Think about this, old friend. You are not being assembled from fragments of nothingness. You are not under construction. You are not late. You are being selected. Moment by moment, breath by breath, you are chosen from a vast library of possibilities that has always existed. The confident you wait patiently— calm, confident of your arrival. The successful version of you hangs quietly in the unseen closet of reality, tailored, pressed, and ready— just waiting for you to reach in and finally put it on. The regulated, calm you hums beneath the noise, a steady current beneath the surface turbulence, never absent—only unheard. And what about the creative you? It has never stopped knocking. Not once. It waits at the door with paint on its hands and light in its eyes, p atiently trusting that someday you will open it and realize who’s been calling the entire time. Nothing is missing here. Nothing has gone wrong. Nothing needs to be forced. You are not growing late in your life—you'...
Welcome to a story for those seeking a shore in a world full of waves. They say every soul is born with a vessel—a fragile raft woven from memories, names, roles, and stories. We spend our lives sailing on it, believing it to be I Am. This man did too. He charted his course through life, certain of the captain he thought he was, secure within his sturdy wooden identity. But one day, as all seekers do, he leaned too far into the world of distractions— and slipped. Not into water… but into himself. Suddenly, he was in the ocean, not merely on it. This ocean was not made of saltwater— but of thoughts. Endless. Restless. Ancient as time. A wave of memory swept him backward into what was. Another threw him forward into imagined futures. North and south, east and west— he spun through currents of regret and hope, fear and desire. For the first time, he realized: The ocean was not outside him—it was him. His breathing became shallow. Every thought acted as a riptide, dragging him ...