Yes, everything needs practice, even thinking!

We all go through cycles of peaks and lows over the years. The lows are where we dig into our deepest thoughts, searching for meaning.

Clarity comes from connecting ideas as they were always meant to be connected. This happens by forming nodes of thought one at a time, rehearsing them repeatedly, and then sequencing them to create weighted synapses, shaping our neural network.

We are often raised in systems that keep our decisions and choices within set boundaries. Schools and academic structures provide rails to guide our trains of thought along predictable paths. But that is not enough for thriving in life. Challenges arise that we were never taught how to handle, forcing us to think beyond our usual habits and mental comfort zones.

When the mind encounters disorder, it descends into chaos. The magnitude of life’s events can shift reality so drastically that there is no foundation left to grasp. Homes burn in fires. Families are lost in plane crashes. Wars erupt. Natural and human-made disasters strike, and most of us are unprepared, yet we face them every day.

We are not designed to be resilient by choice, but we can become aware and ready. We can prepare for the unexpected, like the winter power outages that left thousands without heat in Canada in 2025. We can acknowledge the reality of homelessness in freezing cities, where people suffer without shelter or food, even as we pass by them daily.

The agility and freedom of thought, the ability to shift from inside the box to outside and to construct entirely new frameworks, comes with practice. Learning follows stages. At first, we grasp only the basics, from one to three, but once the goal is clear, we must focus on reaching the final stage, ten, efficiently by filling in the gaps in our understanding. The quality of our thinking is shaped by microdecisions, every word we choose, every intention we set, and our flexibility in adapting as we apply our thoughts and respond to real-life events.

Mastering our minds is a lifelong practice, and the more we train our thinking, the more adaptable and prepared we become.

Letting go has brought me one of the most profound learning experiences of my life. In recent years, I’ve faced the loss of my father. the dearest person to me and the end of a 15 year marriage to a partner I deeply cherished. A few months ago, two more significant losses struck: my mentor Mark, who was like a father to me here in Canada, and my aunt both passed away on the same day, in the same city. Life changes quickly, sometimes in just a matter of days.

While we all understand that loss is inevitable, it’s impossible to fully prepare for its aftermath. Experiencing these cycles of loss of our loved ones has taught me that legacy is not just a remembrance, it’s a responsibility. Life is fleeting, but the impact we leave behind endures far longer.

For those closest to the immediate loss of a loved one, a partner, parent, or child, life is irrevocably altered. Nothing will ever be the same, and that is perhaps the most devastating truth we “all” face at some point in life.

My work with Kathy Kastner on the project BestEndings.com has been a source of healing and inspiration. Kathy often says that planning for the end isn’t about how we die, it’s about how we live. Having open conversations about end-of-life wishes allows us to live fully, right to the very end.

Sometimes an idea comes to me before I know why. Over time, I’ve learned to trust that feeling—to explore what piqued my curiosity and dig into what made the matter meaningful.

Lately, I’ve been leaving things behind, intentionally. Objects that hold meaning, ones that might one day draw me back. I don’t collect valuables, but I do grow attached to specific items—things I’ve spent time with, like a pen, a desk, or a lamp.

Leaving a place is rarely ideal. But I remind myself that life is short, and I’m grateful to have had the privilege of movement in this life. Moving to Canada, for instance, was a difficult choice; a trade-off between the comfort of family and friends and the potential for a brighter future.

Over the years, I’ve developed a habit: when leaving a place, I often leave behind an object—not deliberately at first, but it became intentional as time went on. These objects, I imagined, might greet me on my return and spark excitement to resume what was left behind.

One such object was a wooden meeting table in our Toronto office, which we closed just before COVID. My father and I had built that table together. He was insistent on adding a power outlet to the tabletop, wiring it perfectly so everyone could charge their devices with ease. For years, it was the centerpiece of many productive meetings.

When my father fell ill, I had to leave Toronto and fly back to Iran. It was a bittersweet goodbye, and I decided to let the office go along with most of its furniture. However, I asked the team taking over our space to keep the table for me, hoping I might reclaim it someday.

Years passed. My father passed away—a loss that lingered in every corner of my life. He had always thought my move from Toronto was a mistake, but I carried his memory with me in everything I did. After COVID, when the same building and unit became available, I returned to Toronto, hoping to reunite with that table.

The team who had taken it no longer occupied the office. They had moved on but shared photos on Instagram of celebrations around my table. I was genuinely happy to still see our table was still in one piece, featured in such joyful moments, even as they didn’t respond to my messages.

For weeks, I waited and tried to reach them, but there was no reply. I stood in the same room where the table once lived, hoping to reclaim that connection to my father. Eventually, I let go. I built a new table—not as beautiful, not as meaningful, but mine nonetheless.

That experience taught me something: leaving something behind is a way of staying connected, but it’s not always about holding on. Sometimes, it’s about making room for new beginnings.

Last year, I left a whiteboard behind, fully aware of what I was doing. That small act led to something bigger—a new office and a new business built on one of my oldest ideas.

Being creative is something I’ve been lucky to have without fully understanding why. But I often find myself lacking intuition or motivation, going through my lows, and struggling to climb back up.

This happens especially when I’m under pressure, traumatized by a loss, or trying to process a situation that suddenly feels out of control.

Like most people, I’m no expert in these matters. My experiences come from observing myself and reflecting on the changes I go through as I live each day. What intrigues me to write about this is perhaps my own struggles and how I manage to rise above them—how I climb back up on difficult days, as part of this journey.

Over the past few years, I’ve made changes to my environment, including the people I surround myself with. I’ve realized that a change of scenery—whether through traveling or living somewhere new—can bring fresh energy. But that spark is often short-lived.

What has left the biggest impact are the meaningful experiences I’ve shared with people, whether while traveling or right at home.

My life revolves around people. I feel most inspired when I’m helping others, solving their problems, or creating moments that bring us closer together. To me, happiness is about connection—being together and creating wonderful memories.

At the same time, I make sure to spend plenty of time alone. Reflection is what helps me recharge and figure out what’s worth giving to the people I care about. There’s a balance between nurturing myself at home and staying grounded enough to offer my best to others.

My toughest days have patterns, and I’ve learned to recognize them. For example, when I’m excited to sleep, it’s usually because I’m not excited to be awake. That’s often my first sign of depression creeping back in.

When this happens, I know what to do: I get up, move around, clean my home, and get ready for the day. A tidy home and being dressed make a surprising difference.

Then I sit down with my instrument. I start playing and let myself stay in that moment as long as I can—until my mind is filled with happiness, ideas, and inspiration. I lose myself in the flow, and suddenly, I’m back in the zone, ready to start an amazing day.

I think we all have an “instrument” in our lives. Maybe it’s not musical, but it’s something that helps us quiet the logical side of our brains and escape the spiral of overthinking.

For me, it’s movement and flow—playing music, listening to inspiring people, or even diving into a great podcast. These simple acts are what break the cycle of slow, difficult days for me.

Life is tough and depressing at times—it’s brutal. But we all learn that this is just life. We only have some control, and the harder we try to control everything, the tougher it feels. But when we let go, we discover new meanings, and those meanings continue in shaping our understanding and who we are.

When I started thinking about building a business back in my college days, I needed something that paid more than minimum wage and could support the expenses I had. It wasn’t easy, especially as an international student in Canada.

I had been coding since my early days in secondary school, as soon as I got my hands on my first PC—the Pentium model, which was already capable of running Windows, starting with Windows 3.0 before it got fancier with Windows 95. I immediately liked the DOS and command-line environment and started hacking into it. I broke the PC and reformatted it every few days, then started fixing our neighbors’ and family members’ computers, all the way up to my father’s company. I loved solving puzzles and intuitively learning.

I started coding with QBasic, then moved on to Visual Basic. When I went to learn the C programming language, my teacher thought I was too early, since my school math hadn’t reached far enough to support the logic I was about to learn!

Something I realize now is that learning at an early age isn’t difficult at all. It’s probably something we naturally start to do as our brains are curious and love learning. At later ages, this is still the case, but now we are more complex—we have many interests, worries, and distractions.

As I began this post, I thought my inspiration stemmed from doing what I could to solve the first challenge I encountered. I started a radio station in college, which led to everyone knowing I was into digital stuff and could make websites! This was very unintentional, but it led to my entire career as a freelancer and, later, to developing our agency, Noble Pixels.

Since then, acting on the next idea has brought more opportunities than I could usually handle over the years. I’ve been fortunate to receive mentorships that helped me grow my network, build teams, and lead at times.

My next idea is often inspired while serving others—when I see their problems and realize how my time and energy could improve their lives. I’ve learned that identifying those challenges is the first key step. Having the resources, processes, and capabilities to solve them comes next in achieving those goals—and perhaps moving to the next inspiring idea!

I’ve often thought being an early adopter is an advantage some are luckier or smarter to have, but I hardly find myself being an early adopter of anything. I fit in the average, and I think that’s OK!

Speaking in 2024, when information has reached new depths through AI, almost anything can be learned with a few voice commands. But AI has probably been around for a decade, and I wasn’t fascinated by it—nor scared. In fact, I was just busy learning coding and enjoying making things automated, a little more efficient! Looking back, I think if I had been an early adopter, I would have invested in AI much earlier. But nonetheless, I believe my knowledge and expertise are finding their medium in this new era.

I recall in 2010 when APIs were just becoming available to integrate with Excel, Google Analytics, and Google AdWords. That’s when I started automating reports. With tools like ChatGPT and Copilot now allowing file uploads and already understanding general SEO knowledge, I couldn’t wait to upload my first Webmaster Tools file and ask questions! What are my top-performing keywords? What are the low-hanging fruits? What is a good strategy to focus on? Suddenly, I was saving hours every day!

These days, I’m so excited to teach people how to use AI. I think it’s crucial to integrate now as an average consumer to upgrade our craft and translate our jobs into this new era.

More recently, I’ve been asking candidates about their use of AI and their perspectives during interviews. I still encounter resistance, especially from the creative side, where many feel their jobs are threatened. This is a similar reality we’ve faced during past evolutions, and we only have the power to influence and help correct its course! Think Abacuses to Calculators to Excel. Typewriters vs. Computers and Now AI!

As a mainstream consumer of technology, somewhat in the tech field I find venues of change that we are part of and we are quickly refining the way we process our information, from spell-checking our grammers to find the next place to travel or making our investments.

However, with the generalization of AI and the influx of convoluted ideas that aren’t ours, I’ve decided to stick with my voice and not use AI for writing my content, as I find that distracting for my future self. I prefer to be able to look back and know what I was thinking, even for the smallest of matters.

The greater realization is that we all know we’re in an era of change. Similar to cryptocurrencies that transformed many people’s futures, we are witnessing fast-paced progress in changing our habits and social exchanges through the force of AI. We may question every message we read as others use AI—and consider how we would respond if we choose to be ourselves, while also not falling behind the norms, not losing our jobs, or avoiding the need to do something uninspiring as a result of the rapid AI transformation.

In past being an early adopter in such speed wasn’t essential or perhaps even practical given our focuses. Even in skilled jobs as an Engineer, an Artist, or an Accountant, most of us are dedicated to our daily jobs and have spent years studying and practicing our professions. I think the easiest way to integrate AI into our lives is by using it to learn and accomplish what inspires us more efficiently. Perhaps, if you’re in research, you’ve had the chance to test AI much sooner—similar to how search engines became a necessity for accessing information. But for many other industries, AI can be the key to staying ahead or excelling in their businesses during this wave of change.