Quiet Clarity is a 2x/week newsletter and podcast for people who want to build a life of presence, depth, and deliberate intention.
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Ever had one of those moments where you didn't show up as your best self?
You reacted out of frustration and said things you couldn't take back.
The storm inside you took over, and only after it passed did you feel the full weight of what happened.
For someone trying to grow and be better every day, these moments cut deep.
Part of you wants to disappear, to spend time alone, maybe even move away entirely because the shame feels that heavy.
But what if there was a way to see these moments differently, to find wisdom even in our worst reactions?
Where It Showed Up in My Life
The day I wrote this, I found myself seated beside an 87-year-old woman on a tour bus.
Her presence was calm and almost luminous, the kind of stillness that only comes from having truly lived.
She told me she'd been married for seventy years, then after a pause: "He passed away a few months ago."
No tears, but I could see the softness in her eyes, like someone who had loved fully and let go fully.
I asked her: "What advice would you give to your younger self?"
She paused, then said something I'll never forget: "Experience every single moment."
Not live every moment or enjoy every moment, but experience it, even the difficult ones that break us open.
Her words found me days after I'd had an outburst I deeply regretted, and suddenly I understood what she meant.
What the Wisdom Reveals
There's a practice I've started: imagining myself at 90 years old, looking back at this exact moment.
From that view, everything softens.
It reminds me of an old Zen story about a man drifting in a boat on a foggy lake.
Another empty boat crashes into his, and he feels nothing but mild annoyance.
But if someone had been in that boat? Instant anger.
The story's wisdom: all anger comes from thinking someone is in the boat.
We react to our stories about people, not the actual truth of who they are.
The 90-year-old version of you doesn't care about being right, they care about being real.
They know that what feels massive now is just one small frame in the film of your entire life.
From their perspective, there's a love that runs deeper than any argument.
They'd rather spend time listening than proving their point.
Even if the other person is wrong, winning isn't what matters anymore.
How I'm Trying to Live Now
What would my 90-year-old self tell me about this moment I'm living right now?
After my outburst, instead of running away, I did something different.
I took time to feel what I was feeling fully, then I zoomed out to that 90-year-old perspective.
Suddenly the huge, consuming moment became what it actually was: just one small scene in my entire life.
When I imagine my deathbed self, I want to remember that I tried to be kind when it was hard, to pause when reaction felt easier, to soften when everything in me wanted to harden.
Start carrying your 90-year-old self with you, especially with the people you love.
We don't have them forever, and one day you'd give everything for just one more conversation.
Ask yourself: If this was my last day on earth, would I really be reacting this way?
The answer transforms everything.
Because in the heat of frustration, you think you want to be alone and push the world away.
But deep down, what you're craving is connection and peace.
You can create that right in the space between reaction and response.
One day, you'll be 87 with a lifetime behind you, and the only thing that will matter is how deeply you dared to experience this very moment.
