purpose

One Month After My Birthday: A Quiet Question About What Makes Us Human

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Exactly one month ago, I celebrated my birthday (another year older), quietly wishing I could earn more, do more, and finally figure out what I’m truly meant to do with my life.

Today, while the world moved through Lunar New Year festivities with noise, laughter, and a reunion dinner. I found myself in a slower orbit. Quiet. Reflective. For once, time felt like it was stretching open instead of rushing past me.

And in that silence, I started updating my résumé, taking LinkedIn Learning courses, and exploring new skills. It felt practical at first. Productive, even. But somewhere between one tutorial and another AI demo, the question quietly arrived:

What really makes a human… human?

Because everything feels like it’s accelerating now.

AI no longer just assists; it collaborates. Tools like Claude’s Co-Work feature, powered by Opus 4.6, can control windows, manage workflows, and execute tasks through simple prompts. It’s almost like an invisible colleague working beside us. The gap between thought and execution is shrinking. You think it; the machine moves.

I tried it myself, giving it a few prompts to organize my Gmail inbox, and watching it run automatically on my laptop felt both impressive and slightly surreal, as if intention had finally learned how to act without friction. Of course, that level of automation comes with a cost; the credits get used up quickly when you let it operate at full capacity. Just jaw-dropping to me.

Efficiency has never been so simple as you could imagine. What once required planning, effort, and hours of mental switching now happens through a few lines of prompts almost instantly. The systems respond, tasks move, windows open, emails sort themselves, and workflows run quietly in the background. It feels powerful, almost addictive like standing at the edge of a future where execution no longer depends on how much energy you have left.

And yet… that ease makes me pause.

Because when everything starts to feel seamless, I begin to wonder whether we are removing friction or removing something else along the way. The struggle to figure things out, the small moments of problem-solving, even the boredom between tasks… those used to shape how we think. Now, speed replaces waiting. Automation replaces effort. The distance between idea and result collapses into something almost invisible.

If intelligence can be automated, if workflows can be delegated, if productivity becomes increasingly frictionless, then what remains that belongs only to us? Perhaps it’s not execution anymore. Machines can execute. They can optimize, predict, and organize. But they do not sit in silence and question meaning. They do not feel uncertain after a birthday passes, or reflective during a quiet holiday, or curious about whether they are moving in the right direction. They don’t carry memory, longing, or the weight of choices.

Maybe what remains is awareness: that ability to pause even when everything invites us to move faster. The ability to ask why, not just how. The ability to choose what deserves our energy, rather than simply maximizing output.

And maybe that is the strange paradox of this moment: the more friction disappears, the more intentional we must become about staying human.

The Strange Gift of Free Time

Lunar New Year usually carries celebration, but this year it gave me something else: space.

Space to notice how quickly technology is evolving. Space to look at my own career path. Space to revisit the question that quietly follows many of us as we grow older:

Am I moving with intention, or simply keeping up?

I read a piece recently by Dan Koe “How to Fix Your Entire Life in One Day.” The title sounds dramatic, almost impossible. But what struck me wasn’t the promise of instant transformation. It was the underlying idea: sometimes change doesn’t require time, it requires a decision.

One clear day of clarity. One honest audit of who you are, what you’re doing, and why.

And maybe that’s where humanity lives.

Not in our speed.
Not in our efficiency.
But in our ability to pause and choose deliberately.

AI Can Execute, But It Cannot Meaningfully Desire

AI can organize information, optimize workflows, and even generate ideas. It can help us work faster than ever.

But it doesn’t wake up wondering if it’s enough.
It doesn’t reflect on birthdays.
It doesn’t sit with discomfort or question its purpose.

Humans live in tension between ambition and meaning; progress and presence.

We don’t just do things.
We feel our way through them.

And maybe that’s why moments like this hit differently. When the calendar slows down, when work quiets, when you’re left alone with your own thoughts… you realize that the real work isn’t always external.

Sometimes the real work is asking:

  • Who am I becoming in this fast-moving world?
  • Am I building a life, or just optimizing tasks?
  • What parts of me should never be automated?

The Illusion of “Fixing Everything”

The phrase “fix your entire life in one day” feels bold, but maybe the point isn’t perfection.

Maybe the point is alignment.

A single day where you get brutally honest:

  • about where your energy goes,
  • about what truly matters,
  • about what you’re avoiding.

One day to reset direction, even if the execution takes months or years.

Because life doesn’t change when everything is finished.
Life changes when clarity appears.

What Makes Us Human

Sitting here today, after a month of being a little older and (hopefully) a little wiser, this is what I’m beginning to believe:

Being human is not about competing with AI.

It’s about the things that cannot be scaled or automated:

  • Wonder.
  • Reflection.
  • Meaning.
  • Connection.
  • Choosing purpose over pure productivity.

Machines can help us move faster. But only humans can decide where to go.

A Quiet Resolution

Maybe this season: the moment between a birthday reflection and the stillness of Lunar New Year isn’t about reinventing everything overnight.

Maybe it’s about noticing the direction of the wind.

Learning new tools. Updating the résumé. Staying relevant in a world that keeps accelerating because standing still is not an option. But at the same time, holding onto something softer.

The courage to pause.
The willingness to sit with discomfort.
The discipline to ask uncomfortable questions, and the patience to listen to your own answers without rushing to fix them.

Because in a future filled with intelligent systems, automation, and endless optimization, the rarest skill might not be intelligence at all. It might be self-awareness, that quiet ability to know who you are while everything around you keeps changing.

And perhaps that, more than anything else, is what makes us human.

The Paradox of Purpose: Why We Exist in the First Place

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人活着就是为了死亡

A deep reflection on life, death, and the architecture of meaning

I recently stumbled upon a Chinese TikTok post that said, with startling bluntness: “人活着就是为了死亡” Means “People live to die”.

At first glance, it sounds brutal, almost nihilistic. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized how much clarity hides inside that one sentence. It’s a reminder that life is finite, fragile, and never guaranteed. And perhaps, the very fact that death is inevitable is what gives life its texture, urgency, and depth.

Beyond Titles and Labels

We spend so much of our lives chasing roles and identities: student, employee, manager, parent, achiever. These labels help us navigate society, but they aren’t the essence of living. If all we live for is to stack titles like Lego blocks, then the TikTok line slices through the illusion: none of those will follow us past the grave. So what’s left when you strip away status? Experience. Relationships. Growth. The small, luminous moments like laughter that can’t be faked, a conversation that shifts your perspective, the quiet satisfaction of overcoming something you once thought impossible.

Death as Teacher, Not Enemy

To say “we live to die” is not to glorify despair. It is to acknowledge reality. Death is not a glitch in the system. It is the bookend that frames the story. Without it, our days would blur endlessly, stripped of urgency or meaning. When we accept death as teacher, life becomes a classroom where every experience is both practice and preparation. Preparation not in a grim, fatalistic way, but in the sense of learning how to let go, how to forgive, how to leave things better than we found them.

Purpose as Practice

If life is bound for death, then purpose cannot be a trophy we display. It has to be something we practice daily. Purpose isn’t discovered in a single flash; it’s shaped through rhythm, repetition, and ritual. Saying what matters now instead of waiting for “someday.” Building systems of care: for family, friends, even strangers. Turning empathy into small actions that outlast the moment.

Purpose is less about what you call yourself and more about what you consistently create, even in tiny, almost invisible ways.

The INFJ Lens

As an INFJ, I tend to see patterns beneath the surface. I feel the pull to make sense of contradictions. And here’s the paradox I can’t escape: if we live only to die, then the only sane response is to live fully: to create, connect, and commit. We cannot control the ending. But we can control the narrative arcs in between: the projects we build, the people we touch, the ways we stitch our private reflections into something that quietly serves others.

Living as if It Matters

So perhaps the real purpose of life isn’t some grand cosmic assignment. Maybe it’s as simple and as difficult as this: to live in such a way that your days add up to something you’re not ashamed to leave behind.

We live to die, yes. But in between, we live to love, to learn, to grow, and to design a life that would feel tender to part with.

And that, to me, is enough.

The Quiet Crisis: Reflecting on the Global Demographic Tipping Point

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This morning, I found myself absorbed in a thought-provoking documentary by FT Film titled “Japan’s population crisis reaches tipping point.“ It detailed Japan’s struggles over the past 30 years, coping with anaemic economic growth and a steadily shrinking population. The documentary emphasized that 2025 is set to be a critical year. This year will mark the moment when Japan’s escalating costs may finally outpace the country’s capacity to manage them effectively.

Leo Lewis, FT’s Tokyo bureau chief, expertly guided viewers through Japan’s demographic landscape. He highlighted the economic ramifications and the profound social implications of this slow-burning crisis. The film also briefly touched upon China’s demographic challenges, a legacy of its one-child policy. As the documentary unfolded, I couldn’t help but think: This isn’t just Japan’s problem. It’s a worldwide issue. It increasingly concerns our younger generations. Those aged 18-35 now bear the brunt of these demographic shifts.

As part of this younger demographic myself, the realities of our shrinking workforce and ageing populations resonate deeply. We, the youth, are inheriting a world. In this world, the ratio of those dependent on support, primarily the elderly, compared to the working population is rapidly growing. This imbalance is reshaping our societies, economies, and even our family structures.

For many of us, uncertainty has become a familiar companion. Economic instability, higher taxes, and concerns about the sustainability of healthcare and pension systems loom large. Younger generations are confronted by critical questions: Will we be able to support an ageing population? Can we achieve financial security ourselves amid rising costs and shrinking resources? And perhaps most importantly, will we find opportunities to thrive, not just survive?

The crisis in Japan acts as a powerful warning for the rest of the world. But it also holds invaluable lessons. Solutions may lie in innovative policy changes. These include better immigration integration and increased incentives for having children. Redefining employment structures can allow greater flexibility and inclusivity. Countries must rethink how they allocate resources and support systems to ensure fairness and sustainability for future generations.

Reflecting on these issues, it becomes clear that action must start with awareness. On a personal level, having parents over 70 years old has underscored these issues for me. It has made them even more real. As they age, I frequently wonder if I’m ready to adapt to their changing needs and pace of life. Can I balance caring for them with pursuing my own personal ambitions and goals? This internal struggle highlights the urgency of these conversations. Engaging proactively in policy dialogues is crucial. Advocating for meaningful change is important. However, there are other significant ways young people can contribute. These include supporting local community initiatives. They also involve fostering inter-generational connections. Embracing lifelong learning helps adapt to economic shifts. Nurturing personal resilience and empathy is important too. Because ultimately, the future being shaped today is the world we will inherit tomorrow.

The global demographic crisis isn’t merely an economic issue. It’s deeply social, impacting every aspect of our lives. As I turned off the documentary, I realized the urgency of collective action and innovative thinking. It is up to us, the young, energetic and innovative, to envision and actively build a sustainable future.

We may not have created this crisis, but in places like Singapore, the effects are becoming increasingly visible. It’s common now to see retirees working as dishwashers, cleaners, or taking on physically demanding jobs. They often say it’s to remain active. However, there’s an underlying reality that many continue to work because retirement isn’t financially feasible. This raises serious concerns about societal support structures, inter-generational responsibilities, and the dignity of ageing. Our generation holds the power and creativity to address these issues thoughtfully, shaping a balanced, inclusive, and compassionate future. Through innovation, we can build hopeful solutions. Community engagement and collaboration will provide dignity and respect for everyone, regardless of age.

AI vs Humans: My Late-Night Reflection on What Truly Makes Us Human

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The room was still. Only the soft hum of my laptop filled the silence. I sat under the familiar glow of the screen, yet something felt different. My heart was heavy. My thoughts raced faster than my fingers typed.

I had just finished watching a powerful online panel discussion. The title alone was sobering:
“AI Agents Emergency Debate: These Jobs Won’t Exist in 24 Months! We Must Prepare for What’s Coming!”

The speakers, leading thinkers and technology experts, explored the future of work, society, and human identity. Artificial intelligence is advancing rapidly. It soon surpasses human capabilities in many industries.

I stared at the screen in disbelief. Suddenly, this was not abstract theory. It was personal. I was no longer just an observer. I felt caught in the middle of a growing storm.

A quiet panic set in.
What if machines can do my job? What if they do it better? What truly makes me… human?

These questions had already lingered in my mind long before watching the video. I had even asked my part-time colleagues at work, “Are you worried AI will one day replace your job?” I followed up with, “What makes us human at work, especially when AI seems capable of doing so much?”

I stared into the darkness. Then I whispered to myself:
We are not machines.

So, what separates us?
After much reflection, I’ve come to believe it lies not in what we do, but in who we are.

I’ve spent hours pondering this, whether during my solitary gym training sessions, quiet nights staring at a glowing laptop, or even random discussions with my part-time colleagues about the rise of AI. I’m someone who constantly questions, always seeking meaning, rarely content with the surface-level answer. My love for reading, research, self-improvement, and even the rhythm of badminton matches against the soft thud of the shuttlecock. These are not things a machine can feel.

AI can replicate tasks, generate patterns, and offer suggestions. But it cannot stand at the foot of a mountain, breathless from the climb, reflecting on how that moment represents personal victory over struggle.

AI cannot experience the frustration and awkwardness of a strained human relationship, yet still choose compassion and forgiveness.

AI cannot hold the weight of uncertainty about life’s purpose, yet push forward with quiet determination to keep searching.

What separates us is that we live, we struggle, we care, we dream. We get knocked down (sometimes physically, like in training or on a hike!) and we get back up, not because we are programmed to, but because we choose to.

That free will, the messy, beautiful unpredictability of being human, is something no algorithm can ever own.

I know now that my purpose is not to outrun machines, nor to be crushed by them. It is to lean into the very things they can’t be: empathetic, adaptable, creative, and driven by a moral compass that seeks meaning, not just metrics.

I don’t have all the answers, and honestly, I’m learning to be okay with that. Life, much like my hikes, my gym sessions, or my endless pursuit of improvement, is about embracing the climb even when the peak is hidden in the fog.

My Personal Reflection

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footprints-on-beach-nantucket-blue-line-pictures.jpg

“All this while what am I chasing for?” I asked myself.

I race and I chase, all so that I can make more money, have more success, and hopefully be happier in some distant future when I’ve hit some superficial and randomly selected target.

But will that day ever arrive? You and I both know how this game goes: the wanting for more never ends; and happiness will always (unless we intervene) appear to be just a reach away, in “some day” land, when we’ve finished this project or have reached that goal. We stride through life as if we will live forever. We treat time as a cheap commodity that we blindly waste. We become consumed by negativity. We hide behind victim stories.

We get stuck in jobs and relationships that we dislike. We distract ourselves with the noise of media and other people’s opinions. We compete over status and owning stuff. We buy into the empty promises of luxury products, all of which are illusions fabricated by marketers. Unable to forgive, we hold on to the pain and we blame people, things, and circumstances for our unhappiness. We surround ourselves with anxiety, stress and depression. Failing to recognize that these “dis-eases” and uncomfortable emotions are our soul’s way of saying, “Wake up! It’s time for a change. This isn’t working.” We give up on our purpose, and trade our lives in exchange for money so that we can make a living. While making money to sustain our needs is inevitable, in the making of a living we sometimes forget our unique gifts, we temporarily lose touch with the enormity of our inner being, and we distance ourselves from the confidence of our unique expressions. In a race to survive, we become mentally paralyzed, like a dove whose wings have been clipped and soon forgets that she can fly. It’s all so exhausting. It’s overwhelming. There’s no end to the madness of chasing. So many of us rush though life in this way, oblivious to the preciousness of whom we are and unaware of the beauty, wealth, abundance, love & opportunities that surrounds us. And before we know it, the sands of our hourglass run out, and we face the end of our brief existence on this planet, unfulfilled and regretful for all that we’ve missed. I know this may sound harsh, and it is. Viewing how we live in its blunt, naked candour can feel rough around the edges.

It’s time to restructure our lives. It’s time to restructure how we live, how we prioritize, how we contribute, and how we can live more fully in the precious moments we are blessed with. Perhaps, the only thing that matters is love.

Perhaps, all the chasing we do is just misdirected energy.

Perhaps, all the stress is unnecessary.

Perhaps, we are making life a lot more complicated than it needs to be.

Perhaps, it’s possible (and necessary) to forgive and to let go of our painful past.

Perhaps, there’s an easier route to happiness, by focusing on doing good work, contributing value to society, sharing joyful experiences with people we like, and remembering to slow down to savor the moments.

The Meaning of Life

So what is the meaning of life? What is the purpose of life?

I don’t think any single answer can be ubiquitously shared and be applicable for everyone. So I’ll answer for myself, from my current state of understanding. I think the meaning of life is what ever meaning we give it, and we can literally give it any meaning that “feels right” to us. There’s a blank canvas in front of you. You are the artist of your life, and you are free to paint any picture that pleases you, and change it at any time for that matter.

What “feels right” to you? What do you want your life to mean? What do you want your life to be about?

I think the purpose of life is to discover what makes you happy, and then go do more of it. The most interesting answer I’ve heard to “What is the purpose of life?” came from somebody. She said: “The purpose of life is to do what makes you come a live. When you stop, you die.”

For me, the definition of real success in life is not determined by the education obtained, institutions attended, career accomplishments, awards won, or the wealth I’ve acquired. Real success in life is solely determined on who you become, the character and attributes you develop, the people you help, and whether or not at the end of the day you were true to the most important priorities in life – namely the God & Family.

So, what makes me to come alive?

Parting Words on Life Meaning

The pointers it can be summarized by the following:

Life is pretty short.

Life is precious.

Life keeps no one waiting.

Life is always full of ups and times.

What are you dreaming about?

Go do it. Go make it happen.

Go do it despite fear and doubt and the opinions of others.

Go do it, because it makes you happy.

Go do it, because it makes you come alive.

Who are you holding a grudge against?

Decide to forgive them, today, right now.

Decide that you will heal, and decide to tell a different story.

Give yourself permission to be free, because you are.

Where do you want to visit?

Start planning for it, even if you don’t yet have the money.

Keep moving in that direction, and I promise you that you will find a way.

Who do you love? 

 When you’re with them, give them your full attention.

Create the time and space to connect with them. Put love at the top of your list.

In the end, love is all that matters. Love for our selves, for other people, for our work, for all the unique experiences of life.

Life is simple, but we insist on making it complicated. Let’s make it simple again, by focusing on what matters.

Meaningful or Meaningless

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serving-others-following

“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” – Mahatma Gandhi

I am the only one. But, I am one that I cannot do everything. However, I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do.

I have been thinking and talking about the meaningfulness of life and/or work with my friends and colleagues. I am on fire at work working with lazy people  when boss isn’t at work. Literally, when the boss is on leave, the co-workers slack off. For instance, they frequent visit the restroom, surf the web all day or even messaging at their desk, while I am hustling to keep up with my daily workload.  Perhaps, it is not uncommon to come across “snake” co-workers. And, it is not easy to deal with them.

Specifically, a thought came to my mind at that point of time. Why I spend nearly all your waking hours working to get “shits” done? Am I here to show up to waste my time and energy on being angry or annoyed about those lazy colleagues?

I am a firm believer that human beings are the narrative throughout their life. That is, we, as living creatures should live our life to our fullest to love for something that are guided by reasons of love.

Shouldn’t we be living our life absolutely to the fullest? As, we all die in the end. I get real pissed off seeing those slackers at work which triggers me to ponder upon the real meaningfulness in life and work.

In fact, most part of our lives, we spend working to become a people-pleaser. With that, we measure our happiness in terms of how successful we are in these roles.

More precisely, I want to say something. That is, every human beings is at the core of our ability to live meaningful lives. People sometimes judge upon them with envy or admiration. Often, the need for meaning is connected to the sense that one’s life is empty or shallow.

To have a life that not only seems meaningful but is meaningful, the objective aspect is as more important as the subjective.

According to the Stanford research project, social psychologists explored the key differences between lives of happiness and meaningfulness. While the two are similar, dramatic differences exist. That is, one should not underestimate the power of meaningfulness. “The quest for meaning is a key part of what makes us human,” the researchers concluded.

Comparatively, the recognition of meaningfulness as a value has for our concept of self-interest. A life of meaning is more deeply tied to a valued sense of self and one’s purpose in the larger context of life and community.

In other words, whether one’s life or work is meaningful or meaningless, it is all dependence on our interest in being able to see our lives as worthwhile from some point of view external to ourselves, and our interest in being able to see ourselves that enhances its life even if one is unaware of it. For this reason, the whole is greater than the sum of its part.

“People have strong inner desires that shape their lives with purpose and focus – qualities that ultimately make for a uniquely human experience.” – Jennifer Aaker  (Social psychologist)

 

 

 

 

 

The Never-Enough Problem

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The last is normally how people respond when they hear or see the phrase: Never xxx enough. It only takes a few seconds before people fill in the blanks with their tapes.

The last is normally how people respond when they hear or see the phrase: Never xxx enough. It only takes a few seconds before people fill in the blanks with their tapes.

We get Scarcity Because We Live It.

One of my very favourite writers on scarcity is global activist and fund-raiser Lynne Twist. In her book The Soul of Money, she refers to scarcity as “the great lie.”

She writes: For me, and for many of us, our first waking thought of the day is “I didn’t get enough sleep.” The next one is “I don’t have enough time.” Whether true or not, the thought of ‘not enough’ occurs to us automatically before we even think to question or examine it. We spend most of the hours and the days of our lives hearing, explaining, complaining, or worrying about what we don’t have enough of …

Before we even sit up in bed, before our feet touch the floor, we’re already inadequate, already behind, already losing, already lacking something. And by the time we go to bed at night, our minds are racing with a litany of what we didn’t get, or didn’t get done, that day. We go to sleep burdened by those thoughts and wake up to that reverie of lack.

This internal condition of scarcity, this mind-set of scarcity, lived at the very heart of our jealousies, our greed, our prejudice, and our arguments with life. . . . (pp. 43 – 45).