Random Thoughts

Human life is woven from paradox. A good leader is a good servant, placing the welfare of the group above personal ambition. Strength is found not in armoured perfection but in vulnerability; those who admit weakness draw trust and loyalty closer. Freedom, far from being the absence of limits, is born through discipline, for it is structure and restraint that open the widest fields of creativity and choice.

Authority arises not from pride but humility; those who do not demand respect are the ones who receive it most freely. Stability, contrary to instinct, is secured through change, for organisations that adapt endure, while those that resist are broken. Hardness, though it seems strong, is brittle and easily shattered; it is the supple, the flexible, that endures the weight of time and trial. The highest wisdom lies in recognising one’s ignorance, for only through such admission can true understanding begin.

In the paradox of the self, one realises that selflessness is the path to self-discovery: in serving others, one discovers one’s own depths. And finally, power is not in ceaseless action but in restraint—the capacity to act yet choosing to hold back, a mastery more profound than compulsion.

Light is the gathering of all colours into one. Silence is the chorus of every sound before it is born. Emptiness is the womb that carries every thing. To look at light is to see what has not yet been divided; to listen to silence is to hear what has not yet been spoken; to stand within emptiness is to feel the potential of all that will be.

The flow of time wears down stone and memory, leaving only the river, carrying all within it.

If the past is pressed into us, we become more fossil than flesh. New moments layer on top, distorting what lies beneath.

The mind, impatient for certainty, crowns its own echoes with the authority of fact.

I joined a mindfulness class but kept forgetting to be present.

I met a cow in a field who fixed me with her gaze, so I sang to her. Her ears pricked, her whole stance attentive. When I said my goodbyes and walked away, I turned back—she was still staring, as though weighing me up: “Not bad for a two-legged calf.”

I was going to tell a joke about recursion, but you’ve heard it before.