💁🏻‍♀️ 29 and Better than Fine

A poem I wrote in my sleeping bag on my birthday (letter 250)

Feb 22, 2025

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Sawadee ka fellow learn-it-all 👋 Greetings from Chiang Rai, Thailand! I attended a beautiful festival for my birthday weekend called Shambhala in Your Heart, which celebrates friendship, music, and art out in nature. There were 7,336 people from 86 countries in attendance. I met only two other Americans there. I loved how worldwide it felt. I wrote this poem below to commemorate my unplugged experience full of life and play. Now, let’s dive into letter 250 from a learn-it-all. Enjoy!

Here’s the only selfie I took on my birthday that’s not on my film camera. This bucket hat is reversible and the first thing I bought in Chiang Rai. I still find it as dope as the day I bought it.

📜🖋 Poetry Corner

💁🏻‍♀️ 29 and Better than Fine

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1:17 AM
In my sleeping bag, I whisper,
“Wow, what a day.”

Today, I am 29,
feeling better than fine.

Banana cake for breakfast—
chewy and sweet—
while morning yoga in candle pose
sparks a flicker of peace in my feet.
I play in the river with splashing rocks,
as friends gift each other
simple presents of warmth—
soft, comforting socks.

I am 29,
feeling better than fine.

Juicy chicken wings, each bite a delight,
shared beside birthday brother Mark.
Coconut ice cream melts slow
as it drips down next to sisters,
and the sun sinks low.

Shambhala in my heart
Where do I even start? 
It isn’t just the place,
But the people who create this space.

Seeking ways to channel presence–
I do cartwheels in contact improv,
Creatively moving in line formations 
rolling across the floor,
And trust falls with newfound friends.

In this moment,
I feel spontaneously young,
Even as knowingly age.
I am 29,
Feeling better than fine. 

Tied up and tangled in rope,
Cheek smooches to musicians,
all day, we revel and play—
and all I long for is to stay.

Beautiful humanity,
you bring me such glee;
all these experiences keep me
curious about the future I see.
I may not know exactly who I am,
yet I live to explore—
for there’s so much more
To this beautiful life, I adore.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t root.
I find oak trees so grand,
spreading wide with rings, 
standing with depth, 
And grounding me with wonder.

Year after year,
I’ll never lose my inner child.
Living fully in every moment,
To notice life and smile.
I’ll never be done.
I am 29,
feeling better than fine.

Where should I go?
I don’t know.
But I can feel, ponder,
and trust in the path ahead.

That last thought is a must—
To practice trust—
so I listen to the inside and outside 
Of the now.

I was birthed 
into this earth
on a trajectory 
to fill my directory
with lessons, 
not the fluff of shoulds.
I seek my truth 
beyond the smooth veneer
Of what life might appear.

So instead I ask
What do I truly need

A lifetime of learning,
letting go of yearning,
more questions than answers,
Exploration and quests to unfold.

I express openly without pretense,
creativity flowing free,
learning without the weight of stress.
The music of smiling, cheerful souls,
with infectious energy so wild,
reminds me of the wonder as a child—
to giggle as everyone starts to wiggle.

I don’t know where I am going,
but I am on my way—
with presence, I simply smile and swirl,
letting life play on.

Being older and younger at the same time is confusing. It’s just about as confusing to explain the emotion of bittersweetness to my student Ploy.
Maybe the most primordial version of love is to merely be seen and heard. This is what so many of my students need rather than learning to properly say a three-syllable new vocabulary word in a third or fourth language.
I feel impatient about wanting to fill up my roll of film to see the photos taken from this year so far. But that defeats the whole point of why I have film. It is to practice patience.
What is learning? It is so much more than the collection of knowledge that most of my seniors in high school define it as. This pursuit of knowledge in education only goes so far. But learning. That is a pursuit of a lifetime. I am keen to differentiate these two concepts more in a simple way to explain them to my students.
Mike Posner’s new Beginning album is so beautiful. Alchemizing pain and grief into beauty through music is quite the pursuit to embark on.

📖Reading

From a book I found in a tea house today with Thai and English translations in the same book. This is from the Introduction of “The Mirror of Relationship”, a compilation on awareness from J. Krishnamurti’s, an Indian philosopher":

“To discuss intelligently there must also be a quality, not only of affection, but of hesitation. You know, unless you hesitate you can’t inquire. Inquiry means hesitating, finding out for yourself, discovering step by step; and when you do that, then you need not follow anybody, you need not ask for correction or for confirmation of your discovery. But all this demands a great deal of intelligence and sensitivity.

By saying that, I hope I have not stopped you from asking questions! You know, this is like talking things together over as two friends. We are neither asserting nor seeking to dominate each other, but each is talking easily, affably, in an atmosphere of friendly companionship, trying to discover. And in that state of mind we do discover; but I assure you, what we discover has very little importance. The important thing is to discover, and after discovering, to keep going. It is detrimental to stay with what you have discovered, for then your mind is closed, finished. But if you die to what you have discovered the moment you have discovered it, then you can flow like the stream, like a river that has an abundance of water.”

—Saanen, 10th Public Talk 1st August, 1965

🎧Listening

“Automatic” by the Lumineers

Oh, lover, is it ever gonna be enough?
Oh, my lover, is it ever gonna be enough?
Oh, my lover, is it ever gonna be enough?

Automatic
It's automatic
Automatic

🌟Quote to inspire

“The sun will rise tomorrow. It always does, and all the wishing in the world for the way things were, or for what they could have been, won't change that. It won't change how things are.” ― Elizabeth Scott from the book “Something, Maybe”