Living in the Moment

I've always felt this weird tension with the idea of "living in the moment." It sounded right, but it never seemed to get me where I wanted to be long-term. Back in my early twenties, I was all about going with the flow—no structure, just being spontaneous. It felt natural at the time, but somehow, it would always end in these hedonistic downward spirals that left me feeling like I'd wasted time and I couldn't figure out why.

Because of this, I started leaning heavily on building habits and routines. This structured approach defined most of my mid-twenties to early thirties. Routines made me super productive, kept me on the path to good physical health, and gave me a sense of control and a solid foundation. But even with all this structure, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

A few friends even told me my lifestyle was too robotic and that I was missing out on life, but I was like, no dude, you're just not as ambitious as me (didn't say this out loud, of course lol).

Eventually, I loosened up a bit—kept the routines as a base but also added some flexibility and spontaneity. As my friend Alec says, breaking rules feels great, but there need to be rules to break them. I wasn’t looking to abandon routines; I just wanted to leave more room for the unexpected. But looking back, I’m not sure how well that worked either, as I ended up breaking routines too often, and what replaced them didn’t always lead to something worthwhile.

About a year ago, I quit working at my last Silicon Valley company, left the corporate life behind (hopefully for good), and focused entirely on my own projects (see Deepwander). Around the same time, I also started traveling, which took me completely out of my usual environment. A lot of my routines were out the window, and I found myself thrown into this state of complete chaos. There was no structure, no deadlines, no external pressure—nothing I absolutely had to do. I could spend my days however I wanted. It was more flexibility than I’d ever had before. Days blurred into weeks, and months slipped by without me even noticing. This was honestly a dream; I absolutely love this state of flow. Yet, deep inside, I knew it wasn't going to be sustainable long term.

It was time to get back to figuring out a routine situation, but I didn't really think much about it until recently, when it all hit me at once with this random thought popping into my head.

Routines are just a band-aid for the monkey mind. The real solution is intentionality and awareness.

This thought hit me when I was on a scooter heading to the gym. As soon as I got there, I sat down in the locker room and started drafting this post on my phone. I had to get it down somewhere. Suddenly it felt so clear.

I'm pretty sure this realization wouldn’t have just popped up—let alone hit me with so much clarity—if I hadn’t spent the past two months seriously committing to meditation. (1–1.5 hours a day, using The Mind Illuminated—the best book on meditation I’ve come across).

Meditation made me realize how much of my behavior is automatic, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s more about noticing which patterns are still useful and which ones I need to update. I’d sit there, trying to stay with my breath, but a constant stream of thoughts, emotions, and sensations would just pull me away (see default mode network). I’d even tell myself not to move unless I consciously decided to, but if a fly landed on me, I’d brush it off without thinking. Then I’d be like, “Wait, what did I just do? I didn’t give myself permission to do that.” It just happened. Who does this?

Meditation made me realize how little of what I do is truly my own choice. I always thought I was consciously choosing my actions, but was I really? We all know breathing is automatic, but it made me see how many of my daily actions that I thought were deliberate were actually just as automatic.

Do I consciously decide to open Instagram or Twitter (argh, the name X just seems like a typo in a blog post) and scroll for what feels like hours? Not really, I’ve just been doing it automatically. Do I actually choose to open and close the fridge door 50 times a day, or is it just me reacting to boredom and looking for some fun? When random thoughts pop into my head, do I engage with them because I choose to, or do they just suck me in, triggering emotions and scenarios I didn’t want to think about? And when I procrastinate, do I actually choose to click on that 20-minute infographic video on YouTube that's going to talk about an oddly specific aspect of ancient Greek culture, or does it just kind of happen on its own?

It’s not even just that. I can be a completely different person depending on who I’m around. With family, the easily triggered Vahe; with old friends, bordering on obnoxiously loud earlier version of Vahe; and with new people, the chiller, more refined Vahe. None of it feels consciously chosen—it’s like different automatic versions of me just take over. And most of the time, I’m not even aware of it. I’m not really in control. Meditation made me see that so clearly. It’s almost frustrating, like… am I really just a collection of autopilot responses?

Small interlude: I can already tell a lot of you are thinking, “Wtf, no, I’m not like that. Vahe’s just messed up.” You sure? 😏 I ran a poll on my Instagram asking how much of your day is an intentional choice versus autopilot. Most people said 50% to 90% of their day is conscious. But here are some papers (1, 2, 3—you don’t have to read them, just ask chatgpt to summarize) that show up to 95% of our day is actually run by unconscious and automatic processes. I’m not just talking about stuff like breathing or blinking—I mean decision-making, judgments, “freely” chosen movements, behaviors, and social interactions.

And it’s crazy when you think about it. I was born in a random location, to random parents, in a random environment, and exposed to a bunch of random events that molded this semi-random person and how he responds to situations.

When I say molded, I literally mean it—neuroscience confirms this.

Repeated behaviors and reactions physically shape the brain by reinforcing specific neural pathways, making these patterns stronger and more automatic over time. This ties to neuroplasticity—our brain’s ability to restructure itself by forming new neural connections in response to experiences. It’s both encouraging and daunting to realize that these automatic responses aren’t permanent and can be reshaped, but creating new patterns requires consistent, intentional effort - thanks, chatgpt, I couldn't have said it better.

And now, here I am in my mid-30s, supposedly a conscious, rational person—someone who thought he was self-aware—only to realize that so much of who I am and what I do is still driven by those circuits formed in my past. I actually see this as a very refreshing and useful realization.

Routines have brought order to the chaos and cut down on the number of decisions I have to make daily. They provide a structured framework that makes navigating life much more efficient, and habits are like pre-programmed scripts that kick in automatically whenever the right cue appears. The issue is that both routines and habits don’t account for what’s really going on in the moment—the circumstances, my emotions, the vibe, you know? They’re not a replacement for real awareness, for being fully tuned in to what’s happening right now. A lot of these automatic behaviors were set years ago and are probably not even relevant anymore.

So, I think routines and habits are necessary, but unlocking true potential is about strong moment-to-moment awareness. Routines and habits should be used as support, not a crutch, and meditation has been helping me bridge this gap. It’s like switching from autopilot to manual, and I just feel so much more aware of what’s happening right now. I can already tell I'm making better choices. I just do what’s right for that moment—not what was planned or automatic—and that’s how I shift from being a passenger in my own life to taking the driver’s seat.

Awareness gives you a chance to observe what’s happening before reacting automatically. This means you can catch patterns, habits, and emotional triggers as they arise. Once you’re aware, you can choose whether to follow your usual response or change course, which creates space for intentional decisions.

I didn’t really get what living in the moment meant back then. Turns out it's not about jumping off a boat on a sunny day in a Greek island, but about being fully present no matter where you are or what you're doing—aware of what’s happening both inside and outside, and choosing to engage deliberately and intentionally.

It’s a massive shift in mindset. It’s not easy. It’s much harder than just following routines or “going with the flow.” It’s going to take years of mental training, building awareness, and really strengthening my intentions. But at this point I'm convinced that this is probably one of the most important things I can focus on.

And how do I get there? Through meditation—training the mind to be more aware, more present, not just during quiet moments, but right in the middle of everyday life. The idea isn’t to control every action and decision or eliminate all automatic reactions. It’s about knowing when to trust them and when to adjust them to better match where I am and what my intentions are.

I think one of the biggest misconceptions about meditation in the mainstream is that it’s just about relaxing or chilling. Oh no, that's not it at all. Meditation is work—deliberate, diligent work. It’s like a gym for your mind. Who are you if you don’t have awareness, let alone control, over the automatic patterns of your own brain?

I can’t wait to see where this path leads. That’s all for now—I’ll leave you with a quote from Carl Jung:

Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.

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