Autumn - 2026

It was February, when nature was beginning to come alive,
Full of energy, colour, and blessings.

Today, I revisited my blog and realised, Oh, what a long time it has been!
Time slips through our fingers, and in what feels like a matter of minutes, we grow and age.

My son is now 1.8 years old, and that, in itself, is a constant reminder of how quickly time passes.

Often, I lose track of time.
I am not careless, nor whatever else you may call it.
But perhaps, I have simply been too occupied with my work.

And suddenly, the trees surrounding me have changed their appearance.
They have turned golden, slowly losing the strength to hold on to their leaves.

Yes, a gentle reminder of impermanence.

There are two seasons for which I feel a particular fondness, perhaps even a little dread: Spring and Autumn.

Both stir something deep within me. A strange mixture of sadness and joy, so intertwined that it is difficult to put into words.

So many emotions run through my mind, yet the beauty of what I have experienced during these seasons cannot possibly be captured on paper.

Never. Impossible.

Some things are simply too beautiful to be written down. They are meant to be felt, lived, and carried quietly within us. And so, these moments will remain with me.

How selfish of me, perhaps, to find such pleasure in these fleeting moments.
But then, is it really selfish?
No one else can quite relish what I do, in the way that I do.

Autumn has already struck.

Let me lean back, take a deep breath, and sink into the pleasures it has to offer.

For a little while, let me simply be here, watching the leaves fall, feeling the passing of time, and embracing the beauty of impermanence.

Written on 12/10/2026 at 12:25pm after Nine Months Have Already Passed since my last post

2026 Reading List

 1. Some books on Trading by Trader Dale

2. NOX

-Anne Carson (read after announcing the author as the winnder of 2026 Nobel Prize in Literature) on 12/10/2026

First Flower - 2026

 The frost of 2026 is slowly surrendering its throne.

The days begin to stretch their golden limbs,
while the nights quietly fold themselves shorter and softer.

What once stood bare and brittle
now gathers courage beneath the earth—
roots whispering, sap rising,
life rehearsing its return.

Perhaps in a few days, perhaps in a month,
Vancouver will breathe again in colors—
petals unfolding like gentle confessions,
blossoms spilling across streets and skies,
as if the city has remembered how to smile.

It is the early morning of February 27.
I step outside my room,
and there—right beside me—
the trees have already dared to bloom.

The very first flowers of this year.

A quiet joy flickers within,
then beams outward—
a warmth brighter than the fading winter air.

May these white blossoms be auspicious,
carrying luck in their fragile petals.
May they whisper fortune into every passing heart.
May they delight every eye that sees them,
and bless every soul that comes near.

སྤྱིལོ་ ༢༠༢༦ ལོ་གསར་ཚེས་ལ་ བཀྲིས་བདེ་ལེགས།

It was a cold, brooding morning—around 8:30 a.m.—when I began writing this note. The Canada Line slowed to a halt at Marine Drive, releasing a tide of people, each carried forward by quiet determination toward their workplaces. The grey sky seemed to mirror the rhythm of the city: subdued, yet moving.

It has become a quiet ritual of mine to write something at the dawn of every new year. This time, however, whether due to laziness or the simple misalignment of time, the words refused to come—until now. This year feels different. I carry within me a larger dream and a renewed sense of direction in my career. Somewhere along the way, I realized I have discovered something I am deeply passionate about—something that aligns naturally with who I am. If I remain steady and do not falter, I believe this path will stretch far into my life.

My wife has been working tirelessly, carrying a heavy emotional weight in the absence of our son. Yet I am hopeful—we will bring him back to us soon. For now, he is safe in the loving care of his grandparents, growing and maturing beautifully. My greatest dream for him is to give him a strong educational foundation. Bhutan has never failed in imparting education, but my own journey was marked by challenges—particularly the quiet discrimination tied to my ability to speak and write English. Despite being academically capable, I often felt handicapped in my pursuit of knowledge. I have long believed that with stronger English skills, my career might have reached an entirely different level. Too often, people measure intelligence and competence through fluency in English alone.

That is a struggle I do not want my son to inherit. I understand the opportunity cost—it may mean less time devoted to Dzongkha—but if he cooperates, I am confident I can guide him toward a balanced and meaningful understanding of both.

My wife is also considering taking a short course this year, and I hope we can make that happen. More than anything, I pray for our health, stability, and the strength to keep moving forward together. May this year unfold with kindness. May 2026 treat us gently.

As I close this entry, I hope for peace—not just for us, but for the world.

Happy New Year!

PS: Today we celebrate 11 months since Norzang’s birth. Happy birthday, my dear. May each cell in your body develop with the purpose of benefiting all sentient beings

The End of 2025!

Just getting ready to step into New Year’s Eve with Joemar’s family, I find myself quietly rewinding the year behind me. As 2025 plays back in my mind, I see a season filled with opportunities accepted, challenges faced, and lessons learned—sometimes gently, sometimes the hard way.

This year stands among the most important chapters of my life, joining a few other unforgettable years that shaped who I am. I became a father to my son, and with that came a powerful shift—into a new generation, a deeper sense of responsibility, and a clearer awareness of time moving forward. Aging no longer feels abstract; it feels purposeful.

Though I haven’t yet been able to do as much as I wish for my parents and my wife’s parents, my efforts continue—for them, and for the family we are building together. Every step I take is with them in mind.

Professionally, this year brought hope and direction. I successfully applied for permanent residency, and I carry that hope with me into the new year, trusting that good news will follow. More importantly, I finally recognized my next true goal—my identity taking shape through my occupation. I stepped into it, explored its foundations, and planted the seeds. As the new year begins, I hope to nurture it, let it grow, and give it life.

Here’s to the remarkable year that was 2025. I’m grateful to everyone who crossed my path, directly or indirectly—each of you moved me forward, inch by inch, in ways seen and unseen. May the days ahead bring conditions that help everyone grow, stay safe, and find happiness in their own becoming.