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.