I Am Where I Need To Be📍

a simple reminder to myself

I didn’t choose to be here. I mean—I did choose to be here in New York City, where my ambition and creativity could be fully expressed, but I never dreamed of my nights being cradled by the relentless hum of the highway. At first, this lullaby that I never wished for kept me up, but I’ve since found solace in my trusty eye mask and earplugs. I’ve also gotten used to our apartment building shaking as semi-trucks drive by. I must say, the constant construction is awful on most days, but even then, I’ve found new ways of accepting the context that I exist in. When the 4.8 earthquake hit in April, I thought it was just a really big truck and continued as if it was business as usual.

Sunset Park

Every morning, after I hydrate, meditate, and sometimes stretch on my yoga mat, I lace up and am immediately welcomed by a cacophony of cars zooming by. My mind is just as noisy, with thoughts from the previous night and today’s to-dos flooding in. I’m tempted to bring my phone and AirPods to drown out the bustling chaos with my daily dose of dopamine, but instead, I only bring my key.

Walking around Sunset Park teaches me so much; it’s my way of continuously observing and understanding the nature of reality. The route I take doesn’t change, but I notice subtle shifts every time. On the first warm morning after a stretch of chilly weather, the park was poppin’ off. I counted 13 happy dogs. The fenced-off construction areas morph as progress is made, and accordingly, so do the groups of people. Three weeks ago, the flowers were in peak bloom and kept to themselves. Now they’re aggressively falling and attacking my sinuses.

Some days I’m acutely aware of everything that’s in front of me. On other days, I’m more attentive to what’s happening inside. My emotions are constantly in flux, and my mind is often already hard at work, trying to untangle the knots in an essay or noodling on new ideas.

I also notice what doesn’t change. Next to the chess tables, a white-haired elder practices tai chi, alternating days with the sword and those without. A squad of Chinese aunties wearing shades of red, purple, and pink perform their morning dance routines in collective synchronization. It’s unclear who’s actually leading the group, but typically the first row is the most coordinated.

On the other side, the men gather, all wearing the same simple uniform of a navy hat, black pants, and dark jacket. Maybe they all shop at the same store. Or maybe there’s a really popular 60-year-old influencer in China that I don’t know about. In the mornings, it’s unclear what they’re actually doing. It seems like they’re just standing there, often without even chatting. By afternoon, they’re a bit livelier with Chinese chess and card games. I’m not used to being in the presence of such a leisurely atmosphere.

Over at the basketball courts, a different group of uncles shoot hoops, their thick gardening gloves worn either to keep their hands warm or clean. Despite bricking nearly every shot, their rare successes are met with shouts of glee.

Once a week, neighborhood volunteers sweep away the dirt and fallen leaves. I can’t tell if this is an organized activity, but somehow a communal cart that has over 15 rakes, brooms, and dustpans always appears. It’s heartwarming to see my neighbors unite to take care of our shared sanctuary, a sight that’s sadly rare in our increasingly individualistic society.

The park is its own vibrant ecosystem. One way to gauge the vitality of a neighborhood is by visiting its park on a weekday afternoon. On a Tuesday at 2:45pm, Sunset Park was teeming with life. Kids scrambled in the sandpit while picnickers and dog walkers blanketed the grassy areas. There was even a line for the swings. Beyond serving as a practical space for pet owners and parents, the park acts as a microcosm of diverse Chinese and Hispanic immigrant families. Here, various cultures and tribes coexist, both independently and interdependently. Simply being here is an act of learning. Could this scene hint at the potential of a post-capitalist, post-UBI society, where communities flourish in public spaces even during the workday?

From this Brooklyn vantage point, I can see the sweeping Manhattan skyline. From Wall Street to Central Park, the varying heights of skyscrapers remind me of the mountain ridgelines I used to frequent. In the past, I’d daydream during the work day about hiking along the knife-edge of nearby mountains. Now, my ambition is channeled differently—towards the apprenticeship, my coaching practice, and inward explorations.

On the way back, I sometimes stop by the bodega to see if they have any deals of the day. Like that time I got a whole bunch of bananas for just $1. Once back in the apartment, I brew a pot of coffee and get ready to begin my day. But my day has already begun.

I am where I need to be

It’s been over 16 months since I quit my job. It’s been a longer, more challenging journey than I anticipated, but also far more rewarding and meaningful. Out of my intermittent five-year residency in NYC, this chapter has been the most humbling and the most energizing. On computer-heavy days filled with meetings, writing, and reading, my drive helps me focus and tune out the external noise more effectively than any traditional home office ever could. On days in Manhattan, I weave together an itinerary that leaves openness for my curiosity to pull me into any side quest.

There are moments, particularly on tougher days or when I’ve neglected my daily practices, where my mind drifts. I catch myself wishing I could just fast forward to when I'm 40, with a family and free from financial worries, or rewind to my carefree 24-year-old self, bopping around from one friend’s couch to another Airbnb. Fortunately, these days are the exception. Most days begin with meditation and a walk around Sunset Park, and by then I’m pretty fired up to be where I am in life.

What started as a budget-conscious decision has evolved into acceptance and ease with my current chapter of life. I’ve even seamlessly integrated my neighborhood monument into my daily routine. Sunset Park has been a pivotal teacher, showing me the critical role of social infrastructure in communities and the joys of living close to friends. These aunties and uncles have indeed unlocked the secret to happiness without having to digest every book in the self-help section. My daily visits to the same trees have mirrored the changing seasons outside and the subtle shifts within me.

But Sunset Park is just a metaphor—the broader lessons extend far beyond physical boundaries. This chapter of life is teaching me how to follow my curiosity, maintain a healthy relationship with money, choose “my people” wisely, and identify what truly brings me joy. It’s about aligning myself to what truly matters to me and being in position to embrace those discoveries.

These lessons aren't about amassing prestige, accumulating achievements, or stacking up fat checks. They're about uncovering timeless wisdom and internalizing essential truths. As long as there lessons to be learned, I find peace in knowing I am exactly where I need to be.

How might you be where you need to be?

---

I’m currently coaching 4 (soon-to-be 5) individuals and am open to working with a couple more while I continue to prioritize Downshift, my writing, and my own coach training for the next couple months. If you’re curious to learn more, feel free to connect via email or Twitter!