Chapter 35: What’s leaving, What stays, What’s ahead?

May 11,2026, 5PM. Seated in an Ethiopian restaurant. Not in any dramatic sense, but in the quiet way memory ambushes the present. My wife was watching me across the table, her expression reflective. Perhaps remembering the young man she met when I was 23, and how I now sit here with a few grey hairs.

The room shifted soundtracks without warning. First came “Muzina” by Tabu Ley, and just as quickly it gave way to Sam Fan Thomas’ “Noa” and "Africa Typic Collection". The transition was seamless, like time folding into itself without asking permission. Sam Fan Thomas pulled something loose in me. My dad surfaced in that sound; the rhythm, the warmth, the unmistakable texture of a time I only half-inherited. I could see him, younger than I am now, caught in a moment I was never part of. There’s a photo I have of him with an afro. Full and unguarded. A version of him that existed before I was born. The music didn’t just remind me of him, it  reminded me how time flies.

Then the food arrived, served in pots. A young Ethiopian man placed them before us with the ease of someone simply doing his job, unaware he was also placing a reminder in front of me. A reminder that I am getting older. It wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t even unwelcome. But it was unmistakable. Ethiopia pulled me somewhere else entirely—not backward, but sideways—into a different register of time, where identity feels less fixed, more layered. A place where food, music, and silence seem to agree on something ancient without needing to explain it.

Turning 35 didn’t feel like a dramatic shift. Nothing broke. Nothing announced itself. There was no threshold moment, no visible change in the mirror. But something did settle. I can see it more clearly now: the things that will stay with me without effort, the things that will quietly fall away without ceremony, and the things that are ahead without asking for permission.

What Leaves

The Friction of Overthinking: The paralyzing habit of waiting for the "perfect" moment or the flawless plan before taking action is falling away. I am letting go of the need to know exactly how every road is paved before I choose to drive down it.

The Clutter: Both literal and mental. The temporary fixes, the transactional relationships, and the superficial anxieties as they no longer have the leverage to disrupt my peace. They are leaving without ceremony because there is simply no longer any room kept for them.

What stays

The Bible (The True North): In a world that shifts its soundtracks without warning, where trends emerge and dissolve overnight, having a single and unmoving True North is what keeps the gravity intact. Everything else can adjust, but the core remains fixed.

The Consistency: The daily, unglamorous showing up. The understanding that meaningful progress isn't born from sudden bursts of inspiration, but from the quiet discipline of closing the execution gaps day after day.

What’s Ahead

Deeper Mastery: Optimizing the engines already in motion, scaling what works, and leaning heavily into leverage through letting systems, automation, and deliberate choices do the heavy lifting so I can remain present for the moments that matter.

Sharing: Deliberate act of opening up the playbook. Sharing the lessons learnt along the way. It’s about creating a resonance that goes beyond my own immediate circle, helping others find their footing on their own unpaved roads, and realizing that the value of mastery increases exponentially when it is passed along.

----

As the young waiter cleared the empty clay pots from our table and the final notes of the music faded into the ambient chatter of the room, I looked back across at my wife. The few grey hairs aren't a warning; they are a sign of tenure. But for tonight, sitting in the quiet register of a time well-spent, it is enough to know that the best work, and the truest version of myself, is still being built one quiet day at a time.