I woke up with a messy mind this Saturday morning. It’s quiet — I’m the only one awake, sitting in the living room of our rented apartment in Spain. My thoughts, restless as ever, bounce around the walls.

Yesterday, we met a friend who shared some thoughts about his life plans — what he wants to achieve between 30 and 40, and what comes after. His words stuck with me.

I’m right in that age range, so I couldn’t help but listen intently. And this morning, those ideas have taken over my mind. They’ve been looping endlessly, asking me questions I’m not sure I can answer.

But this isn’t new for me. I’ve been here before — letting thoughts run wild, leading nowhere but to a drained body and a restless heart. I know how this story ends.

So I stop. I put everything aside, sit cross-legged on the couch (it’s slanted slightly to the right), and close my eyes to breathe.

A few seconds in, I realize it’s been ages since I last meditated. I correct my posture — sitting upright this time — and rest my palms on my thighs.

It doesn’t take long before a thought sneaks in, pulling me away. Then, after a moment, I notice what’s happening and choose to let it go.

This happens again. And again. Each time, I gently let the thought drift away like leaves floating downstream.

Here are a few of the thoughts I released in just three minutes:

• Is it time to reinvent my career? Or should I double down on my current path?
• Why can’t I just be content with what I have? Everything I need is already here.
• I should’ve gone to bed last night instead of watching another episode of Slow Horses (Season 2, Episode 1).
• I’m supposed to be creating right now. The timer is running. Twenty minutes, and my laptop isn’t even on. Dude.

I take a deep breath.

When I open my eyes, only three minutes have passed. But I feel lighter, like I’ve just cleaned the kitchen after a messy meal.

Of course, I know this won’t last. The chaos will return — it always does. But maybe there’s a way to keep it at bay a little longer.

Ah, there it is again — a thought.

I let that one go too. Then I pick up a book. I brought only three with me for this month in Spain:

1. How to Raise Successful People by Susan Wojcicki
2. The School of Life by Alain de Botton
3. Reality Hunger by David Shields

Without much thought, I choose #2. Something philosophical feels fitting right now.

Flipping through, I stumble upon two passages that speak directly to me.

One about anxiety:

The mood is no sign that our lives have gone wrong, merely that we are alive.

And another about solitude:

We need to be alone because life among other people unfolds too quickly. The pace is relentless: the jokes, the insights, the excitements. There can sometimes be enough in five minutes of social life to take up an hour of analysis.

I pause, and for the first time all morning, I feel calm. The mild anxiety that had been bubbling beneath the surface is almost entirely gone.

Then, in a burst of clarity, I open my email inbox and start unsubscribing from newsletters — almost all of them. It feels cathartic.

A lot of my self-comparisons come from reading newsletters, I realize. Here’s a quick list of what I unsubscribed from:

• Austin Kleon
• Refactoring
• LinkedIn
• Daily Dad
• Wired Daily
• The Economist
• Robert Heaton
• Indie Hackers

There’s a Chinese saying: “旧的不去，新的不来” (jiù de bù qù, xīn de bù lái), which means you must let go of the old for the new to arrive.

Meditation cleansed my mind. Unsubscribing cleared my feed. Reading — the good stuff — tickled my brain in the best way.

By the time I set the book down, I find myself more present and yearning less. For the first time this morning, I feel ready to savor the gloriously sunny December Saturday here in Spain, with my family.