I like the evenings similarly to why I like Decembers.

Those are the times I dedicate to looking back on what have happened in my past year—or in the day that just went by. I would recall the lovely moments that would make me grin again; I would not refrain from clapping for myself when the amazing things I’ve done come up in my mind; I would think hard about how I could do certain things better next time; I would even try to bring up moments that have made me embarrassed or overwhelmed, to think through them; I would write in my journal about some experience that has brought me a sense of awe or meaning. Back then, I started doing reflection probably because I learned that reflection would be beneficial for this and that; it is indeed beneficial, but nowadays I do reflection also simply because I genuinely enjoy it. In a way, reflecting also feel slike replaying the novel/movie of my life.

Aside from reflecting, I also read books. Some of the books I read most closely recently are: The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry; The Happiness Project; Think Again; When Breath Becomes Air; Four Thousand Weeks; my diaries from 2018-2019 (I consider them my books).

I go on evening walks around campus, especially often during my stomach treatment. There were days when I would play Headspace’s sleepcasts in my earphone when walking around. My favorite this time was the Enchanted Moonlight Library sleepcast.

I also prepare gifts for my friends. The New Year surprise letter and decorations for Jane and Yinzi, the birthday gifts for Mariam, the writings for Christina, the cute stuff for Serafina, and more, filled my cupboard and made me happy whenever I open it.

When hearing about what I do, many people would tell me: That’s nice — they sound very relaxing!

I can see how these activities are usually deemed relaxing, especially as antidotes to the hectic modern culture. But acutally, I am not doing them to relax. If I wanted to relax, I would have watched a Korean drama. Or scroll through Youtube shorts, or clear out easy emails. When I reflect, write, or read, I am choosing to grow. I need to keep a sustained focus and courage to do deep reflections; my brain’s language area needs to work intensively to write eloquent pieces; I need to take time to read some parts of my books several times to comprehend them in much more depth, unlike when I breezed over romantic stories as a teenager—what I would consider relaxing. But since I am undertaking all this growth not because of an external pressure, but my own passion for life, I indeed have very relaxing nights afterwards.