Ironical is the statement “colors of life” or that “life is colorful.” Because neither do we see the colors, nor do we want to see them. We look at things as black or white. Both colors so different, so opposite, so far apart, and yet can’t exist without each other, right? Black or white. No…
The path before me may be visible, but the way I walk it must remain mine. When I choose according to my own truth, even solitude becomes meaningful. Peace tells me I am aligned with myself; its absence asks me to reconsider.
True liberation lies in refusing to let suffering turn us bitter, angry, or diminished. We must learn to claim authority over ourselves while surrendering the desire for power over others. It is difficult to remain true to ourselves when circumstances test us, but perhaps freedom begins precisely there, in choosing, again and again, to belong to ourselves.
This one has always been a tricky one for me, ’cause my son is not always as curious as other kids his age, never into destructive play, always needed a +1 to engage him. There is a part of me that felt that a child should be allowed to be bored, to sit idle with…
My son is a voracious reader, eager to even read his favorite books a second and third time. You will see him, over 60% of his free time, sitting with a book, which, in the current scenario, is commendable. I believe there is one factor, one action, that trumps all others here. And that is—mimicry….
Ancient stone, weathered carvings and the sea close by — Mahabalipuram made me slow down and wonder about all that had passed through this place before me.
Some feelings resist every measure we invent for them
