As we close the year, and as I quietly step into being
a year older, I wanted to end it the only way I know how: with reflection. This
will be my last blog of the year, a soft wrap-up rather than a loud conclusion.
It’s wild how fast the days have moved. One moment
you’re planning, dreaming, pushing… and suddenly you’re here, looking back,
realizing how much has shifted without you even noticing.
One of the biggest lessons this year has been the
beauty of pride in my work, real pride. The kind that comes from knowing I put
in the effort. I struggled through it, learned through it, found my weaknesses,
and worked through them. In a world where shortcuts are celebrated, there’s
something deeply grounding about knowing my hands, my mind, and my patience
built what I put out. Whether people choose to watch, read, or appreciate it,
it doesn’t matter. That kind of consistent output shapes you in a different way.
It forces patience, honesty, and growth.
I’ve also learned that standing out doesn’t always mean
being loud. I would rather have a small group of people who genuinely love and
understand my work than millions who constantly attack, insult, or undervalue
it. Not all visibility is necessary, and some attention simply isn’t worth the
cost.
This year also reminded me what it feels like to
navigate the world as an ‘other’, as an afterthought in certain spaces.
To realize that sometimes, you’re not the main character in the rooms you
enter. And strangely enough, that realization brings clarity. It teaches you
how to move differently. How to create anyway. How to exist fully without
needing to be centered or celebrated.
Travel this year wasn’t just about getting away; it was
about remembering parts of myself.
In July, I went to the Maasai Mara to volunteer at a
medical camp. In serving the community, observing, assisting, and learning, I
found myself reconnecting with my love for biology and medicine. A part of me I
had quietly buried resurfaced. It reminded me that curiosity doesn’t disappear
just because life takes you in a different direction. Some callings wait
patiently until you’re ready to listen again.
Later in the year, I visited Lamu for the first time.
Experiencing a new culture, slowing down, and witnessing different ways of
living brought me deep joy. Travel has always done that for me; it widens my
perspective, softens my assumptions, and reminds me that there is no single way
to live a meaningful life.
For my birthday, I chose Samburu. Not the familiar
parks I’ve returned to time and time again, but somewhere I’d always wanted to
experience. As a photographer, I was especially drawn to the species unique to
the region: the Grevy’s zebras and the reticulated giraffes. Being able to
observe and capture them felt like checking off a long-held creative and
personal dream.
And then there was the leopard.
On my birthday, I saw one… not once, but twice. After
not having seen a leopard in a long time, it felt almost surreal. Maybe
birthday luck really is a thing after all. I managed to capture some
beautiful photographs, and in those moments, I was reminded how much I love
photography, how it grounds me, excites me, and keeps me deeply present in the
world around me.
Across these journeys, one thing stayed clear: whenever
I can, I want to help. To contribute. To show up for community in ways that
matter, even if they’re small. Service has a way of grounding you, of pulling
you out of yourself and reminding you why connection matters.
Discipline has been another quiet teacher this year.
I’ve learned that discipline always comes with loss. You have to give something
up, comfort, habits, distractions, versions of yourself that no longer serve
where you’re going. Self-awareness isn’t gentle. It asks for sacrifice before
it gives you freedom. That’s why I’ve committed to daily walks, regular
check-ins, and working out religiously. There’s something powerful about
keeping the mind, body, and soul aligned.
I’ve also learned that the evidence of desire is
pursuit. Wanting something isn’t enough. Loving something isn’t enough. If
you’re not moving toward it, even slowly, even imperfectly, then it’s just a
wish. This year reminded me that consistency speaks louder than intention.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped needing to be
cheered and became more comfortable being the cheerleader. Encouraging others.
Clapping from the sidelines. Enjoying the dance without needing the spotlight.
There’s a quiet joy in that; one I didn’t expect but deeply appreciate now.
And perhaps the most freeing lesson of all: this world
doesn’t have a formula. No guaranteed steps. No perfect timeline. No universal
blueprint for success or fulfillment. And maybe that’s the point. We are all
figuring it out in real time, carrying what works, releasing what doesn’t, and
becoming along the way.
As this year closes, I’m not tying things up with a
neat bow. I’m simply grateful for the lessons, the journeys, the rediscovered
parts of myself, and the version of me that keeps going.
Here’s to continuing.
Without a formula.
