On my birthday: a quiet reflection on contentment

Like the last fourteen mornings, today started with three handwritten pages.
I’ve been following Julia Cameron’s approach—morning pages, solo walks, artist dates. I picked up her book a few weeks ago, and something in it stuck. It reminded me how important it is to keep my creative and reflective side alive. To make space for it. To treat it seriously.

Birthdays do something to the mind. They make you stop. And today, I found myself wondering: Have I used my years well?

It’s hard to answer. I tend to be impatient. I tend to see glass half full. I always want more progress, more clarity, more movement. But I’ve also been told—more than once—that I’ve done a lot. Still, that’s not really the point. The more interesting question is: What are we measuring against? And who decides what counts?

That led me to another thought: maybe this isn’t about achievement at all. Maybe it’s about presence. About feeling at peace with where you are, rather than what you’ve done.

I’ve heard this before—that contentment is an inside job. That it doesn’t depend on your circumstances, but on how you relate to them. I used to think that sounded like wishful thinking. But I’m starting to see that it’s a skill. A practice.

And maybe it gets easier when you know what actually matters to you. When you stop running on other people’s expectations and start feeding what you need to feel alive. I think that’s what ageing gives you—if you’re lucky. A clearer sense of what your own soul is hungry for.

In my case, it’s learning. Love. Feeling supported. And right now, I have all of that. I wouldn’t swap this moment for any other.

So today, I’m keeping it simple:
Morning pages—done.
A walk alone—just about to start.
An artist date—Later today.
And for once, no need to ask for guidance. I’m already listening.

The photo is from my 19th birthday in India. I was in my third year of university, studying physics.