Most of all, this year, I learned so much about myself. Who I am, my likes and dislikes, my peculiarities and quirks, my generosity and pettiness, the ways in which I am open and closed-minded, my strengths and shortcomings, my values and the things I want to prioritize in life, and what I need to feel good in my body, soul, and mind. Immersing myself in various environments, both alone and in the company of diverse individuals, can bring out so many facets of my being, each revealing a different aspect of who I am.

Some highlights of the year:

• Wrapping up my time at a company I hold dear in my heart, for which I feel eternally grateful to be a part of such a special team, and for providing the opportunities and resources where I learned and grew a lot
• First time in Japan and Korea with some close friends and an extended group of friends
• Spending time in Boston with family, cheering on my mom at the Boston marathon
• Partying, socializing, and exploring in NYC — meeting a cool lady watercoloring in Central Park, going to yoga / dance / workout classes, catching up with friends and meeting new people
• Multiple weekend trips to LA with some of my closest friends, including an attempt to drive to LA on the worst possible weekend (in torrential rain and snow)
• Hiking alone in Switzerland and feelings of overwhelming bliss, being able to do exactly what I wanted and live with such freedom around such beauty. Meeting so many people, relying on self, being a part of nature.
• Exploring art in Italy—so many cool gardens, museums, and architecture
• Quality time with family I hadn’t seen in many years in China
• Meditation retreat, feeling like a new world opened up for exploration and growth, figuring out so much about what I actually want in life — intentional community, deep love, spiritual growth, nature
• Traveling with my best friend for twenty days — a fun-filled trip where I also learned so much about myself and my needs in relationships
• Spending a month doing nothing but reading, relaxing, exercising, hanging out with people
• Backpacking with my sister and some friends — was extremely cold and rainy, but was such a fun bonding experience
• Energy conference! That was extremely cool and something I don’t get to explore often, but something I’m interested in working on at some point in my life. Met some fun people.
• Grinding extremely hard in my first quarter as a PhD student—the transition was harder than expected, I felt I was working all of the time. Part of it was that I wasn’t mentally prepared for how much time I would spend on classes—I thought my time would mostly be spent doing research. I felt extremely stressed at times in ways I hadn’t felt in a very long time, but at the same time felt extremely fulfilled and exactly where I wanted to be.
• Getting more into hot yoga and going a few times a week, seriously saving my sanity and being my latest obsession

Life really is a mirror, in many ways.

It’s interesting—I feel like I had such a strong sense of who I was and what I liked from a young age. It wasn’t like I had a strong sense of identity—I simply was, as I think most kids are. I had a deep instinctual understanding of what resonated with me. As I’ve gotten older and took to exploring and defining myself and the world, I sort of lost that vision—I developed different interests, my goals and aspirations took on new shapes and colors. But at the same time, the seeds of everything I’ve ever done and loved are still rooted within me. These seeds, sown throughout my life, continue to grow, often sprouting in unexpected ways.

This year especially, there were many moments that seemed like full-circle moments—going to grad school in a program I had been interested in since high school, reconnecting with people from my past who shaped this year in such significant ways, and even my explorations into Buddhism that started from when I was a kid. But now, I see that they’re just part of a vine that spiral and collide, over and over again. Each time they intertwine, I’m older and wiser, always changing yet still the same.

More than anything, I have faith that the different parts of me will somehow bloom. I have always felt like I have a lot of interests that seem disconnected, yet they all intertwine to make me who I am. When I was younger, I felt so much anxiety about choosing the right career path to satisfy all my interests and parts of my identity. Now, I just want to plant the seeds, dive into the things I love at every moment, and watch them grow in unexpected ways.

Here are a few more lessons from this year:

Stress management and emotional regulation

I feel like one of my main goals during my PhD is stress management and emotional regulation. Sure, it’s easy to feel happy and peaceful if you’re a monk off in the mountains, but living in stressful conditions where people around you are also grinding hard, who may or may not share similar values and worldviews—to not isolate yourself and instead embrace and accept the situation with openness and grace, and learning how to thrive in tough environments, is even more of a test of faith and Buddhist values than being a monk living in relative isolation in a faraway monastery.

I noticed right when I started school again and became busier, many of my healthy habits fell out the window and I was just in survival mode again. It took a lot of intentional effort to return to my equilibrium.

When I was younger, I used to imagine I was a rock being formed into diamond under pressure. I felt like I needed deadlines and external pressure in order to produce anything good. These days, I feel like a delicate wildflower needing the right nutrients to grow. I don’t need pressure, I need space. Emotional, physical, mental, spiritual space. As I’ve grown older, I’ve embraced my sensitivity more and more. I’ve learned what I need most to thrive—a safe place, a comfortable environment, and feeling happy and calm.

Success is making decisions out of love

Success in life to me is making decisions out of love instead of fear. I feel like that’s my only metric of success these days, and a guiding principle of my life. My only real goal in life these days is to love what I do, do what I love, and be around people I love. Even though this may be unrealistic, naive, and incomplete, my only goal in my career is to do things I love and enjoy (for the most part).

Deconstruction to gain a stronger faith

A few years ago, I went with one of my closest friends to her church. They talked about deconstruction in order to have a stronger faith—sometimes, you have to step away and denounce God to come back with a stronger faith. I’ve been thinking about that ever since.

I feel like most of my twenties so far can be characterized as deconstruction: cutting the cord in order to have stronger values. I remember emotionally cutting ties with my family and friends—truly cutting them out of my life in my heart, in an effort to stop caring so much about what they thought and being overly influenced by their desires. Only after I did that could I come back with the deep understanding that relationships and family are the most important things in this world, but without letting their opinions and values overly influence me. This process gave me this freedom and lightness to realize how different and separate we were, yet also how the same we were. Most importantly, I could allow myself to be changed. And that I didn’t really have any other choice but to be changed—that it’s part of life to allow yourself to let others change you.

There was also a period of time I emotionally cut out all of my ambition and desire for external success in order to source my passion and drive internally, instead of through outer acceptance and ego. And there was a time I stopped exercising (which was more forced upon me due to my injuries) as a way to control and push my body, and instead seeing it as a celebration my body’s ability to move.

These cycles of deconstruction have made me more resilient — so now, when I go through phases that feel confusing and unhinged, I view them as natural cycles, rather than something that feels permanent and real. I don’t think everyone needs this kind of deconstruction, and I don’t know if it’s healthy or not because of how unstable I feel during the process—but it has personally helped me better understand my values and faith.

Spiritual compatibility in relationships

Spiritual compatibility is the most important thing I look for in a partnership these days. I used to think that this was something I could compromise over, or that this was a nice-to-have, since one’s spirituality is so often a product of environmental circumstances rather than something sought after and rigorously examined.

But I had a revelation that my spirituality (which is different and separate from my religious beliefs) is the most important and core aspect of who I am. I now view spirituality as the pillar of a relationship, a common framework and way of being in the world. Even though it’s not something that might be apparent on the surface, it’s how I view and move through the world. The kind of lifelong, soulful partnership I desire can only rest on this common ground. It’s interesting, because many happy couples (like my parents) don’t necessarily share spiritual beliefs—rather, they share similar-enough values. But personally, since most of my values stem from my spiritual beliefs, it’s what I realized is most important to me.

I recently watched a C-drama that healed a part of me—it was refreshing to see a relationship that folded so naturally in such a pure and giving way. I feel like so much of modern dating is seen as an exchange, a transaction, or even a game. (Although I suppose dating/marriage in every culture and generation has its transactional nature to it, and modern dating is not really much different.) I feel like there are so many expectations, so many external factors—gender norms, career aspirations, familial expectations, financial stability, and social status. But more and more, I feel like the most important thing that matters is the love/care/acceptance/appreciation/vulnerability/effort you give selflessly to your partner, and the care your partner gives to you. I definitely learned that early on in my twenties, but it’s sometimes hard to hold onto: the pure and spiritual aspect of love. It’s obviously not always that simple, and external factors really do matter, but I feel like the foundation of a good relationship has to be in understanding this deeply.

Understanding sensitivity as a character trait

My sensitivity explains so much about who I am and why I am the way I am. The insights I got from reading Elaine Aron’s books, The Highly Sensitive Person and The Highly Sensitive Person in Love, have been transformative. Healing my sensitive nervous system helped me be more in touch with myself and understand my needs.

These books made me realize so many things. I realized that alone time aren’t just nice-to-haves, they are must-haves. I learned that I want to be rigid and strict to protect my innocence and feed my bright-eyed soul, and that perhaps part of my life’s work is to protect my childlike wonder and love for this world—not in a way that is naive and willfully ignorant, but in knowing that what you choose to focus on becomes your reality. I’ve always known I was extremely sensitive, but it was hard to know what to do with that information—I’ve now learned how to use that to understand myself as core to who I am and what I need in every aspect of life, from career to relationships to where to live and how to spend my time.

I think sensitivity is a universal human trait, manifesting uniquely in each person. We may be sensitive to our environment, to the energies and emotions of others, to art and beauty, and to many other things, each in varying degrees. One of the most fulfilling parts of life is learning to tap into this sensitivity, using it as a source of strength and wisdom.

Three words for 2024

Every year, I have three words to guide my intentions for the year. My three words for 2024 are discipline, clarity, and openness:

Discipline through love

Even though I have swung back and forth in being extremely disciplined to being completely relaxed and doing whatever I wanted with no schedule throughout my life, I really want to work on being disciplined again. When I started grad school, I noticed I’ve been lacking the discipline I used to have, especially in the beginning of college. Or perhaps, I never really did have discipline, I just had the fear of not being/doing enough fueling me.

As I’ve gotten better at listening to my body and and my needs, I’ve been able to quiet my ego and notice when I’m using fear as fuel. Sometimes, I let that happen, because it’s what I need to get things done. But at the same time, I miss the feeling of being on top of things and knocking things out. Instead of discipline sourcing from harsh inner criticism and fear of failure, I want to source it from gentle strength, quiet confidence, and deep love of the process.

I’ve learned that I’m a deeply ambitious person at my core—that will never go away, and I want to lean into that. I love to work—not necessarily for corporations or for profit, but I just love to work with all of my heart, with whatever I do. Even if it’s just making some food, cleaning weeds, journaling, coding, etc.—I just enjoy doing things that take effort and seeing things improve. But instead of just relying on my whims, I want to develop greater discipline to reach new heights in the things I want to focus on.

Being disciplined means learning how to do good research, work on meaningful projects, and be an absolute baller. This will require a lot of hard work and effort, showing up and getting high-quality reps in, working with different people and asking for help when needed. I’m excited to work harder than I’ve ever worked my entire life on projects that I find personally fulfilling, interesting, and meaningful.

I also want to get back into long-distance running — this year, I got more serious about physical therapy and finally got over my knee injury that happened in 2021. I signed up for a few races for 2024, and this time, I’m really going to try my best to listen to my body at every step of the way, and build slowly with strength.

I also hope to be more disciplined about more art (specifically watercolor and oil painting), and take myself out on more artist dates to inspiring places. I want to paint more around campus, and just set up shop at random places to just draw and watercolor. The times when I’ve done this in the past, I felt incredibly alive, happy, and present.

Clarity into freedom and understanding

I had a lot of confusion about things this past year, and I’m working on gaining clarity from those situations and gaining freedom and understanding in the process.

Sometimes, clarity doesn’t involve having any more information, especially if the situation is inherently uncertain—rather, it’s shifting your mindset and letting go. Clarity comes in the stillness between taking aligned action—whether it’s a mindset shift, a decision, an honest conversation, or a reaction to an unfolding event.

One instance of this was when I was worrying about my grade for a quals class that I needed to get a solid grade on, otherwise I would have to take an oral examination. While waiting for the results of a midterm that determined most of my grade, I was getting into a negative spiral and was beating myself up on everything I could have done better. But that came and passed. As soon as I shifted my mindset to surrendering and being okay with any outcome—even shifting my mindset to seeing the worst-case scenario in a positive light as a way to be able to take the time to truly master the material for the oral examinations, I felt so much more free. It was an instant moment of clarity while shifting my mindset that allowed me to focus on what I could control in the present moment.

I also want to be increasingly clear in my research—to learn to define questions and hypotheses with a more curious, knowledgable, and creative scientific mindset. I also want to gain more clarity on my personal strengths and the types of problems I like to work on—I have a pretty good sense on this, but I think there is definitely more to explore and learn. I want to have more clarity of thought and communication in the entirety of the research process, from initial conception, to methods and implementation, to analysis and writing.

When you are aligned with your purpose and do what you love—when you have clarity on yourself, your strengths, and what you can give and receive in this world, you shift into a mode of deep freedom in everything you do. These days, I believe true freedom is having clarity in your life and aligning yourself to that vision. Seeing the world more clearly opens you up to the infinite possibilities of life, giving you freedom in the choices you make and a holistic understanding of life and yourself in the process. Clarity helps us see that as we grow older, we can grow more open, rather than closed. Life is not narrowing, rather, it is blooming. Or rather, it is both narrowing and blooming, all at once.

Openness with the Big Mind

In Zen Buddhism, there is a concept called the “Small Mind” and the “Big Mind”. The Small Mind is preoccupied with desires and anxieties, where our egos reside. They are like waves in an ocean, uncertain and changing. The Big Mind is the higher self, or the “Buddha nature”. It’s awareness, a state of mental clarity and calmness where thoughts are observed and pass away without attachment. The Big Mind is like the wide and open ocean. Even though they are distinct, they are both aspects of the same mind.

This year, I had a conversation with someone about a situation that was causing me a lot of inner turmoil. He practices Zen Buddhism, and he told me that I could approach the situation with the Big Mind. This was a revelatory moment for me. It led me to apply the lessons I’ve been starting to learn in Zen Buddhism to this particular situation.

I realized that my perspective had been too narrow, focusing on certain things while neglecting the holistic view of the situation. Instead of overthinking with a narrow mind, I want to have a holistic view on people and situations. I aspire to continually remind myself of and give space for the Big Mind. It’s one thing to know how to live with skillful action from an intellectual standpoint, but another thing to truly embody the practices and feel into the way of being. This is what I hope to work on in the new year.

These days, I feel like I hold a lot of kindness and forgiveness towards myself and others. But I think there’s always room to be more accepting and open, and the journey never ends. I hope that this year, I can tap into the Big Mind to improve on managing stress and regulating my nervous system.

I’m also going to prioritize making soul friendships in grad school. I truly feel that life is not about the journey or the destination—it’s about the company. To me, this is about seeing people through a holistic lens for who they are, with as little projection of the self onto them as possible. It’s also about letting yourself be seen through the good, bad, and ugly.

Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.
If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life.
– “Ten Thousand Flowers in Spring” by Wu-Men

Last year around this time, I had no expectations for the year to come. There has been so much change this year that I couldn’t have anticipated—my family moved out of my childhood home, people came into my life and stayed while others left, and I started grad school. Life will always unfold in unexpected and spectacular ways.

So, once more, I have no expectations for 2024—just gratitude, love, and acceptance for whatever is in store. My mantra for 2024 is to have faith that what is meant for me will not pass me by, and what is not meant for me will let me go—as long as I stay patient, take aligned action, and follow my intuition, heart, and mind.

P.S. (a note from 2025) — I’ll be sharing my future essays and reflections on my Substack newsletter, stay curious. I will no longer be updating this site with new writing. Would love to see you there! :)

My brief time at Tassajara was deeply transformative and moving, more so than I ever imagined. Our days were filled with meditation sessions, morning and evening services, work practice, nourishing vegetarian meals, invigorating hikes through the valley and mountains, and soothing plunges in the hot springs and the cold creek. Being in the presence of such awe-inspiring nature and a vibrant community felt restorative and healing, leading me to five important realizations:

1. A deep resonance with Buddhism

Many years ago, my fascination with Buddhism was sparked while conversing with resident monks in a Buddhist temple in China. Their peaceful and perceptive nature astounded me, and I still fondly remember the delicious vegetarian cuisine we shared over our insightful conversation. Over time, I encountered teachings and ideas on Buddhism that resonated with me, like loving-kindness meditation and the concept of non-self, despite not receiving formal guidance or meeting many practicing Buddhists.

At Tassajara, I felt a deep sense of familiarity—like it had been exactly what I had been looking for all my life and what I already practiced in my own way. It felt like what happens when I read a good book—like the feelings and thoughts were already festering inside me, and I had been searching for the words to articulate, acknowledge, deepen, and question what was already there. The teachings and people at Tassajara touched me deeply, and I felt it in my heart and soul as much as my mind.

What draws me to Buddhism is its nontheistic nature. Unlike other religions, where I have never been able to believe in the existence of God or a higher power, the focus of Buddhism is not on God. Buddha was a human being, just like all of us. I resonate with the belief that everyone has Buddha within, and that the path is just as simple as sitting. When I spoke with people who practiced Buddhism for years, sometimes decades, at Tassajara, I felt a deep connection with their values. Buddhism, to me, is ultimately about compassion and acceptance of the self and others. It felt so different from other religions I’d been more exposed to in the past, where there is moral absolutism and a sense of trying to save people. I like how Buddhism helps awaken what is already within and around us.

The practice of constantly letting go in the present moment is a profound aspect of Buddhism that deeply resonates with me. I view art as the greatest form of spiritual practice, as I believe “good” and “true” art come from profound feelings and transformative experiences. Despite my love for photography and writing, I have come to realize that they occasionally hinder my ability to be fully present. As a result, I have established a personal “rule” for photography that I have been trying to follow for years: I only capture an image if it evokes deep emotions within me, such as awe, pain, confusion, or equanimity. If the essence isn’t there, I refrain from taking the photo.

During this retreat, I challenged myself to abstain from taking photos and to journal only at the end of each day. It was hard—when I saw something beautiful, my instinct was to capture it. When thoughts arose during meditation or work practice, I wanted to jot them down, fearing they might fade from my memory and be lost forever. Yet, through this experience, I came to the realization that letting go and creating space for the present moment is a practice in itself.

I will definitely still continue taking photos and writing in the future, but I will challenge myself to completely let go from time to time. I want to be even more intentional about how and why I create—not as a means to grasp the present moment, but as tools to enrich and deepen my spiritual practice.

2. Nature and science are my greatest spiritual inspirations, and I need to continue to fuel that life force in my everyday life.

Although I didn’t have a religious upbringing, spirituality has been integral to my life since I was young. My entire life, my spiritual view were most aligned with that of Carl Sagan, and the book A Pale Blue Dot, which profoundly impacted me during my teenage years. My spiritual perspective revolves around feeling humbled by the vastness of the universe and embracing optimistic nihilism—a belief that acknowledges our insignificance in the cosmos but finds liberation and strength in this realization.

For me, spirituality entails a holistic view of the world, appreciating both its profound depth and expansive breadth. Immersing myself in nature serves as a reminder that we are all interconnected and have a spiritual force within and around us. Engaging with science further enriches my spiritual practice, as I agree with Sagan’s assertion that “Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality.” When I learn about different science concepts, it helps me appreciate the world on a deeper level. People used to believe in many things about the world that are now disproved, and future generations will look at us incredulously at how little we know. The feeling of awe and humility I have when I’m in nature or learning about the world is a powerful source of spirituality.

3. Embracing the power of structure and ritual

Going to Tassajara, I was shocked by how strict the rituals were. There were so many rules on how to carry yourself—from the foot you used to step into the Zendo (the meditation hall) to the depth and duration of our bows. In our first morning service, people around me were chanting in Japanese, and I didn’t know which page we were on. I felt so out of place and ashamed for not doing enough preparation. As time passed, however, I just surrendered to the experience. I felt the beauty and power of the ancient chants. I was in awe that the people around me practiced these rituals for years, even decades, and truly believed in what they said. At one point in my life, I may have seen chanting as archaic, but now I feel like spiritual rituals are vital.

Every day, we chanted numerous passages, many of which I didn’t fully understand. One reoccurring chant involved taking refuge in the Three Jewels: the Buddha, the dharma (teachings), and the sangha (community). Every day, I felt and internalized this more and more. Before breakfast and lunch, we would chant and thank our food, and I realized that it actually made a positive impact on how I saw our food, the way it came to us, and the impact it made on the planet. I now feel that chanting and praying are not just empty words. If you understand the impact of the words (and sometimes, even if you don’t) and hear it from the people around you, there is so much power. In the past, when I had performed religious rituals, they felt empty and self-serving, so I really didn’t expect to love the Buddhist rituals as much as I did.

During the retreat, we matched our sleep schedule to the rhythm of the sun, sleeping at 9-10 PM (after evening meditation, which would put me in such a relaxed state) and getting up at 5:30 AM (for morning meditation). This experience made me realize that I really want to try to sync my sleep with the sun (and seasons) in my daily life. I have always prioritized sleep because I’m extremely sensitive to the lack of it, and I generally try to wake up naturally without an alarm clock, but sometimes my schedule slips so that I sleep later and later. Sleep is my “keystone habit”; it’s even more fundamental to me than exercising and eating well because it’s what everything in my life revolves around.

A few years ago, I slept in a tent for a summer and would wake up with the sun. Maybe it was also the fresh air at night, but I felt so rejuvenated every day—I would start work at 8AM and go on long runs before sunset. I’ve noticed how much better I feel when I sleep and wake up early, even if the total hours of sleep remain the same. Although maintaining an early bedtime will probably be hard when I’m in grad school, I’m really going to try my best. This means being extremely disciplined and protective about my bedtime and sleep hygiene (with some flexibility, of course), even though it’s so normalized to sleep late in your twenties / in modern society.

4. Community (or sangha) is not just what I want, but what I need

Feeling connected to the self-sustaining nature of the community at Tassajara, I realized that a spiritual community where I could grow and feel understood was possible for me. Not only that it was possible, but it was what I needed. All my life, I have struggled with showing up fully as myself in groups. I realized it’s not that I don’t like groups, it’s that I feel vulnerability, trust, and intention are really important to me, and communities that prioritize spiritual development are where I feel I can more easily express myself. When I start grad school, I’ll definitely be seeking out a spiritual community.

While contemplating how I would integrate the retreat’s teachings into my daily life, I felt nervous about potentially feeling disconnected from people I love (and society at large) when I returned home. Then I recalled how, in my senior year of college in the spring semester as I returned to live on campus after nearly a year at home, I felt slightly isolated because of my spiritual beliefs that strengthened during the isolation of the pandemic. I felt different and changed internally, and it felt difficult to relate fully to others. It was then that I realized that I never wanted spirituality to bring me further from the people I love; instead, it should bring me closer, even if I disagreed with people on their values and beliefs, or if they didn’t fully understand mine.

It’s easy when you have glimmers of spiritual understanding to want to isolate from others, because you feel like your experience is so insular and unique—like when you listen to music or see a painting that brings you such ecstasy or despair, and you know that no one in your life could really relate to how you feel, not due to anyone’s fault or shortcoming, but simply because the individual human experience is entirely unique. This is nothing to lament over, because we all feel and experience life this way. These glimmers, while experienced in isolation, should bring us back to each other and closer to our shared humanity.

I think it’s terribly sad how religion can tear people apart and cause so much violence and pain, while the true purpose of religion is to bring people together, to gain greater understanding and compassion towards ourselves/others/the universe and the ways that we are interconnected, and to accept the endless contradictions that exist in life.

5. The unification of body, speech, and mind as a guiding tenet of my spiritual beliefs

I feel fortunate to have practiced martial arts for many years starting from a young age. Yet, growing up, I didn’t fully appreciate the spiritual aspects of the sport. Now, as an adult, I am grateful for the many lessons it has imparted on me in my formative years. As much as I disliked it at times, martial arts helped me connect with spirituality through the physical body.

Now that I’m practicing yoga consistently, I see that the core tenet of my spiritual belief is the unification of the body, mind, and soul. The word “yoga” is derived from the Sanskrit root “yuj”, which means “to join” or “to yoke”, and the slowness of the practice helps me unify the different parts of me in a way I wasn’t fully able to through martial arts.

During the retreat, I realized that I don’t think I want to do long sits in the future, mostly because of how hard it is on my body. I could definitely feel that my body was sore, and my muscles were tight from the long sits. Especially since I sit so much for work, I don’t think sitting meditation is good for me, and I’m not willing to sacrifice my health for spiritual enlightenment or any religious practice. Realistically, I can keep up a habit of meditation for a short time every day, but anything too long would be a detriment to my health. I can find alternative ways to cultivate mindfulness, like running, engaging in mindful tasks like cleaning or driving without music, and taking slow walks with full awareness. This feels to me like my own Middle Way.

There is still much about Buddhism that doesn’t resonate with me, and I definitely would not consider myself a Buddhist (yet). I am only starting to comprehend its teachings, but some fundamental premises don’t always align with my beliefs. One of our teachers said meditation is supposed to help you not sway chaotically in the wind like an ant on a thin branch, and instead climb closer to the tree trunk where you’re less susceptible to being blown around. I understand the value of cultivating equanimity (especially during a meditation session), but personally, I love how easily swayed I can be by the winds of life. I embrace the highs and lows of human experience.

To me, Buddhism is more of a philosophy and tool to guide my life, rather than a strict religious practice. In my view, spirituality should not conform to religion; instead, religion should evolve alongside an individual’s spiritual journey. Some of the most self-proclaimed spiritual/religious people have the biggest egotism and malevolence, whereas someone with no formal religious practice could have the most wisdom and understanding.

I believe that true spirituality isn’t found primarily in books, teachings, or studying the lives of certain individuals, although they can certainly inform and give new perspectives. Rather, I think spirituality arises from deep questioning, rigorous examination, and observing nature and life itself. However, our physical limitations limit our understanding, and we are thus always grasping in the dark, akin to the story of blind men touching an elephant to comprehend its entirety.

There is a whole world to explore in spirituality that I am only beginning on, even though my entire life thus far has been a spiritual journey in my eyes. There is so much to study and read and learn. I have a feeling that at the end of my life, I will still feel the same way; there is still so much to explore, and I am only at the beginning. I do not know what will happen upon death, but I know I don’t fear it—not because I think I’ll go to heaven (which I feel is unlikely), but because I have spent my life exploring and attempting to understand the world beyond thought and feeling, however incapable and insignificant I may be.

Growing up, I really enjoyed traveling with my family. My parents showed me and my sister the world, and I look back on our trips with such fondness and love. However, I also saw it as somewhat stressful because my parents love packing a lot into our trips. As someone who likes taking things at my own pace and needs an abundance of alone time, it sometimes felt a bit overwhelming for me as a kid. During high school, I stopped traveling because I preferred studying and working on my hobbies. I was highly focused, finding satisfaction in seeing myself grow incrementally through structured routines and goals.

Mixed feelings around travel

I have always had mixed feelings about travel. On the one hand, it’s one of the best ways to connect with culture, people, and art. Having the time, energy, and money to travel is an immense privilege. Yet, non-essential traveling can sometimes be incredibly detrimental to the world. How much do I really love nature and want to help with climate change if I use so many resources while traveling? How can I value and respect culture if I am part of the problem of mass tourism? Why can I visit a country for pleasure while locals struggle to meet their basic needs? Those questions don’t sit well with me, and I still grapple with them. While there are ways to travel responsibly and ethically, the reality is that most people, including me, don’t prioritize that, and we don’t always know how.

In addition to the ethical quandaries surrounding travel, I personally have never aspired to travel full-time. I like having roots and community. I relish in my routines—eating nutritious food that make me feel good, exercising and stretching consistently, and now especially getting weekly sport massages/acupuncture/cupping. I love having a favorite coffee shop and going to the same small restaurant where the waiter greets you by name and knows your usual order. I have no problem going to the same place again and again; places change with seasons, years, and times of day. Just like how Monet would paint the same place over and over again, with each painting so different, I feel like you can never really be bored of a place. So, when someone asks me, “What is there to do in South Bay?” (implying that San Francisco or other big cities are much more exciting—which they admittedly are), sometimes, I feel like the answer is: anything, everything.

How and why I travel: embracing slow travel, travel as a spiritual practice, and everyday life as a luxury

Now, as I’m gaining more experience traveling on my own and with various people, I’m learning more about how I like to travel: slowly, with ease, and with the feeling that you have all the time in the world. Even if I’m at a place for only a few days or a week, not feeling like I have to do many things. I know it is a luxury and a privilege to have time and feel like you can always return to a location, but I feel like slow travel is ultimately a mindset. It’s not seeing places as a box to check through to say that you’ve been there or to snap a few photos. (On the other hand, I sometimes like to have intense days where I have a very packed schedule if there are really things I want to do. But part of the joy in traveling, especially alone, is choosing your pace at every moment.)

More importantly, I’m learning why I like to travel. Travel is not just a checklist of places to see and visit. It’s about how it changes you as a person. At its best, travel is a spiritual practice–a way to connect deeper with yourself and the world. At its worst, it’s a capitalist trap and a processed, saturated experience–a packaged dopamine hit to escape an unexamined daily existence. Even though my home and heart are in California, I feel like traveling is in my soul. I want to be a perpetual traveler, no matter where I go–and that means living with curiosity, leaning into fear, and seeing the world through new eyes. One of my friends was saying that travel should only be reserved for occasions as a reward so that it can be better appreciated. But I disagree–regardless of whether or not I am traveling, I want to live a life where every sunset is as beautiful as the last, where every new experience is awe-inspiring, and where every culture feels fascinating and exciting–including my own.

I know people who feel like their everyday life is already a luxury and find traveling more stressful. My dad is one of these people. He has literally the most fun in his day-to-day life than anyone else I know–I like to joke that if he made a day-in-the-life vlog, it would be more exciting than any YouTuber’s vlogs. He structures his life around fun, play, and community/relationships, which I really admire–he definitely taught me and my sister the importance of self-care and fostering authentic relationships, which I think is somewhat unusual for an immigrant parent. He finds traveling a bit stressful (probably because of the family vacations we went on as a kid, where he felt responsible for driving). On the other hand, I also know people who use travel as a means to escape their day-to-day life–those who work super hard and use their vacations as motivation to work harder. I get that, and I think both ways of living are totally valid. Most people are a mix of the two, but what I personally want out of my own life is to feel that it is a luxury every single day. Not necessarily in the material sense, but in the richness of life itself. And then, while I’m traveling, to not have it stray too far from my daily routines–still exercising, eating healthy, sleeping well, working on myself, doing the things I like to do, and making time for art and relaxation, even if it means missing out on seeing more places or doing more things.

Life beyond checkboxes: experiencing life through intuition and feeling

Travel has taught me that life is meant to be experienced. I felt this intensely while waiting to cross the street the other day. Life could just be spent doing nothing and waiting, and it would still be valid. There is no such thing as wasting time–we are always in a state of being. People are in such a rush in their daily lives. I feel like so many people at Harvard and the Bay Area live a checkbox life, and they want to optimize everything–school, degree, marriage, kids, career, retirement. I’ve changed so much since graduating college–while protecting my energy from the subliminal messages, I’ve realized I have no feeling of needing to check any boxes or even to use my time in the most “productive” way. I realized I could do nothing and achieve nothing and still be okay. Knowing that has freed me. My striving is just extra, something to add flavor to my life. That doesn’t mean I’m any less ambitious or don’t want to help people and make a positive impact on the world–if anything, it’s made me more excited to live in the present moment and do meaningful work. I’m just fundamentally okay with anything happening in the present moment. I’m okay with stillness. I’m okay with nothing going as planned and everything going wrong (as long as safety isn’t compromised), even though I’ll always try my best in the things I commit to. My happiness depends on the quality of my connections–which, to me, is more than relationships. It’s how deeply you connect with your inner world. How much genuine love and care you hold for others and yourself within your heart and your ability to communicate it and turn it into action. How you connect to nature and art and beauty, and how you lean into the twists and turns of life.

This shift in not seeing life as a series of checkboxes has also taught me how I like to learn new things–particularly STEM subjects. Reflecting on my science and engineering education and experience, I realize that I learn best with intuition and feeling. Even though I have a vivid imagination, it is less visual and language-based (my brain lacks a mind’s eye and an inner monologue) and more feelings, ideas, and logic-based. Feeling and intuition are in no way a replacement of rigorous analysis and empirical evidence; rather, it’s a complement–like the first step in an inductive proof. The way I learn and see the world is a lot like how someone paints–making a rough sketch, blocking out the colors, and going into the details–rather than going in to paint one piece at a time. I have to have intuition about what I’m learning or trying to do before the details. And I have to make myself feel positive emotions and genuinely like what I’m doing during the process–I’m terrible at doing things when I’m unfulfilled. Learning, doing great work, having strong intuition, and emotional regulation all go hand-in-hand for me. My overarching goal in life is to gain intuition and a deep understanding of how different subjects work and interact, as well as understand the interplay of my emotions with how I learn and work.

The transformative power of solo travel

Traveling, often alone, I’ve learned so much about myself—like how I’d love to someday be a wedding or engagement photographer because I love taking photos of people in love. How I want to practice pole dancing, after meeting someone who really inspired me to see it as a beautiful art form, and going to my first class and loving it. How I feel most alive in nature, either on a hike or in the countryside, how enamored I am by mountains, waterfalls, and flowers, and how active I need to be on a daily basis—which I’ve always known, but being able to go on daily long hikes while experiencing so much beauty and the fresh mountain air is incredibly addicting, and I don’t know how I’ll be able to go back to only exercising in the gym for an hour each day. I’ve learned how calm I really am at my core, and the power of positive self-talk in difficult situations. How I yearn to be in committed and tight-knit communities to grow in my various passions and progress to the next level. How to ask for and receive help. And much, much more. I’d like to go on an extended solo trip every few years for the rest of my life, if possible. I love traveling with other people, so I’ll continue to do that for the most part, but something about traveling alone makes experiences a different kind of intense, reflective, and vivid. I notice more things, and I feel more open to interacting with the world.

Cultivating deep interpersonal connections and learning to let go

In April, I went to a “Friendship Retreat” in San Francisco, which was a weekend full of exercises designed to stretch your boundaries and teach us how to better relate and show up in relationships. We did an exercise where we started by slowly walking around, eyes on the floor. Then, they instructed us to find someone near you and stand in front of them, holding eye contact for a few minutes while you feel how different you are. Then you walk around some more, and in a few minutes, find a new person to stand in front of. You then feel, in your bones, how much the same you are. And then walk around some more, find another person, and then feel how much you like them. I feel like this exercise, although not one of the main exercises in the retreat, somehow made a profound impact on me—to feel our sameness and our differentness, and to have positive feelings towards others, even despite not knowing every detail about them, or much about them at all. I carry that in my heart wherever I go now, in my travels and my day-to-day life. We are so different yet so similar to everyone we meet, and I want to continue meditating on that, and sending people positive and loving energy. Rather than differences creating fear, it should inspire curiosity, grace, and compassion; our sameness should not cultivate complacency, it should inspire deep connection and an almost spiritual feeling of oneness.

By nature of traveling alone, I’ve met a lot of new people spontaneously—at restaurants, on the street, in shops, on hikes, in hostels, and more—and it has, conversely, taught me to let people go. I have always hated leaving people and seeing people leave. I crave permanency and stability in my relationships. If I like someone, I want them to be in my life forever. Meeting people, especially through solo travel, is such a beautiful and fleeing experience. Most of the time, the interactions are surface-level (yet still nice), but once in a while, you have experiences with new people that change your perspective of the world. Their life touched you, and you touched theirs. You’ll probably never see them again, and you don’t even really know them, but you’ll always remember the experience you had together. I think that’s so incredibly beautiful. I feel like maybe in my daily life I can learn to be okay with people coming and going, to not hold so tightly to the idea of forever, and just appreciate every moment. And I realized that we’re always letting people go, as we’re always evolving. Even for the people in my daily life, I’m learning to let them go—to not hold so tightly onto my perception of them, to always allow them to change and grow in their own ways.

Fueling my artistic passions alongside my career in tech

In another life, I would love to pursue art as a photographer, painter, and/or writer who finds inspiration in traveling. Even though I’m very happy currently in my career and I love it a lot, I know that art is what gives me the most meaning and joy. I could not live without art. Although I’ve contemplated the idea of pursuing art full-time, it isn’t very practical at the moment because 1. I’d have to be very good (which I am not yet), and I don’t know what that would take or what that really means, 2. getting financially rewarded for art would take the fun and joy out of it and give me too much pressure to produce, 3. I find a lot of meaning and fulfillment from working in tech, and I have lots of dreams and ambitions there, and 4. I have very little desire to be famous or rich from my art—I would much prefer to be a relatively unknown yet immensely talented artist. Realistically, art is what I want to pursue in parallel with my career in tech for the rest of my life, ideally with the same vigor and intensity.

I’m still trying to figure out what that looks like day-to-day, but I know that everything I do is interconnected and feeds off each other. Occasionally when I’m feeling insecure, I feel like I’m not doing enough to progress in my career or that I have too many hobbies/passions outside of work, especially as I’m now taking many months “off” to relax and travel. I am very aware that these feelings are from internalized capitalism and feed my lower self, yet it’s hard to break free from them completely. While reflecting on the concept of balance, initially my focus for this year, I realized that balance wasn’t precisely what I sought. Writing this piece served as a reminder to myself that everything I do contributes to the broader tapestry of my life, especially when it comes to nurturing my artistic interests and taking the time to travel:

Living is about blooming like a flower in every direction possible. Emotions, spirituality, hobbies, interests, personality, and relationships. It goes beyond just balance, which feels rigid and static to me. The flower metaphor suggests that things build on each other simultaneously. The more you get in touch with your emotions, the better you are at work. The more you nurture one hobby, the more another flourishes too, and your personality stretches and deepens. The more you tend to your health, the more the rest of your life grows. Life isn’t about balance. It’s about blooming in all directions. You have to feed and water every side–not necessarily at the same time, but keeping them alive.

The day before going on my latest trip, I went to a talk on the intersection of art, science, and outreach from a mentor in high school, one of the people I admire most in this world. This person made such a large impact on my life. Not only did I spend a summer doing research with him in high school, where I was struck by the patience he had in explaining complex subjects to a young and inexperienced student, but I was also moved to rewrite my college essay just a week before it was due after attending a talk he gave nearly five years ago. In his talk, he shared that he saw mentorship and helping students reach their potentials just as Michelangelo had a vision of David in a block of marble and said, “I saw the angel in the stone and I carved until I set it free.” As I listened to his talk, I realized that, just like my mentor, I aspired to be an engineering leader who sees the angel in others and empowers them to achieve their individual potentials. Additionally, I realized the importance of seeing the angel in myself to grow in my personal journey of growth and self-discovery.

Beyond being a great professor, he is an immensely talented artist and a supportive husband and father. He has extraordinary kindness, patience, and empathy, and is an inspiration for the type of person I want to become—particularly in the way that his life seems to flow harmoniously from his personality, and all of his passions and interests build upon and connect. It is remarkable to witness, really. Listening to his most recent talk, I was incredibly inspired to live a life that flowed from my inner-most being, which includes connecting my various quirks and passions—not as a series of checkboxes to fulfill and string together, but sourcing from natural instinct, intuition, and feeling. That is what I want most in my life, and what I believe self-actualization looks like.

Embracing language learning

I am now very inspired to improve my Chinese and to learn a new language. Growing up, I felt like it was a better use of my time to learn other things—art, music, coding, or math—anything other than rote memorization of language. I went to Chinese school every Saturday and had to do homework for it every week, and it wasn’t the most fun thing I felt like I could do (although now I really appreciate that I learned how to read and write Chinese!). I learned some Spanish in middle school, which was really fun (especially listening to Spanish music!), but in my high school days, I gave up. In the next few years, I want to learn another language—most likely either French, Italian, German, or Russian. I feel now like my life is long, and I want to experience living in a few different countries for an extended period of time. I have some friends who spent a year abroad as a kid, and even though it seems like it could be extremely disruptive and difficult in some ways (as my friends would attest!), I would love to someday move to a new country with my own children and have them live in a different country for a while, and be exposed to different cultures, languages, and people at an early age. I have no idea if that’s practical or wise or if I’ll ever do it, but I think that would be an interesting experience!

I still look forward to going home after every trip, regardless of how much fun I have. I love my routines and my daily practices. But it’s been awesome to see myself grow these past few months while traveling—being less scared, meeting and talking with so many people, learning more about my travel style and preferences, following my intuition on what to do at every minute, and being immersed in other cultures. I have so many adventures yet to go on—I want to do some solo thru-hiking (which really terrifies me), and there are still so many places I want to see and explore—Mongolia, Nepal, New Zealand, Portugal, Peru, and many many more. I want to be healthy and strong for as long as I can, so that I can continue exploring and traveling the world.

The term samsara, the wheel or round of existence, …mean[s] going round and round from one place to another in a circle, like a potter’s wheel, or the wheel of a water mill. When a fly is trapped in a closed jar, no matter where it flies, it can not get out. Likewise, whether we are born in the higher or lower realms, we are never outside samsara. The upper part of the jar is like the higher realms of gods and men, and the lower part like the three unfortunate realms. It is said that samsara is a circle because we turn round and round, taking rebirth in one after another of the six realms as a result of our own actions, which, whether positive or negative, are tainted by clinging. — Patrul Rinpoche

This year can only be described as a continual cycle of death and rebirth. Pain and joy, freedom and restriction, reclusively and sociability. Grief and steadfastness. I shed layers upon layers. I am old and new, all in one.

It is so strange, growing up. Seeing how life is just as simple as what you once believed, yet also seeing the nuance in everything. To hold confounding beliefs all at once—to be an eternal optimist yet a cynical nihilist. To see people in their various shades and temperaments. To be everything you once were and will be.

I felt especially strange this year. Many world events were strange—the reopening of everything “after” the pandemic, the wars and tension between nations, the economic downturns, and the infringement of women’s rights around the world. Modern life felt strange, existentially. It felt like I had to put in a massive amount of willpower to be healthy and happy, instead of it being the default mode of existence. The advertisements everywhere, processed foods, beauty and wellness industry, unsustainable economic growth, lack of connection with nature and our roots, and constant stimulation—it all felt out of alignment to living a happy and healthy life. The philosopher J. Krishnamurti once said that “It is no measure of good health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society”–and I felt that intensely. And a lot of personal events were strange—processing the death of loved ones, losing friendships and relationships, coming to terms with the loss of my past selves, the loss of being able to move my body in the ways I used to, being the most sick I’ve been in recent memory, and fearing getting sick and hurt—emotionally and physically—again. I was full of grief, despite the joy and the knowing that I was exactly where I needed to be. For a while, I thought I was depressed. “So, I’m slipping back,” I’d think to myself. But as I sat with myself, I realized I wasn’t depressed. I was just grieving. Grieving what, exactly, it’s hard to say. So many things—too many things.

Maybe it just takes me a long time to process things. Grief hits me in waves. Not just personal pain from my own life, but collective pain. There is just so much pain in life. Maybe that’s why I have always loved sad music, even when I am happy. From a young age, I have always felt the need to process my sadness.

Sometimes I want to live like a monk, to wander and think for days, to abstain from all worldly ambitions. I think we are much too driven to distraction in this world, with too many things to see and people to meet. I want only to live simply, to be unknown in this world, to die a humble death. I have great sadness for the state of the world—how we have enough for everyone but just are unable to distribute good for everyone, how our problems will never outrun our human nature, how suffering is the default state of humanity. I want to see the stars every night and eat food from the ground. I want to be around only the people I love, and shut off the rest of the world. I want to create my own art—to have art and the inner chaos it brings come from within, instead of chasing chaos in life itself. I want inner peace.

Yet, some days I want to be completely hedonistic, to buy fancy clothes and eat good food, to go to amazing places, to dance and flirt. I want to chase art and beauty, and relish in the thrill of the chase. I take pleasure in capitalism and the things it can bring me. I enjoy climbing for the sake of climbing, and for the ego boost it can give me.

I feel these two extremes deeply, and I want to live both. I am a moth flickering between two candles, never too close to either, but drawn to both. In the space between, I fly, until I am tired and lay myself down to rest. This is life, the flickering of the in-between.

“Marianne wanted her life to mean something then, she wanted to stop all violence committed by the strong against the weak, and she remembered a time several years ago when she had felt so intelligent and young and powerful that she almost could have achieved such a thing, and now she knew she wasn’t at all powerful, and she would live and die in a world of extreme violence against the innocent, and at most she could help only a few people. It was so much harder to reconcile herself to the idea of helping a few, like she would rather help no one than do something so small and feeble.” — Normal People by Sally Rooney

Every year, I have one to three words that I want to fuel my intention for the year. Last year, my three words were alignment, consistency, and community. I’ve definitely grown in those three areas. I prioritized community less as I focused more on myself, although I spent a ton of time cultivating existing relationships and just reflecting on the nature of relationships.

My three words for 2023 are authenticity, fundamentals, and balance.

As I move into 2023, my main goal is to be authentic. This means fully trusting myself and listening to my intuition. I want to pay close attention to what (and who) is energy-giving or depleting.

I have always felt a deep knowing when things were right (or wrong) for me—relationships, opportunities, places, things—but I don’t always act on it. I second-guess myself, or I convince myself of something different. Most people have this knowing, but it’s hard to decipher and listen to, and even harder to act upon. I want to trust myself more this year, and more importantly, to act upon that trust. I watched this video from Cal Newport on “radical alignment to one’s values” a few months ago, and it really resonated with me. It is not enough to just be aligned with my values—I also have to take great and significant changes towards what I actually believe in.

But trusting my intuition also means healing my unconscious through shadow work. Intuition is deeply affected by your subconscious thoughts and feelings. And those must be healed and consciously programmed in order to guide you in the right direction.

This year, I also want to be more open and authentic to people who aren’t my close friends. For me, friendships are a “soul” connection, and sometimes it doesn’t matter how long you’ve spent with them—you can meet someone and instantly feel so connected and seen, or you can spend years with the company of someone and still feel like strangers. My true friends are ones I love for a lifetime, and I would do anything for, and they for me. I never felt like I needed more friends than my few closest friends who know me at an intimate and deep level–maybe because I grew up with a sister who was (and is) my best friend, and I’ve always had a “best friend” in school growing up. I think this was especially apparent in high school, when I had a few close friends and cared little about getting to know other people. I now see the value of being more isolated in my early days–namely just diving deeply into whatever the heck I wanted and caring less about social norms, and that was truly formative. It was also probably a coping mechanism for being in my “competitive” high school environment–if I was close to only a few people who only wanted the best for each other, I could remove myself from any social stress. But I still remember a moment when I started talking with a girl I was only acquantances with on the bus back from the senior year end-of-year trip, and we had the most lovely conversation. I realized then that maybe I’ve isolated myself to such an extent that I’ve never opened up to the possiblity that people outside my closest circle and I had much in common and that we could have a deep and meaningful connection. I’ve grown a lot since then and learned to open up more in college, but I still tend to close myself off to potential connections.

While I am naturally private and have always valued close, meaningful relationships over having many acquaintances, I’ve realized that I can feel cold and rigid around people I don’t know well. I overcompensate by having a warm and smiley exterior while still maintaining an emotional distance. However, I want to let go of this tendency and be more genuine with everyone, even those I don’t know well—not just as an external performance, but actually feeling closeness in my heart. This year, I want to release my attachment to the identity of being shy and timid around people I don’t know well, and actually make an effort showing up completely as myself in all situations.

This year, I will also focus on returning to the fundamentals. Focusing on the fundamentals means respecting the process, however slow, tedious, and unglamorous it can be. It’s digging deep into my values, questioning my beliefs, changing my mind if I have to, and staying flexible.

From dealing with my various injuries and illnesses this year, my greatest lesson was that I can bounce back weaker, the same, or stronger. This is similarly true with any hardship. Not to trivialize or romanticize hardship, but I do think it can often be a great opportunity for growth. I remember going through a hard patch many years ago, and I told my dad that I wasn’t feeling like I was doing enough. He told me that we’re like rubber bands—you can’t pull too hard all the time, or else you won’t go anywhere or you’ll break. You have to release some tension to spring even further than you were before.

Returning to the fundamentals also means

• Focusing on the pillars of health: sleep, exercise, and nutrition
  • Sleep before 11 PM nearly every night
    • I feel best when I sleep from 11PM-8AM. If I sleep past 1 AM, I feel extremely terrible. I’ve found that sleep affects me the most, and I know instantly if my day is going to be good depending on how much sleep I get.
  • Continuing to get daily movement and consistent strength/mobility/stretching. Even though I have a dream of someday running a marathon again (and even qualifying for Boston), those dreams seem out of reach at the moment. My knee still gives me slight pain occasionally, and my strength and mobility levels are not where I want them to be. I need to do strength training before running, and I will be focusing on knees-over-toes exercises and a bunch of hip/glute/core strengthening. I don’t care how long it takes or even if it is years before my next long run. But I know I’ll get there if I put in consistent effort, and that I will be stronger and faster than I was once before.
  • Returning to the basics in food — eating mostly non-processed foods, gardening, cooking, and making most of my food from scratch
• Deep technical knowledge from first principles. Learning and re-learning math, physics, robotics, and other technical concepts, and seeing them in new ways. Continuing to develop skills that will carry me throughout my career.
• Honing my artistic skills that take consistency and practice
• Returning to my old hobbies that I’ve fallen out of touch with: knitting, crocheting, exploring nature and identifying plants/animals, astrophotography, film photography
• Reading and studying the great works of literature, philosophy, and art
• Consistent journaling, therapy, self-care, and love
• Developing a capsule wardrobe that I feel like represents my style, and only buying pieces I love or will wear a lot
• Focusing on what matters in relationships: communication, trust, consistency, values. Being pure and open, not overcomplicating things and just enjoying presense.
• Doing arts and crafts – making clothes, blankets, embroidery, and more. I am so inspired by videos from Isabel Paige, who makes a bunch of things from scratch and gifts them to others.

I’ve also realized that balance is a core value of mine. I’ve realized I need to be happy to do good work, and not just do good work to be happy.

Sometimes I just want to spend days doing nothing except thinking, philosophizing, reading, and writing. I just want to feel deeply and put those feelings into art and writing. This feels fundamentally at odds with working in technology. When I work in tech, I have to put my feelings aside and focus deeply. And I do love it—getting in the flow, working with people I admire, and seeing the importance of my work. I love the technical side. I love math and physics and coding and debugging. I get frustrated sometimes, but I love that frustration. I love especially in coding that things can be distilled, that the answer is always there if you look hard enough, if you spend enough time with it, if you put enough effort into cracking the egg. But I do feel like it’s at odds with the other parts of me, the parts of me that only gets to be released before or after work. I don’t know if those parts can ever combine and let me feel like a complete person, or if I will always live my life in this fragmented and compartmentalized way. Perhaps that is why I feel lonely most days, why my greatest fear is never being fully understood, yet also being afraid of being completely seen.

I’ve always known that I am just as inclined to the humanities and arts as the sciences and engineering. I feel very balanced—I swing in different directions, but at the end of the day, I love returning to equilibrium. I am a “true neutral”, and I think that applies to how I like to use my right and left brain. I need to do creative, artsy stuff just as much I need to do hard, technical stuff (not that art isn’t hard and technical work isn’t creative, but that’s just what I associate those fields more with, for better or for worse). I need to be in my head as much as I need to be in my heart. I need to balance the physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual parts of me and fuel them with equal time, energy, and space. Sometimes they can be out of wack, but they ultimately have to balance in the long-term—or else my body, mind, and soul will feel it.

To me, I’ve never cared about work-life balance. I see work as part of life, and life as part of work. My mission in life is to do work that is as close to my life as possible.

I’ve recently read this great self-help book called The Pathless Path by Paul Millerd, and something in it really resonated with me:

“Finding work you want to keep doing, says author Stephen Cope, is ‘the great work of your life.’ Cope’s biggest fear is that he might ‘die without having lived fully.’ This impulse drove his curiosity as he sought out wisdom in books, reading upwards of three hours a day. Eventually, he wrote The Great Work of Your Life to explore the unique qualities of people who search for the things that bring them alive. His exploration was inspired by a passage he read in the Gospel of Thomas:

‘If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.’

He researched the lives of Susan B. Anthony, Robert Frost, John Keats, Harriet Tubman, and Henry David Thoreau and found that the common trait they shared was seriously attempting to bring forth what was inside of them. This didn’t come easy to any of them and they all faced challenges, rejection, and criticism. Yet at every key point in their lives, they either kept looking for what brought them alive or protected their time so that they could work on what mattered. In the words of Thoreau, the game they played and that we should play is to ‘be resolutely and faithfully what you are.’”

I’ve been thinking a lot about what motivates me. In the past, it would’ve been something like: doing hard things, helping others, pursuing mastery, making something new, or learning as much as possible. But I don’t think I’m optimizing for those things anymore—not that I don’t want to do those things, but I don’t feel like those are what really drives me deep down. I think what really motivates me is just doing what I love and embodying joy and love. At this point in my life, I just want to do things I love and be around people I love. Which sounds extremely nebulous—what do I love? Who do I love? How do I love? For now, I want my outer world to reflect what is inside me, and I want what is inside me to be filled with love and joy. I want my life’s work to actualize from my inner world, and to have deep alignment in all areas of my life.

The good thing is, I’m more confident than ever that robotics is the field for me. There is no other field where I feel like I can work on technical problems and see the tangible (hopefully positive) impact on society, where I can collaborate with others who are kind and passionate, work on and build things that didn’t exist before, and see the adjacent connections in physics, engineering, ethics, neuroscience, and philosophy.

My other concrete goals for 2023

• Improve my reading and speaking of Chinese. I have a strong desire to get back to my roots. I want to read some classic Chinese literature and not sound like a young child when I speak in Chinese.
• Meet new people and make new “soul” friendships
  • I think this comes with time, but I haven’t really made new close friends since graduating. I love all my friends now and I feel so close with them, but I definitely want to meet new people with similar interests in yoga, spirituality, wellness, nature, sustainability, health, technology, and science. I find people to be so incredibly inspiring.
• Write more
  • I already write nearly every day in my journal (at least after my wrist healed). It’s more of a compulsive habit—the words just spill out of me most days, and I can’t not write. I want to write more stories, essays, and papers, but my discipline in those have been lacking lately.
  • Morning pages every day before looking at any devices, quick reflections and gratitude list in the evening

Favorites of 2023

• Book: East of Eden by John Steinbeck. Parts of it were a bit of a drag and some of the characters weren’t entirely believable, but I learned a lot from it. Timshel!
• Song: I couldn’t pick one, so here are three:
  • 1000 Oceans by Tori Amos
  • Morning Elvis by Florence + the Machine
  • Sidelines by Phoebe Bridgers
• Memory: a Coldplay concert with two of my closest friends. I was feeling extremely down that month after my grandpa passed away, but being my friends and singing along to Coldplay gave me so much hope. The lights swaying in the audience, the unexpected fireworks filled with color that shot into the sky like the most cathartic rainfall, the full moon shining down on us at Levi Stadium, dancing with my friends, screaming the lyrics that brought me so much nostalgia from when I would listen to their songs alone in my darkest moments and my brightest days. And then the squished light rail commute back, the car conversations filled with care and vulnerability, the simple hanging out in my room with the people I cherished, who really saw me as I was. It was so magical and special.
• Food: panang curry… yum! It was my go-to comfort food in college, and now that I’m not living the dorm life, I love making and eating it so much.
• Podcast episode: Jocko Willink: How to Become Resilient, Forge Your Identity & Lead Others - Huberman Lab Podcast 104
• Youtube video: I chose the slow life by Leah’s Fieldnotes.
• Poem: “The Invitation” by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. — “It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.”
• TV show: Twenty-Five Twenty-One. This one hit me so hard, I definitely cried while watching it. The ending was so bad that I couldn’t finish the last episode, though.
• Movie: Topgun Maverick! It gave me so much unexpected reignition for pursuing mastery and living my life to the fullest.

This year was honestly a bit rough. But it was incredibly joyous and life-affirming at the same time. My therapist tells me that I’ve evolved, and I don’t know if I really have or what that even means, but I’m certainly not the same person I used to be. I do know that I’m still not jaded, and I’m still as open to love and joy as I ever have been. I don’t know what 2023 will bring, and I don’t have any expectations. I expect nothing from myself and the world. Maybe that sounds pessimistic, but I genuinely just accept whatever happens. I accept myself, I accept change, and I accept the world as it is—brutal, cruel, chaotic, beautiful, and full of love. With that acceptance comes a peace I’ve never felt as strongly as before.

“Life offers up these moments of joy despite everything.” — Normal People by Sally Rooney

I’m in love with my capacity to feel deeply. My sensitivity is my greatest gift—the ability to experience a full range of emotions, from utter bliss to heart-wrenching grief, is what I believe is at the core of life. I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it means that, more often than not, I am in emotional pain and turmoil. Part of being a woman is constantly shedding your past—not only monthly through your menstrual cycle, but also in your views, experiences, and sense of self as you age. And that means a constant cycle of death and rebirth, dark and light, grief and joy.

Part of my healing journey was to honor and liberate my feminine side [1], which included taking breaks without feeling negative emotions, embracing my sensuality, slowing down, creating intention, meaning, and space, and showing up as love. This is what female empowerment truly means to me. As much as I stand for women in STEM initiatives and #girlbossing, what bothers me is that I don’t want to just perpetuate patriarchal standards and hierarchies. As women, it’s not enough to “lean in”. We must lean out to figure out what we truly want to lean into. Do we want to perpetuate financial institutions that disproportionally benefit the rich and create a “metaverse” where we are increasingly disconnected from each other? Or do we want to create systems and lives around health, wellness, healing, nature, and true connection? Do we want to go to Mars to perpetuate colonialism and our own egos, or do we want to use it as a way to uplift the disadvantaged? These are the questions we need to be asking, not how women can fit in a society built for men.

I think a lot about a passage from one of my favorite books, A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle on womens’ collective pain-body:

“The suppression of the feminine principle especially over the past two thousand years has enabled the ego to gain absolute supremacy in the collective human psyche. Although women have egos, of course, the ego can take root and grow more easily in the male form than in the female. This is because women are less mind-identified than men. They are more in touch with the inner body and the intelligence of the organism where the intuitive faculties originate. The female form is less rigidly encapsulated than the male, has greater openness and sensitivity toward other life-forms, and is more attuned to the natural world.

If the balance between male and female energies had not been destroyed on our planet, the ego’s growth would have been greatly curtailed. We would not have declared war on nature, and we would not be so completely alienated from our Being.”

I believe the suppression of the feminine is at the core of many of the problems we face in society today. We often use different versions of the same demons to fight the very demons we slay; we use more tech to solve the current problems of tech, and unbridled technological progress as an unsustainable means to progress the status quo. This is a problem that technological progress itself can never fully fix—it’s why I’ve felt disillusioned and wary of technological progress for many years despite many astounding advances. While I am an optimist when it comes to technology and science and they have no doubt benefited society, I also believe that we must incorporate holistic and “feminine” values in order to create positive change.

I’ve also been reading a lot of Audre Lorde lately, who was a leading figure in the feminist and civil rights movement. In her essay Poetry is Not a Luxury, she writes:

“The white fathers told us: I think, therefore I am. The Black mother within each of us — the poet — whispers in our dreams: I feel, therefore I can be free. Poetry coins the language to express and charter this revolutionary demand, the implementation of that freedom.” — Poetry is Not a Luxury (essay from Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches) by Audre Lorde

Despite years of schooling and formal education that has furthered my intellectual side, I have always felt like it was missing something. We try to be rigorous in our proofs and thoughts, to seek truth and knowledge, but what I believe we need more of is learning to be in touch with ourselves, our emotions, our bodies, and the way we are all connected in this world. Only after graduating and finding the time and space to fully give my emotional side and physical body a chance to breathe, have I felt more like myself—grounded and fully embodied.

I feel more and more drawn the the spiritual and philosophical realm, a realm that academics tend to dismiss, yet I believe those are as valid as any truth we pursue. Athough truth is a noble and worthwhile pursuit, I don’t think we’ll ever get there. Or rather, there is nothing more true than the present moment—that you are reading this now, that I am writing this now. I surrender to my insignificance and ignorance, and I accept death as part of life. Yet of course, I will strive to be significant, know more, and live for as long as possible. While I’ll never reach the apex, what matters is the process. And what matters in the process is, again, the range of human feeling and experience—which I have come to realize is one of the main reasons for personal ambition. Instead of ambition as a way to validate yourself in the world or even to change the world, I have come to see it as a way of getting to know yourself more deeply—and therefore come into yourself. That shift has been transformational in the way I view and motivate my own ambitions.

Lorde also writes on the erotic as a source of power that has been historically suppressed:

“The erotic has often been misnamed by men and used against women. It has been made into the confused, the trivial, the psychotic, the plasticized sensation. For this reason, we have often turned away from the exploration and consideration of the erotic as a source of power and information, confusing it with its opposite, the pornographic. But pornography is a direct denial of the power of the erotic, for it represents the suppression of true feeling. Pornography emphasizes sensation without feeling.

The erotic is a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings. It is an internal sense of satisfaction to which, once we have experienced it, we know we can aspire. For having experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling and recognizing its power, in honour and self-respect we can require no less of ourselves.” — Uses of the Erotic (essay from Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches) by Audre Lorde [2]

There are times, especially working in a male-dominated field, when I find it hard to show up as my most authentic self—a highly sensitive, fragile, and emotional creature. But then I remind myself who I am, my immeasurable power and insignificance, and everything that has brought me here—my atoms made from stardust, my ancestors who roamed the plains, and the large village who raised me with such compassion and care, whether or not they know how much they shaped me. I am powerful, wild, and free. And most of all, I love myself. I have realized that life is hard on its own, and there is no point in being in my own way. My relationship towards myself is what should stand when everything around me falls away. And so I gift myself love, and my love overflows to the world.

I don’t need anything more than myself, but I want more—more unconditional love, a rich philosophical inner life, to be surrounded by nature and art, and to be in a place where I feel like I can be myself. I want to eat plants from the ground. I want to cook and bake delicious and nutritious food. I want dinner parties and book clubs, holding hands and cuddling. I want dark red lipstick, sexy lingerie, and luxurious skincare. I want eternal beauty and grace. I want to grow old with wrinkles that show that I’ve laughed my way through life, and I want hair that shimmers with silver. I want love that feels safe and protective, a man who will always fight for me and put us first. I want to see the love that is within and around us, all of the time. To always choose love over hate, hope over despair, and freedom over imprisonment. I want to be the voice for those who are voiceless, and uplift the people who need power.

That is what I yearn for—the beauty, the love, the wild, the peace.

[1] I feel like feminine is such a loaded term in today’s society. To me, I see it more like yin in the Chinese concept of yin and yang. While yin is associated with dark, cold, water, and contraction and is seen as “feminine”, and yang is associated with light, heat, fire, and expansive and is seen as “masculine”, I don’t see them tied to a specific gender. Rather, yin and yang exist in everyone to different degrees, and it also shifts in different life stages and contexts.

[2] I highly suggest reading these essays and her other works in full–they have deeply shifted and affirmed the way I view the world. They may be off-putting in the way she describes emotional depth as a trait universal to women (and I’m trying to reconcile and understand that myself), but I do think there is a lot of truth in what she writes.

This year has been a series of health issues. It started with getting COVID and getting over my knee pain. Then I injured my wrist during boxing, and that made typing/painting/writing/most things painful. I then re-hurt my wrist during yoga a few months ago, and now I have to be extremely gentle with it (I can’t type or write too long), or it starts hurting again. I also got bronchitis, which turned into pneumonia that took me out for over a month. I am now healing from an ankle sprain that first happened during a hike but got worse when I tried running a few weeks later, and now I can only walk very short distances. Before this year, I never had anything that took me out for very long, so this has all been humbling and new.

Due to my various injuries and sicknesses, it’s been over a year since I last went on a long run. I miss it so much—I literally had a dream where I was happily running. I miss being in nature, seeing the sunset, and the quiet nights when no one else was around. I miss the feeling of freedom and strength, the exhaustion that quiets my brain, and the physical and mental challenge. I loved going slowly at a steady pace, getting into a rhythm, and listening to my feet and breath. Running was my meditation, and I don’t feel the same without it. I can slightly swim and have biked a bit (before my ankle injury), but it’s not the same.

Being unable to perform even basic things or do what I love gets difficult mentally. It feels like my body is betraying me (even when I know it’s doing its best to heal), and it’s sometimes hard to keep my spirits up when all I want to do is live without any pain and move my body in the ways I want. I’ve thought to myself many times “What is wrong with me? Why can’t I be like I used to be?”, and I’ve wondered whether I have some underlying issue. But I don’t—I’ve just had a series of unfortunate events. They all put life in perspective for me. I’m trying to focus on what I can do instead of what I can’t (some exercises/stretches/foam rolling) and being grateful for the extra time to read/think/learn, and remember that this is just temporary. The silver lining is that I now know so much more about human anatomy, and I’m learning more about the human body through podcasts and YouTube videos. I’ve also been eating and sleeping very well, which hopefully helps my healing process. I can only imagine what people with chronic pain/illnesses or physical debilitations go through in their lifetime, and how society is truly set up for able-bodied people.

Frida Kahlo is one of my favorite painters, and she was in chronic pain for most of her life. The thing about pain—physical or mental—is that it is something no one else can understand except yourself. You can tell someone how much it hurts and describe it on a scale, but no one can really feel it the way that you do. It profoundly shapes the way you see the world—it feels like you’re watching the rest of the world moving through a window, and you’re standing still. Pain is an isolating experience, and art is a way of expressing it.

Frida Kahlo was in a car accident at age 18 that left her in chronic pain for the rest of her life. This is her painting in bed when she was bedridden for months.

The Wounded Deer, 1946 by Frida Kahlo. She painted this after a failed surgery that was supposed to help her back pain.

It wasn’t just my own health issues—my grandfather passed away suddenly in May, and I was heartbroken. My grandfather was such a big part of my life, and one of the strongest people I know. I had a very special relationship with my grandfather—my grandparents lived with us growing up, and they basically raised us when our parents were working. My grandfather inspires me to take care of my health; even after he got six inches of bone cut off from his leg from cancer, he went to the gym every morning at 8 AM for years to work on his fitness. My grandfather was a fighter. He loved fiercely and deeply, and his love for our family was strong. Even though he had his flaws (he had occasional anger problems and some outdated views), he was deeply emotional and highly artistic. He was musical, athletic, and smart. He loved table tennis (and would beat my dad who is already very good), played the erhu, and was good at Chinese calligraphy. He was an electrical engineer working on planes—but he never talked about work to us, just about the value of hard work. And most of all, he loved me and my sister unconditionally. Of course, parents love the best they can, but the love from grandparents is different—less conditional, more mellow and stable. Because of my grandparents, I never questioned whether I was loved. Looking back, that was one of the greatest gifts I could ever have in this life, and the greatest gift I want to give to my future kids and grandkids (if I have any).

Through grief, sickness, pain, and recovery, this year had been unexpectedly filled with solitude. As much as I love socializing and meeting new people, all I wanted was to be alone. I had little desire to socialize in large groups, and I just spent time by myself. I needed to just feel, process, reflect, and be in my own energy. But through it all, I also found strength in those I love—the few people in this world I can count on for anything, who always make me feel seen and understood. By spending time alone and with my inner circle, I became much more clear about the values I look for in the people around me. I became more attuned to how I felt around other people, and I tried to learn how to keep my sense of self through my interactions. I now see clearly what I prioritize in my close relationships and what I value more broadly—people who are open (both in communication and in mindset), I feel completely safe and able to be myself around, value growth and continually invest in themselves, seek to understand themselves and others through introspection and connection, send love/compassion/care/warmth towards themselves and others, are emotionally mature and sensitive, try to work through their personal problems to strengthen or at least not harm the relationship, have a small ego and aren’t pretentious or ostentatious, are deeply passionate, and have genuine self-respect. This, in turn, is also the kind of person I want to be for others.

Even through the struggles and the ups and downs, I realized that I am living my dream life right now. I am exactly where I want and need to be. I am luckier than I will ever know. I have everything I want, and everything more—relationships, money, opportunities, etc.—is just extra. You could ask me to choose a different life, any life, and I would still choose this life, over and over again. Because I made the choices I did, because I did what I could with what I had. And even if I’m sad or anxious or lonely or feeling any negative emotion, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know I will have many more struggles in life—to love deeply is also to lose deeply, to be in this human form is to feel physical and emotional pain. I want to feel it all. Perception—which shapes our perspective—is the greatest gift of human consciousness.

This year has reaffirmed what I prioritize in life. I think a lot about what I value, but often, values can conflict based on external circumstances. The only way to deliberately know what actions to take is to figure out your priorities—i.e., an ordered list of what you value. Before, I just knew my priorities loosely, so I felt like I was being pulled in many different directions. I now live my priorities through my actions every single day—setting boundaries, putting in the work, and saying yes or no when it feels right. I do not care how “successful” I am if I’m not physically, mentally, and spiritually well. I don’t care how successful I am if I am not with the people I love and care about. I prioritize health, relationships/community, creativity/wonder/art, and work/career—in that order. (Although ideally, priorities aren’t necessarily an ordered list, they feed off each other and create positive feedback loops.) Maybe this is too bold of a statement to proclaim, especially in the culture of Silicon Valley where work is often seen as the number one priority, but I no longer care. And honestly, I feel like many other people feel this way. I need real alignment in my life—to have a lifestyle, career, and relationships that support my priorities. I know what I value, which allows me to know how to prioritize, which guides my actions and thoughts in my everyday life. As I grow older, my priorities will shift, because my values will change. But I hope I will always grow in alignment, where my values and priorities match my actions and lifestyle. I believe that’s what it means to grow into oneself, and I think that’s where true confidence and fulfillment come from.

Not proving my worth to anyone, even myself
In high school, I felt the need to prove myself to others. I tried my best to differentiate myself to get into college, but also because I wanted to be different and unique. I quit violin and drawing even though I loved doing them, only because I felt the need to do things that I could uniquely excel at instead. In many ways, I sold my personality and packaged myself in a neat little bow. I don’t regret that at all and I still love everything I did, but sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I developed the different parts of myself at my own pace.

In college, I decided I was fed up with proving myself to others. Instead, I tried to prove my worth to myself. I pushed myself to see what could handle. I tried my best to not care what others thought, and I tried to define my own path. I proved to myself that I could do hard things and be the best version of myself.

Now, I’ve realized that I have nothing to prove to anyone, even myself. I still care about what people think, but the difference is that it doesn’t come from a place of questioning my internal worth and inherent value. I don’t compete with others. I don’t even compete with myself—I see my past, present, and future as one. I don’t do things because I want to be better than others, or even so that I can be good at them. I do things simply because I enjoy doing them. I only want to live with ease and alignment. Perhaps it has made me less ambitious, but ambition is pointless without genuine purpose and fulfillment.

Work will never love me back
Something I tell myself often is “I may love work, but work will never love me back.” I feel blessed to had the opportunity to pursue my passions and found something I love at a young age, something that makes me lose track of time and sometimes feel more like play than work. But at the same time, I’m careful of not losing myself, of losing the part that makes me, me—the free-spirited, wild child that is curious about not just my work, but about life. The part of me that cares as much about random silly things as about work. The part of me that wants to pour myself into people I love, as much as the things I love to do. I need so much more than work to fulfill me as a human being. I don’t want to be defined only by the work I do, but by my particular way of seeing, being, and doing.

The best thing you can do to resist capitalism is to love yourself and those around you deeply—even if it means caring less about work. (I’m not opposed to capitalism as a system—I just don’t believe that the system should entirely dictate how we live our lives, both philosophically and practically. Or at least, if we allow it to dictate us, we should be aware of its influence.) You cannot pour from an empty cup—you must fill your cup before you help the world in any capacity. We can’t build a future we love if we don’t find joy in the present.

Spirituality is humanity’s only salvation
As long as we exist in our current human form, humanity will continue to suffer due to our innate sins. Whether you believe the origin of our sinful nature is due to a spiritual deity or through evolution, we all have dark sides that never end. Even if we expand to other worlds, even if we have the best technology, even if we figure out how to never die and stay eternally healthy, we will continue to suffer because of the side of us that is greedy and has the propensity to sin. So, what are we trying to do in this world? I believe spirituality is the way out, although not necessarily as a dogmatic practice—rather, a holistic knowing and appreciation of those who came before you and those who will come after. The only way towards salvation is through inner healing, reflection, and transformation.

The futility in changing the world, and improving the world from within
I used to want to change the world. But then I saw how people in high-powered positions who wanted to “change the world” could treat people so poorly—whether it’s their own family and closest friends, or their workers. I recognize the moral gray area we live in–it’s impossible to try to optimize the good you do in the world. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, but we should recognize the futility in it all.

I also used to want to change people around me. But then I felt how painful it is to expect people to be different than they are, and that people will only change if they want to change or are somehow forced to change.

Now, I only want to change myself. Because I have learned that is the only thing you can really change. You can even indirectly change others, and thus change the world, simply by changing yourself. Just by being yourself, you are changing the world. But that is not the focus nor the end goal, because to focus on changing others or the world around you is difficult–rather, the focus is on changing oneself. Of course, there are systemic changes that the world needs, but I still believe the best way to improve the world is from within–that is the prerequisite.

True love is giving without expectation
I believe love exists in many forms. But true love (or what I believe love is in its purest form) is giving without expecting anything in return—whether it is attention, time, energy, presence, care, etc. I’ve never agreed with the idea of karma or religious beliefs that if one does good, one should expect to receive good in return. The expectation and transactional nature are what bother me. We should do good not to get anything in return, but simply because it is the right thing to do. To me, if we do good because we expect salvation from God or because of some other ulterior motive, that is not true good. Similarly, we should love not to get anything in return, but simply because we care deeply. That is true goodness, and that is true love. Perhaps that is overly idealized and simplified, but maybe it is that ideal and simple. Yes, boundaries are necessary, and sometimes giving love without return only brings a world of pain and heartbreak. But I think true love is what happens when no one else is watching, when one person gets sick and the other one stays through the pain and heartbreak, when everyone else leaves but you.

So many relationships are transactional and ego-based. Even parenthood can be full of ego—people have kids to feed their own egos and call their bond love—when in reality, it is not true love, it is out of a desire to fulfill their own needs, and not their kids’. I think that is actually at the core of a lot of problems in modern society—that “love” as people see it is a transaction, not a pure form of giving.

I’ve often wondered whether unconditional love even exists. The term “unconditional” makes me skeptical—meaning under all circumstances, regardless of anything, love persists. I believe unconditional love exists, but perhaps it is not a healthy form of love. I believe that all healthy love should be conditional.

The beauty and importance of friendship
There is so much emphasis on romantic relationships in our society, but friendship is one of the most beautiful, rare, and exquisite things in the world. To me, true friendship is like true love. It is giving without expecting anything in return. It is both parties setting boundaries, giving space, understanding the other’s soul, and feeling seen.

Emotional compatibility in romantic relationships
When it comes to romantic relationships, someone can be perfect on paper (checks all the boxes), but if they aren’t emotionally compatible, they aren’t the right person for you. Similarly, someone can check none of your boxes, but still be the right person for you, because emotional compatibility (which is more and sometimes different than chemistry) is difficult to pinpoint or describe. What you think you want and what is truly good for you can be quite different.

It took me a long time to realize what truly matters. What matters is how the person makes you feel, whether you feel loved and accepted exactly as you are, and if you love and accept them exactly as they are.

Accept yourself to accept others
Accept yourself for who you are, now. This doesn’t mean you don’t want to change yourself or grow—life is a continual process of change and growth. It means learning to accept where you are. Only by accepting yourself can you be more accepting of others. Acceptance is at the root of compassion and understanding.

Most people, including your parents, bosses, teachers, friends, etc., are walking around with unprocessed trauma and emotions. If they act emotionally immature, it is because they never had the tools to deal with their feelings or recognize their own hurt. Be compassionate without anger. Accept them where they are. They aren’t trying to hurt you, and even if they are, it’s probably because they were hurt at some point. You can end the cycle of reactivity and pain through empathy (unless they’re seriously physically or emotionally abusive, in which case, run). I used to crave acknowledgement for the hurt I felt. I used to be angry for being the one to change. Now I know that I can validate who I am, and no one can take that away.

Fall in love constantly
The best thing you can do is fall in love constantly. Fall in love with the world. Fall in love with those around you, the small moments in between. Know that life is full of love, and it starts from inner love and acceptance.

Life is a reflection of your inner world
The more you level up in life (which to me means loving yourself and others more deeply), the more everything in life will align. The more you work on yourself through the love—including doing the work to journal, go to therapy, eat/sleep/exercise, put your best foot forward in how you look/present—the more people and opportunities come. Your life is a reflection of your inner world.

Healing in the same place that hurt you
You do not necessarily have to leave to heal. I used to want to cut my hair, move across the world, and start anew. But even if you move across the country or to the other side of the globe, your problems will still exist, just in different forms. A friend told me that you cannot heal in the same place that hurt you, but I don’t agree. You will need external help, but if you can heal in a place that hurt you, you are golden. Nothing can touch you if you don’t let it. (This doesn’t include truly abusive situations.) I used to be so good at walking away. If someone hurt me, I could walk away and harden my heart to protect myself. But now, I don’t need to run. I can let the hurt come and pass. I can respond, not react. I can still walk away, but now I know that’s not the only answer, and sometimes not the best. Now when I walk away, it’s a choice made from acceptance of differences, not fear of losing myself.

If reading fiction is a waste of time, so is breathing
It makes me sad to hear people say “fiction is a waste of time”. It is such a joy to imagine and live another life through the writings in a book. And I also think it’s a funny thing to say–if you think about it, everything yet nothing is a “waste of time”. That statement reflects the values we live in our current society. I don’t think time is ever wasted, it exists (or maybe it doesn’t), and we’re simply submerged in time, unable to change it.

Life will continue teaching you until you have learned (or suffer the consequences)
Life teaches you what you must learn at every moment. You just need to be receptive to its teachings, or else it will teach you again and again, with greater and greater consequences.

The default in life should be rest and ease
I don’t believe in pain being the only way towards victory. I believe in ease. I believe I deserve to be at ease, that rest is not a privilege, it is a necessity. I believe we’ve been taught that the only way towards fulfillment and happiness is to work hard, but that’s a lie fed by capitalism and those who hold the power. We live in a world where people in power want to stay in power, so they perpetuate a narrative that there is not enough, that we must do and make more, and that the only way to a good life is through pain and hard work. But no. I believe the default in life should be rest and ease, not pain and suffering—although every shade of pain to bliss must and will exist, internally and collectively.

However, I love the grind, and I can be completely masochistic in the way I approach life. I love the pain of doing hard things—but only because I find it fun and fulfilling. But I don’t think it’s the only way, or always the best way.

I’ve learned (or I’m trying to learn) not to push myself and listen to my body. Recovery and rest are just as, or even more important than, the work itself. There are many forms of rest and recovery, and it can often be active, like stretching or yoga. Likewise, for the mind, active recovery can be journaling, making art, listening to music, spending quality time with people you love, and anything else that makes you more in tune with your feelings. Not recovering the body can lead to injury and chronic pain. Not recovering the mind can lead to burnout and chronic depression or anxiety. Not recovering the spirit can lead to a lingering sense of loss and listlessness.

Relearning how to exist in my body
When I was younger, I wanted to transcend my body and enter the consciousness of my mind. I dreamed of some cosmic entity, divorced of thoughts and feelings, yet a being of knowing. I dreamed of existing only as a mind without being tied down to my human form. Now I know that my spiritual form on earth is my body, and only through taking care of my body, can my mind be whole. Through doing this, I’ve learned that my mind is just one part of my being—an important part, but not the only part. I now know how breathwork unlocks certain parts of my mind, and how my body, mind, and soul are inextricably tied. Especially learning more about chakras (which I may not believe in but still find fascinating) and yoga, the body is truly a sacred portal to the universe.

Committing to something, someone, or somewhere isn’t always a loss of freedom
Commitment isn’t a loss of freedom. Committing to something, someone, or somewhere actually allows you to invest yourself into a thing/person/place of your choice, which can actually give you more freedom than if you were to wander around and never settle. I find this especially true in choosing what problems to work on. You can explore and try to open as many doors as possible–and sometimes, that can be hugely beneficial. Or you can decide to fully commit to a cause or project that resonates with you deeply, and see where that takes you. Sometimes the latter approach of committing doesn’t take away your options, but it actually widens them. In relationships, you can date around without intentions to commit, but to truly find freedom in another person requires commitment and sacrifice. Even in choosing a city to live in, there is so much freedom in deciding to settle down in a certain area for a while–you know where you’ll be and can root yourself in the community, thinking in decades instead of years.

Being an interesting person is being authentic and having a rich inner world
The desire to be an interesting person is by nature, egoic. I used to want to be an interesting person, to have a polished resume and a list of things I’ve done, but now I’ve realized that being an interesting person is really about being authentic and having a rich inner life. Each human being is already so unique and interesting. Being an “interesting person” is just being so authentically you, because even if you may have the same traits as someone else, only you have the unique combination and intensity of traits. Only you have seen what you’ve seen, only you have experienced the highs and lows of your life, only you know what it’s like to be you. The more you learn about yourself, the more there is to learn.

That’s why I love writing: it makes you realize that even if you were to live in a quiet cottage, you can create a full and interesting life. A masterpiece is already inside you, waiting to be uncovered. Whenever I feel a bit bored with life and want some flare and excitement, I think of Emily Dickinson, and how she created so many beautiful poems while living in a house with her mother. You do not need fancy cars, expensive houses, or exotic travels to experience the richness of life. You just need to unravel the complexity of life through observation and self-examination.

The art of detachment (or the acceptance of duality)
I’m learning the art of detachment. Sometimes you can only get what you want when you are willing to accept the opposite, because you realize that the difference between having something and not is tenuous. Nothing is permanent, and life is always shifting. You can only be rich when you can accept being poor, because you know money is an exchange of energy and can always be made. You can only be in healthy relationships when you are willing to be alone, to walk away from everyone, and be in your own company. You can only live a genuine and full life when you accept the possibility of death, of total oblivion, of the universe not caring if you were ever alive.

My only goal for 2021 was to “be kind”. I tried my best to not put pressure on myself to do or achieve anything, and that’s been transformative on my health and wellbeing. I have been continuing with consistent therapy, journaling, reading, and movement. I also invested a lot in myself—spending time on fashion, getting frequent acupunctures and massages, and indulging in things that bring me joy. It helps that many of my close friends are nearby, and living with family is such a blessing. Every weekend is a new adventure, a chance to discover more about myself and the world, to connect deeper with myself and others.

This year made me realize that if I never worked another day in my life, I could be extremely happy. I used to derive my worth from work, but no longer. This doesn’t mean that I don’t care about my work or that I don’t love it—I genuinely find fulfillment and satisfaction in the work I do. But making art, spending time with people I love, exploring the world around me, giving back in the ways I can—if I only did that for the rest of my life, I could be really happy. I don’t need a high-powered career to make me happy. I still have a lot of professional goals (and want to have an impactful career), but I’m not so single-tracked on fulfilling them because I know who I am as a human being.

This year isn’t without its disappointments, setbacks, and tragedies. But, none of them brought me to true despair, as they may have in the past. Not that the moments hurt any less—if anything, they hurt more now that I’m leaning into the pain and feeling everything. With better awareness and compassion, I learned to trust the process and take things as they come.

Each new year, I give three words that serve as themes that I want to invite more into my life. My three words for 2022 are alignment, consistency, and community.

Alignment

Alignment is having a positive feedback loop between every part of the self and the outside world. It means that every fiber of your being is in service to something greater than the self. Part of fulfilling one’s potential is being in alignment—it is impossible to achieve success (however you define it) without aligning one’s inner world with the outer world.

This year, I want to become more aligned in all dimensions: physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, financial. This means getting crystal clear about the kind of life I want and the world I want to live in—and putting the work in to get there.

To be in alignment, you must figure out what you want out of life, which is a continual, never-ending process of growth and self-discovery. This process comes in two parts. Firstly, it’s gaining information and stimulus from the outside world. To me, this means leaning into my interests (which include robotics, physics, AI, environmentalism, space exploration, psychology, neuroscience, literature, art, health/wellness, etc.) by talking to people, watching lectures and talks, reading papers, and continuous feedback from the world. Secondly, there is the feedback with the inner world: listening to the self (feelings, thoughts, intuition), journaling (asking and responding to the self), meditation, visualization. These tools help me figure out what I want in life instead of following what I am supposed to want, and I want to do more of this in the coming year.

Looking back, the times I’ve felt the happiest have always been when I was in the most alignment—when my thoughts, feelings, and actions reflected my values. It’s when I dived deep into a few things deeply, giving them my all. I realized that true freedom to me means being in flow states—when your entire being is dedicated to a purpose that manifests in the physical world. When I am immersed in art, engineering, running, stories, conversations, and other activities I love, I feel the most like myself. When I’m out of alignment, I am more susceptible to mental health problems.

Greater alignment also means alignment with the self to the world around me. I want to better communicate my boundaries, protect my energy, and be around people who align with my values.

Consistency

I’m sometimes too all-or-nothing in my habits and relationships, which is a problem I’ve noticed since high school (probably due to school-induced perfectionistic tendencies). I enjoy the intensity of doing something in one sitting, going all-in on a project with laser focus, and even trusting someone fully and without a guard. I don’t think that’s always healthy or beneficial though, and I want to keep the intensity while incorporating more discipline and consistency.

This summer, I ramped up my physical activity level way too fast after a period of inactivity, leading to a knee injury that led to months of pain and many doctor’s appointments. This year, I want to heal from my knee injury completely—not jumping into running or lifting before I’m ready. I want to consistently work on exercises from physical therapy. Even if it’s ten minutes, I want to do some form of movement each day to work on my stability, strength, mobility, and flexibility. I want to listen to my body at all times (which goes back to “alignment”). As the adage goes, “If you listen to your body when it whispers, you won’t have to hear it scream.”

While I was injured, my parents were running every weekend, training for a marathon. Seeing my parents run a marathon together made me realize that I don’t have to push myself so hard now—I just have to take care of myself so that I can still push myself even when I’m older. This applies to career, too—it’s not about how fast you go, it’s about how far you can sustainably go. That’s why I don’t care about being a lead at age x, getting a promotion by age y, or achieving some milestone by age z. I know I’ll get there eventually, and I’m not in any rush. I know what I want, roughly (and my life goals largely haven’t changed since high school), and I know it can come. It’s just a matter of time and consistent effort. I want to enjoy the process at every step of the way. If I get a no, it’s either a not now or the wrong fit–it’s not a reflection of my being. I want to do what feels right. Everything I want is already in the universe, and everything I’m seeking is already inside me.

I want to be more consistent in my hobbies and interests (practicing art, focusing on my health, and spiritual practices) by creating systems and habits that work for me. I also want to be more consistent in reading papers, textbooks, and watching lectures. Lastly, I want to be more consistent in my relationships.

Community

If the pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that we’re wired to be social creatures. We’re not meant to live in isolation. We have to rely on each other to get through and improve our lives, and we are stronger when we work together.

Sometimes I feel like I must work on myself before I go out into the world (and do the whole “going to the woods to live deliberately thing” where I withdraw to find myself), but the world and I should be in more of a symbiotic relationship. I’ll never be fully healed or ready, and I have to accept that. As an introverted person, I get drained easily—but in the right setting, I can have a great time and feel like my heart is full. I want to invite more of that joyous energy into my life this year, despite the pandemic.

I believe some of the most creative and intellectual endeavors require a predominantly solitary journey: to take what lies beneath the conscious mind and go beneath the consciousness of society. One must use intuition to go beyond, to see a vision of what is to come. Yet, communities are crucial to spreading ideas and inspiration, and sometimes, collaboration is the only way to get things done.

Western and modern culture is extremely individualistic, and we all suffer because of it. Unbridled capitalism, corporate competition, the romanticization of a nuclear family, the importance of finding The One, land ownership, etc., all feed into this individualistic narrative. While attending to the self is of utmost importance, the values of a community are equally important. While I likely will not take action in the coming year in this regard, I’m attracted to the idea of communes and communal living in our modern society.

This year, I want to meet more people through activities that matter to me—spiritual practices, community service, book clubs, running clubs, art shows. I feel like I changed a lot during the pandemic, and my values and interests have reflected that. While it’s great to do things alone, the company you surround yourself with is ultimately what makes the journey fun and fulfilling. As the proverb goes, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” I want to be more aligned with myself and radiate my inner values to find others who are on the same journey. I want to seek opportunities to bring people together and be there for people.

I’m so excited for what 2022 has to offer. I will largely continue on my current path, with greater intention to bring alignment, consistency, and community into my everyday life.

Somehow, I hadn’t felt free during school. One of the things I disliked about school was the constant pressure to do something meaningful with the time I had. This was mostly self-inflicted, but I didn’t let myself go to the gym or make art as often as I would have liked because there was always something “more important” to do. But without spending time on those things, I didn’t feel fully like myself. Even though I liked everything I was doing, I was so high-strung—and for what? Maybe I was just burnt out and craved time to grow naturally and deepen my hobbies, but this summer felt heavenly. And now that I’m starting work and living life as a “real adult”, how can I hold on to the same feeling of freedom? How can I set boundaries and give myself what I need? I crave freedom—it’s why I fantasize about buying a van and just driving, living on the road.

What is true freedom? I still feel so mentally held down to the past and the expectations of the people I care about. My overthinking and anxious brain makes me feel that I am not in control—that I am not free, even from myself. I feel trapped in my being, in the confines of society. Does freedom come from within—is it a mental state? Is freedom even something we should strive for? What is the price of freedom, and when is it worth to give up your freedom for other values? Are people ever truly free, or is freedom an illusion? I suppose that depends on one’s definition of freedom, which seems to be different for everyone. Even if we think about homesteading or living off the land/off the grid, it’s impossible to be truly free. As long as we live in our worldly form with physical and emotional needs, we can never truly be free.

The Choice by Edith Eger, a memoir about a woman’s time in Auschwitz, was gifted to me during quarantine when I felt the most mentally trapped. It completely changed my perspective on life and has made me see that true freedom is internal. What she and so many have gone through is truly horrible, but she was somehow able to heal from it many years later through forgiveness and owning the feeling of pain.

“Work has set me free. I survived so that I could do my work. Not the work the Nazis meant—the hard labor of sacrifice and hunger, of exhaustion and enslavement. It was the inner work. Of learning to survive and thrive, of learning to forgive myself, of helping others to do the same. And when I do this work, then I am no longer the hostage or the prisoner of anything. I am free” (233) — The Choice

As I’m growing older, I’m realizing that life continually messes people up, and we have to continually do the inner work to heal and grow consciously in order to have a healthy unconscious. The inner work never stops, but it is the only path towards freedom. While internal freedom is present in its purest form as a child and in old age, the process of growing up is of gaining external freedom as you grow up and losing it as you age. I felt free as a child, but somehow I have lost that feeling internally even as I have gained more freedom externally.

What does freedom means politically? I recently listened to a podcast from a woman who escaped North Korea. She said most people in the West don’t even know the true meaning of oppressed. How can I even be contemplating freedom, while millions of people (potentially billions) are truly trapped? How are my ideals of freedom construed by Western culture? There is immense privilege even in being aware or in control of one’s freedom, but it also comes with the burden of choice and responsibility.

This year, I’ve been working on my spiritual healing: dismantling societal thoughts and pressures, recognizing thought patterns from being raised in a capitalist and individualized society, understanding an Eastern upbringing in a Western world, breaking free from roles and healing fantasies that no longer serve me, becoming more aware of the ego. I’ve also been thinking a lot about what freedom means to me as a woman. How so many woman struggle with their freedom because of financial limitations or difficult family situations. How women have been subjugated for centuries, and still are to this day, and we are finally starting to awaken and become aware of the feminine power. Does freedom as a woman mean doing all of the things men can do? Will we ever be free, if we must always fear for our safety and the safety of those we love? Is the Western notion of female freedom and empowerment a guise for male pleasure?

My favorite YouTuber/spiritual guide, Hitomi Mochizuki (and more famously, Jocko Willink), said something that has stayed with me: discipline is freedom. What this means to me is that in order to have freedom, you need to do hard things in life. Because discipline is hard work. Not just the outer work (like working out, eating well, making money, etc.), but also the inner, shadow work of confronting the worst parts of yourself that make you truly whole (like healing trauma, forgiving others/the self, dismantling limiting beliefs, etc). Ultimate freedom comes from hard work and discipline. It’s ironic: to have freedom, you have to restrict (in a way that is sustainable and pleasurable).

Freedom is radical acceptance. It is letting go of all expectations. True freedom is something I have felt very rarely in my life, if at all. But it is a feeling I will continually strive for—because once you see a glimmer of it, you can never let it go.

I got (almost and more than) everything I wanted out of college.

I learned enough physics not to be a theoretical physicist, but to have the tools, curiosity, and exposure to learn any field of physics on my own in the future. I learned how much I love computer science and analytical thinking. I learned to let go of perfection and stress. Some of my proudest work and favorite classes were those I got the lowest grades in.

I learned how to be a better friend. How to listen without trying to solve anything. And in my time at home, how to be a better sister and daughter.

I saw privilege in the typical rich white boy syndrome. I also met people so filled with gratitude that through their eyes, I was reminded the gift we were given.

I felt incredibly lonely and unseen at times. I missed my best friends from home who knew my history—who knew and saw me in my complete form. I learned to let people in. And I learned to let others go. I learned that people may not know your history or understand you for who you were, but they see you for who you are now—and sometimes, that’s enough. I saw how in time, shared presents becomes history—and that’s the fabric of relationships.

I learned to let loose. To party with friends, to drink responsibly, and have fun. And I learned about the painful assertions of power and privilege. I saw people poison themselves.

At the same time, I have so much work to do. I still feel like a kid. I don’t use my voice as much as I should, and ego still gets in my way.

When I first got into Harvard, I had an optimism that I could be anything—a lawyer, an artist, a historian. Learning about topics I barely had exposure to growing up, there was a lot of soul searching—while I love CS and technology, I certainly had doubts on whether the path I was on was truly suited for me, or if I simply walked to path of least resistance to get where I was. I questioned everything. I questioned whether I had agency over my past and future, given my upbringing and the plate I was dealt. I questioned my role, the role of technology in society. Through the inner turmoil, I knew I had to go to my roots. And my roots—my family, upbringing, values, community, etc.—all pointed to going into technology in some form or fashion. And regardless of what I did, I could do it in a way that fit with my values and personality. Regardless of what I did on paper, whatever my title was, how I did it could ultimately be an expression of my most self-actualized self. So while in another lifetime, I maybe could have been a multitude of other things, I learned I had to do the best in my current life.

It’s hard to know what lessons were truly valuable in college until you are out of the system for a bit, but here is a brain dump of some takeaways fresh out of college. Some of these may be trite, and I have already written about most of these. Advice is always deeply personal, so everything should be taken with many grains of salt. I feel like I have changed so much in the past four years, and each year I am a different person. At the core, though, I am the same.

These are some lessons from college that I learned, re-learned, and unlearned:

Self & Life

1. Stay humble and be patient. At this age, you still lack a lot of experience and skill. This doesn’t take away from your power, which comes from your hunger and hope. You have everything inside you to become a beautiful, strong tree—you just need to put in the effort to grow in a natural manner. Lean towards action, but also take the time to think deeply.
2. Lean into your femininity (even if you don’t identify as female!). Especially in male-dominated fields, feminine energy is a strength, not a weakness. It is healing, compassionate, and creative.
3. Poetry and art are food for the soul. Cultivate and relish in your sensitivity. Art is all around us—life itself is a work of art. Everything you do is an extension of your personality. Learn to appreciate life for what it is—it is the small moments that bring richness into life, not just the big milestones or accomplishments.
4. Hit rock bottom as soon as possible. It is only by getting to the place where you know you need to change—when you realize you can’t keep living like you’re used to—will you be able to let go of your sense of self and become the person you are meant to be.
5. Mindset is everything. If you can learn to be happy with who and where you are, regardless of external circumstances, you are golden. No one can take that away from you. No one has power over you except yourself.
6. Choosing the hard path can be easier in the long-term. Many worthwhile things in life are hard. At the same time, many hard things in life are simple.
7. If you can’t figure out a problem and it’s past midnight, go to sleep. If it feels like nothing is right and it’s past midnight, go to sleep. If it’s past midnight, go to sleep. Sleep does wonders.
8. Protect your peace, happiness, and health at all costs. Nothing else matters if you do not prioritize your own needs and advocate for yourself.
9. Cultivate at least two hobbies: one that allows you to be active, and one that allows you to creatively express yourself.
10. Hustle culture is messed up and engrained in our capitalist society. Tying self-worth to productivity is unhealthy and shouldn’t be glorified. You are enough, simply by being alive. Get the sleep you need and treat yourself right—you have one body and mind. The more busy you are, the more you need to be disciplined on your exercise, sleep, and eating habits.
11. It is better to be strong and healthy than pursue a certain body.
12. Success is deeply personal. The great challenge and joy of life is to figure out what success means to you at every step of the way and go after it. Be clear about where you want to be and go in life, and stay in your lane.
13. Learn to be kind to yourself. Sooner or later, you (or someone close to you) will need help with mental health. Get a therapist, or at the very least, learn about mental health, even if you don’t have debilitating mental problems at the moment. You need to show up for yourself, especially at your worse. Life is hard as it is—don’t make it harder on yourself by self-sabotaging.
14. Take calculated risks. Most risk-takers we see in society actually have very stable lives, apart from their big risk. Know what level of risk you’re willing to take—to know this, you must push the boundary. It’s easier to do this when you’re young and relatively free.
15. Get your shit together—at a certain age, some things just aren’t cute anymore. Educate yourself, take responsibility for your actions, make plans and stick to them, take care of yourself, and look after others.
16. Be wary of things that glitter—people, professions, fields. Do not try to impress others, only yourself. Prestige can help, but won’t make you happy. Resist the rat race, but also learn how to thrive in the system. Bureaucracy can suck, but it can also be necessary.
17. Life is (full of) suffering. We can choose to build mental fortitude by putting ourselves in challenging situations. Resiliency is not a trait, it is a skill that you must continually practice and choose.
18. Rejection and failure are natural. Trust that things will be okay in the long-term. Most of my greatest blessings came when things didn’t turn out the way I intended. Have faith in the process, and learn from things on the way.
19. Competition is worthless. The only thing that matters is differentiating yourself by being who you are meant to be.
20. Meditate on death—it will help you understand what is truly important in life. To me, what matters most are close relationships built on love, maintaining a long-term healthy lifestyle, and helping humanity (and life) reach greater consciousness, compassion, and perspective.

Relationships

1. Loneliness is completely normal. Finding your people (those who understand your soul, and you theirs) often takes time. Remember that your hometown best friends took years to develop, so just let friendships naturally blossom. Trust that good people will come your way, as long as you are authentic, open, and kind (and put yourself out there).
2. Most people didn’t get into Harvard because they’re wunderkinds. True “geniuses” (those with talent far beyond normal capacities) are few and far between. What makes people in elite institutions different is that we know how to play the system and promote ourselves and/or what we care about. Also, we were either born with certain advantages, or were able to get them along the way. This can sound disingenuous, but it is reality.
3. Embrace how you best socialize. I know I’m not the life of the party, nor do I want to be. At parties or social gatherings, if I can make one friend or get to know just one person better, I’m satisfied. That’s what brings me joy, rather than meeting many people superficially.
4. People are so freaking cool. Take the time to really get to know them at a deep level—you won’t regret it.
5. Don’t be naive—there’s a non-zero number of psychopaths / sociopaths / narcissists around you. Listen to your gut and trust your intuition—you often already know peoples’ true colors.
6. Party with those you trust. At this age, it’s fun in moderation, and you’ll remember those moments for the rest of your life. But the second you don’t feel comfortable or just don’t feel like it, dip out. You owe nothing to anyone, and you are in control of your own boundaries.
7. Finding a life partner is one of the hardest things to do, but it’s also one of the most important (if that’s what you want). Relationships require a lot of time and effort, and as with everything else in life, you get what you put in. Most people date in the hopes of filling something missing from their unhealed wounds, but focus on being the person you would want to date. Focus on feeling whole on your own and developing a secure attachment style.
8. Never judge anyone for their decisions. You don’t know anything about them—their baggage, trauma, triumphs, and failures.
9. Don’t put anyone on a pedestal. It is guaranteed to fall—and if it doesn’t, then it should. People are messy, multi-dimensional, complex creatures that should neither be idolized nor dehumanized.
10. Connect with your roots. Understand where you come from on a deeper level. See your parents and family as people.
11. It doesn’t matter how “successful” you are if you don’t treat people (especially those closest to you) right. Helping the world starts with inward self-reflection and being kind to the people around you, and only then can you improve the world meaningfully.

Academics

1. Grades are secondary to learning. Take hard classes, do readings you care about, work on that side project with all of your effort. Ace exams or fail them, but know that the learning is for you. Half of the battle is showing up, the other half is loving what you do.
2. College isn’t a preprofessional activity, but it can be a way to efficiently acquire skills. Figure out what skills you want to obtain and go after it. At this age, you’re a sponge—use this time to absorb what you want. Just be mindful about what you’re learning.
3. Read books that aren’t required and seek material that enriches your self-development. Expand your mind in the way that feels natural to you. Classes can force you to get on a train without care of what interests or inspires you, or how much or little you understand the material. Books are a way to get into the driver’s seat of your life and steer it to your own interest and needs.
4. Go to professors’ office hours, even if you don’t have any specific questions or topics you want to discuss. You’re literally paying (or someone is) for their help—you might as well use it. They are way less intimidating than they seem, and most of them are actually very chill.
5. I was pretty stressed out during my first year to figure out what I wanted to major in, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter as you think it does. Your major is a personal decision—for me, it was a way to explore something I may not be able to full-time after graduation. For others, it’s a ticket out of or towards a certain lifestyle. Know yourself and what you want, and it will become clear what your major should be.
6. All problems/subjects are interesting if you look hard and deep enough.
7. It’s better to focus on a few things well than do many things half-well. This is something I’m still trying to learn.

Career / Future

1. Try as many things as possible. But at some point, don’t keep opening doors and “keeping your options open”—you have to walk through some, and you have to close some doors to get to where you want to go.
2. All jobs/careers suck, to some extent. It’s just a matter of figuring out what sucks the least and if the worst parts of them are bearable.
3. If you shift your mindset of work towards service and creating value in the world, you will not only become happier, but your ambitions will fall into place. Your intention should be in helping others in the best of your ability with the tools and life you are given.
4. When thinking about a career, it’s not just the job title—it’s about the lifestyle. What kind of place do you want to live in? Who do you want to be surrounded by, in and out of work? What do you want to do in the 24 hours of your day? How do you want to spend your days?
5. Internships (getting them, doing well in them, etc.) are mostly about connections with people. Sure, you need to demonstrate that you’re competent, but at the end of the day, people want to do work with trustful and kind human beings.
6. Done right, cold emails are extremely effective. As a young person, you can use your curiosity and potential to your advantage. At some point, this “greenness” will wear off and you will be judged for your past, but for now, you are who you want to become.
7. Have existential crises and have them often. Question what you want to do and whether it truly aligns with your values. Many people don’t think deeply enough about what they want to do post-grad. They are bright-eyed and idealistic going into college, but as they leave, they take the most convenient/easy/popular route out of practicality. To have most post-grad satisfaction, it’s important to blend idealism and reality to find the right trajectory that caters to your individual strengths and abilities.
8. Startups are hard, especially hardware/software companies. But hard can very much be fun and fulfilling.

World

1. Technology is not inherently beneficial to society. It is up to us—the governmental structures, laws, workers, etc.—to makes technology useful for us all.
2. Always be grateful for opportunities—education is a privilege. Know that you are in a bubble of college-educated people, and remember who is at the table—and who isn’t. This is about race, gender, politics, disabilities, etc. It’s hard to be fully inclusive, but you must try. Wake up to the injustices of the world and do something about it.
3. Systems are good if you make them work for you, not when you work for it. Be intentional about the systems you subscribe to and seek to join/change.
4. Winners-take-all doesn’t have to exist.
5. Travel as much as possible—you won’t regret it.
6. You don’t have to be a politician to make political progress. Vote, help others to register to vote, volunteer your time and energy into a cause you believe in. Democracy is fragile.

What I want to work on moving forward:

• Being less shy. I’ve struggled with shyness throughout college/life (not terribly, but occasionally), and I don’t want that to hinder me anymore. To do this, I need to work on confidence and ego.
• Work on gratitude and getting my mind right
• Prioritize my health, wellness, and happiness, along with relationships
• Focus on a few things without spreading myself out too thin
• Gain new perspectives (get outside my bubble) and dismantle (or at least be aware of) elitist/patriarchal/capitalist/racist thinking, which are often subconscious beliefs
• Lean into my spiritual beliefs and practices
• Cultivate unconditional self-worth
• Learn things deeply at my own pace