A call to "like things more"

Firstly, I must state up front this post is more of an appreciation post than anything else. It's a reference to an original post by a writer I admire, and this serves as my notes to myself from his writing.

"How to like everything more" (on the skill of enjoyment) by Sasha Chopin. 

I first read this post in January this year, and it's undeniably the most important and impactful thing I've read all year. It's resonated in my mind at least weekly, and I've re-read it at least 8 times in 2025. 

The words within were a reminder to me that every small thing we're exposed to in life is an opportunity to really, truly, enjoy. And if we're going to enjoy, why not try enjoy deeply? Can we extract every drop of enjoyment out of even the seemingly most mundane or taken-for-granted experiences? What effect would that have on our quality of life? Surely if it's possible, we should explore how to? And, is it possible to learn to develop an appreciation for things that we previously didn't see as "our kind of thing"? 

From the tangible to the intangible (I warn you some of these might sound silly or fluffy but I'm being serious) - a flat white, a night where stars are visible, a well presented meal, an impressively curated garden, a unique tasting wine, strange decor in a shop, precisely chosen plates by a chef, a majestic tree, a pastry that overwhelms the palate, a song that stirs emotions, a towering building, art that confuses, a view that inspires... The list is infinite. And the more polarising hobbies or experiences that we may not currently resonate with - could we develop at least a mild appreciation for them? Hunting, death metal music, weaving, CrossFit, camping, foreign language movies, watching other people play games online, K-Pop, interpretative dance, birding, collecting rare items etc etc (granted some of these are more polarising or niche than others, but you get the point).

There's essentially an unlimited number of things for us to "like" or "appreciate" in this world on a daily basis. Irrespective of cost. Natural and man-made. Tangible and intangible. Taking a conscious approach to do so is a skill that we can and should sharpen. 

This ties in to what I see as an ultimate goal - being content. 

If we can refine and enhance our ability to "like everything more", it allows us to get deeper joy out of what we currently experience rather than falling into the trap of believing we can get more joy out of the experiences we don't have. 

Not always craving more. 

Simply, being content.  

A few practical highlights from Sasha's post:

- Try be as conscious as possible about each experience in the day.

- Move your attention beyond the part that you immediately focused on. 

- On experiences that historically haven't been "your thing", drop resistance and adopt curiosity. 

- Find mental associations with something else that means something to you. Ie. What does that song *feel* like to you? Does it remind you of anything?

- Develop an interest in the person / people behind the creation. The director, the producer, the songwriter, the craftsman, the chef, the architect, the car manufacturer, the farmer. If we can understand and appreciate their journey more deeply, we can understand and appreciate their work more deeply. Watching interviews with a director or songwriter helps me appreciate their movies and songs more. For me, God is the creator of the universe, so everytime I appreciate nature, I appreciate His works.

- Notice your body's response to it. Beautiful things in life can be viscerally calming. 

- In forms of art like song and movie, be an active participant in it, even predict where it's going as if you're the creator. 

- Get lost in tiny details.

- Be a time traveler - imagine discussing the thing that's captured your attention with someone in the past. Modern rap music with Tupac. Modern rock with Beatles. AI art with Matisse. 

- Take a moment to internalise and take a mental snapshot of anything that strikes you. Hold it and savour it. 

- Build a context. Historical art in it's current form might be less impressive than imagining it's creation within geographical and historical context of what existed at the time. If I listen to a song from the 70s or 80s I'm often mildly unimpressed because I've heard so many variations of that style since then. But if we can mentally time travel to the context of its release, it's completely different experience.

- Pretend you're a buyer or investor. Anything takes on a whole new look and sense of value if approached from perspective of ownership.

- Step away from binary "like" or "dislike". Have mental language for the nuanced emotion. 

- If initial emotional response is "dislike", take a second to pause and try challenge that thought - try see it from perspective of the creator and then guage if anything changes in your emotion towards it.

- Find one flaw. I love this line from Chapin: "If conducted covertly, this particular mental habit allows you to love people more deeply and realistically, by noticing how the annoying thing about them and the great thing are fundamentally intertwined." This applies to any experience across art, music, objects, movies, food etc. Nothing is perfect, and the imperfect part complements the perfect part. 

If there's one thing you do today/ this week, please read Sasha's post. Please feel free to slide into my proverbial DMs with your thoughts. 

Questioning Normal

I've thought a lot about why we travel. 

And why someone who has travelled a lot isn't materially or noticeably more interesting, wise, mature, better equipped at dealing with life, or fun to be around, than someone who hasn't travelled. Have you ever noticed sometimes there's an inverse correlation of how much someone has travelled and how interesting they are?

But in thinking that, I missed the point. It’s not about gaining wisdom or maturity or gaining life experience that will pay off at a later date. It’s not even about the social capital of a fleeting rapport with a stranger at a party when you find common ground about that same place you’ve both travelled to (although I can’t deny that is nice).

This could be a post on the 750 different motivations or benefits of travel, but I wanted to highlight the 2 key ones that struck me in my most recent trip. Neither of them will make me more interesting (maybe the opposite), and definitely not more wise (never any risk of that), but that’s completely okay with me. 

The 2 benefits that hit me shifted between the acute and the chronic.
The short and longer term.
The fun and the meaningful.

The “fun” was the dopamine hit of Awe. The novelty and unknown of every moment in travel gives the purest neurochemical concoction of joy, intrigue, confusion and surprise. I suspect that's the real attraction to travel outside of relaxation by the beach. That every time we go to a new place that’s recommended by a friend or a travel guide - the anticipation and hit of novel experience is difficult to describe, and that’s why we keep coming back for it.

Then there's the “meaningful”.

The one that struck me in Japan was the impact of an awakened sense that our normal isn't or doesn't have to be *the* normal. At least not “the only” normal.

That we apply our own social constructs in our own lives. We've been shaped by them, and we perpetuate them. 

Other cultures shape and perpetuate their own social constructs. 

Each micro experience in a new environment can give us the opportunity to think about why we do what we do, and seek to learn why others do it differently. Even if we don’t dig deeper, just observing how differently some people do the things we take for granted as “conventional” feels enriching. We don’t have to actively seek these micro experiences - walking through the streets in a new city or spending time at a cafe can flood us with these moments. Low effort, high yield.

The very first moment that captured me on this, at Haneda airport, was a pristinely dressed elderly (approximately 70 years old) man with the laser-focused role of grabbing each luggage bag as they popped out of the carousel, and aligning each one so that they were easy for the traveller to grab. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so dialled in and intent to absolutely nail their job. It was like the World Championships were at stake. Why is this a role? Wouldn't a physical job like this be better suited to a younger fitter man? How is he seemingly still in incredible physical shape with perfect posture despite his age? Is he proud of this job? Is he doing this by choice at his age or is it due to not being able to afford retirement? Why don’t other international airports have this role? What is the real utility of the role? (You get the point).

This was the first of over a dozen moments like this. That captured not only attention, but Awe. These moments forced the question of "Why is it this way?" . More often than not I didn't and don't have the answer. Which I also loved. 

I'm convinced in some ways the beauty of life is just constantly being exposed to things we don’t understand, and accepting that is okay.

The moments continued:

Elderly woman pouring her heart and soul into her one-person restaurant, silently making okonomiyaki right in front of us to the tune of Japanese news in the background. 

The awkward - yet charming - yet fascinating - yet bewildering - yet wholesome "thank you" , "no, thank you!", "thank you very much", no, thank you very much" that seems to end almost every interaction.

Waiter at the wrong restaurant offering (and requesting) to inconvenience himself and walk us to the right restaurant - 15 minutes away.

Restaurant giving patrons gifts just for eating at their restaurant. 

Uber driver inconveniencing himself to make absolutely sure we get to our right stop at no extra charge.

Elderly construction workers in air-conditioned gilets.

The awkwardly long bow until the elevator closes. 

A one-table bakery; inside the house of a solo baker.

The first time the bidet hits your bum after sitting on the heated toilet seat.

The impassioned emotion and expression fully commensurate with the tone of the words.

The sumo wrestler thanking you for stepping on his turf. 

Darts and Karaoke as the wedding afterparty.

The shoes off policy of a barbecue house.

The Michelin chef who has impeccable Google Translate small talk with his doting patrons over the counter. 

Bar staff giving customers free dessert just for having a good time. 

The ‘8 thank you minimums’ in most cafes.

Vending machines selling 16 different types of freshly brewed coffee with 7 different sub-options each - payable with travel card.

Bartender named Champagne.

… And those were the first few off the top of my head from 6 days.

None of these moments feel "normal" to me. Or at least not common in my daily life in London or in Johannesburg. That's not to say it's better. That's not to say it's worse. 

But it is a version of normal. 

And that's enough for my subconscious to get excited enough to transfer the questioning of “normal” onto countless other everyday life things. 

At least until the busy-ness of life distracts again.
And then, it's onto the next trip to reawaken the senses again.