As I sit here now, reflecting on the journey of my life, it's clear to me that I've lived dual existences. There was the me who thrived in the company of others, always yearning for the laughter and camaraderie that human connection brings. Yet, simultaneously, there was the other me, the one who couldn't wait to retreat into the solace of my lab, to the world of creation and contemplation where my truest work took shape. It was a constant tug-of-war, a dance of presence and absence, until I realized the profound truth: it wasn't the company I was seeking, nor the isolation—it was meaning.
I've carried the weight of resentments, heavy and burdensome, like stones in my pockets. Each slight, each misunderstanding, each moment where I felt undervalued or unseen, added to the load. These stones were my constant companions, a reminder of the debts the world owed me, of the scores that were yet to be settled.
But here's what I've learned: settling scores settles nothing. The quest for revenge is a Sisyphean task—exhausting and never-ending. Trying to even the scales only imbalanced my soul. I poured my energy into these debts, and all it did was leave me bankrupt—spiritually, emotionally, mentally.
Hate is a curious thing; it promises power but delivers impotence. It's like setting a fire to keep others warm while you stand there shivering in the ashes. It promised me a sense of justice but left me in a courtroom where I was both the accuser and the accused, the judge and the defendant, endlessly deliberating a case that would never conclude.
I've asked myself, "Have I lost my resentments?" The answer didn't come in a thunderous epiphany, but in a quiet stripping away of the things that no longer served me. It came in the recognition that being alone in my office wasn't loneliness—it was the sanctuary for my spirit. It was where my joy revolution could take flight, unencumbered by the chains of past hurts.
Turning loneliness into inspired solitude has been my alchemy. In the quiet of my creative space, I discovered the difference between being alone and being lonely. Alone is where I found my ikigai, my reason for being. It’s where the golden threads of passion and purpose intertwine to form a tapestry of potential.
It’s from this place of inspired solitude that I reach out to you with my Tiny Little Classes. It's not just about the skills or the knowledge—it's about transformation. It's about moving from the shadow of resentment to the light of creative solitude. It's about understanding that being alone with your thoughts, your dreams, and your work is not a punishment; it's a profound dialogue with the truest part of yourself.
I invite you to join me, to shed the weight of your resentments, not by ignoring the pain or the injustice, but by seeing them as the hollow distractions they truly are. Let's embrace our solitude, not as a sentence, but as a blank canvas, awaiting the colors we choose to bring to it. Together, let's redefine what it means to be alone, turning our backs on loneliness and stepping into a life of purposeful, joyous solitude. This is where our revolution begins—not with a battle cry, but with the quiet closing of a door, the soft click of a pen, and the welcoming embrace of a blank page whispering, "Press Start to Begin.