Need

Wandering Thoughts

Not the most ideal way to begin, is it?

Still, there’s a need in me—something internal—nudging for self-reflection. But nothing clear rises from the depths. Just a murky stillness, waiting.

So I keep going, hoping that somewhere in the wandering, something will reveal itself—something worthy of bringing into the light and maybe, just maybe, hitting “publish.”

Another cigarette. More reflection. Thoughts drift to recent conversations—the kind you could have on any given day. Words passing back and forth, switching your mind on and off. Sometimes they trigger something deeper. Sometimes they don’t.

There’s a strange kind of peace in being alone with your thoughts. Distraction pulls you away, sure, but when you allow yourself to just sit still, undisturbed, the mind becomes a kind of landscape—quiet, vast, full of hidden patterns waiting to be explored.

We talk about “leading our lives,” but are we really the ones doing the leading? Each morning we wake, some with a plan, some without. Sometimes life throws something at you, and just like that, your day is hijacked. Another distraction dressed as necessity.

Something in me shifted a few years back. I can’t quite explain it. The things I used to love—the passions that once gave me joy—just faded. Gone, like a snowflake melting on your palm. Maybe that’s the nature of things: impermanence. Maybe those passions were never the point. Just stepping stones on the way to something else.

Perhaps they were diversions, not destinations.

I wonder how different life could feel if we gave more attention to what we need, rather than chasing what we want. Like a plant deprived of sunlight and nourishment, our true self can go dormant, quietly wilting without us even noticing.

I once knew a lad who was brilliant at math. A real genius. Every Friday he’d drop by the shop with cakes, and one day, while I was at my desk tapping out VAT numbers on a calculator, he asked me to give him one. I did, and he rattled off the exact figure to the penny—no pause, no hesitation. Despite his gift, he worked as a tire fitter and seemed content with that. His talent, though extraordinary, wasn’t the thing that brought him peace. It’s a lesson I’ve kept close: greatness doesn’t always have to be flashy or world-changing to feel whole.

Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of meeting some genuinely remarkable people. And while I value solitude, I’ve come to understand how much we need human connection. As the saying goes, “No man is an island.” But even then, connection depends on timing and state of mind. I’ve had interactions that felt empty—not because of the other person, but because my mind was closed off, distracted, elsewhere.

So how do we figure out what we truly need?

I don’t think we can know until we allow ourselves to actually experience things. Sometimes we avoid the very things that might help us heal—grief, fear, anger, shame. These emotions scare us, so we distract ourselves with noise, habits, screens. Vulnerability feels risky, and the ego—trying to keep us safe—often just keeps us stuck.

But allowing ourselves to be vulnerable… that might be the beginning of something real.

Every now and then, you meet someone whose presence resonates with something inside you. It feels familiar, safe, aligned. And for a moment, you glimpse a deeper understanding—not just of them, but of yourself.

Thanks for reading.