Learning from Life Alone. (Rest-2)

As a generalist, I was once asked:
“At what point do you decide that you’ve learned something enough to truly judge it?”

Professionally, the standard felt clear.
I defined that moment as the point when I first got paid for the work.
To me, that meant I had immersed myself deeply enough in it, and had proven some level of expertise.

I’ve lived by going through many kinds of work, making judgments, and cutting things away.

Because life as a generalist always carried uncertainty,
I believed having a strength — something reliable to lean on when shaken — was essential.

While resting, another thought came to me.

When it comes to work, the criteria for judgment are clear.
But how do we decide what we truly like,
or what kind of person we are?

Is work equal to who I am?

.
.
.

Anyway,
through living alone and taking a break,
I think I came to understand this question a little better.

In a space where only I existed,
I tried many different things,
lived without worrying about anyone else’s gaze,
and even tried doing absolutely nothing.

And I realized…

As expected, I’m actually not very good at eating rice.
I need spaces that are wider, bigger, and more varied than I thought.
I’m lazier than I expected, enough that I need to be careful.
Music flowing through a space matters to me more than I imagined.
And I need people around me more than I thought I did.

One new discovery was this:
I don’t really like cities.
Which is why I’ve decided I’ll build my own house someday.
(At least 330 square meters wide.)
I even started sketching houses.

I learned a lot from living alone.

And though I still don’t fully know by what standard I made the decision,
I realized it was time to stop living alone.

I still need to think more about judgment itself,
but I do think I’ve spent these years constantly experimenting and exploring.
At some point, though,
it started to feel like this state might become stagnant.

One day, I looked around this space,
and it was unbearably quiet.
And I think I realized:
this quietness was me.
(Maybe it felt stronger because it was expressed through space itself.)

I feel grateful to this space.

I’ll leave behind what needs to be discarded,
carry forward what can be improved,
what I learned,
and what became my strengths —
keeping them safely as part of my journey toward myself.

→ Expected next mission:
What kind of furniture do I actually like? hahaha
(Right now, I just know I like black furniture because it makes objects stand out. I want to understand it more clearly.)

By stopping living alone,
I’ll probably become less free,
and collide with others more often.

But I also learned this:

Being slightly less free
can make life happier.

And maybe colliding with others a little more, too.

Right now,
it feels like I’ve finally placed the first piece of a puzzle.

And as I rest,
the future — which I had forgotten for a while —
is starting to feel exciting again.

(Migrated from d-exhale)

This text was machine translated.

Original language: Korean.