principles
“Be thyself”—the message of Christ to man—shall be written over the portal of the new world.
— Oscar Wilde, "The Soul of Man Under Socialism"
Where do our principles come from? For many, they arrive as a hand-me-down bundle from family — dusty, unquestioned, inherited without much reflection. Others find their principles shaped by religion, corporate ideologies, or the influence of mimetic beliefs — those desires and values we unconsciously copy from others, yet never fully internalize. These borrowed beliefs often lack the depth of lived experience and tend to clash with our own emerging values, leaving us disconnected from what truly matters.
But what is true, then? For me, the truth lies in the present — what stands firm in the here and now. While it might seem noble to search for a singular, ultimate truth to carry me through life, I’ve come to see that truth, like principles, is fluid. It evolves with every difficult decision, every moment of reflection. Borrowing someone else’s principles, no matter how virtuous they seem, leads to conflict if they don’t resonate with the core of who I am.
The five principles I hold now didn’t come from a moment of revelation. They drained from the sweat of my dreams and tears in my eyes into an image tray, developing over time in moments of solitude — when I was alone, reading, journaling, practicing. For a long time, I couldn’t find the words to name them, and I kept them quietly to myself, hesitant to share what felt deeply personal. It wasn’t until I started making the distinctions, recognizing their weight and meaning, that I could finally see them clearly for what they are.
Everything Popular is Wrong
I used to be drawn to the beliefs, trends, or lifestyles that others seemed to embrace, mistaking imitation for self-agency. Popularity became a distraction from my intrinsic motivations — the true wants and needs that lay beneath the noise of mass appeal. But the widespread acceptance of an idea didn’t make it inherently valid; instead, it often steered me away from my authentic path, leading me toward desires that were never truly my own.
By aligning my choices with the crowd, I forfeit the opportunity to develop the depth that comes from self-exploration. While conformity offers the solace of belonging, it rarely leads to genuine authenticity. What truly matters is seldom found where the majority goes searching. It emerges when I cease striving to fit in and begin seeking what resonates with me on a deeper, quieter level — far removed from the clamor of prevailing trends and opinions.
Non-Involvement with Malevolence
I recently read a thought-provoking essay titled Shades of Many Colors, where Charles Eisenstein reflects on how polarised thinking and divisive rhetoric create a self-perpetuating loop of opposition. Each side fuels the other, generating an endless cycle of “us versus them” that amplifies conflict rather than resolving it. I think that the metaphor, or perhaps rather an image of a pendulum illustrates this aptly — any attempt to touch it, regardless of the side, only keeps it in motion.
This echoes Tolstoy’s call for non-resistance to evil: opposing force with force only perpetuates the cycle. To extricate ourselves from its influence, as he suggested, we must relinquish the importance of the struggle, disengage, and allow the pendulum to lose its momentum naturally. For me, non-involvement with malevolent principles means refraining from feeding into the energy of conflict, especially when it offers the allure of profit or a deceptive sense of righteousness. It involves recognising the trap — the seductive pull of joining the fray — and choosing instead to let the pendulum cease its swing without our participation.
Having Secrets
In a society increasingly inclined to transform everything into a commercial venture, I too often fell into the trap of thinking that every revelation must become a way, to be shaped into a product, a course, or a new identity. I see it happen time and again — a tech entrepreneur, after Ayahuasca retreat, leaves the tech world to launch a meditation app, or someone dives into teaching tantra after a single yoga class. The urge to become a pro in something transformative is potent, driven by my need to belong, but in doing so, the depth of that experience gets diluted, reduced to a mere offering for others to consume.
When I resist the impulse to turn every insight into a career pivot, it can exist simply as something personal, enriching my life from within. Embracing secrecy means protecting these valuable seeds from the relentless conveyor belt of commodification. These hidden insights have the power to positively influence all the other projects I am already working on in the open. Only through prolonged, private cultivation can these ideas and practices mature fully, ready to be brought into the light when the time is right.
Listen to my body
I recognise that my body holds a quiet wisdom, communicating through hunger, fatigue, tension, and far more subtle sensations. Trusting it means acknowledging that it discerns what nourishes me, both physically and emotionally. The food I consume is not merely fuel, and the quality of my sleep and movement practice are integral rituals of self-care.
The body’s guidance extends beyond basic needs like hunger, rest, and exercise. It provides nuanced signals about the environments, people, and spaces that support my well-being. Often, my body senses when it’s time for a change long before my mind does. Honouring these cues is essential — not to push through discomfort for the sake of excitement, but to respect the intrinsic signals that guide me. The more I listen, the more I understand that my body has been a steadfast ally, quietly supporting and guiding me through every decision in life.
Be a Gardener, Not the Architect
I embrace slow, sustainable growth, cultivating projects organically — as one would tend to a garden — nurturing them rather than forcing them into a predetermined structure. Building with people, never for them, I take the role of co-creator — not leader — offering my services to those who wish to take the lead. This principle is not about signaling the virtue of humility, but about embodying the understanding that serving others is what truly serves me.
Like a gardener tending to crops, I focus on incremental development, raising each idea patiently and allowing it to flourish over time. This approach fosters meaningful work that grows resilient and enduring, resisting the urge for rapid, superficial success. Stepping away from the need to control and lead, I create space for spontaneity, where each contribution becomes an artistic expression, in response to the needs of both the community and the environment.
Thank you for reading this far. Writing this page has been an opportunity for me to refine my thoughts and push myself toward greater clarity. Like the principles I’ve shared, this process is ongoing. There are no final answers, only moments of reflection that guide me forward. True transformation isn’t found in grand gestures but in the small, daily choices that bring me closer to authenticity and connection. For me, the journey isn’t about reaching a destination but about fully engaging with the present — piece by piece, breath by breath. If you’re interested in exploring your own principles more deeply, I invite you to check out principles page project and perhaps start working on your own.