Universal Truth

There’s something oddly comforting about realizing some things just… are. They don’t ask for our opinion. They don’t change because we’re having a bad day. They remain — steady, silent, and sometimes inconvenient — like gravity or the sunrise. We call these “universal truths,” and while they can be simple, they’re anything but small.

It took me a while to appreciate this.

For most of my life, I fought against the tide. I thought if I worked harder, tried more, pushed further, I could change everything. If someone didn’t like me? I could fix it. If something wasn’t fair? I could reason it into fairness. I thought logic, or maybe just force of will, could override the deeper patterns of the world.

Spoiler: it couldn’t.

There’s a difference between giving up and surrendering. Giving up is hopeless. Surrendering — in the right sense — is about humility. It’s about recognizing that some things exist outside our control, and fighting them only drains the energy we could be using to shape what is in our power.

One of the most universal truths I’ve come to accept is this: you don’t get to skip the hard parts.

It doesn’t matter how kind you are, how prepared, how deserving. Pain comes. Grief visits. People leave, jobs end, bodies fail, dreams shatter. We spend so much energy trying to avoid discomfort, but discomfort is often the only thing real enough to teach us anything that sticks.

Here’s another truth: we all want to matter.

Even the quietest among us want to be seen, to be acknowledged, to leave some kind of mark — even if it’s a small one. We want to be heard in our own way, in our own voice. That need drives so much of what we do: the careers we chase, the photos we post, the relationships we form. Underneath it all, there’s this soft, persistent desire to be understood.

And then there’s this one: everything changes.

This is both terrifying and relieving. The good moments pass — which makes them more precious. But so do the bad ones — which gives us hope. Nothing stays stuck forever, even if it feels like it. Time moves, people grow, perspectives shift. What broke you last year might become your strength next year. You never really step into the same river twice. You’re different. The river’s different.

That truth has saved me more times than I can count.

When I’m anxious, it reminds me this feeling won’t last. When I’m joyful, it nudges me to appreciate it more deeply. When I’m afraid of the future, it reminds me: change is inevitable — but I get to influence what direction it takes.

Another universal truth I’ve learned the hard way: you cannot change someone who doesn’t want to change.

No amount of love, logic, begging, or sacrifice will rewrite someone else’s internal script unless they pick up the pen themselves. It’s hard to accept, especially when you care. But trying to save someone from themselves usually ends with both people drowning. Love doesn’t mean fixing. It means holding space without losing yourself in the process.

And this one’s a kicker: you are not your thoughts.

If you’re like me, your brain can be a wild place — full of contradictions, judgments, fears, and spirals. For years, I thought every thought I had said something about me. If I felt lazy, I was lazy. If I felt broken, I was broken.

Turns out, the mind generates thoughts the way the stomach digests food — constantly, automatically, sometimes badly. Thoughts aren’t facts. They’re just brain weather. Some days, sunny. Some days, stormy. You don’t have to believe everything you think. You can observe, question, and even let them pass by without grabbing onto them.

And maybe that’s the biggest universal truth of all: awareness changes everything.

Not control. Not perfection. Not certainty. Just awareness.

Awareness allows you to pause before reacting. To notice your patterns. To make new choices. To be present in a moment, instead of replaying the past or rehearsing the future. Awareness gives you power — not over everything, but enough to start rewriting your story from the inside out.

So many of these truths aren’t glamorous. They don’t belong on glossy motivational posters. But they’re real. They live in quiet moments: the decision to apologize, the choice to rest, the courage to say no, the willingness to begin again.

They whisper, not shout. But if you listen closely, they can shape your entire life.