Welcome to this week’s 1-2-1 newsletter. A small pause to reflect, reconnect, and pay attention to what matters.

Inside you’ll find one idea I’m sitting with, two voices I’m learning from, and one question or practice to carry into the week ahead.

Aug 05, 2026

Before my sabbatical I wrote about a trilogy I’ve grown to love the past few years, the Before Trilogy. I wrote about the importance of taking your time. Of not rushing. As often, the little things are the best things.

After wrapping up that first movie, I naturally watched the rest of the trilogy over the remainder of the week.

The first time I watched Before Midnight, I hated it.

I had grown to idealize the main characters of the trilogy. They had brought to life the thoughts and emotions of each decade I’d lived so far. For the installment in their 40’s, I was expecting to see how open and honest conversations could fuel a healthy long-term relationship.

Instead, the audience is witness to an argument. One only a couple who truly know each other could have. It’s calculated, intended to press on the points that hurt the most. They are no longer seeking to understand each other. They are out to prove their point. Their shared anger is fueled by years of resentment, disappointment, and years of feeling their efforts go unappreciated.

At first, I felt betrayed. After watching 3+ hours of incredible chemistry between these two people who find each other despite incredible odds, it seems odd that none of that magic shelters them from the weight of day-to-day life. Worn out, lonely, and feeling invisible to their partner.

But after rewatching the film a few times, I realized I had misunderstood what the film was trying to show me.

Maybe finding the right person isn’t the end of the story. Maybe the harder task is continuing to discover the people and places we think we already know.

What if the secret to not taking life for granted is to retain a sense of curiosity?

Every Tuesday I share one idea that's been changing how I think. If you'd like the next one, subscribe below.

Even extraordinary love eventually becomes ordinary life.

And that’s not the tragedy. The tragedy would be believing ordinary life means the love has disappeared. The tragedy would be believing that ordinary life means the excitement and joy of new has diminished.

The tragedy is taking the things we know most intimately and deciding that we understand them completely. That there is nothing new to learn. Like the water flowing through a river, everything is subtly different each and every day.

Perhaps a relationship is like that. Perhaps the town you’ve lived in more than ten years is like that. Perhaps the parts of your life that are so routine that are on autopilot are like that. Constantly changing even though they seem identical to how they were previously.

If that’s true, then the fault doesn’t lie in the outside world. The fault lies within us. With our perception. With our understanding of the world and people around us.

Over time we lose our sense of curiosity. Our sense of awe. The world becomes less magical and more mundane. Let me give you an example.

I’ve lived in Orillia full time for almost 6 years now. In that time I’ve become familiar with the streets, with the buildings, and I’ve got routines and habits. There’s so much that I expect to always be there and that I take for granted.

Recently, I’ve started going for an evening walk. And it has been incredible. No headphones. No distractions. Just me and the world. Birds flittering through the trees. Houses with beautiful and well-tended gardens. Side streets that connect neighborhoods in ways that I didn’t anticipate. Raccoon cubs climbing out of sewer drains. What is their life like underneath the roadway?

Same city. Different perspective.

I recently came across a quote in a book that spoke about how we spent so much time in early life being warned and cautioned against an abundance of negative personality traits. But we rarely talk about the problems that come from an abundance of good traits as well.

Safety is good. Certainty is good. Familiarity, and intimacy, are good. But too much of any of these? I’m not convinced that more is always better.

I’m guilty of this in my own life. I like consistency. I like routine. I like to understand how the world works and what’s what. But the older I get, the more I’m convinced that the true joy of life is wonder. Curiosity. Awe.

Especially for the things and people we think that we know best.

2 Voices I’m Learning From

1.

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. — Marcel Proust

I remember reading when I was younger how valuable travel is. It opens your eyes to a wider world than your hometown. Different ways of doing and being. The first time I read this quote I didn’t quite get it. Isn’t the point of travel for your same eyes to see something different and grow through that discovery?

After working through this week’s insight, I see the value of both. Travel expands our world, and curiosity transforms the one that we already inhabit. Maybe the greatest discoveries aren’t found elsewhere. Maybe they’re already waiting in the places, people, and routines of our everyday lives.

2.

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. — Rainer Maria Rilke

Ouch.

I love to find the answers to things. Creating systems. Learning. Understanding. More and more, I’m realizing those aren’t always the right tool for the job.

Curiosity requires resisting the urge to reach a conclusion too early. It asks us to sit with uncertainty just a little bit longer. One more question. One more moment to truly observe.

Patience toward all that is unresolved may be the first step toward rediscovering wonder.

1 REFLECTION / ACTION

What in your life has become so familiar that you’ve stopped being curious about it?

I don’t know if there’s something magical about movement. But walking seems to help my headspace. Without it, I find I’m ruminating. I’m stuck in thought loops in my head and not appreciating the world. Now, I know that an evening walk every night especially through the winter may not be realistic, but I’m hopeful that I will continue to find other ways to slow down and make space for curiosity throughout my week.

I’d love to hear from you. What helps you rediscover curiosity in the ordinary parts of your life?

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