Most Things Don’t Matter—Act Accordingly

"You cannot overestimate the unimportance of practically everything."

— John Maxwell

Read that again. Slowly.

It sounds like a joke at first, but it’s not. It’s a razor-sharp truth about how we live our lives—stressed, busy, obsessed—with things that barely matter in the long run.

Think back five years. The things that kept you up at night. The argument that ruined your week. The promotion you had to get. The gadget you were dying to own. How many of those truly matter to you now?

Exactly.

Almost everything we once considered “important” fades. Deadlines, office drama, someone’s opinion, the pressure to impress, the impulse to win every argument—it all becomes noise. But we don’t realize it until later, often when it’s too late to get back the time, peace, or energy we wasted.

So here’s the harsh but honest truth: most things just don’t matter as much as we think they do. And the smart move? Start acting like it now, not ten years from now.

Before you pour your energy into something, ask yourself—will this matter a year from now? Will it still have meaning, or will it just be another forgotten chapter?

This doesn’t mean you stop caring about everything. It means you start choosing carefully. What actually moves your life forward? What truly brings peace, joy, depth?

Don’t live your life trying to win every race. Win the right ones. Drop the baggage. Let go of things that drain you but add nothing. Free yourself from the need to react to every little thing.

Life’s too short to obsess over what won’t matter. Stay sharp. Be ruthless with your focus. Give your time only to what counts.

Everything else? Shrug. Walk on. It never mattered anyway.

Stop Beating the Wall—Find a Door

“Don't spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door.”

— Coco Chanel

We’ve all done it. Pushed and pushed against something—or someone—desperately hoping they’d change. That a job would get better. That a person would finally understand. That the situation would magically shift if we just tried harder. But deep down, we knew. It wasn’t going anywhere.

That’s what Coco Chanel meant. There’s a difference between persistence and blind hope. One is noble. The other can break you.

If you’re stuck in a loop, feeling drained, burned out, unheard, unvalued—it’s time to stop. Step back. Ask yourself honestly: Is this a wall? Or is there actually a door here?

Sometimes, we’re not meant to change the thing. We’re meant to walk away from it. That doesn’t mean you failed. It means you’re wise enough to stop wasting energy on something that simply isn’t meant to open.

It could be a relationship where you’re the only one putting in effort. A toxic workplace where no one listens. A dream that no longer fits who you are. Beating on it won’t help. That wall won’t turn into a door, no matter how hard you try.

Letting go isn’t weakness. It’s choosing to redirect your time, your strength, and your peace toward something that can grow. Something that actually opens.

If this hits home, breathe. You’re not alone. So many of us stay far too long in places we’ve outgrown. Not because we’re foolish, but because we cared too much. That’s not a flaw. But at some point, you need to care about yourself too.

So stop beating the wall. Step back. Look around.

You’ll find a door. Maybe in a place you never thought to look. And when you do, walk through it with your head held high.

Privacy Isn’t a Secret—It’s a Right

“Arguing that you don't care about the right to privacy because you have nothing to hide is no different than saying you don't care about free speech because you have nothing to say.” — Edward Snowden

Let that sink in. Privacy isn't about hiding something. It's about having the space to be yourself without someone peeking in. It's a basic need, not a shady habit.

This applies not just to governments and tech companies—but to everyday life. Sometimes, even the people closest to us forget that. Friends, partners, parents, colleagues—out of love or concern, they may cross a line. And sometimes, we are the ones who cross it.

We ask questions that are too personal. We snoop. We push someone to share before they’re ready. Maybe we mean well. Maybe we’re just curious. But when someone pulls back or looks uncomfortable, that’s our signal. We’ve intruded.

It doesn’t matter if you’d be okay sharing the same thing. What matters is that they are not. Privacy is deeply personal. It’s not one-size-fits-all.

If you ever feel unsure, just ask: “Is it okay if I ask about this?” If the answer is no, step back. Respectfully. Quietly. No guilt trip. No pressure.

Privacy is trust. When you respect someone’s boundaries, you earn more of it. When you ignore them, you lose it—fast.

So let’s normalize this: not everyone has to share everything. Even with people they love. And that’s okay.

Respect privacy the way you’d want yours respected. That’s how real connection grows—through trust, not intrusion.

When Quiet Starts to Feel Like Home

“There were too many people, too much noise. The very air was irritable and exhausted and spent.” — Daphne du Maurier

Ever walked into a noisy crowd and felt like you just wanted to disappear? Not out of sadness, but because the whole thing just felt... too much?

You’re not alone. And no, nothing is wrong with you.

As we grow older, something shifts. The buzz of large gatherings, the noise, the constant chatter—it starts to feel draining, not energizing. You begin to crave quiet. You find joy in solitude or the calm presence of one or two people you really connect with. That’s not loneliness. That’s maturity.

When we’re younger, we often chase people, parties, noise, and attention. That’s normal. But over time, we start realizing peace feels better than attention. Silence feels better than small talk. Solitude becomes not something to escape from—but something to look forward to.

And here's the beautiful part—you start becoming your own best company. You learn to enjoy your thoughts. Your routines. Your books. Your walks. You’re not avoiding people. You’re just being kind to yourself.

So don’t feel guilty if loud spaces now feel suffocating. Don’t feel odd if you’d rather stay in than go to a big event. That’s growth. That’s your soul finally catching its breath.

In solitude, you are in charge. You choose the mood. The pace. The energy. It’s freedom, not isolation.

So embrace it. Love it. Look forward to it.

Your peaceful self is the best company you’ll ever have.

Let the Small Dogs Bark—You’ve Got Better Things to Do

“If a lion turned every time small dogs barked at it, it would be the laughing stock of the jungle.” — Matshona Dhliwayo

If you share your thoughts in public—online or offline—you will get feedback. Some of it will help you grow. Some of it will try to tear you down. Learning to tell the difference is everything.

Good criticism is gold. It makes you sharper, wiser, better. But here’s the thing—not all criticism is good. Some people just don’t like your face. Or your tone. Or your confidence. They’re not trying to improve the conversation. They’re trying to drag you into theirs.

Ignore them.

Especially in the online world, the noise never stops. Opinions fly 24/7. Trolling is easy. Nuance is rare. If you keep turning to answer every comment, you’ll spend your life doing nothing but reacting. That’s not power. That’s distraction.

So, be smart about it. Set a time. Maybe 30 minutes a day or twice a week. Go through your feedback with a clear mind. Skip the hate. Skip the sarcasm. If someone cared enough to explain their point with clarity, read it. Think. If there’s value, act on it.

But don’t feed the trolls. Don’t get stuck trying to win every debate. Some things are facts. Others are just opinions—yours, theirs, everyone’s.

You’re not here to bark back at every noise. You’ve got things to build, ideas to explore, a life to live.

So keep moving. Keep growing. And let the small dogs bark. That’s what they do.