3D SUCCESS

I am writing this from an unusual place. Not my usual desk inside. Not hunched over my laptop at some odd hour when the house is finally quiet. I am sitting outside in our garden on a sunny Sunday afternoon, a glass of mango juice beside me, a gentle breeze reminding me that I am actually here. Present. Still. And that is the unusual part. For the first time in a very long time, I am home during this transition from one year to the next. The Festive Period I Did Not Plan Normally, this time of year is motion. Travel with family. Visiting relatives. Moving from one place to another. Coming home only after the New Year has already started, exhausted from the obligations and celebrations and constant movement. It is not a bad thing. Family matters. Traditions matter. But this year, circumstances; a combination of family situations and work commitments kept me here. At home. In one place. As 2025 winds down and 2026 waits just around the corner. And something unexpected happened. I got to ...

It's the second-last weekend of the year. I noticed it almost by accident—scrolling through my calendar, trying to work out where the weeks went. That strange stretch of days where nothing feels urgent anymore, yet everything feels unfinished. The year has not ended, but it is already mentally over. And I realised something unsettling: I was already thinking about 2026 without properly closing 2025. Plans were forming. Ideas were resurfacing. Resolutions were quietly lining up. But this year—the one I actually lived—had not been reviewed. Why We Rush Past This Moment This is usually the point where we fast-forward. We tell ourselves, "Let's just reset in January." We promise to "do things differently next year." We assume a change in calendar will somehow correct what we never examined. I have done this before. Many times. And I have learnt—sometimes the hard way—that momentum without awareness only accelerates drift. The danger is not that the ...

It is almost the end of 2025. I am sitting here trying to work out: Where did this year go? Not in the philosophical sense. In the literal sense. I blink, and it is Monday. I blink again, and it is Friday. I look up, and the year is nearly over. And I have no idea how we got here so fast. The Same Time, Different Speed Here is what puzzles me: A minute is still 60 seconds. An hour is still 60 minutes. A day is still 24 hours. The units have not changed. Yet somehow, this year felt faster than any year before it. Not just fast. Accelerated. And I kept asking myself: Why? Then I realized something uncomfortable: I crossed over. The Other Side of Mid-30s I am now in my mid-30s. On the other side. Closer to 40 than to 30. And something shifted. In my 20s, time felt abundant. A year was long. Plans could wait. I had time. Even in my early 30s, there was still that feeling: "Plenty of time ahead." But now? Time feels scarce. Not because I have less of it objectiv...

I found myself thinking back to my high school physics classes recently. There was one idea that stuck with me more than I expected: Newton’s First Law of Motion . Back then, it felt like just another formula to memorise. But as I have grown older, I have started seeing parts of my life inside that simple statement. Newton said something like this: A body at rest stays at rest, and a body in motion stays in motion, unless acted upon by an external force. Put simply: things remain exactly as they are until something acts on them to change. The more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable the connection became. Because our lives often play out the same way. I realised that most days, I follow the same script without thinking: Wake up. Go to work. Do what I did yesterday. Drive home using the same route. Scroll through my phone the same way. Different days. Same movement. And here’s the part that hit me: We rarely change direction unless something forces us to. Think about it. ...