Every day on my run along the lakeshore path, I pass a bench.
It’s dedicated to a 16 year old kid who died four years ago from a drug overdose in a basement three blocks down. There’s a plaque and a photo of him, smiling wide. In the warm months, fresh-cut flowers lay on the bench. Yesterday, there was a big Christmas bow with a sparkling red ribbon wrapped around its white legs and arms, evenly spaced, like candy cane.
As a boy, I thought birthdays were the best thing since sliced bread (which isn’t even that best because slicing bread is no big deal but you get the point). My mom would make the same chocolate cake, ritually reserved for birthdays. I’d get to go downtown to see my beloved Toronto Maple Leafs play. I always saved all my presents until after dinner.
Somewhere in the valley of adolescence, I became disillusioned with how a celebration of life was intermingled with bathtubs of booze and sardine-can-clubs, booths and bottle service.
But I’ve realized birthdays are a non-trivial celebration. My day of birth is starkly tied to my existence. A day that will be forgotten and fade into the monotony of the calendar in three generations.
To not appreciate another year I’ve been given would be to fail to pay homage to the people who did not see their 23rd birthday. But I did. I cannot take credit for it but I can be grateful that, for some ununderstood reason, a dam has held back the flood. At least, for now. I’ve witnessed enough tragedy to know how impersonal it is.
Looking back, I’m sufficiently embarrassed of my 22-year-old self. How wrong I was about so many things. I’m sure I’ll feel the same next year.
Alas, I wanted to reflect on what I’ve learned this year, what good I’ve made of the time I’ve been given.
In my 23rd year, I’ve learned…
To define myself by my presence
The world is a fathomless mystery at every level - bursting with wonder that evades understanding and escapes articulation
Nothing is more sacred than paying attention
There is no such thing as certainty - the only dependable things are “humility and looking”
To keep my head up, my feet down, my eyes young, and my soul old
Carving time for stillness and solitude is not sluggishness or selfishness, but sanity
I like alliteration
Beauty is objective
A subtle, almost silent, sickness permeates the modern world
Mastery is patience - to be prolific is to love the plateau
If someone is much better than me at something, they probably try much harder than I realize - but it’s tempting to distance it as “talent” because I misjudge the limits of obsession
To see the sweat behind anything beautiful
I’m far more creative than I imagined
I love Noah Kahan so fuckin much and you do too
Humans perceive the world through stories - the best way to make sure my story is a good one is to read good stories
Writing is less about the words and more about the feelings it prods and provokes - how it hits me, the aftertaste
Writers can pen pretty words but may not live by the very words they write - writing can be a mask or it can be a mirror
People online are smaller in person - the less impressive online, the more impressive offline
Sometimes all someone needs to hear: "I've been exactly where you are"
By being honest about my own darkness, I give others space to be honest about theirs
The only things worth hiding are the things I most want out of my head
Sharing the ugly parts of me makes them beautiful
Fear and shame, like monsters under the bed, burn in the sunlight
My depression is downstream of my self-indulgence
To just keep breathin’
Social media makes me sad - my primate brain can’t handle the algorithms and dopamine - I’m 10% happier without it
Everyone can kindly shut the fuck up about AI
People doubt religion and myth because they can’t think in metaphor - one of the biggest mistakes we make in modern society is assuming ancient people were simple or stupid
Myths are instructions posted from the past, collective memories that become prophecies
99% of my problems are solved when I get outside and touch grass a little more often
The more I walk, the better I feel - walking saves me, daily
Journaling is a salve for a cluttered and confused mind
Nothing reveals itself on the first encounter - people, books, art, cities
To love my timeline, despite the fact it never seems as polished and perfect as someone else’s, because it’s intimately my own
It’s my job to continually teach the people in my life how to interact with me
The most precious part of human connection is the shared vocabulary that emerges - even after the friendship fades, the language doesn't
We all carry around pieces of everyone we've ever loved
Relationships should be hard, but they shouldn’t be heavy
Time heals all wounds, but not decapitation
I miss being alone when it didn’t mean being alone
I can’t come back to something that is gone
I can always look for something that is missing
Like pruning a rose bush, parts of me must be cut away so I can bloom
All I’m looking for is the feeling of home - in places, in people, in work, in myself
My life feels richer when I do less - to know simplicity is to know sweetness
Above all, I want to live with slowness - in travel, in reading, in work, in love
My working definition of masculinity is this beautiful blend of strength and sensitivity, toughness and tenderness, courage and compassion
I am a monster, but I don’t have to be a monster - to be good is to know my own capacity for evil
I’m not naturally a good person but have to work hard and intentionally to be one
We are all identical in our unspoken belief that we are all different
There’s no reason to be concerned about what other people think of me, because they almost never do
If I pay attention, I notice all the little ways life is asking me to let go
I’m articulate compared to average… but not articulate compared to all the wonder in my head - there’s just so much I can’t find the words for
I will leave a legacy - it won’t be a statue but it will be silent - unspoken and embodied and eternal, like a ripple across a pond
Big hugs to
, , , , , and for being cool cats & my first audience for this piece.If you liked this, you shouldn’t read another thing i’ve written but go enjoy some rest over the holidays (:
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👋 what i’ve been up to:
I celebrated my 23rd birthday with family. 23 doesn’t feel as old as it seemed a decade ago. Plus I think I’m 82.
Getting excited for the World Junior hockey tournament, which is so interwoven with the holidays, they’re indistinguishable. I’m pretty sure Canada is the only country that cares, but boy… do we care.
✍️ quote i’m pondering:
American writer Jia Tolentino on modern morality:
“Our world—digitally mediated, utterly consumed by capitalism—makes communication about morality very easy but makes actual moral living very hard.”
❓ question i’m asking:
Mary Oliver on life’s journey:
Who can travel the miles who does not put one foot
in front of the other, all attentive to what presents itself
continually?
📸 photo of the week:
I still go to one Leafs game a year for my birthday. Oh… Canada.
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You got all my love,
Tommy
Great seeing the evolution of this piece Tommy!
I'm also 23 and have run into similar lessons as you listed.
One lesson I'd like to add to your post is that once you start writing regularly, you start seeing stories in life regardless of how separate they are in space and time. (Wrote an essay on this perspective here: https://themohammadkhan.substack.com/p/life-through-a-storytelling-lens)
When I started my writing journey in 2020 through weekly fiction writing, I saw stories everywhere and in everything. The horrifically mundane moments in life -- like sitting in traffic -- became opportunities to tap into the invisible web of stories interweaving our lives and being aware of the most essential choice in life: that we have the ability to choose what we think about and choose what we focus on.
Stuck in rush hour traffic can be a momentary glimpse into hell or it can be a gift of stillness making us aware of how fast we've been moving and how much we'd like to slow down and enjoy our time here.
Tommy, your insights are remarkable for a human of any age and all the moreso for a 23 year old. Thank you for writing them down and sharing. Was appreciating this quote yesterday from Mary Oliver: "This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.”