A False Promise of Bread
Freedom is having peace. I’m at peace when I’m clear about what I want and don’t want.
I’m at peace when I’m present and focused on one thing at a time.
The days that tend to be the least fulfilling are when I’m the most “busy” and distracted.
I’m drowning in regret when I reflect at the end of the day, week, and month, realizing I did jack shit despite how “busy” I felt. I end up checking off everybody’s shitty to-do list except my own.
I want to look back at the past — the flattening of time — and see the lasting impact and fulfillment of my priorities in life.
I want to plant trees, see to their fruition, and reap the fruits of my labor.
I will never have enough peace, but I’m optimistic I’ll keep striving for as much peace as possible.
There’s beauty in an unattainable ideal — they’re a work in progress like Will Smith — a life-long goal to always strive for.
To me, freedom is peace of mind to explore my intellectual curiosities — cultivating taste through reading, writing, and thoughtful conversation.
But my freedom is at risk.
Every term, I tend to put too much on my plate — I’m overambitious with my courses, co-op search, and extracurriculars out of FOMO. I lose agency over my time, attention, and commitments, eventually half-assing everything.
I gave up my freedom last summer.
I was diagnosed with mild depression last summer; I didn’t know it then.
I thought obsessing about the school, co-op, and being burnt out, sleep deprived, and depressed seemed normalized for STEM majors at Waterloo.
I wanted to escape and go home.
I lost interest in working out, writing, playing the piano, and having thoughtful conversations.
It just happens that I decided to default to Subway as my primary food source out of convenience. Little did I know, Subway bread is by no means real bread.
Those sandwich artists led me on a false quest for bread.
Life tasted bland. I stopped cultivating taste; I was running on the hedonic treadmill, chasing after my distorted expectation of praise and recognition from my peers.
But what I truly wanted was freedom—peace of mind.
As I reflect on when I feel the most happiness, I realize it’s not when I feel successful; it’s when I have peace of mind; it’s when I am free to cultivate taste through reading, writing, and thoughtful conversation.
So my real quest for bread is to understand and to be understood.
Freedom is living a life worth writing and writing about a life worth living.
To live a life of freedom, I will make a living out of reading, having thoughtful conversations, and writing.
I know enough to get started, I surround myself with good people, and if I don’t know, I’ll ask, learn, and grow from it.
In my next article, I will share my favorite bread-making recipe.
Until then, let’s get this bread.