From a Restless to a Peaceful Soul

I have always been a restless soul.

For me, being restless doesn’t mean being anxious or dissatisfied. It means having a genuine desire to do many things, to explore different activities, to follow curiosity wherever it leads. I don’t do things because I have to. I do them because I truly want to. I’m interested, engaged, alive.

And yet, there’s a fine line between curiosity and overload.

Last year I read Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman. In simple terms, the book reminds us that our time is radically limited and that trying to do everything only leads to frustration rather than fulfillment. I deeply agree with this idea. Intellectually, it makes perfect sense.

But agreement is one thing. Having a little hamster running inside your brain, constantly whispering “you could do more”, is another.

I didn’t invent this voice, I grew up in a performance driven culture where value is measured by output.

The more you do, the more you achieve, the more worthy you are.

Productivity becomes identity.

Achievement becomes approval.

And approval becomes safety.

For years, I also worked as an Agile Coach. Agile frameworks are built around continuous improvement, reflection, retrospectives, feedback.

Do better.

Improve.

Optimize.

Fix what doesn’t work and make it better next time.

This mindset makes a lot of sense in software development.

But humans are not software.

At some point, I realized I don’t recognize myself in the society I live in. I’m not chasing luxury, status, or accumulation. I don’t care about big cars, fancy objects, or overflowing wardrobes.

I’m drawn to simplicity. To nature. To quiet moments and spacious days.

I love reading a good book. Drawing something colorful without a purpose. Spending time with warm friends and furry animals. Living slowly, intentionally, gently.

So why, despite all this, do I still feel restless?

Because change doesn’t happen overnight.

Over the past years, I’ve changed many of my habits and the way I relate to the world. And yet, the old version of me still shows up sometimes, especially in moments of stress or anxiety.

It asks me to do more. To achieve more. To prove something.

The tension between who I want to be and who I was trained to be shows up in subtle ways: in my inner dialogue, in the way I speak to myself, in the way I react with the people I love most.

This is where my work truly is.

For 2026, I’ve set a big personal goal.

Thanks to my Equanima, a workbook for health, I was able to design this goal with care, break it down into monthly milestones, and support it with small daily practices.

Not to push myself harder, but to stay aligned.

Not to perform better, but to live better.

Maybe being a restless soul isn’t something to fix. Maybe it’s something to understand.

Not something to silence, but something to gently educate. Learning to recognize when movement comes from curiosity and when it comes from fear.

And you

Do you recognize a restless part in yourself?

And if so, what is it asking for right now