On Finding What Was Always Right in Front of Me

Happy New Year, Good People!

I have to mention that I reluctantly shifted my gaze from the dazzling fireworks on New Year’s Eve to observe the celestial display: twinkling constellations, star clusters, steady planetary lights, and the captivating waxing gibbous moon.

Some predict — not based on the shining moon, but on Trend Forecasting & Analytics 2025-2032 — that 2026 will be a year of hope and breakthroughs, among other things. So, here’s to turning the page and writing a new, radiant chapter!

Before I ease into the new year and move forward, I always look back. So, at the start of 2025, I chose my guiding word: focus. It wasn’t a productivity catchphrase. It was a way to live sanely through what I expected would be an overwhelming year with post-election hangover energy, global crises, and constant noise.

In my post, On Targeted Focus, I wrote about narrowing attention to what I could touch: my immediate surroundings and my essential equipment: writing and support system. I didn’t realise how literal that would become.

So, in the spirit of targeted focus, community, and doors that opened, I’m sharing memorable moments and lessons learned.

1. A small brave return

The year opened in Finland the way it usually does: white, sharp and honest. Instead of snuggling up indoors, I stepped outside and did something that felt huge—I drove a snowmobile again after years of crippling anxiety. There’s an entire story behind of how pre-menopause and COVID gifted me anxiety… So, that ride wasn’t just a hobby. It was a choice to return, focusing on just one breath, one ride. Yes, it’s me there at the front, literally waiting for others to catch up. 🙂

2. The best gift I gave myself

Then in February, I gave myself the best gift of the year: I joined the Finnish-African Society as a volunteer. Often, we think of support systems as something we “get” if we’re lucky. But sometimes you build them. Sometimes you volunteer your way into belonging. Sometimes, support comes when you join something larger than yourself. Focus meant being present in my local community.

Over the course of the year, FAS became a place where my love for storytelling, the written word and culture flourished in real time. In turn, I met interesting people, had meaningful conversations, took part in energising events, and all through a shared effort. The world didn’t get less chaotic, but I felt both held and grounded.

3. A deep dive into AI without letting it steal my attention

Years ago, I was the oldest student, a Gen Xer, in an introductory class about AI. I remember how pissed off I was as I listened to the workings of AI and predictions about its future role. I also remember how the younger students, millennials and Gen Zs, were so excited about the ways technology continues to evolve.

Last year, my UX design studies allowed for a deep investigation of AI. I asked better questions, especially about its ethical use. I tested assumptions, and I learned enough to understand the tool. This was also part of focusing, and curiosity with boundaries, and not letting the loudest voices drown reason. Now, I’m in a place where I’m neither worshipping AI nor panicking about it.

4. Spring with floods of ideas, a story and a bridge

The year truly begins in spring. Fresh creative ideas arrived like birds returning. It was a good problem to have—so many stories to tell, so many directions. So, focusing meant choosing an idea that deserved my energy; and I stayed with fiction.

A story is like the wind. It comes from a far-off place, and we feel it.”

This proverb attributed to the people of the Kalahari stayed with me. Because that’s how Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s visit felt — something written elsewhere arriving here and stirring a room into being.

This was one of the moments I could feel the lineage of stories, the way literature travels and gathers people. Focus also looked like a bridge connecting continents, strangers, private acts of reading and the public act of building culture together.

5. A season to be happy. Period.

Summer doesn’t require a thesis. And Finnish summer makes one understand why people here endure the long winter with so much patience. The season brought the kind of happiness my targeted focus made room for. These were uncomplicated, perhaps unearned, but allowed moments to experience joy without apologising for it, and focusing on relationships that matter.

6. A highlight I’ll carry for years

In June, I had the privilege and pleasure of meeting the first lady of Finland (and briefly, the president). It was an experience made possible by Adichie’s book, and the shared love of African literature we foster through the Finnish-African Society.

It’s difficult to describe what that visit signified without sounding like I’m bragging. But the truth is, it impressed my heart more than my ego. It’s about what happens when you show up for something you believe in — creative expression, literature, cultural exchange… Unexpectedly, you find yourself in rooms you never imagined entering. This was one highlight of my year.

7. Finding beauty in unexpected places

Autumn held travel. Travel is a kind of focus, too, as it forces attention. It invites one to notice how the sun seems brighter in another location, the cadence of an unfamiliar language, the kindness of strangers, and the beauty tucked inside places you didn’t expect to cherish.

I found myself moved not only by the iconic, but by the unexpected. The in-between places and moments that don’t fit neatly into a caption. Maybe that was the theme of 2025: the best parts weren’t the loudest.

Even November in Finland — when darkness can sink into the body and trigger seasonal affective disorder — found me steady. Despite the chaos in the world, I stayed focused on routine, community, movement, meaning, and rest. I’m grateful for my health, and showing up for myself.

What focus ended up meaning

Focus didn’t just protect me from overwhelm. It returned me to myself. It connected me to my people; the African diaspora in Finland and the Nordic region. It led me to rooms with warm bodies and genuine laughter, and the kind of meaning one can’t measure with likes. I thought I was choosing a coping strategy, but I was choosing to show up. And to quote Phillip Lim, I was also choosing to connect with whomever is (physically) close to me.

As always, and regardless of the “word” practice, I’d love to hear about your 2025. What did you focus on, big or small? Please do share! 🙂