Candid Conversations Newsletter: Eudaimonia

A Meditation on Virtue

As we transition from one year to the next, we often find ourselves repeating old patterns even as we attempt to set new ones, all in hopes of developing a rhythm, a cadence that feels right. “Old habits die hard” has never felt more true.

2026 began with a bang for some. For others, uncertainty deepened. Not knowing what lies ahead or just around the corner feels less like an anecdote and more like a shared reality. Some people didn’t make it this far. And for those of us who did, gratitude must become a recognized posture.

About two years ago, during a conversation with someone who was then a close friend, they asked me a question that caught me off guard, and it hasn’t left me since.

“What do you believe in? You’re not exactly anything. You speak about the Bible with eloquence and intrigue. You love philosophy, the Rastafarian way of life, and Eastern spirituality. I can’t quite place you anywhere.” 

To be completely honest, I took offense. Why did I need to fit their narrative? Why did my beliefs need to be categorized, labeled, or neatly shelved?

I told them simply this.

I believe in what is good.

And I strive, every single day, to grow deeper in goodness.

Flour, Salt, Water 🍞

Just about a decade ago, I fell in love with sourdough breads and the discipline of making them. Long before it became popular during COVID, I went down the rabbit hole. I would rush home every day just to check on my dough. Equal parts flour and water, left to ferment.

Simple.

A good dough is essential to making sourdough bread. Some people have kept their methods for decades, even passing them down through generations.

What’s interesting about sourdough is that it’s both simple and deeply complex. The environment plays an essential role. Temperature, humidity, even the air itself affects how bacteria and cultures form. The dough responds to its surroundings. It changes accordingly.

Who would have thought that just three ingredients could be so intricate?

On Living Well ⏱️

Much like sourdough, our environment shapes us too. Eudaimonia is no different. The difference is that, like a good baker, we still retain agency. Regardless of the environment, we choose how we produce the final result.

What my friend missed wasn’t confusion.

It was coherence.

They were witnessing a life built on virtue. Not a strictly religious life, but a life grounded in being good.

In living well.

Eudaimonia.

A good life.

Eudaimonia is an ancient Greek concept often translated as human flourishing or living well. It isn’t about pleasure or fleeting happiness, but about fulfillment achieved through virtue, reason, and the realization of one’s potential. It is a lifelong practice, not a destination.

I try to let this serve as my inner compass. It’s a daily struggle. Failure is inevitable.

But each day offers another opportunity to grow.

The Search 🔎

Most of us spend large portions of our lives searching. Searching for meaning, the perfect job, a partner, a home. Searching for something we believe will complete us.

But the strange thing about searching is this.

When you’re searching, you’re often not open to finding something unexpected.

I once heard a joke that went like this.

“What’s the first thing you do after you lose something and finally find it?”

I paused, thought of several answers, and listed them out. They laughed and said, “You stop looking.”

Funny, isn’t it?

Yet in life, many of us never stop looking.

My friend was searching for their meaning, their spirituality.

And mine didn’t resemble what they were looking for.

What Cannot Be Taught 👨🏾‍🏫

If you’ve been reading these reflections for a while, you already know my love for books. Their feel, their scent, their weight, their quiet authority. Some have left indelible marks on me.

One such book is Siddhartha.

It tells the story of a man’s journey toward enlightenment. Siddhartha and his childhood friend Govinda walk separate paths. Govinda searches through teachings, doctrines, and disciplines. Siddhartha finds wisdom not through instruction, but through experience.

Years later, Govinda, still searching, asks Siddhartha to share something profound, something he can carry forward on his own path.

Siddhartha asks him to lean forward.

“Then,” he says softly, “kiss my forehead.”

A strange request by any measure. But Govinda trusts him and does so. In that moment, he is overwhelmed by a flood of faces, memories, and experiences, suddenly held together by meaning and structure.

Wisdom wasn’t explained.

It was felt.

When my friend questioned me, they lacked context.

They lacked structure.

But, how can you find something if you don’t know what you’re looking for?

And perhaps that was the difference.

Clarity arrives only when one is ready to recognize it.

Practice 🏃🏾

As 2026 unfolds, I’m reminded that a good life is not something to be chased, but something to be practiced.

I no longer search, not because the answers are complete, but because searching keeps me facing outward. Instead, I turn toward the daily work of developing, learning, and shaping who I am becoming. Paying attention to what yesterday revealed, what today is asking of me, and how both might quietly inform tomorrow.

This is not about perfection.

It is about presence.

About showing up with intention, even when the environment is uncertain.

In spite of.

Like sourdough dough, life responds to its conditions. Time, pressure, warmth, and patience all play their role. Yet within that environment, there is still choice. Still agency. Still the responsibility to tend what we’ve been given.

This, to me, is Eudaimonia.

Not happiness as a moment, but flourishing as a practice.

A life oriented toward virtue.

Toward growth.

Toward becoming useful, kind, and steady in ways that compound over time.

So I train.

I practice.

I sharpen what matters.

Whether that makes me a better friend, brother, son, father, or worker.

Or simply a better person.

And on some days, if nothing else, a better baker of sourdough breads.

Because what really matters is not arrival, but the attention we bring, our presence, and how we respond to uncertainty, I tend to what’s in front of me.

I practice.

I learn.

I adjust.

I evolve.

Until such time, may you find peace along your own path. May wisdom be kind to you in its gentle. unfolding.