Photo by Sergiu Nista on Unsplash |
I spotted a tiny creature sitting on the cool tiles in my bathroom.
It was a little frog, no larger than the tip of my thumb. Its brown body stayed perfectly still, but its eyes gleamed with quiet alertness. I could’ve splashed some water to guide it down the drain. Instead, I let it stay, even entertaining the idea of naming it. Disgusting, I know.
It struck me how small the frog’s world must be. The bathroom might have felt like an expansive wilderness to it. And yet, the frog didn’t seem burdened by its smallness. It wasn’t planning to return to the drain, go to the front yard, or leap across the street to a larger pond (I know there’s a big puddle behind my housing boundary wall because I often hear frogs singing there after the rain). It was simply being, doing what frogs do.
I found myself envying the frog. Strange, I know.
Life, for so many of us, feels like a relentless climb, like a pursuit of bigger things: bigger achievements, bigger homes, bigger reputations. We are constantly told to reach for the stars, to chase our dreams. But what if we didn’t? What if we allowed ourselves to breathe out and live small lives, like the frog in my bathroom?
Living small doesn’t mean abandoning dreams or ambitions. It means embracing the idea that our worth isn’t tied to how much we achieve or how far we go. It’s about finding joy in the simple moments like coming home early enough to enjoy a quiet evening with a loved one, or a stress-free weekend without dreading Monday. These moments make life rich, even if they don’t make headlines.
I used to think of chasing a higher career ladder. But now, I’ve started to believe that climbing the career ladder isn’t for me anymore, especially when I observed my coworker staying in the same position for years, and he seemed perfectly fine. He didn’t need to attend meetings to present concepts or take responsibility for the work because his leader handled all that.
The higher the position, the greater the responsibility and stress—things that could easily take over my life. Where I am now feels enough. Honestly, the thought has crossed my mind that I no longer want to be a leader.
And so, I’ve begun to approach life with the same quiet simplicity as the little frog. I no longer need to fill every moment with action or every space with noise.
Perhaps, like the frog, we are all just navigating our own small worlds. And perhaps that’s enough.
P.S. I have a small pond in my garden, home to a frog we’ve named Toto the Toad. Maybe the tiny frog in my bathroom is Toto’s child, going through the drain to pay us a visit. 😁