Have you ever caught yourself saying, “I wish I had done that when I was younger”?
It’s an easy trap to fall into. We tend to view adventure as a game for the young—something reserved for twenty-something backpackers or high-energy fitness influencers. We tell ourselves that as we age, our world is supposed to shrink. We swap out rugged trails for comfortable chairs and bold dreams for predictable routines.
But a spectacular new book, “Around the World in 80 Days at 82” by Ellie Hamby, Sandy Hazelip, and Elisa Petrini, completely shatters that illusion.
If you need a reminder that your best chapters haven’t been written yet, this is your wake-up call.
When Ellie Hamby (a documentary photographer) and Sandy Hazelip (a physician) neared their 81st birthdays, they didn’t look for a quiet way to celebrate. Inspired by Jules Verne’s classic tale, they decided to circle the entire globe in 80 days. A minor delay pushed their plans back a year, meaning that at 82 years old, they strapped on a single backpack each and set off into the unknown.
They didn’t book luxury cruise ships or insulated first-class tours. Instead, they traveled on a strict budget, booked modest hotels, took local transportation, and said an enthusiastic “yes” to whatever the world threw at them.
Over the course of nearly three months, they stood among penguins in the freezing winds of Antarctica, rode camels past the Egyptian pyramids, chased the Northern Lights in a reindeer sleigh in Lapland, and navigated the high-speed rush of Tokyo.
1. Nature Doesn’t Care How Old You Are
Whether you are standing before the vast, icy expanse of the Drake Passage or looking up at a desert sky, nature has a beautiful way of making us feel small—and incredibly alive. Ellie and Sandy proved that the awe of a pristine landscape or the thrill of an outdoor challenge belongs to everyone. The earth doesn’t ask for your birth certificate before it takes your breath away.
2. The Power of “Yes” Over “What If”
As we grow older, we tend to let caution dictate our choices. We focus on the “what ifs”—What if I get tired? What if it rains? What if it’s uncomfortable? Ellie and Sandy replaced those doubts with a simple commitment to open-mindedness. By stepping out of their comfort zones, they unlocked a level of vitality that many people half their age struggle to find.
3. Connection is the Greatest Souvenir
While the landscapes they saw were beautiful, the heart of their adventure was human connection. By choosing budget travel and local paths, they interacted deeply with different cultures, made friends worldwide, and relied on the enduring strength of their own lifelong friendship.
You don’t have to book a ticket to Antarctica tomorrow to live adventurously. Infusing your life with wonder starts exactly where you are:
Change Your Scenery: Find a local trail, a state park, or a nature reserve you’ve never visited. Feel the dirt under your shoes and breathe in the fresh air.
Ditch the Comfort Zone: Try a new outdoor activity. Go kayaking, try birdwatching, or sleep under the stars in a tent for a weekend.
Shift Your Mindset: Stop waiting for the “perfect time” or the “perfect age.” The ideal moment to enjoy the majesty of the natural world is right now.
Ellie and Sandy’s journey is a beautiful, vibrant proof that aging isn’t a process of shutting down—it’s an opportunity to keep opening up.
So, what are you waiting for? Step outside, look at the horizon, and remember: Adventure isn’t a matter of age. It’s a state of mind.
The reality of feeling alone is not what many people think. Claudia Hammond, who instigated a survey called the BBC Loneliness Experiment, explores five counterintuitive findings.
About the results
The findings in this article are based on an online survey of 55,000 people from around the world, called the BBC Loneliness Experiment. It was created by academics at three British universities in collaboration with Wellcome Collection.
1. Younger people feel lonelier than older people
When you picture someone who’s lonely, the stereotype is often an older person who lives alone and hardly sees anyone. Indeed, in the BBC Loneliness Experiment, 27% of over 75s said they often or very often feel lonely. This is higher than in some surveys, but because the survey was online we had a self-selecting sample and might have attracted more people who feel lonely.
Yet the differences between age groups are striking. Levels of loneliness were actually highest among 16-24 year olds, with 40% saying they often or very often feel lonely.
This begs the question of why so many young people say they feel lonely. Perhaps they are more prepared to admit to feelings of loneliness than older people who might feel they need to stress their independence. But it was noticeable that when everyone was asked at which point in their life they’d felt lonely, even retrospectively the most common answer people gave was when they were young adults.
So it’s not necessarily modern life that’s making young people feel lonelier, but factors associated with being young itself. Although we might think of the ages of 16-24 as a time of new freedom to have fun, leaving school and having more control over your life, it’s also a time of transition – moving away from home, starting college, starting a new job – all of which take you away from the friends you’ve grown up with. At the same time people are trying to work out who they are and where they fit into the world.
In addition to this, people aren’t accustomed to these feelings of loneliness and haven’t yet had the experience to know that they often pass, or to the chance to find ways to cope with those feelings, such as distracting themselves or looking for company.
2. 41% of people think loneliness can be positive
This finding fits in with the ideas of people such as the late neuroscientist John Cacioppo, who believed that we evolved to experience loneliness because it can be useful, even though it’s so unpleasant. Humans have survived through forming co-operative groups. If people feel they are excluded from a group then feelings of loneliness might drive them to connect with people, finding new friends or rekindling old relationships.
The problem is that it can become chronic, with a serious impact on well-being and maybe even on health.
Feelings of chronic loneliness are associated with an increased risk of depression a year later. It was striking that in the survey, although 41% of all the participants said loneliness could be positive, this rate dropped to 31% in those who told us they often feel lonely. Loneliness can be so miserable and distressing, that when it’s long-lasting it can be hard to see any positive side.
3. People who feel lonely have social skills that are no better or worse than average
Sometimes it’s assumed that people feel lonely because they’ve found it hard to make friends and help with improving social skills would make a difference. This isn’t what we found. A key element of social interaction is the ability to tell what other people are feeling, so that you can adjust your responses accordingly. Perhaps they’re worried about something or you’ve accidentally offended them.
One way of measuring this skill is to give people a series of full faces or even just pairs of eyes to assess how good they are at working out which emotion people are experiencing. There was no difference between the average scores of the people who often felt lonely and the people who didn’t. There were differences in scores on neuroticism, so perhaps it’s the anxiety provoked by social situations that can make them harder to cope with if you feel lonely, rather than social skills.
4. Winter is no lonelier than any other time of year
People report loneliness in all seasons, not just winter (Credit: Getty Images)
In the run-up to Christmas, you often see campaigns from charities who help the elderly featuring picture of isolated old people. It’s a day of the year that’s all about gathering with your loved ones to celebrate, so the idea of facing the day alone is something a lot of people would dread. British comedian Sarah Millican runs a very successful #joinin campaign on Twitter on Christmas Day so that people who feel lonely can chat to each other. And if you live in the northern hemisphere then Christmas also falls in the middle of winter when days are shortest and people stay in more, leaving you even more isolated if you feel lonely.
But we found that for many who feel lonely, winter is no worse than any other time of year. We asked people to tell us the time of year and the time of day when they felt loneliest. More than two thirds of people said winter was no lonelier than any other time of year. The minority of people who did say one particular time of year is lonelier chose winter, but a few even chose summer. At Christmas, many people go to great lengths to ensure that everyone is included, inviting friends over if they know they might be alone. But in summer if everyone else goes on holiday, you might be the one feeling left behind. So perhaps we should start wondering whether other people might be lonely all year round, instead of just at Christmas.
5. People who often feel lonely have higher levels of empathy than everyone else
In the survey two kinds of empathy were measured. One was empathy for people’s physical pain – how sorry you feel for someone who has accidentally slammed their hand in a door, picked up a scalding frying pan or been stung by a wasp. The other was how much empathy you have for other people’s social pain – for someone who’s been bullied at school, not invited to a party or dumped by their partner.
There was no difference in empathy for physical pain between the people who felt more or less lonely. But the people who said they often or very often felt lonely scored higher on average for empathy for social pain. Maybe because they have experienced for themselves what it feels like to be left out, they empathise more with other people who find themselves in the same situation.
How many times have you found yourself on a Friday evening, sighing, “Wow, this week went by so fast”?
We often live under the illusion that time is an endless reservoir and that tomorrow’s sun is guaranteed to rise. Because of this, we generously surrender our hours to mindless social media scrolling, infinite short videos, and the trivial daily tasks that drain our energy by day and leave us feeling empty by night.
Recently, I came across an ancient, striking Latin concept being discussed online: Memento Mori—“Remember you must die.”
To turn this abstract philosophy into something physical and undeniable, someone created an incredibly simple yet visceral tool: the Life Calendar.
It is just a standard sheet of A4 paper covered in a dense grid of tiny squares. Each square represents one week of your life.
If we assume an average lifespan of 80 years, that is 52 weeks multiplied by 80 years, which equals exactly 4,160 squares.
When you print this sheet out and sit before it, the visual impact is startling. You realize with a jolt that our long, passionate, complex lives, when stripped down to their absolute essence, can fit onto a single sheet of paper—with room to spare.
Now, at the end of every weekend, I take a pen and firmly cross off a square.
The scratch of the pen against the paper sounds like the quiet, relentless step of passing time. As the ink buries those past seven days, a few inescapable questions rise to the surface:
“Is this really all the squares I have left?”
“What did I actually do with the seven days I just crossed off?”
“If life is this brief, am I truly willing to trade my remaining squares for superficial social obligations and mental clutter?”
“Is where I am pouring my heart and energy truly worth the exchange?”
Admittedly, this ritual might seem extreme, even cold—like a daily countdown to the end. But when daily life becomes numb and repetitive, radical measures are often the most effective way to wake up.
Throughout history, those who achieved mastery in their fields often held onto habits that others found bizarre. They were willing to appear eccentric because they understood a fundamental truth: life is too short, and what truly matters must be fiercely guarded.
Steve Jobs: Every morning, he looked in the mirror and asked, “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?” If the answer was “no” too many days in a row, he knew it was time to change.
Yuval Noah Harari: The author of Sapiens goes on a strict 60-day silent meditation retreat every single year. For 10 hours a day, he completely disconnects from the digital noise—no phones, no talking.
As Cal Newport notes in Deep Work, a personal ritual might seem strange to outsiders, but if it works for you, it is absolutely worth it. These extraordinary individuals weren’t being quirky; they were aggressively reclaiming their finite time.
Since adopting the Life Calendar, my daily habits have shifted dramatically.
Previously, whenever boredom or fatigue crept in, my hand would instinctively reach for my phone to mindlessly scroll through YouTube or social media feeds. Now, the moment my fingers hover over the screen, that dense grid of 4,160 squares flashes in my mind.
A voice pulls me back: “Careful. You are about to trade a portion of your remaining squares for a few seconds of cheap dopamine. Is it really worth the swap?”
This instant awareness acts as a powerful pattern-interrupter. It keeps me focused and intentional during the day, and gives me the resolve to step away from empty entertainment in the evenings to focus on personal growth and long-term aspirations.
But my practice of crossing off a square each week has a deeper, more profound purpose. It has anchored my spiritual path and Buddhist practice with absolute clarity.
The world is full of dazzling distractions—wealth, achievements, and praise. Yet, looking at that slowly darkening sheet of paper, a quiet truth settles in: when the final square is crossed off and impermanence claims us, not a single cent of wealth or ounce of worldly fame can be taken with us.
I do not want my limited squares to be filled with things that vanish like smoke.
Instead, I want to use this finite life to cultivate eternal value. By practicing the Dharma and dedicating myself to genuine spiritual cultivation, I am building the kind of merit and wisdom that transcends this single lifetime.
The calendar silently urges me every day: Be diligent! Do not waste time! Only by practicing mindfully in the present can we transcend the cycles of suffering and cultivate true, lasting liberation.
As you finish reading this, take a moment to draw your own grid in your mind. Count how many squares you have already crossed off, and look at how many blank spaces remain.
Life is brief, and this world of ours has no shortage of struggles. Stop spending your most precious squares on people and things that do not serve your deeper purpose. Plan wisely, live intentionally, and make every square count. May we all find true freedom and peace within the pages of our finite lives.
My family is originally from Mimou in the suburbs of Chengdu. In the autumn of 1992, my second younger brother Gao-Song Lu’s two-year-old son, Yang Lu, was hospitalized in the local Mimou Hospital with a mysterious high fever. Every day he received shots and took all sorts of medicine. This included Chinese herbal medicine, such as bupleurum falcatum and isalis root, and Western medicine, such as penicillin. None of them did any good. Every morning his fever would go down, but late at night it would rise up to 39°C (102.2°F) or 39.5°C (103.1°F). Within a few days, Yang Lu had developed a serious case of pneumonia. His condition worsened quickly, and his fever rose to 40°C (104°F). His father Gao-Song Lu had no choice but to move him to the 47th Military Hospital in Xindu.
There was a shortage of beds at the pediatric department, but with the help of the hospital’s head nurse, Li-Qin Huang, a friend of mine, Yang Lu found a place to stay at the department of Chinese herbal medicine. Yang Lu received much more advanced treatment at the military hospital than he did at that local ordinary hospital, but his temperature did not come down. To make matters worse, because of his continuous high fever, a horrible reaction to one of the intravenous shots all of a sudden caused his skin to blacken and and his tongue and reproductive organs to shrink. The doctor told my brother and his wife that Yang Lu might not live if the fever did not abate soon. Li-Qin Huang, the head nurse, was very worried and had someone look all over for me. When I finally heard what was happening, I dropped my work immediately and went to the residence of my respected Buddha master, His Holiness Dorje Chang Buddha III, to seek help.
I was very anxious, but H.H.Dorje Chang Buddha III consoled me. “Do not worry. This is a small matter. I will give you Chinese herbal medicine that will bring down the fever in no time.” H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III promptly ground the medicine to powder, wrapped it in white paper, and wrote on it “Mi Tuo Powder.” Yang Lu took the medicine, and his fever came down that very day. He was cured without even taking all of the Chinese medicine. The next day he was able to check out of the hospital and return home. My family and neighbors marveled at the effectiveness of “Mi Tuo Powder” and were all deeply grateful to H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III for saving Yang Lu’s life. Yang Lu is now in high school and plans to apply to the air force academy. He is very healthy.
In 1996, an injected form of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III’s “Mi Tuo Powder” was developed. Xiao-Mei Fang made arrangements with the Chengdu Institute of Biological Medicine to complete production procedures and produce a sample of golden ampere injected medicine. After H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III left Chengdu, the development was terminated for some reason. I hope that someday “Mi Tuo Powder” will be made available to help all people.
Chengdu Daily News Shih-Fang Lu,
April, 2006
(This is a complete translation of the Chinese text that follows originally written and signed by Shi-Fang Lu.)
Editor’s Note: This article is dedicated to Mother’s Day. The author is a 47-year-old mother whose eldest son is already 20 years old. Two years ago, after unexpectedly becoming pregnant with a second child, she firmly chose to give birth despite her husband’s threats of divorce, opposition from family members, and the risks associated with advanced maternal age. How did she maintain such a moving and unwavering maternal love? What gave her the strength to stand against worldly pressures?
I. I Planned to Become a Nun, but Unexpectedly Became Pregnant
“If you insist on keeping this baby, then let’s get divorced! The older child stays with me, and you can raise the second child by yourself!”
My husband nearly shouted those words at me.
“Please,” I replied through tears, “the baby is perfectly healthy. Please give this child a chance to be born and live.”
That evening, after dinner, we once again argued fiercely about whether I should keep or abort this unexpected pregnancy. My husband presented every possible reason why we should not have a second child. Whether through persuasion or pressure, his goal was the same: he was determined that I terminate the pregnancy.
At that point, the “uninvited guest” in my womb was exactly three months old.
I call the baby an “uninvited guest” because I had already made up my mind to become a nun.
One day in 2017, I attended a Dharma listening session at a Buddhist center and respectfully listened to the Dharma discourses of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III. That gathering opened a completely new chapter in my life.
I subsequently took refuge in the Three Jewels. Through continuously listening to the Buddha’s Dharma discourses and studying Buddhist teachings, I gradually understood the true direction of my life and became determined to cultivate diligently. Eventually, I developed the aspiration to renounce worldly life and even completed an application to enter monastic life.
A few days after submitting the application, on December 8, 2018, I suddenly felt weak and nauseated. When I went to the hospital for an examination, the doctor informed me that I was pregnant.
It was completely unexpected.
Shock, confusion, struggle, disappointment—my emotions surged all at once. I had no idea what to do.
Had I not been studying Buddhism, I might have simply chosen abortion as many women do when they do not want a child. But as a Buddhist disciple, I had come to understand the law of cause and effect and the preciousness of obtaining a human birth.
How could I harm my own child and deprive a soul of the opportunity to be reborn as a human being?
Most importantly, I had already resolved to become a nun. Yet now this “uninvited guest” had arrived. Surely I could not enter monastic life while carrying a child.
Would I spend the rest of my life occupied with the responsibilities of family life?
Soon I came to accept the situation. This was karmic affinity—something beyond my control. I decided to follow the natural course of events.
While silently reciting the holy name of Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva, I underwent an ultrasound examination. The baby was healthy and developing normally.
The doctor said, “At your age, becoming pregnant is not easy. I’ll prescribe medication to help stabilize the pregnancy. If you don’t intend to keep the baby, you should schedule the procedure soon. You’re already nearly two months pregnant.”
His words only strengthened my determination to give birth.
II. “I Will Protect This Child with My Life”
Both my husband and I had health issues. It had not been easy raising our first son, who was already in high school. My husband had long opposed the idea of having another child, so I initially concealed the pregnancy from him.
However, he soon found out.
Our household erupted into turmoil.
Whether during meals, before bed, or through messages on WeChat, he constantly urged me to undergo an abortion. We argued repeatedly. He even accused me of being selfish.
I felt helpless and dreaded going home. I tried to avoid seeing him whenever possible.
The only place where I found peace was at the Buddhist center, listening to the Dharma discourses of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III and reciting the holy name of Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva. Whenever I bowed before the Buddha or looked upon the image of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva, I would burst into tears uncontrollably.
My husband then organized a family gathering and invited my siblings to persuade me to abandon the pregnancy.
Everyone expressed their opinions. Alone, I found myself debating against the entire family.
Then my husband delivered what he believed was the ultimate threat:
“If you insist on giving birth, then you’re on your own. We’ll get divorced. I’ll only take responsibility for our older child.”
Without hesitation, I replied:
“I will take full responsibility for whatever happens. Even if I become a beggar, I will raise this child. If anyone tries to take this child away, I will protect him or her with my life.”
I cried and ran outside.
In late December 2018, my husband placed a divorce agreement and our marriage certificate in front of me and demanded that I sign.
I faced the most difficult decision of my life:
Should I choose my child or my marriage?
Should I raise an infant alone, or maintain our family of three and continue our comfortable life together?
I did not sign the agreement.
Instead, I wrote a will.
As an older expectant mother, I knew there were risks associated with childbirth. I carefully arranged my affairs and entrusted a Dharma sister with the responsibility of raising the child if something happened to me. I hoped she would one day bring the child to pay respects to the Buddha. If that became impossible, I requested that a temple care for the child.
By continuously listening to the Buddha’s Dharma teachings, I gained a deeper understanding of karma and causality. I firmly believed that if I sincerely practiced according to Buddhist principles, the future would not be as bleak as I feared.
Kneeling before the Buddha altar, I made a solemn vow:
No matter how difficult the future became, I would not abort this child. Even if my own life were at risk, I would give birth. I prayed for the blessings of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas to protect both myself and my child.
III. Upholding Buddhist Principles Brings the Best Outcome
Life is often full of unexpected turns.
On New Year’s Day 2019, my son returned home from school and accidentally discovered the unsigned divorce agreement on my bedside table.
Without hesitation, he tore it up.
Before returning to school, he secretly wrote a letter to his father and slipped it into his coat pocket.
When I later read the letter, I broke down in tears.
My son recalled how hard our family had worked to raise him, how loving his parents once were, and how much his mother had sacrificed. He even included a cherished family photograph.
After reading the letter, my husband’s attitude gradually softened.
When an ultrasound later confirmed that the baby was a healthy girl, the entire family rejoiced. My husband’s family had always hoped for a daughter.
From that moment onward, everyone’s attitude changed dramatically. Instead of opposition, they began showing genuine care and support.
Throughout the pregnancy, I continued attending Dharma study sessions, participating in Buddhist activities, and praying to Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva. I also engaged in acts of merit such as life release, offering lamps, making offerings to the Buddha and Sangha, and reciting the Universal Gate Chapter of the Lotus Sutra.
Although I was considered an older expectant mother, my pregnancy progressed remarkably well.
On July 4, 2020, while lying on the operating table, I focused wholeheartedly on reciting the holy name of Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva.
The cesarean section proceeded smoothly and without complications.
A healthy baby girl weighing 6.8 pounds was born.
Family and friends waiting outside the operating room were overjoyed.
My first cesarean section had been extremely difficult, with serious complications for both mother and child. Yet this time, I was able to get out of bed and walk the very next day.
When I returned to work after maternity leave, my colleagues remarked that I looked unchanged despite having given birth and joked that I had gained the perfect blessing—a son and a daughter.
I proudly replied:
“Of course it’s different when one has the blessings of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas.”
And that is exactly how it felt.
Today, my daughter is nearly two years old.
Time and again, circumstances have unfolded in the best possible way. Relatives unexpectedly appeared when childcare help was needed. Teachers made special accommodations for her. She became beloved by classmates and teachers alike.
Everything seemed to fall naturally into place.
Only a few days after her birth, my husband was recommended for a local leadership development position. Friends congratulated him on receiving two blessings at once.
The storms that once threatened our family have long since passed.
Our family of four now enjoys a harmonious and happy life together.
Through this experience, I came to understand the true meaning of perseverance.
A mother’s willingness to protect her child, no matter the hardship or sacrifice, is perseverance.
A Buddhist disciple’s commitment to cherish all life and uphold the principle of “Refrain from all evil and practice all good” despite difficulties and humiliation is also perseverance.
People often ask me what gave me the strength to remain steadfast.
I can only say that beyond the power of maternal love, there was also the power of Buddha Dharma.
As Mother’s Day approaches, I hope that all parents may find the courage to uphold what is right and allow those karmically connected children who come into this world the precious opportunity of human life.
As long as we uphold wholesome causes and conditions, no obstacle is impossible to overcome.
Written by: Ye Mingzhu Edited by: Lamp Before the Buddha (Fo Qian Deng)
Recently, I joined an online Buddhist study group where we have been deeply immersing ourselves in learning the Sutra by H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III. This experience has changed my life dramatically. As I began dedicating more intentional time to reading and listening to the Sutra, I noticed a powerful shift in my daily habits. I finally found the strength to break away from the mindless habit of scrolling through screens, freeing up the space and energy to exercise regularly. By simply replacing digital distraction with spiritual study and physical movement, I already feel significantly happier and healthier.
As I continue this journey, I often find myself reflecting on how these profound teachings apply to the ordinary, messy moments of everyday life. It is easy to study a principle conceptually, but the true cultivation begins when we bring it off the page and into our interactions with the world.
One teaching from the Sutra that has particularly influenced me—and completely shifted my perspective—is the vital importance of examining myself before focusing on the shortcomings of others.
In daily life, our default reaction to friction is often outward-facing. When someone cuts us off in traffic, misunderstands our intentions, or speaks with an edge in their voice, the ego immediately jumps to defend itself. It points a finger at the other person’s impatience, rudeness, or flaws.
However, the teachings of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III remind us that external circumstances are merely mirrors reflecting our own internal state. True cultivation requires us to break this habit of looking outward and instead turn our gaze fiercely and honestly inward.
Now, whenever I encounter misunderstandings, disagreements, or situations that test my patience, I pause. Before I speak, react, or allow resentment to build, I try to ask myself these four grounding questions:
Have I truly looked inward first? Am I seeing this situation clearly, or am I viewing it through the distorted lens of my own biases and expectations?
Is there something I need to improve in myself? Instead of demanding that the other person change, what flaw, impatience, or lack of skill in my own conduct needs addressing?
Am I responding with compassion and wisdom? Is my energy coming from a place of genuine care for the other person’s well-being, or is it coming from a desire to be “right”?
What attachment or habit might I be overlooking? What underlying ego-attachment—whether to my reputation, my comfort, or my pride—is causing me to feel triggered right now?
Although it is not always easy—and requires constant mindfulness—this practice has been quietly transformative. It acts as a circuit breaker for negative emotions. By shifting the focus from “what they did wrong” to “how I can grow,” I have found myself becoming genuinely more patient, more deeply understanding of others’ hidden struggles, and far less reactive to life’s daily irritations.
Cultivation is not about achieving perfection overnight; it is about making the consistent choice to choose wisdom over ego, one interaction at a time.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve wrestled with my own thoughts and feelings about identity. Why am I, David, the person I am? How changeable is that? Where do those thoughts and feelings come from anyway, and what purposes do they ultimately serve? I suppose it’s no coincidence then that I’ve also always been so curious about the subject of human consciousness. That’s the area of science and philosophy — of human thinking generally! — that burrows most deeply into similar questions and, to varying degrees of satisfaction, offers a plethora of possible answers.
The best-selling author Michael Pollan has been thinking about these things, too. Throughout his work — which includes classic books like “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” (2006), about why we eat the way we do, and “How to Change Your Mind” (2018), about the science and uses of psychedelic drugs — Pollan has waded into ideas about the inner workings of the mind. Now, with his forthcoming book, “A World Appears: A Journey Into Consciousness,” which will arrive this month, he has jumped into the deep end. The book is both a highly personal and expansive multidisciplinary survey of questions around human consciousness — what it is, what causes it, what it’s for and what the possible answers might mean for how we choose to live. And as Pollan explained, with the rise of artificial intelligence as well as the relentless political pressure on our attention (that is, our minds), those questions, already profound, are becoming only more urgent.
I want to get some basics: How do you define consciousness? The simplest way to define consciousness is as subjective experience. Another one-word definition is “awareness.” Thomas Nagel, the N.Y.U. philosopher, wrote a piece back in the ’70s called “What Is It Like to Be a Bat?” His idea is: If we can imagine it is like anything to be a bat, then a bat is conscious, because that means it has some sort of subjective experience. Why did he choose bats? Well, they’re very different than we are. Instead of using eyesight, they use echolocation. They bounce signals off of objects to move through space. We can vaguely imagine going through the world with echolocation. Whereas my toaster, I can’t do that. I don’t have a sense of what it’s like to be my toaster.
A big question of consciousness is what the philosopher David Chalmers has referred to as the “hard problem.” Can you tell people what that is? Basically how you get from matter to mind, how you cross that huge gulf from neurons to subjective experience — a gulf no one has managed to cross. Related questions are: Why don’t all these things we do go on automatically? Why do we have to be aware of anything? We could be completely automated and perhaps get along just fine. Your brain is monitoring your body and making fine adjustments in the blood gasses, in the heart rate, in digestion. There’s a lot going on that we don’t have to think about. So why do we have to think about any of it? Some interesting theories have been proposed. One is that some of the issues that we deal with have to be decided in a conscious way. When you have two competing needs — you’re hungry and you’re tired — which should take precedence? So consciousness opens up this space of decision-making. The other argument is that we live in a very complex social world where I have to predict what you’re going to say; I have to imagine my way into your head. You can’t automate human social interaction. It has too many elements. So consciousness is very helpful in navigating that world.
It seems likely to me that regardless of the source of consciousness, it’s probably a result of evolutionary processes — that consciousness evolved to make information available to certain parts of the brain, or to help us recognize patterns, or perceive threats, or maintain homeostasis. But are any non-evolutionary arguments for consciousness plausible to you? Oh, yeah. One is panpsychism.
Which could sound bonkers. It can sound bonkers. Panpsychism is the idea that everything, every particle, the ink on the page, the atoms, all have some infinitesimal degree of psyche or consciousness, and somehow this consciousness is combined in some way from our cells and the rest of our bodies to create this kind of superconsciousness. It sounds crazy. There are some very serious people who believe in it. You have to expand your sense of the plausible when you’re looking at consciousness. But we’ve done that before. How long ago was it that we discovered electromagnetism? This crazy idea that there are all these waves passing through us that can carry information. That’s just as mind-blowing, right?
I could happily talk about consciousness all day, but often when I do talk about it with people, I can tell that they view thinking about consciousness as almost akin to navel gazing. Like, it’s an interesting thing to think about, but really what difference does it make? What is your response to that? I’ve thought a lot about what good is it to think about consciousness, and I came to think that it’s more important than ever. Scientists are now learning that more and more animals and creatures — going all the way down possibly to insects — are conscious. So that’s one interesting issue: We’re sharing consciousness with more creatures. And then the big threat is artificial intelligence and the effort to create a conscious A.I., which is going to be an enormous challenge to this question of what does it mean to be human. Is consciousness something that a machine can possess? Are we more like intelligent machines or conscious, feeling animals? Who are we? So I think we’re approaching this kind of Copernican moment of redefinition.
What do you think we should do with the increasing awareness that more animals might be conscious than we previously thought? I guess the argument would be that we should have a greater amount of respect for them, but we know human beings are conscious and we exploit the hell out of other humans all the time. That’s a great question. There’s this whole conversation, very active here where I live in Silicon Valley, that if A.I. is conscious, then we’re going to have to give it moral consideration. Well, really? Have we given moral consideration to one another? Have we given moral consideration to the chickens and the cattle that we eat? The answer is no. It doesn’t automatically follow. So we’re going to have to sort out the ethics. Maybe it’s around the ability to suffer. Maybe that’s where you draw the line. I don’t know. I’m not an ethicist, but it’s not as easy as: You’re conscious, therefore you have all these rights. A.I. is really going to complicate this. Who we grant personhood to is a very subjective human decision. We give it to corporations, oddly enough, which are not conscious, but there are all sorts of creatures we don’t give it to. I don’t think we’re entirely rational or consistent in our granting of moral consideration.
You are skeptical that A.I. can achieve consciousness. Why? I’m convinced by some of the researchers, including Antonio Damasio and Mark Solms, who made a really compelling case that the origin of consciousness is with feelings, not thoughts. Feelings are the language in which the body talks to the brain. We forget that brains exist to keep bodies alive, and the way the body gets the brain’s attention is with feelings. So if you think feelings are at the center of consciousness, it’s very hard to imagine how a machine could rise to that level to have feelings. The other reason I think we’re not close to it is that everything that machines know, the data set on which they’re trained, is information on the internet. They don’t have friction with nature. They don’t have friction with us. Some of the most important things we know are about person-to-person contact, about contact with nature — this friction that really makes us human.
Despite how it may seem, the internet is not actually the whole of the world. But to a computer, it’s all you got.
How would we know if an A.I. is conscious or not? How do I know you’re conscious?
I promise I am! Your promise is what’s called reportability in philosophy. You can ask something if it’s conscious, and with humans, we kind of know.
But if an A.I. says: “Michael, I’m conscious. I promise,” how do we know? We don’t, and that is exactly why people are falling deep into these relationships with A.I. We can’t say it’s not conscious when it tells us it is. But we can test it in various ways. It all goes back to this idea of the Turing test — that the test of machine intelligence would be when they can fool us.
If the Turing test is the criteria for machine consciousness, then that test has already been passed. Exactly, it has fooled many, many people. Whether it can fool an expert, too, I don’t know, but probably. So we’re in a very weird place where the machines we’re living with are telling us they’re conscious. We can’t dispute it, but we can look at how they’re made and draw the kind of conclusions I’ve drawn. But is that going to persuade everybody? No. We want them to be conscious in some way. Or some of us do. It’s easier to have a relationship with a chatbot than another human. Going back to that friction point, they offer no friction. They just suck up to us and convince us how brilliant we are, and we fall for it.
What do you think religion has to offer to questions about consciousness? Buddhism has been thinking about consciousness for a very long time. It has been raising these questions about the self and giving people tools to transcend the self, which in itself is a desire that is surprising. We cling to this ego so firmly; at the same time, we do a lot of things to get away from it, whether it’s extreme sports or psychedelics or meditation.
Or watching a movie or having sex or any number of things. Some of the highest experiences of life are these moments where we transcend the self, and that’s curious.
What do you think that’s about? Why, if we cling to the self, are we also so hungry to lose ourselves? The self isolates us, the ego builds walls around it, it’s constantly evaluating, it ruminates. There’s a lot of crappy stuff about the self.
Yeah, it’s constantly yammering away. Yes, there is that voice in our head, and it embodies critical voices, very often inherited from parents or other people. I mean, the ego is very useful. It gets a lot done. It got my book done. It gets your podcast done. So we shouldn’t be too critical of it. On the other hand, when we transcend the self, we connect to things larger than ourselves. And this is one of the beautiful things about psychedelics — when they work, there is this sense of dissolution of self. The walls come down, and you feel part of nature. You feel love. I had an experience I describe in the book of self-dissolution where I merged with this piece of music, this Bach cello suite, and it was such a profound experience because the subject-object split went away and I was identical to this music. The interesting thing, though, is that consciousness doesn’t go away when the ego goes away. We protect our ego because we’re afraid if we lose it, we’re dead. But we’re not. It’s just one voice. There’s a lot else going on, as you learn when you meditate and use psychedelics.
How often do you do psychedelics? Not very often at all. It’s hard to find time. It’s a big day with a lot of preparation and everything. If I can do it once a year, I’m happy. What I’m talking about is ideally a guided experience. You can let yourself go when someone’s watching your body. So when I can put myself in that situation — which isn’t easy to do, and it’s expensive — I find that very valuable. I’m still learning things.
What are you learning? Oh, every psychedelic experience is different. You never go back to the same place. That’s why I think it’s a great thing to do on or around your birthday, to sort of take stock of your reality and what the issues are. I had an experience not too long ago that kind of rocked me.
What was it? It was a guided trip on — it doesn’t matter what it was on. I had these powerful emotions that had no name. They were like these giant blimps crashing into me, crashing into each other, and I was straining and so frustrated that I didn’t know what they were, and the answer never came clear during the experience. Oddly enough, the answer to what they were came two weeks later when I happened to be at a meditation retreat. The links between psychedelics and meditation are very fruitful and interesting. I was doing a walking meditation after a couple days of complete silence, 12-hour-a-day meditating, and there were the blimps. In sans serif letters, right on the blimp, was the word “fear.” I quickly realized what it was. It was fear of losing something very close to you. So the combination of two experiences ended up being very productive. But on its own, the psychedelic experience raised more questions than gave answers.
Questions of consciousness, which are really questions about what makes us us, are some of the most important questions that can be asked. But at the same time, they can lead into other questions like: Is there some David — some stable “I” — that exists or not? Or what is the relationship between free will and consciousness? Sometimes thinking about those questions can be destabilizing. Is that just me? Do you have similar apprehensions? It can be destabilizing, absolutely. One of the reasons people are happy to be less conscious and fill their attention with distractions and drugs is because the mind can be a scary place to visit. We often want to be less aware of what’s going on. There are reasons people avoid going down these rabbit holes. It takes a willingness to risk something.
I apologize if this seems like a woo-woo question, but do you think the absence of something like a stable “self” also means the absence of something like a soul? Do you believe in a soul? Well, if a soul is something that is indestructible and survives our death, no. But I can’t say anything about the afterlife with confidence. Consciousness has become our secular substitute for the soul; we talk about consciousness the way people in the 16th or 17th century talked about souls. Some people’s interest in it is the fact that it floats free of these mortal bodies and maybe gets folded into a collective consciousness after we’re gone. So I think there is a hidden religiosity or spirituality in the whole conversation around consciousness. Somebody asked me recently, Do you think as people get older, they are more interested in consciousness? And I would say yes, and probably for that reason.
It does seem that many of us have consistencies to ourselves that are a little hard to explain in the absence of something like a stable identity or a soul. In the new book, you mention a period in your teenage years when you were reading Hermann Hesse, writing bad poetry and thinking about the big questions. I don’t know if you still write bad poetry, but the other two things don’t seem that far away from what you’re now doing in your 70s. So what might explain what seem like intrinsic core qualities that are constant for you through time if not a stable self-identity or a soul? Even though I talk a lot about this idea that maybe the self is an illusion, it still has a conventional reality. The fact that I’m using myself to talk to yourself makes this very easy. If neither of us had selves right now, it would be a very loosey-goosey conversation. I can’t even imagine what it would be like. Matthieu Ricard said: It’s like a river has a name, and that conventional name is very useful, but there’s nothing consistent there. It’s just water passing.
I brought something like this up earlier, but I want to ask another version of it. This morning I was reading the news and thinking, Gosh, right now, is talking to Michael Pollan about consciousness a kind of “how many angels can dance on the head of a pin” conversation? I decided the answer is no, but do you ever have those doubts? I did at various points when I was starting on this book and the world was starting to fall apart. Like, is this how I should be using my energy? But I think that consciousness is at stake in a lot of what’s going on. One of the things Trump has done is occupy a significant chunk of our attention every single day. Our consciousness is being polluted, and protecting ourselves against that at the same time we preserve the ability to act politically is a difficult balancing act. Consciousness is a very precious realm. It’s the realm of our privacy and our freedom to think. So I think we need some kind of consciousness hygiene, particularly at this moment, where this one politician has figured out ways to command our attention. Consciousness is more relevant now than it even was 10 or 20 years ago, as something to think about, protect and nurture.
This interview has been edited and condensed from two conversations. Listen to and follow “The Interview” on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, iHeartRadio, or Amazon Music. David Marchese is a writer and co-host of The Interview, a regular series featuring influential people across culture, politics, business, sports and beyond in the New York Times.
In a world that often glorifies a “survival of the fittest” mentality, we are frequently told that selfishness is the ultimate driving force for getting ahead. We view competition as the natural state of things and putting oneself first as the only way to thrive.
But what if modern science and ancient spiritual traditions are trying to tell us the exact opposite?
What if altruism—the act of selflessly helping others—is actually human beings’ ultimate evolutionary survival strategy?
The Groundbreaking Science: Tracking the “Returns” of Giving
For years, the idea that “doing good makes you healthy” was viewed as mere wishful thinking. That changed when Dr. Stephen Post, a former Professor of Bioethics at Case Western Reserve University (now at the Stony Brook University School of Medicine), and novelist Jill Neimark decided to investigate the deep connection between giving and receiving from a strictly modern medical perspective.
In their landmark research, which culminated in the book Why Good Things Happen to Good People, they aggregated data from over 100 studies conducted across 40 major American universities. By tracking individuals who regularly practice altruism, they developed detailed metrics to analyze the physical and psychological “returns” of different kinds of giving.
Their conclusions revealed a profound biological reward system:
Survival of the Cooperative
From an evolutionary standpoint, true fitness in human history didn’t belong to the lone, aggressive wolf; it belonged to the community that collaborated. Dr. Post’s work highlights that tribes that shared food, cared for the sick, and protected one another had significantly higher survival rates. Humans conquered the planet because we had the capacity for deep cooperation. Altruism is quite literally a core part of our biological operating system.
To ensure we kept cooperating, nature built a flawless internal reward system. Dr. Post and other neuroscientists discovered that when you offer a genuine smile, extend a helping hand, or show empathy, your biology responds immediately:
The Helper’s High: Your brain releases a surge of dopamine (the joy chemical) and oxytocin (the bonding hormone), leaving you with an elevated sense of well-being.
Immune Protection: Remarkably, researchers found that even passing a warm, humorous, or friendly expression to someone else triggers a measurable increase in Secretory Immunoglobulin A (sIgA) in your saliva. This antibody serves as your body’s frontline defense against respiratory infections.
The Scientific Truth: Cultivating a mindset of goodwill lowers stress hormones, dampens chronic inflammation, and actively boosts your immune system. Your body is biologically wired to thrive on kindness, yielding what Dr. Post calls a “medical effect” and a high “happiness index” for those who are genuinely open-handed.
Long before modern laboratories could measure antibody levels or compile statistical tracking sheets, ancient Eastern philosophies had already mapped out this profound connection between the mind, the body, and the universe.
Traditional Chinese Culture: The Power of “Zheng Qi” (Positive Qi)
In Traditional Chinese Medicine and philosophy, true health is a reflection of moral alignment. The classic medical text, Huangdi Neijing, famously states: “When Positive Qi (Zheng Qi) resides within, no illness (Xie Qi) can interfere.” * Being generous, kindhearted, and open-minded (Zhai Xin Ren Hou) isn’t just a moral duty; it is a supreme form of healthcare.
By casting away malice, resentment, and narrow-minded selfishness, you release the emotional blockages that disrupt your bodily harmony. A benevolent heart naturally fosters a strong, resilient life force that is in tune with the world around it.
Buddhist Wisdom: The Mirror of “Altruism is Self-Interest”
In Buddhist teachings, the barrier between “self” and “other” is an illusion. This gives rise to the concept of Tongti Dabei (Universal Compassion)—the understanding that we are all interconnected.
Under the law of cause and effect, helping someone else is fundamentally the highest form of self-interest. When you plant a seed of kindness in someone else’s life, you are simultaneously cultivating your own “field of blessings.” The positive energy you put out inevitably loops back—transforming your own physical well-being, mental clarity, and spiritual peace, even if you are completely unaware of it happening.
Recognizing that kindness is a biological and spiritual necessity changes how we look at daily life. Every time you choose to be kind, you are not “sacrificing” something of yourself; you are investing in your own vitality and alignment.
You don’t need grand, cinematic gestures to tap into this power. You can start today with simple, intentional acts:
Offer a mindful smile: Pass a warm, encouraging expression to a stressed coworker or a stranger behind a counter to activate your own immune defenses.
Practice micro-kindnesses: Hold the door, give up your seat, or take two minutes to send a text expressing genuine gratitude to a friend.
Filter your speech: In a digital world full of sharp criticism, choose to speak or type words that build up rather than tear down, keeping your nervous system in a healthy, positive state.
As Dr. Stephen Post’s extensive data shows, an astonishing energy conversion happens when we give: the energy of the return is always flowing back to us. Every act of goodwill alters your internal neural chemistry, wakes up your immune cells, and harmonizes your spirit.
By stepping away from selfish anxieties and embracing an open, giving heart, you align yourself with thousands of years of human evolution and spiritual wisdom. Be kind to the world—not just because it needs it, but because your very life depends on it.
As parents, how often do we catch ourselves saying things like: “Why are you being so lazy?” “Look at your cousin, why can’t you be more like them?” “If you keep acting like this, you’ll never amount to anything.”
We often mistakenly believe that harsh criticism will motivate a child to change. But psychological reality shows us the exact opposite: children almost always grow into the exact labels their parents and teachers place on them.
If we want our children to break barriers and achieve great things, we must stop raising them in an environment of constant negative feedback. Instead, we need to understand the life-altering power of a “positive prophecy.”
“One of America’s great scientists” – one of several Carver-centric posters by C. H. Alston, this one referencing the World War II effort (c. 1943)
To understand how a single person’s belief can reshape a child’s destiny, we don’t need to look at internet fables—we only need to look at the historical reality of Dr. George Washington Carver.
Born into slavery in Missouri during the American Civil War, George faced an unimaginable start to life. He was a frail, sickly child, orphaned at a tender age, and growing up in an era rife with brutal systemic oppression. In the eyes of the world at that time, his future was virtually nonexistent.
But George was an exception. He didn’t just survive; he became one of the greatest agricultural scientists, inventors, and educators in American history, ultimately advising presidents and transforming the agricultural economy of the American South.
What pushed a young boy from the absolute margins of society to the heights of global respect? It wasn’t just luck. It was the unwavering, positive expectations of the adults who raised and taught him.
After slavery was abolished, the couple who had previously owned George’s mother, Moses and Susan Carver, chose to keep George and his brother on their farm. Instead of treating him as an afterthought, Susan Carver noticed something extraordinary in the frail boy: an insatiable curiosity for nature and a brilliant mind.
Susan gave him a positive identity. She didn’t see a sickly orphan; she saw a gifted child. She taught him to read, nurtured his love for plants, and constantly reinforced the idea that his mind was a precious tool meant for great things.
Later, when George walked miles to attend a school for Black children, a midwife named Mariah Watkins took him in. Seeing his determination, Mariah looked at him and delivered a powerful prophecy that George carried for the rest of his life:
“You must learn all you can, and then go back out into the world and give your learning back to our people.”
These weren’t just empty words of praise. They were high-specification “identity anchors.” They gave George a banner to march under. From that point forward, he didn’t view himself as a victim of his circumstances; he viewed himself as a custodian of knowledge with a grand purpose. He held himself to the standard of the brilliant educator they promised he would be, eventually becoming the first Black student and faculty member at Iowa State Agricultural College.
What George Washington Carver experienced is a phenomenon heavily documented in modern psychology known as the Pygmalion Effect (or the Expectation Effect). When a caregiver or educator holds high expectations for a child and communicates them through positive reinforcement, the child subconsciously alters their behavior, self-image, and effort to meet that expectation.
Famous education expert Karl Witte famously noted: “Every child is a genius.” He firmly believed that the method of education is paramount. With the right approach, an ordinary child can achieve extraordinary things.
Psychological and statistical data strongly back this up:
Studies in early childhood development show that children with severe, unfixable intellectual disabilities make up only about 1.07% of the population, while highly precocious children make up about 0.03%.
This means that roughly 98% of children are born with perfectly healthy, fully capable intellectual baselines!
The gap that widens between children as they grow is rarely a matter of raw genetic IQ. Instead, it is a question of motivation, mindset, and confidence. And the primary fuel for a child’s confidence is the reflection they see of themselves in their parents’ eyes.
How can today’s parents apply the lessons of Dr. Carver’s life and cognitive psychology to raise thriving children?
1. Shift from “Flaw-Finding” to “Gold-Digging”
If you look at your child and constantly notice their messiness, their loud voice, or their stubbornness, you will naturally project an aura of disappointment. You must train yourself to see the gold hidden in the dirt. Is your child stubborn? Reframe it: “You have incredible persistence; you don’t give up easily.” Is your child loud and disruptive? Reframe it: “You have a powerful presence and great leadership energy.”
2. Give High-Specification “Identity Labels”
Stop using generic insults like “lazy” or “clumsy.” Instead, anchor your child with a noble identity based on their actions. When your child carefully builds a Lego set, say: “I can see how deeply you focus; you have the mind of a meticulous engineer.” When they share a toy, tell them: “You have a deeply generous heart; you are a natural caretaker.” Give them a noble banner, and they will naturally straighten their backs to carry it.
3. Translate Expectations into Inner Standards
The power of Susan Carver and Mariah Watkins’ encouragement wasn’t just that it made George feel good—it changed his daily self-discipline. True positive reinforcement encourages a child to hold themselves to a higher standard. Help your child understand: “Because you are a capable, intelligent person, we are going to practice managing your time and respecting others the way great people do.”
Every child enters this world as a blank canvas of infinite potential. Whether they become someone who drifts aimlessly through life or someone who stands tall and alters history depends entirely on the blueprint drawn for them by the people they trust the most.
As parents, let us put away our critical, depreciating lenses. Let us irrigate our homes with trust and empower our children with genuine, high expectations.
Remember: When your educational method shifts from criticism to profound belief, your child will finally have the freedom to become the genius they were born to be.
Have you ever had a moment like this? A brilliant, fiery idea ignites in your heart, but in the very next second, reality and the voices around you pour cold water all over it: “That’s impossible.” “You aren’t ready yet.” “Don’t be naive—wait until you have enough money and time.”
And so, countless life-changing possibilities quietly wither away in the endless cycle of “waiting.”
Today, I want to share a true miracle that might sound absolutely absurd at first. But after reading it, you might just find yourself re-evaluating the dreams you once labeled as “impossible.”
Years ago, a 26-year-old American youth named Robert Christopher watched people working on cargo ships, hitchhiking across the Atlantic, and traveling the globe. A simple question popped into his head: “If others can do it, why can’t I?”
When he shared this wild idea with his friends, it was met—unsurprisingly—with a chorus of mockery: “You are being way too naive!”
An ordinary person might have backed down. But Robert ignored the laughter. Instead, he pulled a fountain pen and a small slip of paper from his pocket, doing something that would completely alter the trajectory of his life: he listed every single difficulty he could foresee on the journey, and right next to each one, he meticulously wrote down a concrete solution.
He didn’t waste a single minute. The moment the list was done, the action began.
Mastering the Art of Resource Management
What is the biggest obstacle to traveling the world? Visas, transportation, maps, and money. Robert had a mere $80 in his pocket—an amount that, even back then, wasn’t enough to cover a young boy’s monthly living expenses. Yet, instead of letting financial scarcity limit him, he launched a textbook masterclass in resource integration:
No money for airfare? He struck a deal with a cargo airline, agreeing to take promotional photographs for the company in exchange for a flight across the Atlantic.
No maps or international driving permit? He approached the relevant authorities and promised to provide a detailed report on the road conditions in the Middle East. In return, he secured his permit and maps for free.
No safety net? He signed a contract with a pharmaceutical company, guaranteeing to collect soil samples from the countries he visited. He even hustled to secure seaman’s papers, a clean criminal record certificate from New York authorities, and a youth hostel membership.
When he finally waved goodbye to New York with just $80, his true global currency wasn’t cash—it was the unique value he could offer to others.
In the Face of the Impossible, There is Always a Way
How do you survive a journey around the world on $80? Robert proved through his actions that when your desire is strong enough, solutions will always outnumber problems.
In Gander, Newfoundland, unable to afford his first breakfast, he took professional photographs of the kitchen cooks. The joy he brought them was exchanged for a hearty, warm meal. In Ireland, he spent $4.80 on four cartons of American cigarettes. He keenly understood that in many countries, cigarettes functioned as smoothly as paper currency. From Paris to Vienna, and through the Alps into Switzerland, he used cigarettes as tips and payment to secure rides from drivers and conductors.
In Damascus, his enthusiastic photography for a local policeman filled the officer with such pride that he ordered a public bus to provide Robert with free service. In Baghdad, the manager and staff of the Iraq Express Transport Company loved his photos so much that they invited him to travel by boat to Tehran, completely free of charge. In Bangkok, he provided a luxury travel agency manager with highly sought-after, detailed maps and information about a specific region, earning himself a reception fit for a king. Finally, working as a sailor aboard the ship “Flying Spray,” he navigated from Japan back to San Francisco.
84 days. 80 dollars. He didn’t just survive; he witnessed the world.
Looking back at Robert’s legendary journey, we have to ask: Why did such a seemingly reckless plan unfold so smoothly?
Did Robert fail to foresee the immense risks involved? Of course he foresaw them. But it was precisely because he knew the risks that he chose to take the leap—using adventure to add color and flavor to his life. In this grand game, he fully mobilized his intelligence and brilliantly orchestrated every resource around him.
Too often, we use the word “impossible” as an excuse for inaction, when in reality, we are just hiding our fear of the unknown.
The Trap of “Waiting for the Perfect Moment”: Most people wait until they have saved enough money or until the timing is flawless. The truth is, that “perfect moment” does not exist.
Underestimating Our Own Value: Robert lacked money, but he possessed photography skills, the ability to gather data, the courage to negotiate, and the willingness to harvest soil samples. Money is just one form of wealth. Your wisdom, skills, and passion are all highly spendable currencies in the real world.
Many things in life seem impossible only until we decide to do them.
Obstacles are like a mirror—they are only as intimidating as you allow them to be. When you fixate entirely on what you lack—“I don’t have money,” “I don’t have time,” “I don’t have the background”—you trap yourself in place.
The next time a deep aspiration sparks within you, remember 26-year-old Robert: Ignore the skepticism around you. Tear out a piece of paper, write down the hurdles, and ask yourself: “To solve this, what is one thing I can do right now?”
The moment you truly commit and take action, you will find that the universe has a funny way of clearing a path for you.
Peace LiLy 