My entire life has been based on sweating the details. I’d been a hairdresser, then an auditor, then a writer. And those vocations have been all about that centimetre, that one decimal, that one letter.

So it didn’t come as a surprise that I felt obligated to pursue my hobbies the same way.

That meant sticking to Ryder Carroll’s bullet journal guidelines to a tee. Or picking only one specific word processor to rule them all. Heck, I got into backpacks once because I decided to travel with only one carry-on, no matter the duration or location.

But life is never linear, and the danger of distilling everything to its barest essence is that we end up solving problems that don’t exist.

It’s like that time I got into fountain pens. Suddenly, longhand was a task fit for only one instrument. To hell with gel pens, or pencils, or fineliners. Never mind the fact that I was filling out an immigration card. Or that I was assigned to a rough trip through the forest. When I was into the hobby, it was fountain pens or bust.

Once I got over my elitist tendencies, however, life magically became easier. Because why fret over the pen-ink combo when all I wanted to do was write a grocery list? And why was I spending all my time and money aiming for a grail that didn’t exist?

We’re all different, but if you’re the type who thinks they need rigidity, only to come up with a thousand different ways to be rigid, then perhaps you’re more flexible-prone than you think.

And to you, I say: Learn to let go.

Journal in a notebook, then write your next few entries on your phone. Succumb to your hyper fixation on pencils, then embrace gel pens when you’re ready. Go hard on the weights, then spend months doing nothing but cardio.

Because sometimes we just need to embrace the chaos, so that we can find the stillness within.