farewell 2025

Another year has come and gone—at least according to the Gregorian calendar. For many, this moment carries weight. A line in the sand. A natural pause for reflection.

For me, it’s quieter than that.

Every day can be the end of a year. Or two. Or ten—depending on how you look at it. Every day is also a beginning. An invitation to continue down the path you’re on… or to choose a different one entirely.

Most of us keep walking the familiar route. It’s safer there. Predictable. We know the terrain, the risks, the landmarks. Stepping off the path feels reckless. We could get lost. Separated from the people we love. Hurt in ways that leave us stuck or unable to move forward. We might encounter those who wish us harm. We might fail publicly, feel humiliated, helpless, angry with ourselves for daring to stray.

These aren’t imagined fears. They’re real possibilities. And chances are, if you wander long enough, at least some of them will happen.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Sometimes the pull to leave the safe path leads somewhere even more unsettling: discovery. Insight. Actualization. On the other side of the thorns, the bruises, the uncertainty, there might be something you never would have found otherwise. A clearing beneath ancient live oaks. Shelter. Fresh water. Enough sustenance to finally rest and breathe.

A hidden oasis.

The kind you only reach by trusting the quiet voice inside you—the one that whispers that the safe path isn’t your path. That there’s a deeper knowing within you, patiently nudging you in another direction, waiting to see if you’re willing to listen.

The journey can be lonely. You may struggle to find others willing to walk beside you. Maybe their knowing points elsewhere. Maybe they’re not ready to let go of what’s familiar. Maybe they never will be.

That’s hard to accept.

But denying your own call—staying put to keep others comfortable—leads to a different kind of suffering. Resentment. A slow erosion of self. A loneliness that cuts deeper than solitude ever could.

Suppressing your intuition helps no one. Hiding your truth serves no one.

The most honest thing you can do is follow your path and trust that, in time, it will intersect with others who were brave enough to wander too. Those who listened. Those who chose courage over comfort. Those who knew there was another way and dared to find it.

I’ve been forging my own path for the last ten years. It’s been rocky—marked by steep highs and brutal lows. There were moments I truly didn’t think I would survive it. Times I was convinced I’d made the wrong choice. That other people were right. That I was throwing my life away. That I was crazy.

But I couldn’t turn back.

Something inside me knew there was a better way to live—a better way for me. And I think I’ve finally found it. After ten long years, I feel like I’m walking the right path at last, moving from one oasis to the next, willing to face the unknown in between.

Because the further I go, the more I grow.
The more aligned souls I meet along the way.
The closer I come to my most authentic self.

It’s a vast journey, with vast rewards. At least, I hope so.

I hope 2026 is the year you begin forging your own path—if you haven’t already. I hope the highs soar higher than the lows sink deep. And whatever you encounter along the way, know this:

I believe in you.
I believe in all of us.

I didn’t intend for my first blog post to become a meandering philosophical TED Talk—but here we are. This is me. A dreamer. A critic. An optimist.

Who are you?