Welcome back to Mugwump Ramblings, where I try to untangle my inner chaos while the world plays a kazoo solo in the background. This week, I’m attempting something radical: listening. Not to the news, not to my anxiety, not to that guy on Twitter with a PhD in being loud — just… listening. Wish me luck.
The hummmmmmmmm
There’s a particular kind of noise the world makes when you’re trying to grow. It’s not the obvious noise—the headlines, the outrage cycles, the algorithmic churn. It’s the subtler hum underneath all that, the one that tempts us with, “Oh just stay who you were. It’s easier for everyone.”
I’ve been hearing that hum more clearly lately, maybe because I’ve been spending so much time trying to unlearn the parts of myself that were built for survival rather than living. Reinvention is romantic until you’re in the middle of it. Then it’s mostly paperwork, emotional excavation, and the occasional identity crisis disguised as a Tuesday afternoon.
But here’s the thing I keep circling back to: the way we change privately always ends up changing the way we see the world publicly. You can’t shift your inner architecture without noticing the cracks in the buildings around you.
Lately, I’ve been noticing a lot of cracks.
Not the catastrophic kind—more like the hairline fractures that appear when a structure has been holding too much weight for too long. Institutions, narratives, expectations… all the things we’re told are solid start to look a little less certain when you stop contorting yourself to fit inside them.
And once you see the cracks, you can’t unsee them.
What’s surprised me, though, is how much compassion I feel in that noticing. Not cynicism. Not despair. Just a kind of quiet acknowledgment that maybe we’re all improvising more than we admit. Maybe the world isn’t broken so much as it is unfinished. Maybe we’re all unfinished.
I’m pretty sure we are all unfinished.
I’ve also been thinking about how often we mistake certainty for wisdom. Certainty is loud. Wisdom is quieter. Certainty wants to win. Wisdom wants to understand. Certainty demands a conclusion. Wisdom is willing to sit in the middle of a sentence and breathe.
I’m trying to live more like that—less declarative, more curious. Less “here’s what I know,” more “here’s what I’m noticing.” It’s uncomfortable, sure, but discomfort is often the first sign that something real is happening.
Get and stay curious
And honestly, the world could use a little more curiosity right now. A little more willingness to say, “I don’t know, but I’m paying attention.” A little more humility in the face of complexity. A little more grace for the fact that none of us are operating with a full map.
So that’s where I am this week: listening differently. Not to the loudest voices, but to the quieter truths underneath them. The ones that don’t trend, don’t shout, don’t demand allegiance. The ones that ask for patience instead of performance.
If you’re in a season of becoming—of shedding, of questioning, of rebuilding—I hope you’re giving yourself permission to listen differently too. The world will always be loud. But the good stuff, the real stuff, the stuff that actually changes you… that tends to whisper.
And I’m finally learning to hear it.
If you’re also trying to hear yourself think while the universe throws glitter at your face and yells “BE PRODUCTIVE,” I see you. May your week be filled with quiet rebellions and at least one moment where you say, “Oh. That’s what I needed.”
→ Coming Friday in Thrive
A gentle reminder that rebuilding your inner world doesn’t require a TED Talk or a juice cleanse. Just a little honesty and maybe a nap.
→ Coming Saturday in Sexplorer
We’re talking about intimacy, awkward noises, and the kind of listening that happens when you stop pretending you’re a sex wizard and start being a human.
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