What could you do more of?
The question caught me off guard. It wasnβt the usual to-do list type of thought I often juggleβemails, chores, tasks that pile up like bricks. Instead, it felt like someone had knocked on the quiet corners of my heart, asking what it truly longed for.
The first thing that came to mind wasnβt money or success. It was something simpler: time spent living.
I remembered a rainy evening when I sat on my balcony with a cup of tea, just watching the world drip and glisten. No rush, no phone buzzing, no deadlines to meet. It was one of those rare moments when I felt present, fully alive. If I could do more of anything, it would be moments like thatβmoments that remind me life is happening right now, not just after the next task is done.
I could laugh more. Not the polite kind, but the loud, belly-deep kind that leaves your cheeks sore. I could listen moreβto friends who need to be heard, to stories that get lost in the noise, even to myself when Iβm too busy ignoring my own thoughts.
I could create moreβwords, ideas, little scribbles that may never see the light of day but still matter because they came from me.
And maybe, most importantly, I could be kinder more. To others, yes, but also to myself. Because sometimes the biggest thing missing isnβt another achievement, but a gentle reminder that Iβm already enough.
So, what could I do more of?
I think the answer is simple: more living, less waiting.
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