Be still

Stillness is the absence of an external force driving our physical being. It’s a state of quality not everyone possesses.

Though in many ways stillness is a natural trait, we as humans have distanced ourselves from it. In the fast-paced world we call home, we no longer have the time or the energy to sit down in complete stillness and observe what happens around us. We’re working towards achieving big goals and high potentials that we seldom take a break from it all to focus on our inner selves. Our society and work culture has taught us to believe that being still equates being unproductive.

And so, to seek the meaning of our lives, we run along in the rat race. Along with so many others, we search and hope, for the one thing that comes only when we stop and reflect. Ironical.

For when we pause in our race and reflect our actions, everything becomes clear. Our life becomes more transparent, even for ourselves. When we no longer push ourselves forward with a vague goal in mind, we look within us. And then we see our life’s choices, our decisions, and our options—as another person does.

This is the most profound moment of reality: seeing our lives from an external perspective, without judgements, without bias, but with complete curiosity. That’s when we realise our true potential. Looking back at our life from a detached point of view, we identify not only our mistakes and missed opportunities, but we also see the little successes, the triumph that we often walk past without noticing.

We see those things that make our lives more meaningful, like holding a child for the first time, achieving the personal goal of eating well, receiving a word of advice from a wise old family member. It’s the everyday occurrences that complete our existence on earth. And by being still and channelling calmness through the mind, we become more holistic. Profound learnedness doesn’t come from seeing god, it comes from seeing our own selves.

Muting noise

Silence is a golden trait.

Noise and clutter are inevitable at work or in a social gathering. And that’s why it’s important to take time off, to let go of loudness and find a quiet spot to heal and reconvene our thoughts. For when we let our minds to be silent, to pursue the calm energy that silence brings forth, we let our minds to be at peace. We allow ourselves time and energy to reflect on our lives, to seek the truth within.

Most people who are silent, and sometimes introverted, keep to themselves and away from the chaos of the rest of the world. It’s not because we’re unsocial, but because we need time away to process what we take in.

I, for one, find it uncomfortable when I thrust myself in the company of many. I feel fine and accommodating at first, but after a while, I want silence wishing I weren’t there.

Most people assume that craving silence equals shyness. It’s not. Silence isn’t the absence of a voice. Silence isn’t a sign of weakness or meekness.

Silence is a sign of reflection. When I’m silent, I’m thinking, observing, listening to my inner self and trying to heed my soul. When the outside world shuts down, I hear myself better. When I’m not distracted by what’s happening around me, I focus on what’s happening inside of me.

And inside of me is chaos.

Every day I take in so much information—the good, the bad, and the ugly—that it becomes overwhelming to process at the time. When I’m alone at home, therefore, all the subdued information from before begins to sink in one at a time. When my body is away from physical noise, the inner monologue begins, trying to make sense of all that it heard throughout the day.

That’s when my self clarity peeks in, picking out the necessary and clipping out the unnecessary. As my mind empties itself of all things I brought back from work, my soul nourishes itself with the lessons I learnt while my consciousness relieves itself of the burdens.

Peace is a process. And it stems from practicing silence——silencing the external first the internal next. As the day winds and my mind finishes its process, I start to hear my own breathing, calm, and resting—ready to take on yet another day.

Because it’s Life

it's life

She went home everyday.

To loneliness.

The Bitter Truth

Lose all material possessions.

Zen?

Bankruptcy!

What happens when you listen too much

They say you need to listen. Listening is an important social skill, not to mention a life skill. I declared myself, in no less that 700 words (still don’t know how I managed that!), that I believe in listening.

But I also believe there’s something as too much listening. And unlike believing a magical man lives in the sky, this belief comes from some hard-earned experience I would’ve been happy without.

Because as important as it is to listen, it is also important to be heard — or in the simpler active voice — to speak.

That’s where I missed out. And it costs me. Every. Single. Time.

Imagine someone, who’s a great listener, who’s surrounded by sad people who don’t have anyone to talk to. Sure, these people have friends and are active on social media, but they have no one to talk about their deep feelings, their sadness, their worries, and simple joys.

What happens when you’re the listener in a world like that? You become likeable of course — which isn’t much of a surprise, considering you are the only person available for the others.

It feels great, uplifting even, to be the one person everyone turns to in times of need or worry. But — it’s just too easy to tip the boat.

And I’ve been there.

And I know: When you listen too much — people take advantage of you. You become the punchbag for others to vent out their feelings, and you end up depressed and sad.

And sometimes, all that listening makes me seem a loner, sadist, or pathetic, needy lunatic. But I don’t care. As long as I don’t bore others with my stories.