9/4/25

A paseador walked by just now — he looked like a character straight out of a comic book. Curly hair, loose plaid shirt, rugged Dr. Martens boots. His gaze held a kind of disdain, yet he seemed entirely lost in his own world. Dog walker… is that what they're called? What a lovely job. The dogs trotted along happily behind him, like we used to on school field trips as kids. Some dogs looked cheerful, others wore faces of deep sorrow, some were daydreaming, and a few moved like zombies.

I really want to finish and post my new blog today—it’s already been four days, and if I don’t get it out now, it might just fade into oblivion. On top of that, tomorrow my colleague and I will co-lead our first interview for the program. Ugh. I’m feeling a bit nervous. I know it’ll be fine, but there’s still this invisible pressure weighing on me.

Right now, in this café, there’s a red-haired girl in a colorful sweater pacing around. She ordered coffee but hasn’t stopped moving since — maybe she’s just bored, or anxious, or maybe her thoughts are going faster than her body can keep up.

Even with my noise-cancelling headphones on (and god, the barista today is playing Chainsmokers — my least favourite band, absolutely speechless)... I’m trying to focus on my world through the screen in front of me. But the truth is, I feel irritated. Her restless energy is making me tense. I turn up the volume, only to be hit with Arctic Monkeys’ When the Sun Goes Down, and the rhythm is fuelling my inner storm. I want to scream. So I blast AWOLNATION’s Sail!

And then, I suddenly remember what Nara and I talked about yesterday — we’re both sensitive people. We can pick up on things like the news of war, Trump’s messy headlines, or even just the uneasy energy of the person sitting next to us at a café. It all lands in us so easily — we become anxious, low, and affected. It’s as if we have these hyper-sensitive radars, but our filtering systems haven’t quite caught up yet.

So… how can we shift this?

Maybe, it’s not just about what’s around me. Maybe there’s already fire within me — and when I sense fire in others, it ignites mine too.

But if I train my heart to be like water, then even when there’s fire all around me, I won’t catch fire so easily.

I want to learn to build energetic boundaries — to silently say to myself, “This energy doesn’t serve me. I do not accept it.”

To use breath work, meditation, and even a kind of self-hypnosis to cleanse my energy.

To create art — or to immerse myself fully in doing something with love.

To put my bare foot on the ground for 10 minutes and focus on myself.

For instance, I can cook, but I can also craft a meal. Maybe the shift lies in the difference between those two.

Maybe that’s how I return to myself…