One of the observations I’ve made over this last year — especially while working on multiple projects that demand deep critical thinking — is the value of having a mind that can stay grounded. A mind that can return to center. A mind that is sound, not divided. Structured, not scattered.
I call it sound mind because that’s what it feels like: a place of clarity I can return to again and again.
Not long ago, I watched one of my favorite holiday movies, The Notebook. I’ve loved that movie for years, but every time I watch it, I’m struck by one of its most devastating realities — the loss of memory. The loss of context. The loss of the mental anchors that help us stay connected to the world and to ourselves.
Lately, I’ve noticed small things in my own life — walking upstairs with a purpose, only to forget why I’m there, then remembering once I walk back down. I don’t know if it’s age, overload, or just part of the human experience. I’ve never been this age before, and I’m grateful to be here. But I’ve also had to develop techniques to help me remember what matters, especially as I take on work that requires my mind to move quickly, process deeply, and stay organized in complexity.
And yet, in all of that, I’m grateful.
I’m grateful for the soundness that remains.
I’m grateful for clarity that comes — even if it comes slower than it did 10 or 15 years ago.
I’m grateful because a sound mind is not guaranteed. It’s a gift.
Today, I recognize that gift. And I don’t take it lightly.