Living the Dream (Not Sarcastically)

I say "living the dream" a lot. People assume it's ironic. It's not.

I genuinely mean it. I'm 27. I live in the mountains. I build things I care about. I write. I travel. I have friends who show up. I have work that challenges me. I wake up most mornings and don't dread the day.

That's the dream. My dream, specifically. Not the penthouse, not the sports car, not the corner office. This.

I know it doesn't look like the dream is supposed to look. I know the Instagram version of success involves private jets and Rolexes and some guy standing in front of a Lamborghini telling you to wake up at 4 AM.

That's not my dream. My dream is a terrace in Dehradun at 6 AM, mountains in the distance, chai in hand, a project I'm excited about open on my laptop, and nowhere I need to be until I decide to be there.

I have that. Right now. Today.

And I don't think people say this enough: you're allowed to be happy with what you have while still wanting more. Gratitude and ambition aren't opposites. I can look at my life and think "this is incredible" and "I want more of it" at the same time. Those thoughts coexist. Easily.

The trap is thinking happiness is a destination. That once you get the thing, you'll feel the feeling. You won't. Or you will, for a day, and then you'll want the next thing. I know because I've been there. Every milestone I hit, the goalpost moved.

So I stopped chasing the goalpost and started enjoying the field.

Living the dream. Not sarcastically.

-I.R.