Joy often shows up when we’re not chasing it. And change, even forced change, can be good for the soul.
I saw a murder happen right in front of me, and the most unexpected thing took place.
Most people, when they hear “murder,” think crime. But what do you see?
For me, it started when I was told by my doctor to take it down a notch. In fact, he basically said: shut it down. Two weeks, no gym, no training. After 4–5 years of exercise being my drug of choice, this was like going cold turkey.
It was challenging in a different way. My body clock still woke me at 5am, but now I was told to do nothing. No physical strain. No routine. No escape.
So I did a few things differently. Instead of listening to a podcast, I picked up a book, a real one, and read a chapter each morning. Then I’d go out early for a slow walk.
And that’s where I walked right into a murder.
Not the kind you think.
A murder of crows. Every morning, I passed the same unexpected scene: a man in a wheelchair, walking his dog and simultaneously feeding a flock of crows. At first it seemed surreal. But then I realised this was their ritual. They knew him. Waited for him. Followed him with excitement like children. There was a bond.
What struck me most wasn’t just the crows. It was his smile. Every morning, he greeted me with a joy that felt pure. He was fully present in that moment, surrounded by birds and simplicity.
Sometimes we miss these quiet moments life offers: sharing a coffee, a walk, a small connection, because we’re always reaching for something more. But there’s something powerful in giving without expecting, in simply being.
This pause, this break from routine, reminded me: joy often shows up when we’re not chasing it. And change, even forced change, can be good for the soul. Not changing could lead to a more severe sentence.
