Why the Mundane Is Precious in a High-Friction World

Give me mundane and ordinary, any time. Thank you.

surprising what a weekend can reveal when you begin paying attention to the mundane and the ordinary. This past weekend reminded me of that, and it opened a space for reflection on family, philosophy, ageing, resilience, and the blessing of everyday life.

Across Continents

Yesterday — a Saturday — my husband and I had a long chat with our kiddies, the children, who are now based in London. It was the kind of conversation that stretches across hours. We don’t talk often, but when we do, the length and the quality always make up for the gaps.

We started at 9:30 a.m. NZDT, which was 10:30 p.m. Friday in London, and we finished around 3:30 p.m. Six hours is our usual minimum. Sometimes it stretches to eight. Time simply disappears when you’re talking with the people you love. In the span of one call, we could have flown from New Zealand to another country — that’s how long we stay on.

It’s heartening to see the kiddies — they’re in their thirties now, hardly kiddies anymore, though I still call them that — enjoying their lives. And of course, there is some discontentment, especially for my youngest son. His career here in New Zealand was flourishing. He was a Senior Policy Advisor in the Public Sector, with experience including the New Zealand Treasury. But when he moved for his O.E., his overseas experience, to the UK, the timing collided with global challenges. It took him months to find work. He had to pull himself together and accept roles he would never have considered at his professional stage back home. But a job is a job is a job. Eventually he found a position at the Borough Council, in the borough where he lives with his sister.

And yet he is toughing it out — using this period to strengthen his character, to look back, to reflect in the present, and to look forward with more clarity about what he wants for his career.

Our daughter, his older sister, is doing well. She’s enjoying her singlehood, spending time with friends, and really blooming. She came out of two long-term relationships — heartbreak is heartbreak — but once she recovered, she was grateful for the chance to rediscover herself. She travels everywhere, and we’re so happy for her.

And through all of this, one thing always warms my heart: how close the kids are to my husband — their stepdad. Their connection with him is stronger than what they have with their biological father, who has been largely absent from their lives. Seeing that closeness, that trust, that respect and appreciation — it is a great blessing of our family.

Family is precious no matter where you are. Staying connected matters. And I am deeply appreciative of how far technology has come. Many years ago — almost a lifetime ago — when I lived and worked in the UAE, the internet existed but staying in touch with the kids was still a struggle. They were younger then, and it was an awful time for all of us.

So now, I’m grateful.

Moments like these remind me how deeply connected we all are, even when we are continents apart.

The Philosophy, Interconnectedness and Concern

And you know, I will always choose the mundane — any time, any day — especially in this very uncertain and high‑friction world. That simple, grounded normality is a gift. And moments like these make me think more deeply about the work I do.

I work as a professional coach and an intuitive consultant, and over the years I’ve had the privilege of helping people from all over the world. Through my engagement with so many souls — and through looking back at my own life experience from a very young age — I discovered and named a philosophy I have lived by. I’ve only recently begun sharing it publicly with anyone who is interested.

I’ve posted an explainer on my Notes about this philosophy. It speaks to the two aspects of a living human being: the spirit and the vessel. It explains why we often experience internal conflict — because the spirit and the vessel do not always want the same thing, nor do they perceive life in the same way. And the philosophy also explains the gap between our expectations and hopes for the world we live in versus what is actually happening around us.

If you’re curious, you can look at the Notes and you’ll see the full picture of what I’m talking about.

But going back to the essence: we are living in a high‑friction world. I’m beyond my mid‑fifties, and I’ve seen economic challenges before, but the pace of change now is something else entirely. The world is evolving at breakneck speed, especially in the age of AI — which brings enormous opportunities and equally enormous difficulties. It is always a double‑edged sword.

And in the Zammtopia Philosophy — in my philosophy — this is exactly the kind of world the spirit revels in. The spirit celebrates the intensity, the contrast, the sheer opportunity for expansion. The vessel may struggle, but the spirit is fully alive in this kind of environment.

The reason why this age of AI feels like the exact texture the spirit wants — the texture the spirit longs for — is because the parallel between spiritual expansion and technological expansion is incredibly strong. They don’t just run side by side; they intertwine. It is, as I’ve said, a double‑edged reality: the joys of medical breakthroughs, scientific discoveries, and technological advances, alongside the heartaches of diminishing or shifting opportunities, wars, conflicts, clashing theologies, political turmoil, geopolitics, and the rising cost of living — especially here in New Zealand, where salaries are not keeping up.

It is a high‑texture time for the spirit.

In my philosophy, we cannot escape this texture. We can only learn to navigate it. And to do that, we must take care of our bodies — the vessel — and rest, so that we can withstand the friction of the world we are living in. If you want to learn how to navigate this kind of world, I simply invite you to explore the philosophy on my website. This is just one aspect of it.

Reflecting on my children’s challenges — even though they are flourishing — nothing is perfect. There is always some discontentment. And that discontentment is good. It is an opportunity to feed the spirit with the texture it needs.

Because when there is discontent, we are meant to reflect, to go through realisations. We plan. We try to find the best options. But we can only do this when we are supported by the Four Pillars.

I don’t want to sound like I’m selling, but I have to explain it as part of my reflections. In my philosophy, there are Four Pillars — Critical Thinking, Personal Agency, Consistency, and Intuition — essential in navigating a world that is becoming more complex and high‑friction as each day passes, or so it seems.

I am so grateful to see the Four Pillars flourishing in my children. They engage critical thinking in understanding what is in front of them. They exercise personal agency in the paths they choose for themselves. They are consistent in trying to make the best of what they have. And the discontent they feel is being used — consistently — to spur further growth and ambition.

Only through the consistent practice of the first three pillars, until they become second nature — Critical Thinking, Personal Agency, and Consistency — can Intuition be reached. Intuition is mastery.

I don’t tell my kids this, but this is how I feel and hope: for as long as they are supported by these Four Pillars in their lives, I know they will be okay. And if the challenges become too much, then we will find a way as a family.

We are their parents and will always be here for them.

But not everything is straightforward. I have another child — my eldest son — who has recently become estranged from us. It was his decision, and we respect that. We are giving him the space he needs to figure out what he must do, because there is so much challenging texture in his life at the moment. A prolonged one. And of course, it has taken its toll on him.

He is a strong person. He has gone through challenges in the past and has always found a way. But this challenge is different. It is also shaped by the breakneck changes happening in the world. I can sadly say his career is among those impacted by AI.

We can only hope that in the future, he will find his way back to us when he is ready.

Whenever that happens, we are here.

And even though the kids have their own difficulties, these are not separate from us as parents. The texture they experience becomes our texture as well, because we worry and we are happy for them.

As parents, we will always wish them the best, no matter their age or stage in life.

When my husband and I are in our eighties — hopefully — and they, our kiddies, are in their fifties, they will always be our children, regardless.

This is how we see our interconnectedness as a family — the spiritual path of the unit is intertwined.

Menopause

Yesterday, during our long conversation with the kids, they expressed their concern about my health. I used to be very active — indoor biking for hours, walking, moving, feeling strong in my body. They remember that version of me.

But now, being menopausal, the body changes — and those changes are not always to our liking.

And I’m not shy to talk about menopause. It’s a stage of life. I have friends who are menopausal, and millions of others out there are too.

My friends and I often laugh about our similar experiences. We’ve come to the conclusion that as menopausal women, even if we just eat air, we will continue to inflate like balloons. It is what it is.

Breaking Inactivity with the One Step Method

I digressed a bit — so let me go back to the conversation with the kids.

They lovingly and tactfully expressed their concern for me, and want me to become active and fit again.

I appreciate that. It’s not only parents who teach and guide; when your children become adults, their love shows through the advice they give back to you.

Their concern made me reflect on why I stopped being active in the first place.

Five years ago, I took a full‑time job that was truly demanding. It drained my energy in ways I didn’t expect, and because the job consumed so much of me, my physical activity slowly disappeared. I left that job in June to build up my own business — Zammtopia — which I had neglected all those years. And as I began building Zammtopia, I also began sharing the philosophy I have lived by. That philosophy is the essence of Zammtopia.

Since June, I have been busy figuring out how to effectively share this philosophy. There was a lot of reflection involved, a lot of self‑dialogue, and a lot of recollecting — remembering how I navigated the toughest parts of my life.

My spirit was truly living it up in those days, because I, as the vessel, was providing it with gritty texture through the challenges I faced — in abundance, enough to sustain my spirit for this entire lifetime. And having said that, I still have an abundance of texture in my experiences, as one should expect when one is alive.

I was also backtracking how I’ve helped other people think differently when they were experiencing texture. And when I talk about texture, I don’t just mean the difficult parts. Texture is the full spectrum — joy and challenge, expansion and contraction.

I’ve helped many people over the years, and revisiting those experiences took time. It was demanding in its own way. I started creating the structure I felt was best for sharing how to live by this philosophy — the same philosophy that helped me survive the undesirable textures of life. And spiritually speaking, my spirit was full in those days.

Since November, I have been consumed — truly consumed — with how to present and share this philosophy in a way that resonates. Because it worked for me, and perhaps it might work for others. I am happy to lend the philosophy to anyone who finds resonance in it, until they reach a point where they are strong enough to form their own philosophy in life. That is my hope.

And that is the real reason why I haven’t been active. The work consumed me. Even last year, on my birthday, my children gave me a ten‑session yoga pass as a gift — and I still have not used it. When we talked about it on Saturday, they were shocked. But I promised them I would use it in the coming weeks.

To get myself out of the rut, I told them I would practise the philosophy I believe in — the One Step Method. I would start with fifteen minutes at a time and build from there. My daughter seemed happy to hear that.

And today, I kept my promise.

It was a beautiful day — well, not “beautiful” in the way Wellingtonians define it, because Wellingtonians love clear, sunny days. But it is officially autumn here, and it was drizzling, misty, and cloudy. That is the kind of weather I love. So my husband and I went for a two‑hour walk in Zealandia, the bird sanctuary here in Wellington. It is a very successful sanctuary — that alone is another topic for reflection.

But it was a good day. I have so much more to share about that walk — it was enjoyable, a little spooky, and full of small moments worth noticing. I took a lot of pictures, which I would love to share in my next post.

I Love the Mundane and the Ordinary

And just tonight, I was texting with a friend who was worried and a bit scared about how our world is at the moment — uncertain and high‑friction.

As it stands, the mundane is a gift.

When we have the time, the space and the stability to appreciate the ordinary, we should — because so many people would trade places with us.

There are families in conflict zones, people caught in crossfires, individuals whose lives have been overturned in an instant. All we can offer them from where we stand are our thoughts, our love, and our concern. And if we are spiritual, we can pray and send our intention into the universe — that they may find safety, that they may find peace, and that they may one day return to the simple blessing of the mundane.

And the fact that I am able to sit here, write, and share my thoughts — that too is mundane — a blessing.

Ordinary? Oh yes please. Any time.

I’m a great appreciative fan of the mundane and the ordinary — especially in a world where everything can shift in the blink of an eye.

– Zamm Zamudio, 
Founder, Zammtopia