how to
How to become motivated to become the best version of yourself.
The Little Magician: The Lionel Messi Legend
In the dusty neighborhoods of Rosario, Argentina, a boy barely taller than the goalposts danced with a ball at his feet. He was small, almost fragile, but there was something about the way he moved—a balance of elegance, instinct, and imagination—that made even older boys stop and watch. That boy was Lionel Andrés Messi, and though the world didn’t know it yet, football had just found its next legend.
By Abdullah khanabout a year ago in Motivation
Bliss in the Smallest Moments
Bliss in the Smallest Moments A life lived in fragments taught me where real joy hides. By: Hamza Yaqoob I used to think that happiness would arrive all at once. Like an acceptance letter, a graduation cap, or a single yes that could change everything. But life didn’t work that way for me. Not when you’re born in a dusty corner of the world where even sunlight has to fight its way in through broken windows.
By Dr Hamza Yaqoob about a year ago in Motivation
The Price of Perfection: A Workaholic’s Wake-Up Call
In a towering glass building in the heart of Manhattan, Thomas Reynolds sat behind his mahogany desk, staring into the blue glow of his dual monitors. The clock struck 11:47 PM, but he barely noticed. His fingers danced across the keyboard, typing legal jargon faster than most people could read. He was preparing for yet another high-profile case, one of many that had kept him at the office day and night. At 34, Thomas had everything most people dreamed of—a six-figure salary, a luxury apartment on the Upper West Side, and a reputation as one of New York’s top corporate lawyers. But there was one thing missing: peace. To outsiders, Thomas was the embodiment of success. Always sharp in his tailored suits, punctual to the second, and with an unmatched work ethic. He hadn’t taken a vacation in three years. Birthdays, holidays, even weekends had become blurred by meetings, court dates, and late-night deadlines. He believed rest was for the weak. And perfection? That was the only acceptable standard. But beneath the polished exterior, Thomas was unraveling. He barely remembered the last time he had a real conversation with someone that didn’t involve work. His fridge was empty except for takeout boxes and energy drinks. His phone was filled with unread texts from friends who had long stopped expecting replies. His life was a never-ending checklist of goals, and yet he felt more hollow with each accomplishment. It all came crashing down on a cold Tuesday morning. Thomas had been working on a major corporate fraud case. With three hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, he stood to give a presentation when his vision blurred, his hands trembled, and then—darkness. He collapsed on the conference room floor. When he awoke, the sterile lights of a hospital room greeted him. A nurse stood beside him, holding a clipboard and a worried look. “Mr. Reynolds, you suffered from extreme exhaustion. You need to rest. Your body is literally shutting down.” For the first time in years, Thomas was forced to be still. What struck him wasn’t just the diagnosis. It was the silence. No friends visited. No family came running. His colleagues sent a polite email wishing him a speedy recovery, but no one actually showed up. The realization hit him harder than the fall—he had built a life so focused on work, he’d forgotten how to live. During those quiet hospital nights, he thought about everything he’d missed: his niece’s dance recital, his best friend’s wedding, his mother’s last birthday. All traded for late nights and empty victories. He remembered an old quote he once saw but laughed at: > “Don’t get so busy making a living that you forget to make a life.” Now, lying in a hospital gown with an IV in his arm, that quote felt like a slap. When Thomas was discharged, something inside him had shifted. He didn’t go back to the office. He turned off his phone, deactivated his email, and booked a cabin in the Catskill Mountains. Alone. He spent three weeks hiking, reading, cooking his own meals, and—most surprisingly—doing nothing. No schedules, no deadlines, no courtrooms. Just him and the forest. At first, the silence was deafening. But eventually, it became healing. He started journaling, something he hadn’t done since college. He wrote about his childhood dreams, his fears, his regrets. He began to realize that his obsession with perfection was rooted in fear—fear of failure, of not being enough, of not being seen. But the truth was, in chasing perfection, he’d become invisible—even to himself. When he returned to the city, Thomas made bold decisions. He met with his firm and explained his need for balance. He requested reduced hours, set firm boundaries, and even declined a promotion. For someone once addicted to overachievement, it felt like rebellion. He joined a yoga studio. Reconnected with old friends. Started dating again—not casually, but with intention. And for the first time in years, he laughed. Really laughed. One night, over dinner, his friend Emily—who hadn’t seen him in over four years—said, “You look different. Lighter. Happier.” Thomas smiled. “I finally realized that perfection was the most exhausting lie I ever believed.” Today, Thomas still practices law, but on his terms. He has office hours, takes vacations, and spends his weekends offline. He’s no longer interested in being the best at the cost of his well-being. He wants to be present, peaceful, and whole. He often tells people: > “Your job can replace you in a week. But your health, your relationships, your soul? Those are irreplaceable.” And whenever he hears someone brag about being a workaholic, he gently shares his story—not to scare them, but to save them.
By Abid Ali Khanabout a year ago in Motivation
The Power of Positive Thinking: How Changing Your Mindset Can Transform Your Life
I used to believe that life was something that just happened to me — a series of random events, some good, some bad, all outside of my control. I thought success, happiness, and peace were things reserved for other people, not me. For years, I carried around a mindset heavy with doubt, negativity, and fear. Every challenge felt like a mountain I couldn’t climb, every failure a confirmation that I wasn’t good enough.
By majid aliabout a year ago in Motivation
10 Tiny Morning Habits That Make My Days 10x Better
Have you ever noticed how one good morning can make your whole day feel better? I used to wake up feeling tired, stressed, and rushed. My mornings were full of chaos, and that energy followed me all day. I thought I needed a complete lifestyle makeover, but the real change came from something much simpler—tiny habits.
By Dadullah Danishabout a year ago in Motivation
I Traveled 6,000 Miles to Forget Him—It Didn’t Work. AI-Generated.
I Traveled 6,000 Miles to Forget Him—It Didn’t Work I thought new places would erase old love. But the farther I ran, the closer he followed—in memory, in music, in everything I tried to leave behind.
By Javed khanabout a year ago in Motivation
When you don’t feel ‘enough’ – Healing the pressure to constantly prove yourself
There’s a quiet exhaustion that comes from always needing to prove you’re good enough. Whether it’s at work, in relationships, or just in the way you move through the world - this pressure can feel invisible, yet all-consuming. You do more, push harder, and still wonder why it never feels like enough. The truth is, worth isn’t something you earn, it’s something you remember. This is a journey of healing the belief that you must hustle for your value.
By Olena about a year ago in Motivation
I Pretended to Be Rich in London for 24 Hours—Here’s What I Learned
StartA few weeks ago, I decided to run an unusual social experiment: I wanted to know what it feels like to be rich. Not just upper-middle class or decently successful, but genuinely wealthy—the kind of wealth that turns heads, opens doors, and changes how people treat you. As someone who has always lived a fairly normal life, this wasn’t something I was doing out of boredom or for content. I was deeply curious. Does the world really treat you differently when you look rich, even if you aren’t? To find out, I set aside one full day, rented some expensive clothing, borrowed a friend’s luxury watch, and booked one night at a top-tier hotel in central London using a steep discount. My goal? Live for 24 hours as a “wealthy” version of myself and observe how people responded to me. --- Morning: A Luxurious Wake-Up Call I woke up in a suite at The Ritz London. The bed felt like a cloud, and everything in the room—golden fixtures, velvet curtains, and fresh flowers—screamed elegance. I had breakfast delivered to my room: a small plate of truffle-scrambled eggs, a croissant, and freshly squeezed orange juice. The bill? About the same as my weekly grocery budget. I took a few pictures for Instagram. Nothing too obvious—just a corner of the breakfast tray, a blurry shot of my watch beside a coffee cup, and a glimpse of the chandelier in the background. Within minutes, my inbox was full of messages. “Big moves, bro!” “Are you staying at The Ritz?!” “You’ve made it, haven’t you?” I didn’t lie. I also didn’t explain. I just smiled, realizing how little it takes to make people assume something about your life. --- Afternoon: The Illusion in Action Dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit and shiny brown loafers, I stepped into a chauffeured Bentley I had rented for an hour. We drove through some of the wealthiest parts of London—Mayfair, Kensington, Knightsbridge. I visited a few designer stores. Gucci. Dior. Louis Vuitton. I didn’t plan to buy anything, but I wanted to see how the staff treated someone who looked like they had unlimited spending power. To my surprise, it worked. I was greeted with champagne in one store, offered a private consultation in another. Salespeople smiled, made polite conversation, and hung on to my every word. No one asked for proof of wealth. My clothing, posture, and confidence were all the proof they needed. --- Late Lunch: Expensive, but Lonely Around 2 PM, I had lunch at a rooftop restaurant that overlooked Hyde Park. I chose the cheapest thing on the menu—a salad that cost nearly £30. The presentation was beautiful, and the service was flawless. But there was something hollow about it. Everyone around me looked polished, serious, and a little bit... disconnected. Conversations were quiet, eyes often on phones, and no one was really laughing. I felt like an actor in a movie I didn’t fully understand. A woman nearby struck up a conversation. She asked if I was in finance or “some kind of startup.” I gave a vague answer. She handed me her card and told me to call her if I ever wanted to collaborate. I thanked her politely and watched as she left with her wine barely touched. The view was amazing. The food was average. The whole moment felt surreal. --- Evening: The Act Starts to Fade By sunset, I found myself at Sky Garden. I sipped on an overpriced cocktail, watched the sun dip below the skyline, and looked out at a city that never sleeps. People took selfies, couples posed by the window, and I tried to enjoy the moment. But I couldn’t. For nearly 12 hours, I had been pretending. Every smile, every comment, every movement—I was constantly thinking, “How would a rich person do this?” I hadn’t relaxed once all day. Later, I attended a networking event at a luxury lounge. Everyone looked like models or CEOs. I mingled, made small talk, and nodded politely as people discussed property investments and art auctions. But I didn’t feel like I belonged. I missed being myself. By 11 PM, I was back in my actual apartment—a small, shared flat in a less glamorous part of London. I took off the borrowed clothes, washed off the cologne, and finally exhaled. The day was over. --- What I Learned Pretending to be rich didn’t just teach me how people perceive wealth—it taught me something deeper about identity, pressure, and the value of authenticity. 1. People Respond to What You Project When I dressed the part, people assumed I had money. They treated me better, offered more respect, and smiled more often. It made me realize how much of our daily experience is shaped by appearance. 2. Wealth Is a Language There’s a subtle way wealthy people move, talk, and even stand. It’s a performance, whether intentional or not. If you don’t speak that “language,” people notice quickly. And maintaining that image is exhausting. 3. Luxury Feels Good, But Doesn’t Equal Joy Sure, the food was fancy and the views were stunning, but I wasn’t happy. I was performing. The pressure to keep up the image made it hard to actually enjoy anything. 4. Social Media Is Just a Highlight Reel My photos made it seem like I was living my best life. But no one saw the reality—the stress, the borrowed outfit, the loneliness. That made me question how much of what I see online is real. 5. Authenticity Is More Powerful Than Appearance The moment I stepped back into my own shoes—literally and figuratively—I felt better. There’s nothing wrong with success or luxury. But when it’s real, it feels peaceful. When it’s fake, it’s just pressure. --- Final Thoughts Pretending to be rich for one day was thrilling, eye-opening, and slightly depressing. I got a glimpse into a world many dream of, but I also saw the cracks beneath the surface. I don’t regret doing it. In fact, I’m glad I did. It made me more focused than ever—not on looking rich, but on becoming successful in a way that feels true to who I am. Next time you scroll through Instagram and see someone living a dream life, remember: they might just be acting, like I did. And sometimes, being real is the richest thing you can be. writing...
By Abid Ali Khanabout a year ago in Motivation
Rich Thinker vs Poor Thinker
In a small town lived two men, both born into modest circumstances but destined for very different lives. Their names were David and Tom. Both had similar education, grew up in the same neighborhood, and faced the same hardships. Yet, the choices they made in their minds would lead them down drastically different paths.
By YOUNG MINDSETabout a year ago in Motivation
The Last Chair in the Room"
1. The Empty Auditorium The first time Maya stood on a stage, the auditorium was nearly empty. Just a janitor sweeping the back row and an old woman knitting in the second. She was 17, full of nerves, and every word in her speech trembled out of her like a bird afraid to fly. But she did it. She spoke for exactly 4 minutes and 32 seconds. And when she finished, no applause followed. The janitor kept sweeping. The woman kept knitting. She walked offstage, cheeks flushed, thinking: Maybe I’m not meant for this. But something stopped her from tearing up her note cards. A chair. A single, plastic chair in the middle of the room. Empty, upright, facing the stage. Waiting. Maya decided that day that no matter how many people filled or didn’t fill that room, she would always speak as if someone was sitting in that last chair. Listening. Needing. Hoping. Because once upon a time, she had been that person.
By Arshad khanabout a year ago in Motivation
The Last Chair in the Room
1- The Empty Auditorium The first time Maya stood on a stage, the auditorium was nearly empty. Just a janitor sweeping the back row and an old woman knitting in the second. She was 17, full of nerves, and every word in her speech trembled out of her like a bird afraid to fly. But she did it. She spoke for exactly 4 minutes and 32 seconds. And when she finished, no applause followed. The janitor kept sweeping. The woman kept knitting. She walked offstage, cheeks flushed, thinking: Maybe I’m not meant for this. But something stopped her from tearing up her note cards. A chair. A single, plastic chair in the middle of the room. Empty, upright, facing the stage. Waiting. Maya decided that day that no matter how many people filled or didn’t fill that room, she would always speak as if someone was sitting in that last chair. Listening. Needing. Hoping. Because once upon a time, she had been that person. --- 2. The Fear of Being Ordinary Maya was not born with a silver spoon or a perfect voice. Her father drove taxis in Detroit; her mother cleaned homes. They taught her to survive, not to dream. But Maya, as a child, would steal moments under her blanket with a flashlight, writing stories on old receipts, cereal boxes, and napkins. Her stories were about warriors with no swords, queens with broken crowns, and misfits who refused to fit in. But the older she grew, the louder the world became. “Be practical.” “Find a real job.” “Motivational speaking? That’s not a career, that’s a TED Talk fantasy.” She tried to obey. She enrolled in a business course at a local community college. She sold insurance for two years. She even worked at a shoe store where the slogan was: “Fit in or walk out.” Irony never paid well. Still, every time she passed a mirror, Maya felt the same gnawing truth: She was afraid of being ordinary. --- 3. The Risk Nobody Saw One stormy Thursday in April, Maya made a decision that terrified even herself. She quit her job, withdrew her college application, and took the remaining $372 from her savings. She spent $100 on a cheap microphone and the rest renting a hall for her first event. She printed fifty flyers that said: > “You’re Still Enough: A Free Motivational Talk” By Maya Reynolds – A Nobody with Something to Say. The night of her event, it rained so hard the power flickered in the hall. Only three people showed up. A boy with acne who said nothing. A woman with swollen eyes. And a man with a coffee stain on his tie who kept looking at his watch. Maya could’ve canceled. She could’ve apologized. Instead, she took a deep breath and imagined the last chair in the room. She imagined someone sitting there who was about to give up but chose to come anyway. So she spoke. She told them about her failures, her fears, the time she nearly dropped out of high school, and the voice inside her that kept whispering: “Try one more time.” When she finished, the room was silent. But the woman with the swollen eyes walked up and said, “I was going to take my life tonight. I came here instead.” Maya never charged for her events after that. Not for a long time. That night changed her, not because she was thanked—but because she realized something profound: Success isn’t measured by crowds. It’s measured by impact. --- 4. Going Viral Isn’t Everything In today’s world, everyone wants to go viral. Maya tried it once. She uploaded a dramatic, tear-filled video with sad piano music in the background. It got 1,200 views in two weeks. The comments? > “Cringe.” “Stop faking it.” “Another wannabe guru.” It crushed her. For three weeks, she didn’t get out of bed. But then, a handwritten letter arrived. It was from the boy with acne who had attended her first event. He wrote: > “I never said anything, but you changed my life. I’m studying psychology now because you made me feel heard. Thank you for seeing me.” That letter sat on her desk every day for the next five years. Because what Maya learned was this: Going viral is a moment. Changing someone is a mission. --- 5. The Day She Almost Quit At 28, Maya had been giving talks for over a decade. She was still living in a tiny apartment above a laundromat, driving a rusty Corolla with a broken window, and eating canned soup three nights a week. She was invited to speak at a conference in Chicago. Her dream event. But a week before, the organizer called and said: > “We’ve replaced you with a bigger name. Someone with a larger following.” Maya didn’t cry this time. She didn’t scream. She just looked in the mirror and said, “Maybe I’m not good enough.” But that night, she got an email. From a teenager in India. It read: > “I found one of your old YouTube videos. I was bullied for my weight and tried to starve myself. But your story made me stop. I want to be a speaker too, like you.” That one email lit a fire in Maya that a thousand rejections couldn’t kill. She replied with just four words: “You’re already speaking. Keep going.” --- 6. The Chair Was Never Empty By the time Maya turned 32, she had spoken in 46 cities across 9 countries. She still didn’t have a blue checkmark. Still hadn’t written a bestselling book. But when she spoke, the rooms were full. Not just with people—but with stories. Survivors. Fighters. Dreamers who had once almost given up. She gave her final speech of the year in a high school gymnasium in Cleveland. She had lost her voice that week, was recovering from the flu, and debated canceling. But she didn’t. And in the crowd sat a girl named Ellie. Sixteen, foster kid, shy, sitting in the last chair. After the talk, Ellie came up and whispered, “I didn’t know anyone else felt like me.” Maya smiled. “Me too,” she said. --- 7. The Legacy You Don’t See Maya never got famous. Not in the way Instagram defines it. She never married. Never owned a house. She kept her Corolla until it died on the highway at 241,000 miles. But her inbox was filled with letters from people in ten different languages. Letters that said: “You made me believe again.” “You helped me leave my abusive relationship.” “You made me feel seen.” And every time Maya stepped on a stage, she looked at the last chair. Even if the room had a thousand people, she focused on the invisible soul sitting quietly in the back, wondering if they mattered. Because they did. Because Maya once had. --- 8. The Final Talk Maya passed away at 44 after a sudden heart condition. Only 93 people came to her funeral. But what mattered is who came. The boy with acne—now a psychologist. The girl named Ellie—now a speaker herself. The woman with swollen eyes—now running a shelter for women like her. The janitor who heard her first speech—who had kept the flyer all those years. And sitting quietly in the back row of the chapel? A new face. A young man with trembling hands, holding a notebook. After the ceremony, he approached the podium and said, “I never met her. But her video saved me last year. I had planned my suicide. Then I heard her say: ‘The world needs your story.’” He paused. “So here I am. Telling it.” --- Epilogue: The Chair Remains Some stories don’t need to be shouted to be heard. Some legacies aren’t written in books, but in broken hearts mended, lives saved, and strangers who felt understood. Maya Reynolds was never a celebrity. But she was something rarer: A lighthouse in a storm. A voice in the dark. A hand reaching for the forgotten. And somewhere, in every room, a chair remains. Waiting for the next Maya. And the next soul who needs her.
By Arshad khanabout a year ago in Motivation
A Businessman’s Journey
Arjun stood at the edge of a bustling street in Mumbai, holding a single worn leather bag and a heart beating with anticipation. The city felt like a giant machine, every person a cog working toward a dream. At twenty-two, Arjun was no different. He had left the quiet village where he was born to find a path, a purpose. All he had was a degree, a faint hope, and a relentless drive.
By Abdullah khanabout a year ago in Motivation
