Making sense of a nonlinear life

From tech to writing, and from Tajikistan to Bali, what am I doing with my life?

As a digital nomad, I could have been anywhere I wished to be. Out of all places, I found myself on a drive towards the Uzbekistan border from Tajikistan. A hit Bollywood song from the ‘80s played in the background.

“Jimmy ♪ Jimmy ♪ Jimmy ♪”

“Aaja ♪ Aaja ♪ Aaja ♪”

The driver, a big Bollywood fan and an avid tobacco chewer, was thrilled to have a passenger from the land of Shah Rukh Khan. He made sure to entertain this passenger with Bollywood music all through the one hour ride!

There was just one problem: I was seated on the wrong side for the best views. 

One guy in the shared cab understood English. I requested him to capture a picture on his side of the window.

This was one scene from a typical day in my two months spent in Central Asia. A time where I learned to shout Khorosh (translates to Goood!) when my teammate scored a goal while playing football with the locals. Got a peek into their lives through conversations over long walks on (surprisingly well maintained) sidewalks in Dushanbe. Generously got offered extra free fruits by a lady in a Margilan market. Got pestered by a group of girls at a mall in Andijan. Warmly got invited for meals despite no common language. (And learnt that these invitations are to be refused at least three times and then accepted if still insisted) My ideas of the world were constantly challenged in the time I spent there.

After this time in Central Asia, I wanted to be somewhere more comfortable and focus on work. So I came into the comfortable digital nomad haven of Bali. 

As I am writing this piece from my apartment in Bali, my cup of chai rests on the edge of this couch, something my mom would freak out on seeing. Mom, it won't fall; that only happened once when I was five!

The peaceful serenity of this place, contrasted with the bustling memories from Central Asia, leads me to reflect on the unconventional path my life has taken. I'm eager to understand it better. Then, by pure coincidence, I stumble upon the mimetic theory in David Perell's writing, which helps me make sense of my nonlinear life.

At its core, Girard’s mimetic theory argues that humans are imitative creatures. We subconsciously pick up desires, goals, and even lifestyles from those around us. The theory questions the originality of our ambitions, hinting that what we often 'want' might not stem from our inner selves but from societal mimicry.

Perell goes on to say, 'Competition distracts us from things that are more important, meaningful, or valuable. We buy things we don’t need with money we don’t have to impress people we don’t like.' 

This idea resonates with me deeply. If we strip away the influence of mimicry, what are we left with? What do we genuinely value and why?

Unintentionally, I've been sidestepping this tendency to mimic, with my way of life.

If I had simply come to Bali, I would have still felt compelled to follow some subculture. Like being an indie hacker, building micro SaaS products from the beach. 

But within the last year, I have sung the works of medieval Indian poets at a workshop in the Himalayas, commuted lying in our host’s rickshaw kart after partying all night in Kampot, and chatted about life over a delicious Lebanese breakfast prepared by another host in Abu Dhabi. The sheer diversity in my lived experiences strips away strong influence from any one place. It takes away any idea of “me” I had gathered and what “I” should be doing.

“And when you go long enough being uncertain of who you really are, what results is a form of subtle, long-term meditation — a persistent and necessary acceptance of whatever is arising (..)

And at some point, you just stop asking questions. And start listening. To the waves and the wind and the calls for love in all of the beautiful languages you will never understand.

You just let it be. And keep moving.”

—Mark Manson on 5 Life Lessons From 5 Years of Traveling the World

Mark Manson’s words resonate with the rhythm of my own experiences. I am void of very specific desires because of this constant flux of my nonlinear choices. And this is perhaps the entirety of my quest. To get away from being too specific. To let things emerge more organically.

If a Bollywood song can echo in remote parts of Central Asia...I can keep my cup of chai on the edge of the couch and simply focus on writing. 

And as I sit here thinking back, trying to make sense of a nonlinear life, I realise—it does not need to make sense.