? Do your values shift? Do your old associations still fit? Does your outlook evolve, or do you stay the same?

And then comes the biggest question—What next?

A true winner doesn’t just celebrate the shot. They look up at the hoop again, ready for the next play.

Are you?

Blades of Grass, A Rising Sun, and a Gentle Morning Question

As the crimson sun kisses the fading night, every blade of grass leans in, stretching, reaching—almost as if trying to get a better view.

The breeze hums, the birds call, and together, they pose a gentle question: “So, how are you today?” Not demanding, not intrusive—just a playful nudge to start fresh.

And maybe that’s the best way to begin the day. Not with alarms and to-do lists, but with nature’s quiet company, a deep breath, and the simple joy of being asked.

How are you today?

Big Planes, Small Planes—The Sky Sees No Difference

Same Ground, Different Journeys

From my window, the small plane sits quietly on the tarmac. Side by side, yet worlds apart. Mine is bigger, his is smaller. And for a second, I almost dismiss it.

But then, I remind myself—size is just perspective.

This seat is mine for this journey. That plane is his. One isn’t better than the other, just different.

Because in the end, it’s not about the perch, it’s about the flight.

And once we take off, the sky doesn’t care how big the plane is.

“One Day We Will Be in Charge”—A Scrawl, A Promise

I spotted those words on what remains of the Berlin Wall. “One day we will be in charge.”

It wasn’t just graffiti. It was restless energy, an unshaken belief that the future can be different. Must be different.

That spirit—the refusal to accept things as they are, the audacity to imagine something better—is what drives progress.

And when I see the youth of today walking tall, carrying that same fearless energy, it fills me with hope. Because youth isn’t just age—it’s a state of mind.

And the future? It belongs to those bold enough to claim it.

(at Berlin, Germany)

It’s Not What You Work On—It’s How You Do It

He sat, painting red stripes on a quiet, unremarkable side step of the Meenakshi Temple. No rush, no shortcuts—just steady, precise strokes, his diligence filling the air.

Much of our work is like that. We aren’t always building rockets or reshaping the world. Most days, we show up, put in effort, and add our strokes to something bigger than ourselves.

The real magic isn’t in what we work on, but how we do it. With care. With intention. With the quiet belief that even the smallest efforts hold meaning.

And that’s not a trick. That’s the truth.