Keep-Growing

Throughout my adolescent and adult life, I dreamed of doing many things. Big things. I imagined achieving lofty goals, becoming a successful person in the eyes of the world, and traveling to distant corners of the Earth. These dreams were vivid and motivating—visions of accomplishment that helped shape my choices and guide my ambitions. But when these goals were realized the realization hit me that time has passed, and another chapter in life was now behind me.

Over time, I’ve had the privilege of seeing some of those dreams realized. I’ve reached milestones I once only imagined, stood in places I once only saw on a map, and checked items off lists I created in moments of aspiration. And when these goals are achieved, they often bring with them a sense of happiness—a quiet contentment mingled with nostalgia. We look back and see not just what we’ve done, but who we were when we first set out to do it.

But eventually, the feeling passes. A quiet question emerges: What now?

This question isn’t rooted in dissatisfaction. It’s part of the natural rhythm of growth. We are creatures of curiosity and movement, always pulled toward the next horizon. But as I’ve continued along my own path, I’ve begun to realize that fulfillment doesn't always lie in the next destination, promotion, or accomplishment. Sometimes, it lives in the stillness we overlook.

In a world constantly nudging us to do more, earn more, and consume more, minimalism offers a counterpoint: a way of thinking and living that values depth over breadth, clarity over clutter, and presence over prestige. It teaches us that we don’t need to keep accumulating in order to feel whole. That meaning is often found not by expanding outward, but by turning inward.

Sustainability follows a similar arc. We are often taught to see sustainability as a set of actions—recycling, eating less meat, driving less, using renewable energy. And while all of these matter, the deeper truth is that sustainability starts with a mindset. It asks us to look again at what we value, to notice the hidden costs of endless consumption, and to imagine a life where less can actually mean more—more peace, more resilience, more connection.

There are a finite number of countries we can visit. A limited number of roles we can hold. But there is an infinite depth within our own cities, our own communities, and even our own routines—if we allow ourselves to see it. The joy of discovering a quiet park bench you’d always walked past. The fulfillment of learning something new within a familiar profession. The small but meaningful decision to repair instead of replace. These are all ways of saying yes to life without adding more noise to it.

Minimalism and sustainability are not about deprivation. They’re about rediscovering wonder in the overlooked and choosing a life that honors both the planet and the present moment.

As I continue on this journey, I’ve found that keeping the door of the mind open—to curiosity, simplicity, and purpose—can be one of the most radical things we do. And maybe, just maybe, the most rewarding.

—Shaun