Alright, so let’s talk about wonder and awe—two things we all used to have in spades as kids but somehow managed to lose somewhere along the way between taxes and scrolling through Twitter at 2 a.m. These days, wonder and awe are like those rare birds you only hear about in nature documentaries—beautiful, fleeting, and barely seen in the wild. And the thing is, without them, life starts feeling pretty damn flat. It’s like going through life in black and white when you know color exists. So, that’s the mission here: to help people recover that spark, that sense of “holy crap, life is amazing,” even if it’s a bit messed up most of the time. Because here’s the thing—wonder and awe aren’t just nice little add-ons. They’re fuel. They’re what make us feel alive, connected, and actually excited to get out of bed in the morning. Without them, you’re just grinding, going through the motions, thinking the next promotion or the next “perfect” relationship will give you that feeling. Spoiler alert: it won’t. Helping people recover wonder and awe means digging beneath the “what’s wrong with me?” questions and getting back to the “what’s actually right with life?” part of ourselves that we’ve ignored for way too long. It’s about learning how to see again—to notice the little things, the beauty in the ordinary, and the magic in what we already have. We’re talking about breaking out of the mental boxes we’ve put ourselves in, the labels and expectations, and all the noise that makes life feel so heavy. It’s about peeling all that back and finding a part of ourselves that can still look at the world and say, “Whoa.” Because when we see the world with that kind of curiosity and awe, suddenly everything starts to feel more possible.

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Here’s the truth: being human is freaking hard. Now, that might sound obvious, but think about it—since we were kids, we’ve been sold this idea that if we just get enough money, love, or control over things, life will magically smooth out. But reality doesn't work that way. Eventually, life smacks us upside the head and reminds us that "hard" doesn’t even begin to cover it. Life can throw stuff at us that makes “hard” feel like a cute little understatement. We spend a lot of our time trying to escape it—distracting ourselves, numbing ourselves, setting impossible goals so we feel “worthy.” But when you dig down, most of that comes from one core thing: we don’t feel safe in who we are. We don’t trust that we’re enough just as we are. If you want to feel safer in your own skin, you’ve got to quit running from discomfort and learn to be okay with it. And no, I’m not talking about some toxic positivity nonsense. I’m talking about not fighting reality, not pretending things are better than they are. It’s about accepting the complexities of life and facing it without denial or sugar-coating. Think about it: life isn’t going to stop being unpredictable or difficult. We can’t change that. But what we can change is how we respond to it. That starts with letting go of the idea that you need to control or fix everything to feel secure. First, start by being honest about what you can and can’t control. Most of our anxiety comes from trying to control things that are out of our hands—what other people think, what might happen tomorrow, what the world looks like five years from now. But trying to manage all that is like trying to hold water in your hands. Instead, focus on the things you can control, like how you spend your time today, who you surround yourself with, and how you talk to yourself when things go sideways. Next, learn to sit with uncomfortable feelings rather than trying to dodge them. Think of it like building emotional muscle. When you’re afraid, sit with that fear. When you’re insecure, face it. Don’t try to avoid it; you’re just prolonging the struggle. Talk with someone trustworthy. The more you practice, the more you realize you can handle way more than you thought—and that’s what really builds confidence.

I consider myself a weirdo, and not in the quirky, endearing way we romanticize oddness, but in a "maybe-this-guy-has-spent-too-much-time-thinking-about-life" kind of way. Here’s why: First, I genuinely believe that humanity is more alike than different. Yeah, I know—that’s the kind of thing people write on those decorative throw pillows. But think about it. Strip away the labels, the political team colors, the Instagram highlights, and you’ll find the same mess of emotions, fears, and desires in everyone. We’re all stumbling through the same existential minefield, pretending we’ve got a map. Second, to me, everything is spiritual. Not in the “burn some sage and align your chakras” kind of way (though, hey, if that’s your thing, more power to you). I mean everything—from the mundane act of brushing your teeth to the existential crisis at 2 a.m.—has meaning. There’s no sacred versus profane, no split between the life you live on Sundays and the one on Monday mornings. It’s all one. It’s all spiritual. Life isn’t some dualistic ping-pong match; it’s a messy stew of consciousness, decisions, and meaning. Lastly, I get that I can be either a monster or a saint on any given day, and so can everyone else. And that’s not just a self-help epiphany, that’s reality. We’re not wired to be wholly good or bad. We’re complex creatures with the capacity for both profound generosity and shocking selfishness. A lot of us like to pretend we’re exclusively one or the other, but that’s just our ego trying to give us an identity neat enough to show off. The truth is, we’re all just walking contradictions, trying to figure out which side of ourselves we’re going to bring to the table each day. And that’s what makes us all beautifully weird—and scarily human.

As humans, we’re hardwired to see threats everywhere. That’s the whole fight-or-flight response—our brains are still wired to keep us from getting eaten by a saber-toothed tiger. But here’s the problem: most of what we freak out about today isn’t life-threatening. And yet, our minds keep acting like we’re one nasty email away from a literal apocalypse. This fight-or-flight mindset? It’s inefficient and, frankly, exhausting. To avoid living in a constant state of fight or flight, we must release the black-and-white, binary perspective we often hold. This is where the concept of anti-fragility plays a crucial role. Antifragility is like the next level—it’s not about fighting or running but flowing. It’s the ability to take on challenges, adapt, and emerge better. Imagine getting through stress or problems and using them as fuel to level up. Here’s what that means practically: Instead of reacting to every challenge as a threat, you learn to see it as an opportunity to learn, change, and grow. If a relationship tanks, instead of retreating, you figure out what you can learn from it to build stronger ones in the future. If a job sucks, instead of burning out, you ask yourself how this can shape your next career move. Anti-fragility means you don’t just “bounce back”—you actually become stronger and wiser from each setback. The key is not to avoid stress or challenges but to develop a way of living that accepts them instead of denying or fighting against them. Embrace an attitude of being a student rather than insisting that life conforms to your wishes. This is how you stop reacting and start responding. It’s how you stop breaking down and start breaking through. When you stop fighting everything and learn to flow, life gets a whole lot less scary. Instead of surviving life, you’re actively using it to your advantage. Yes, anti-fragility is almost an unfair advantage.