Has your life ever flashed before your eyes? 

Mine has. In fact, it did this morning.

And no, I am not dying. I’m hale and hearty except for the occasional headaches I get. But I guess headaches come with adulting. Then again, maybe not necessarily. I should probably rephrase that: my headache is the kind that comes with adulting.

But enough about headaches, back to the tea.

I watched the 3D movie of my life today. It was an out-of-body experience. I saw all the characters who have ever been in my life. The main ones, the antagonists, the side characters and those who seemed like heroes but, like Anakin Skywalker in Star Wars, eventually joined the dark side. 

I saw myself replaying things I did for the first time, and those I did constantly. As I watched, I saw how funny life is. There were moments I failed at my first attempt and others where I succeeded.

It’s funny how even though I tried repeatedly and succeeded in some instances, I failed in certain others.

But I guess that’s life. You win some. You lose some.

To be honest I didn’t wake up planning to watch the movie of my life. But as I did, I remembered Shakespeare’s quote when he said:

 “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”

Shakespeare was right. But what he left out of his famous quote is the script. Life handed us one to follow. Perhaps, he should have said:

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players with scripts but only for those who listen hard enough.”

Maybe he didn’t think of that extra line because he wasn’t looking or listening closely enough. But think about it.

Life really gave us a script.

I also didn’t realize this until 3 weeks ago while waiting for the train. I was standing at the edge of the platform and saw the train approaching from a distance. It came to an abrupt halt, and immediately, it struck me.

That train reflects who we are as humans. No matter how hard we move or grind, we must always stop to rest. It’s inevitable.

This then made me ponder.

Every morning, we wake up to prepare for the day ahead without knowing how it will go. For those of us fortunate to have jobs, we commute the same route every day. In my own case, I take the train with the same group of people. And then comes the traffic light.

I find it funny when people rush past me, only for me to meet them again at the stop sign. It’s interesting because I have three traffic lights I always stop at before getting to work.

I’m pretty certain that, like me, everyone gets to work with the goal of being their best. Whether it’s a 9–5 or entrepreneurship, striving for excellence feels non-negotiable. It means challenging ourselves to reach our fullest potential. Sometimes we fail, other times we succeed. But in both cases, we have seniors with years of experience we look up to. These are mentors. People whose shoes we hope to step into or maybe even want to be like. Those who ask us to embrace our mistakes because making mistakes is part of the process. What truly matters is our attitude toward the errors we make.

Recently, I was chatting with a mentor whom I deeply admire. She said, “it is so easy for people to run than confront what they need to.” I thought it was profound and immediately started reflecting on what she said.  

So pause, hold that thought for a moment and reflect.

I also paused and reflected that day and one question I found myself asking was:

“Are we all hypocrites?”

Because tell me, why do we pick and choose which aspects of our lives we want to be our best in? We want to make an impression at work, but do we do the same in our personal or relational lives?

Somehow, someone started the idea that we work to thrive and succeed in life. What they didn’t realize is that it was also a manual. Waking up and preparing for the day ahead mirrors showing up even on hard days or when we do not feel like it.  Showing up means we are consistent, and that consistency is what makes others rely on us.

Even if we retrace our steps and stand again at the traffic light, it reminds me how we all have our journey. Some people may pass you by, only for you to catch up to them later or maybe they’ll make the pedestrian light before it turns red. But everyone’s on their journey. Stopping when the traffic light turns red doesn’t mean you won’t get to your destination.

I think about all this and eventually land on one habit I built.

When I get off the train, I usually take the escalator. The escalator is divided by an invisible line of those who want to wait and those who want to walk. I fall into the former group. And in so doing, I made the conscious decision to let it power me through its edge.

I don’t walk on it, even though I could, because the other line exists for whoever chooses to.

Maybe that’s what Shakespeare’s stage was really about, learning when to pause, when to move, and when to let life carry us home.

Because all I know is at the day’s end, my journey will eventually lead me home.