NEW ESSAY: The Nonlinear Path of Unlearning

Image credit: N​ASA

Here’s the latest essay I published in my ongoing project Power of Meanings // Meanings of Power. This piece grew out of reflections after a summer trip through Europe, when I returned home and felt an unexpected emotional withdrawal. That experience made me look more closely at how the mind works with meanings—how we attach them, get carried by them, and sometimes manage to step back from them.

The essay weaves together several layers: a personal account of travel and its aftermath, an “essay within an essay” called Just a Place (written on the road, while the insight was still fresh), and a broader exploration of what I call the nonlinear path of unlearning. Drawing on psychology, neuroscience, and Buddhism, I describe how growth often feels less like a straight line and more like a rhythm—stretching forward, snapping back, and expanding again in cycles.

Toward the end, I experimented with something different: transforming the imagery of the mind as a rubber band or even as a universe into a poetic form, created collaboratively with ChatGPT. Normally, my poems are entirely my own, but here the collaborative process felt like part of the exploration itself, so I included it as the closing section.

And here’s an excerpt:

We chase things because we think they’re special. We want to go to London or Paris or New York, or get a particular job, or fall in love, or buy a home—not just because of what they are, but because of what they mean. And those meanings live in our heads.

London is not just a city—it’s a symbol. So is “falling in love,” or “being successful,” or “finding your calling.” The things themselves are just… things. Cities are made of buildings and roads and public parks. Jobs are made of tasks and emails. Even relationships are made of conversations and compromises and moments that are sometimes magical, and sometimes just laundry.

That’s not a bad thing. Meanings give color to life. But they can also create pressure. When we expect something to be special, we worry about doing it right. I’ve caught myself in that loop many times: Am I enjoying this park or this walk in London the way I’m supposed to? Should I be doing something more exciting, more impressive?

And then, the moment comes when the reality doesn’t quite match the meaning we imagined. And we feel a little let down, though we might not know why.

Sometimes we don’t even notice it consciously—we just move on to the next goal or experience. But if we look closely, we might see the pattern. We build up an idea in our heads, we get there, and then we realize: Oh. It’s just a park. Just a job. Just a person. Just a moment.

But “just” doesn’t mean bad. It means real. And real is beautiful.

You can find the whole essay here.