Fragments of the Quiet Mind

On the freedom of not knowing where you're going—and not caring who sees. We walk as if we’re always headed somewhere. As if movement itself is the purpose. But what if not moving was the truest form of existence? To be lost is not to be absent, but to be fully present in the world’s unspoken chaos. It is the only place where you can truly hear yourself. There’s an odd kind of peace in being directionless. The world demands a map, a plan, a goal. But in that silence, that unknown, I feel a truth that others miss— that the journey itself is the destination . We rush toward an illusion, pretending that destination will give us meaning, but the truth is, meaning is found only in the wandering. When I stand in the middle of a crowd, I am a whisper among shouts. I am invisible and, yet, I have never been more real. People are too busy trying to place their feet on the right path, but I’m learning the path is nothing more than an arbitrary line drawn by those who fear getting lost. ...

Is there really a problem? Or am I creating illusions of my problems? My problem – or perhaps, our problem is that we senselessly overthink about matters. We over think and we can’t stop rambling about these things. It’s better if people were like gadgets, just press the power button and we can make everything stop, reboot ourselves and reset buggy programs. We have sharp memories, like a knife that slices up peaceful realities. Sometimes, we act like scalpels that cut up the skin to release festering matter. But most of the times, we are idiots. We cut the flesh just for the sake of cutting it, and to see if we still have the ability to feel. And this is the most punishing moment, when you can no longer see the main reason why we got the knife in the first place. We are like a melodic silent song, one so silent that only us can hear, we move with the imperceptible tune and we sway with the beat. A lovely harmony of natural sounds where our brain willfully harmonizes the notes to craf...

The Cure and koRn, two of the bands that influenced me into music. What I like about the Cure is Robert Smith’s eccentric personality, his brilliant songs and how he ‘loses’ himself whenever he sings. Everytim I listen to his songs, It’s like having a casual walk in a forest and you forget time as you are basking in the serenity and tranquility of the place. Jonathan Davis on the other hand is also one of my personal favorites. Actually he was my favorite in high school. What I like about JD is his way of pouring out his angst in his songs. He lets his heart sing for him and let his emotions do the talking regardless of the profanity in his words. His bluntness is manifested in his songs, most people prefer painting flowers, but he would rather draw his pain and angst. That’s what makes him special. While browsing youtube, I came across this mashup – (well I’ve heard of this song years ago, but never really paid much attention, until now. I really love how they mixed “Make Me Bad – ...

We live as if endings are always signs of failure. As if something must be broken for the door to close, the chapter to end, the thread to unravel. But sometimes, things don’t end because they’ve fallen apart. They end because they’ve simply... faded.  Fading doesn’t need fixing. It’s not a flaw in the design of the universe—it’s just a shift in the seasons. Some things are meant to exist only for a time. They come to you like light from a distant star, bright and warm, but you can’t hold it forever. You can only bask in it while it’s here. We fear the end, don’t we? The clean break that leaves us standing in the aftermath, wondering what we missed. But maybe it’s not about what we missed. Maybe it’s about what we gained in the process of letting go. Not everything that fades is lost. Not everything that ends is broken. Some things end because they’ve already given us what they came to give. And that’s enough. We hold on too tightly to moments, people, dreams, as if by sheer forc...

To let go does not mean to stop caring, it means I can't do it for someone else. To let go is not to cut myself off, it's the realization I can't control another. To let go is not to enable, but allow learning from natural consequences. To let go is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in my hands. To let go is not to try to change or blame another, it's to make the most of myself. To let go is not to care for, but to care about. To let go is not to fix, but to be supportive. To let go is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being. To let go is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes, but to allow others to affect their destinies. To let go is not to be protective, it's to permit another to face reality. To let go is not to deny, but to accept. To let go is not to nag, scold or argue, but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them. To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires, but to take each day ...

If it happens, then it happens. If not, then not. Those words echo through my mind, swirling in a whirlpool of uncertainty and resignation. There's a certain beauty in their simplicity, yet they carry a weight that's hard to bear. Life is a tapestry of possibilities, a series of intertwined threads leading us down divergent paths. And here I stand, at the crossroads, grappling with the notion of fate and surrender. There's a part of me that yearns for control, that desires to shape my own destiny. I long to sculpt my future with deliberate choices and unwavering determination. But deep down, I know that control is an illusion, a fragile veil we use to shield ourselves from the unpredictable nature of existence. Life, in all its chaotic glory, refuses to be tamed. Yet, why does this realization fill me with a sense of both freedom and trepidation? It's liberating to release the burden of trying to force outcomes, to relinquish the constant striving and instead embrac...

Gentle touch of sunshine, Light kisses of rain. Tender breeze and mist combine, be freed from all the pain.