I got to the trailhead early. Before the sun. Before dawn. Before daybreak. In the chilly darkness of an autumn morning, a mist gathers, moving up from the lowlands of the marsh and the riverbank. A slim crescent moon rises, looking like a single half-closed eye in watchful meditation, above the mist.

It is a good time for thinking and for meditation. As the moon rises, I reflect on useful ideas I have picked up along my journey, each uniquely worthy of guiding me on my way, like sign posts, or streetlights. I take a moment to jot them down, carefully putting them in alphabetical order for no particular reason.

Amor Fati is, for me, a useful idea in spite of my lack of conviction with regard to the possibility that anything at all is or is not “fated” to be as it is. For me it carries a sense of recognizing that circumstances are what they are in some moment, and allowing (encouraging) a certain sense of acceptance, generally, and living within an accepting context, on life’s journey. I don’t carry any sense that I am “doomed” to some particular outcome – change is – only that even in the midst of change, acceptance can provide a comfortable foundation to rest upon, before beginning again.

Gnothi Seaton – know thyself – an idea with so much history behind it, it’s hard to call it an eye-opening realization. Seriously, though? How can we change who we are, if we don’t know who we are?  How can we grow to become the person we most want to be, if we don’t know who that even is? How can we live our values, if we don’t have a clear understanding of what we do value?

Gratitude as a practice has become incredibly important to me. It’s one of several practices I practice that is built on a simple idea. In this case, the simple idea is that gratitude tends to crowd out anger and similar negative emotions, creating a more positive experience of life, even in stressful times. Gratitude helps build emotional resilience and reframes difficult experiences in terms that tend to promote peace, compassion, and understanding. Gratitude also feels good and satisfies something within me.

Ichi-go Ichi-e is the unrepeatable, unique nature of each precious finite moment, and is a particularly powerful idea for me. Each singular moment of our mortal lifetime is also another opportunity to begin again, to do better, and to be more present.

Impermanence is one of those ideas that has layers of meaning and usefulness. I meditate on impermanence often. Change is. However reliably certain some condition or experience seems, change itself is more reliable and more certain. We are mortal creatures, living our short lives in a finite universe of constant change. Impermanence is the sort of idea that can cause a person tremendous anxiety – or heal it, depending, I suppose, on how it it viewed, and whether it is accepted.

Memento Mori is an interesting idea, a reflection on mortality, a reminder that our time is brief, and that our mortal life will inevitably end. There is (as of 2025) no escaping death. Will the life we choose to live be worth our efforts? Will we be remembered – and for what? Life itself is characterized by impermanence, and our journey is the only destination we have, as the grains of the sands of time trickle through the hourglass. Even knowing that – maybe especially knowing that – we live and choose and grow and continue one day after the next, until the days run out. Which they definitely will.

Non-attachment, like several of these ideas, is associated with Buddhism, and other religions that value contemplative and meditative practices. It is a caution against clinging to expectations, desires, or worldly things. It is the face of a coin for which impermanence is the reverse. When we embrace change and refrain from clinging to some specific outcome, we free ourselves from a lot of drama, sorrow, struggle, and emotional pain. It goes hand in hand with ideas like “letting small shit stay small” and walking away from unpleasant (or damaging) people or experiences.

Vita Contemplativa is the inverse of Vita Activa (also a useful idea, but sadly perverted in a busy modern world, becoming “grind culture” and abusive overfocus on work to the detriment of self). The 21st century philosopher Byung-Chul Han wrote a book by this title, in praise of inactivity as a vital function of living well. Turns out, we’re so incredibly bad at living a contemplative life, or even at incorporating contemplation, self-reflection, and meditation into our daily lives that I couldn’t find a single really good source of information to link for this one, other than to Byung-Chul Han’s book. We put a lot more emphasis on productive action in life and society, even to the point of illness, chaos, and destruction. We over value momentum and ambition, and decry thoughtful reflection as”lazy” or a “waste of time “, and tend to punish the daydreamers and peace seekers among us. That’s pretty sad, actually.

Day comes. The mist envelopes me on the marsh trail. I am alone with my thoughts, wrapped in contentment. I let the useful ideas stack up, layers of self-reflection, practices, and incremental changes over time. I can easily say I am in better place as a human being than I was 15 years ago. Strange to see the journey behind me in such clear terms, illuminated by a handful of useful ideas.

(“It’s not a religion, it’s just a technique…“)

The time I’ve spent along the way really reflecting on where I’ve been and where I’m going – if I even know – has never been “wasted time”. Some of my most precious moments have been spent in contemplation. Meditation has proven itself as a powerful healing practice (for me). I didn’t know it would be, when I set off down this path…

… And it’s time, again, still, and already, to begin again. I don’t know where I’m going, not really, but I’m definitely getting there. The journey is the destination.