everything we need is already here - 24' retrospective
on definitions of success, personal betrayal and leading a life of intentionality
TLDR: This 2024, I have done excellently in many parts of my life but feel like I betrayed myself somewhere along the way - and am feeling a little bummed about it. I’ve got many ins-and-outs heading into 2025 and want to operate more on the basis that ‘everything we need is already here’.
Hi friends.
Sav here.
As per tradition, here’s another yearly retrospective by yours truly.
It’s the Year of the Dragon, 2024, and this time around - I’d like to be more truthful about what’s on my mind.
(Note: The links to my 2021-23 retrospectives are out of commission because I stopped paying for my lightwood.blog subscription - I don’t use it enough to warrant the Squarespace fee.)
As I write this, it’s a scorching hot Christmas morning at gorgeous Coogee Beach. Crowded and lustrous with spectacular, summery weather and here I am: the lone, unlikely human with a laptop. I managed to find a table and chair that unfortunately, does not have any shade whatsoever.
It’s so blisteringly bright that I can’t even see what I’ve typed, which might actually work wonderfully for me cause if I’m unable to see (and thus try to edit) what I’ve written - I can let my unadulterated, stream-of-consciousness writing run rampant against my word processor of choice. Any spellchecks and editing can come afterwards.
They say it is through writing we not only express ourselves, but discover ourselves. Armed with a bottle of water, a cup of melting ice cream and 40 degree sun belting my arms - let’s see what I really thought about 2024.
Historically, I’ve kept my retrospectives positive and uplifting. I always have an overarching message that I try to get across, one or more key learnings throughout the year that I amplify with big words, tumblr-style quotes and an inside joke or two.
I wanted to do the same this year, I really do, but even after the spending the last two weeks racking on what I could possibly right about - I couldn’t come up with anything.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. This year has, objectively speaking, gone amazingly for me. I’ve got many lessons that I could package up into an inspiring, sparkly retrospective.
But it wouldn’t be genuine, you see.
Because I don’t think it’s been that positive.
It would be unrepresentative, insulting even, to what’s really coursing through my mind.
And if there’s anything I’ve promised to myself this year, it’s to be more authentic.
I’ve grown in all the ways that society (whatever that means) deems important. Think work and career and going up a tax bracket. Think relationships and future-planning and building towards an investment property. Think food and travel and experiences that exemplify your wealth. Think fitness and manners and having dentals covered in your insurance plan.
Filial piety, corporate ladders, establishing roots in a first-world country; the idealised, template life of a well-paying job, a marriage that withstands everything and setting yourself up to send your kids to a good education.
Dare I say that this year, I’ve made leaps and bounds in that direction.
But I don’t feel very joyful about it.
And I think it’s because I’ve regressed on the more important measures.
On the things that don’t generate money. On the things that don’t create social capital.
Think creativity, from art to music to writing. Think hobbies and passions and contribution towards the world. Think embracing your culture and discovering that of others. Think journaling and introspection and life-planning on domains that aren’t money or real estate. This sustainability, in environment, in mental health, in the way we carry about our days. Think meaningful relationships founded on nothing but the joy of connection.
Think being true to yourself. Think having fun.
I get a clap on the back for my achievements.
I don’t get one for having a good time.
And somewhere over the course of the year, I stopped clapping for myself too.
Thanks to this Moleskine notebook, I’ve got a line-by-line overview for most days of the year and what I was thinking each month which is very useful for a post like this.
January me stressed over the same things that current me stresses over. An undying intention to make writing a more consistent part of my schedule. Being kinda frustrated at work, though for admittedly different reasons. Anger towards how much time I was wasting while not even knowing how I’m wasting it.
My goals for this year remained consistent with the year before: do something creative, do something about fitness and health, do something about nurturing meaningful relationships. It’s that simple. Always has been.
February, I felt, was more of the same. I did a few more things, I suppose. Continued work on a strategy project. Went on a solo trip to Kiama. Attended to a Taylor Swift concert. Started making use of a Traveler’s Notebook, which I still keep in my bag but never write into anymore which is, funnily enough, a subtle bit of shadowing on what’s to come.
March was an important month for me as it was when I became official with my girlfriend. I went on my first corporate trip to Perth and a road trip to Redhead Beach.
Those are all, undeniably, highlights - but for some reason, I couldn’t recognise them as such.
They felt like natural next steps; in my work, relationships and life. Of course, I appreciate these events and love that they happened but there’s this looming devil over my shoulder whispering that all of that was going to happen anyway, regardless of my input, and I hated the idea of that.
Something I wrote in my journal in March:
“I don’t want to be just a consumer. I don’t want the McChicken Life.”
I wonder what made me say that. Did I realise I wasn’t operating with the level of intentionality I wanted? Did I see the writing on the wall - that I would be increasingly, terribly upset about where I was?
April’s main event was a holiday to Japan - an extra special trip to me because I adore Japan and it had been a long time since I went on a trip with family.
If you know me, you know I always get an annoying desire for change whenever I return from holiday. Thoughts about creativity, entrepreneurship and pursuing a path three (see what I mean by path three here) festered in the nooks and crannies of my mind, like a cough that wouldn’t come out.
I brought that newfound energy into May and June. I read more books than usual, applied for a new role at work which I eventually got, shot and edited a YouTube video that I never ended up posting (it was about the Netflixification of Three Body Problem), had probably the best birthday meal of my life at Kuro and caught up with a ton of old friends.
A key event for June though is starting my @journalinginpublic_ Instagram account.
Journaling in Public came from a place of wanting to better document, appreciate and romanticise my life - an easy, visible spot to share my writing while not committing to anything particularly long and on a platform that I already regularly used.
There’s also a bit of a concept called ‘practicing in public’ which I first heard in Show Your Work! by Austin Kleon and reiterated by Nicolas Cole, who expressed that you lose nothing and gain everything from showing your progress online - from a natural way to keep accountable, a solid reason to continually improve your work and harnessing a slim chance of hitting accidental virality - alas, that’s what I wanted to do.
Even though I don’t use that Instagram account very often nowadays, Journaling in Public has become a tagline for me, evolving into the Substack newsletter you’re reading this on right now.
And it was somewhere here, coinciding with the peak of winter, where my mental took a downturn - slowly, then all at once.
July was a good time. August was too. Moved into a new role that was more aligned with my university education. Flew to Perth for my organisation’s 50th year celebration. Saw my friends and played some video games and had a delightful t-bone steak and the best cocktail I ever had at Bistecca as part of my partner and I’s six-month anniversary dinner in September.
Mentally though, I wasn’t there.
This was most seen in my Notion page where I keep a record of what I did and ate on almost every day of the year.
July had a few holes. August was half missing. September was almost entirely blank. The words destined for my journal were trapped in my head, and the brain is not made to store information but to process it, so all it could do was repeat the same things over and over, churning my thoughts into a disgusting, decrypt slush.
It had been too long since I was passionate about anything.
With gaps in my memory and holes in my vision, I was disoriented on what had happened and bore little excitement for what came next. I went through the motions, blaming myself for everything and operating on what I now recognise as a scarcity mindset.
I carried that storm cloud over my head into October, which was another eventful month. Two road trips, almost back-to-back, followed by another trip to Perth. For someone who says he doesn’t like traveling, I sure do a lot of traveling.
And November, most definitely, was a turning point.
November was probably the most important month of the year and if it didn’t play out the way that it did, you’d be reading an entirely different retrospective or I might have even forgone writing one.
LANY concert here. Coldplay concert there. A conference and solo trip to Argentina. Difficult conversations, with others and myself: on my wants and needs; on what worked and what didn’t; on experimentation and communication; on boundaries and respect; on the deprioritisation of my identity in favour of the status quo; on what it meant to lead a life of intentionality.
I decided to be more selfish — and it was the healthiest decision I could have possibly made.
And that, my friends, takes us back to December, which I don’t have many notes on because I haven’t and probably won’t do a monthly recap on it.
(I have been starting weekly recaps on my Substack page though so check them out if you’re interested.)
What I do know is that December is my girlfriend’s birthday month so we’ve been eating… an embarrassing amount. Catch some of it here in my new foodie account @nyamsociety.
Even though I’m stuck in Australia for Christmas with no annual leave left, I’m more than happy with that. I’ll be attending a few barbecues and planning to spend days at a time doing absolutely nothing but read and write and enjoy every second of it.
To summarise, this 2024, I’ve lived up to pretty much all the expectations you could expect, except my most important one - which is to live my life with intentionality.
I wish I could be more positive, I really do, but that’s the elephant in the room and it would be disingenuous of me to pretend it isn’t shitting all over my carpet.
I initially had a list of ins and outs for 2025 but realised, given that an overall lack of direction and intentionality had unerpinned my 2024, I needed more specificity in what I want to leave in 2024 and adopt in 2025.
Lo and behold, please see below:
to leave behind in 2024
multitasking; whatever i’m doing at a given moment, whether it’s a spreadsheet, document or conversation - requires and deserves my full focus and attention
people-pleasing; also known as respecting the time and energy boundaries i’ve carved out for myself
letting resentment build; give people the kindness of knowing what i’m not comfortable with and the harshness of walking away if they still can’t respect it
that weird and outdated hustle bro in me who views hobbies as something that must turn into a commercial success; i have the privilege of a job that pays enough - let my hobbies be the stress-relieving activities they’re meant to be
being embarrassed about creativity; even after all these years, i love writing in all its wonderful shapes and forms and i should be proud of it the same way one would cheer on their favourite sports team. who am i, if not my passions and pursuits?
my goals for 2025
write and publish 104 articles; that’s two per week over the course of the year, most likely housed here on substack.
go for a special date every fortnight; and that’s something more than a nearby dinner or early morning pastry run.
run 5k in under 23 minutes; which for a non-runner, I think is one hell of a formidable goal.
live a life of intentionality; from the shows that I watch, to the games that I play, the food that I eat, to the way I spend my time - whatever I do must serve a purpose.
Despite this doom and gloom, the storyteller in me still wants to finish this retrospective with an encouraging message - so I’m going to recycle a quote that I’ve seemed to find all over my life this year; a concept that Julia Cameron calls synchronicity - where being in touch with something causes you to notice it in everything you do.
“Everything we need is already here.”
I first saw this on a Porter Robinson post in 2020. A cryptic message that nobody quite understood, but was really just a way to promote his newest album Nurture (which as some of you know, played a major role for me in 2023).
And then it was something I ended up writing down on a shared journal, to the prompt of “What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learnt in 2024 so far?” — Chelle, feel free to clarify the wording if it’s not quite that.
And finally, I saw a variation of it, right at the entrance of my backpacker accommodation in Argentina. Smack in the middle of the waiting room and in blistering neon light, it said:
It’s a statement of gratitude. Of appreciation to the human you nurtured - your relationships, your health, your personality, your passions; the multifaceted city that lives inside you that is as wonderful and complex as a modern metropolis.
It’s understanding that you don’t need more knowledge, more acknowledgment, more material rewards. You don’t need to move elsewhere, revamp the trajectory of your life or have someone give you permission. It is forgiveness for who you are not, because you are already, abundantly enough.
Likewise, it’s an expression of grit. Blessed with responsibility, anointed with accountability, the adoption of an internal locus of control. If you do not assign purpose to your life, someone else will assign one for you.
You have all the data and all the tools, everything you could possibly need. It is taking action. It is making decisions. It is taking ownership of the consequences, making the most of what you have and being okay with not being perfect. Wield that flaming sword with honour, even if it cuts off an ear, and have that healthy dosage of delusion that you are the main character.
Because at the end of the day, you are the guiding light of your life - the only person you’re guaranteed to be with forever. You’re the captain of the ship, director of the movie, author of the book.
So goddamn write it the way you wish or shoot the way you want, blasting cannonballs and plundering villages - hunting for your proverbial, golden treasure.
The life you want is already here.
All you have to do is act on it.
