It has been really cold recently, but I remember spring being here: the trees were blossoming. Perhaps it’s not winter that’s lingering, but spring that’s left.
Winter and Spring
It has been really cold recently, but I remember spring being here: the trees were blossoming. Perhaps it’s not winter that’s lingering, but spring that’s left.
The Return of the Lucky Cookie
The Lucky Cookie series, which I started between late 2020 and early 2021, was never truly finished. I always knew I would return to it because I like the idea very much: it acts as a tiny, crunchy shield. It says the things I am too shy to say out loud. If any truths were being told here, it is the cookies speaking—not me. It takes all the credit (and the blame); I am merely the messenger.
But for five years, the cookies remained silent. Until today.
It was sunny yesterday. I really wanted to go out, but at the same time, there are so many things I genuinely enjoy doing that require me to stay at home. I finally made it outside around 4 pm. It was lovely, but fifty sneezes later, I was back indoors.
Lucky me! I now have the perfect excuse not to fight with the sun and to stay at home in peace. In the background, a voice spoke loudly to me: “It is sunny outside, but your 99 hobbies demand you to stay at home.” It seems the cookie fairies finally had something to say.
But for five years, the cookies remained silent. Until today.
It was sunny yesterday. I really wanted to go out, but at the same time, there are so many things I genuinely enjoy doing that require me to stay at home. I finally made it outside around 4 pm. It was lovely, but fifty sneezes later, I was back indoors.
Lucky me! I now have the perfect excuse not to fight with the sun and to stay at home in peace. In the background, a voice spoke loudly to me: “It is sunny outside, but your 99 hobbies demand you to stay at home.” It seems the cookie fairies finally had something to say.
Good Advice & Something else
The loudest advice rarely comes from care. It usually comes from anxiety.
Some people feel an urgent need to fill the space around them. They speak quickly, confidently, and at great length about what you should do. But very often, it has little to do with you.
Unsolicited advice can be a disguise for something else: the fear of becoming irrelevant, the quiet sting of envy, or the uneasy feeling that the world has moved on without them. Words become a shield. If they keep talking, they don’t have to listen. If they keep explaining, they don’t have to face their own uncertainty.
Real advice works differently.
It begins with listening. It allows silence. It makes room for the shape of your experience before offering anything in return.
In a world full of noise, good advice rarely takes up much space.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)