22. Tidbits of Life: Slices, Cracks, and Glimmers

First of all class, congratulations on completing the project fair, you've made it through the storms and stresses of such a Herculean task! During the fair, some of you were like a cat chasing a laser, all your senses firing while rigorously engaging with the kids. Some of you were calm and placid in the midst of chaos, like Nero playing a fiddle while Rome burns down. And some of you were like a peacock vs pigeons among pigeons, flaunting your dance moves to draw the visitors to your booths.

I loved the little quirks, noises, surges of adrenaline, and untapped talents you put on full display! For a moment, you guys were breathing from your own skin with unprocessed, raw emotion.

Now let’s switch gears a little, since our blog post is about being true to yourself, and I’ll start by sharing something I’ve never shared with anyone.

It’s embarrassing to admit this, but I’ve always enjoyed listening to Japanese music, especially the fast-paced soundtracks, J-pop, rock, and even original songs by utaite artists. I even created a Japanese song called Run (by 묘야), and my seven-year-old son is catching up to the headwinds of listening to J-pop (which is a bit concerning;;). But I’ve rarely shared this with others because I worry people might laugh. Because, well... there are still weird stereotypes (e.g., otakus) and negative connotations that make me feel like I should hide this part of myself.

But the more I hide what I care about, the less me I feel. Have you ever felt that way too??

Why Do We Hide What We Love?

Recently, two podcasts shook something loose in me.

In Philosophize This!, I listened to an episode about Ernest Becker and his book The Denial of Death. He explains how we humans live with a deep, often invisible fear: that we are insignificant and impermanent. We're fragile, mortal creatures who could easily die, yet we are capable of contemplating infinity, writing symphonies, building entire worlds, conjuring beautiful, cathartic stories, and creating gods. And that mismatch of duality creates a painful tension inside us.

We try to solve this by creating what Becker calls "immortality projects," symbolic efforts to leave a mark or a dent, to prove that we existed. These could take many forms: writing a poem, raising a child, building a YouTube channel, practicing kindness, writing a story, or giving a heartfelt gift to a friend. The point is not the scale, but the meaning.

Then I listened to a conversation between Michael Saylor and Jordan Peterson. Saylor, a billionaire tech mogul, described how he spent decades building a moderately successful company, only to hit a soul-crushing plateau. He realized that even with money and status, something was missing. He saw the system around him collapsing, hurting his workers, and he knew he couldn’t just sit still, he had to make a drastic choice. His story wasn’t really about wealth, it was about the search of meaning.

Cracks Let the Light In

One of my students had a very interesting quote on her Discord profile (although my server got dissolved...) that tickled my brain:

That’s what this post is about.

About the cracks in us. The things we’re scared to share or admit. The soft, weird, awkward truths we think we should hide. Because maybe, just maybe, those are the things that truly matter most to us.

And when we practice sharing them, we move one step closer to something called verisimilitude, that feeling when something just resonates true, even if it’s messy or small or unfinished.

[HOMEWORK] A Slice of Life Challenge

In the comments below, I invite you to post your own “slice of life” moment.

But not just any moment. Share something a little vulnerable. Something real. Something you care about, even if it feels awkward to admit.

Here are some sample ideas:

• Something you love but are embarrassed to admit.

• A small moment that made you feel seen, or invisible.

• A weird little thing that brings you joy.

• A habit or fear you’ve never told anyone.

  
  

You never know... someone reading it might feel less alone because you had the courage to share.

After posting your comment, read at least one classmate’s comment and leave a kind and positive reaction.

Let’s not waste our cracks.

– Mr. Sam