by Zhander P’ng
I was born on April 29th. I wake up every morning at 4:29 AM. Not 4:30. Not 4:28. 4:29.
It’s my way of saying happy birthday to myself—every single day. A quiet reminder that I exist. A ritual, a promise. An acknowledgment of my own presence. I am here. I am alive. I am showing up.
Every Saturday and Sunday morning, I follow the same routine. I read. I journal. I write.
Then, I take my walk to Starbucks in Zona Romántica, passing through the Malecón and the beautiful Banderas Bay.
It’s been over a hundred days of this now—a hundred days of discipline, a hundred days of intention, a hundred days of choosing to see the world differently.
And today, something clicked.
Even on Sundays, my routine remains the same. I get up, get dressed, and get out of the house—an intentional act in itself. As I walk down the hill, the cold breeze grazes my face, and the first thing I see outside my home is the wide, open ocean. A reminder. A reset. Every day, I set a new intention, a new transformation. And every day, before I step out, I bury a piece of my old self—the parts that no longer serve me.
It hasn’t always been easy.
In the beginning, even getting up and stepping outside felt hard. But once I’m out, the universe knows how to embrace me.
This routine—this ritual—has been more than just habit.
It’s been an evolution. A shift. A deepening awareness of myself and the patterns I once moved through unconsciously.
And with this shift, I made a vow: “Even if I cheat, I will never cheat on myself, I will never lie to myself again. I will honor myself”
Because honoring myself is the foundation of self-love. My non-negotiable. And honoring myself doesn’t stop with me—it extends to how I engage with the world.
The Art of Looking Up
For most of my life, I walked with my head down—avoiding eye contact, shrinking into myself, moving through the world unseen. But recently, I learned about posture. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.
Stand tall. Meet the world. Stop hiding from it.
So today, I walked differently. Head up. Shoulders back. Eyes forward.
And honoring myself means change—changing habits, breaking patterns, shifting thoughts, and moving through the world with intention.
It means seeing people. Truly seeing them.
Because if I am precious, then so is everyone else. We are all equal. No one is better. No one is lesser.
A Simple Greeting, A Hard Choice
So today, I made it my mission to greet every single person I passed.
A simple “Good morning” or “Buenos días.”
It sounds small. But when you say it to a stranger, it feels big.
It feels vulnerable. It requires effort.
I could have said, “Hola.” That would have been easier, simpler. But I didn’t want to cheat my way out.
I wanted to choose my hard.
Because the truth is, everything in life is hard.
- Being fit is hard. Being out of shape is hard. Choose your hard.
- Building discipline is hard. Living without structure is hard. Choose your hard.
- Showing up authentically is hard. Living a life where you hide is hard. Choose your hard.
- Being disconnected is hard. Being present is also hard. Choose your hard.
- Feeling unseen is hard. Making the effort to see others is also hard. Choose your hard.
- Living in fear of what people think is hard. Living boldly and vulnerably is also hard. Choose your hard.
So I chose.
I chose to lift my head, straighten my shoulders, and acknowledge every single person I passed.
The Power of a Greeting
In my 22-minute power walk, there’s something powerful about a simple “Good morning.”
Two words. But they hold weight. They carry presence.
And as I walked, I said it again and again.
To the expats. To the locals.
To the older gentlemen at the pier.
To the dog walkers. To the runners.
To the couples. To the solo women on their phones.
To the man sweeping the restaurant floor.
To the security guard sitting in front of the building.
To the trash collectors.
100 Good Mornings
Over a hundred people.
And the responses? They varied.
Some people smiled and lit up. Some returned the greeting with warmth. Some nodded in acknowledgment. Others offered a quiet nod. A few avoided eye contact altogether—lost in their own world, earphones in, head down.
And that’s okay.
Because I’ve been that person, too.
And some ignored me completely.
Not just my words—they ignored my presence. Wouldn’t look up. Wouldn’t shift their expression. Wouldn’t acknowledge that I existed.
And that stung.
Because deep down, we all want to be seen.
We all want to feel like we matter.
And when someone dismisses you—even a stranger—it can feel like rejection.
But then I realized something.
Not Everyone is Ready to Receive
And that doesn’t mean we stop giving.
We don’t know what people are carrying.
• Maybe they had a fight with their partner last night.
• Maybe they lost someone they loved.
• Maybe they got devastating news.
• Maybe they’re drowning in stress.
• Maybe they’re just wired differently—quiet, reserved, lost in thought.
I know what it feels like to retreat inward, to block out the world, to carry something heavy inside.
So I didn’t judge them. I simply observed.
The Moments That Struck Me Most
It wasn’t the tourists or the chatty expats that stood out. It was the ones who are often overlooked.
• The security guard standing watch before the city fully wakes up.
• The janitor sweeping the sidewalk before anyone notices.
• The man emptying the trash bins, moving through the streets unseen.
I made sure to look them in the eye—to see them.
And in those moments, something shifted.
Their faces lit up—sometimes with surprise, sometimes with gratitude.
A moment of being acknowledged.
Not for their job.
Not for their uniform.
But for their existence.
That’s what people want.
To be seen.
To be heard.
To be validated.
And for that brief second, in a simple exchange of buenos días, they were.
Not everyone will smile back. Not everyone will acknowledge you.
And that’s okay.
Kindness isn’t about what we get in return.
That was my first lesson of the morning.
It’s about who we are.
I don’t greet people because I expect something from them.
I greet people because I refuse to walk through life disconnected.
Who We Were Taught to Respect—And Who We Weren’t
I was raised to respect my elders. I was raised to respect teachers, authority figures, people in positions of power.
But I wasn’t raised to respect the janitor.
Or the trash collector.
Or the street cleaner.
I wasn’t raised to acknowledge the people society deems ‘less than.’
And that needs to change.
Because every human being—no matter their job, their background, their status—deserves to be seen.
As long as you are alive, you are worthy of respect.
And that’s why I do this.
That’s why I choose to show up.
Choose Your HARD
But let me be real—this was hard.
I don’t know where this journey is leading me.
I don’t know what this practice will evolve into.
But I know there is something bigger ahead.
I feel it in my core.
It’s hard to put yourself out there.
It’s hard to meet people’s eyes, to break the silent, invisible barriers we all build around ourselves.
It’s hard when some people ignore you.
It’s hard when others look at you like you’re crazy—like, Why is this shiny-nailed, happy Asian twink smiling at me at 7:30 AM?
Choosing My Hard
And I’ve come to realize—life is about choosing my hard.
I choose the hard that aligns with my purpose.
And today, that meant walking through Banderas Bay, greeting the world, and reminding myself that happiness doesn’t come from what we have.
It comes from what we give.
A moment.
A smile.
A connection.
And that? That is beautiful.
Over a hundred people.
A hundred different stories.
A hundred different worlds wrapped up in human form.
Their silence is not a rejection of you. It’s just where they are at that moment in time.
And you know what? That’s okay.
Because I want to live in a world where we acknowledge each other, where we lift each other—even if just for a second.
Because I choose the hard that leads to connection.
I choose the hard that leads to presence.
I choose the hard that builds the world I want to live in.
And maybe, just maybe—
That’s the hardest, most beautiful choice of all.
So whether someone smiles back or keeps walking, the point remains:
I showed up.
I made an effort.
I put love into the world.
And maybe, that’s all I really wanted to say.
I see you.
I love you.
I care about you, even if I don’t know you.
