Hate isn’t the answer
CHAOS and NOISE
- Detuning the disruptive wave lengths
Chaos was loud today—buzzing, swirling, ever-present. But even in the noise, we stayed grounded, focusing fully on the kids and their joy.
We spent the morning at the Touch-a-Truck event in North Logan. J, A, and L were completely in their element—climbing, exploring, wide-eyed with wonder. It was one of those moments where their excitement made everything else fade into the background.
Later, we wandered through the Logan Gardeners’ Market. The colors, the smells, the community—it all felt alive. And then, a small but meaningful surprise: I found falafel from Habibi Mediterranean , which opened just this May. It was some of the best I’ve had in a long time. Even more special—they serve Habibi’s Salad, something I haven’t seen since my days near Yeshiva University and in Strasbourg, France. That taste brought back memories I didn’t know I was missing.
Today was noisy, yes. But it was also full of life, flavor, and the kind of joy that lingers.
There come moments when certain things must end—because their echoes reverberate through humanity. Many of the principles I was once taught, once presented as unshakable virtues, now feel distant from the core values they claimed to uphold.
To my closest friends—
Lately, I’ve been leaning into the four cardinal virtues:
Courage. Wisdom. Temperance. Justice.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between happiness and something deeper. I’ve learned to seek wonder, awe, and joy—not just “happiness.”
Happiness, if I’m honest, often feels like a transaction. It shows up with conditions, asks for something in return—time, energy, performance—and then quietly slips away when the exchange is over. It’s fleeting, and sometimes even exhausting.
But joy? Awe? Wonder? They feel different. They arrive unannounced, often in the smallest moments—a quiet sunrise, a kind word, a sudden realization. They don’t demand anything. They just are. And in those moments, I feel more alive, more connected, more whole.
I’m learning to make space for those moments. To notice them. To let them linger.
Maybe no one will hear this. Maybe I’m just speaking into the void. But if these words find you—and they stir something in you—lean in. Let’s sit with that feeling for a moment.
Because hate isn’t the answer. It never was.
