'NYC Fit Living'

  Consider this, old friend : from the moment your eyes first opened, a spell was cast—not by malice, but by habit. Voices you trusted pointed and named: “Blue.” “Tree.” “You.” “World.” And like soft clay, you received each word, pressed into shape by hands that themselves had been pressed.  You were never asked whether it was true. You had no reason to doubt it. So the dream created its scenery—houses, rules, fears, futures, gods, heroes, villains—and you moved through it as if it were real.  Hypnosis through agreement. Inheritance through repetition . Yet, even in this trance, there were moments of sudden clarity—like a sleeper stirring before waking: a hush between thoughts, a gaze without a name, a sense of being the sky instead of the cloud. That was no fantasy. That was you. Awakening is not an achievement, old friend; it is a recognition. The snake does not learn how to slip its skin. It does what it has always done when the old shape grows tight. The caterpillar d...

  Consider this, old friend: From childhood we are taught that progress is addition — and in the material world, this may indeed be true, bringing comfort and completion to our physical existence. Even so — more success, faster and shinier technology, more numbers, more facts, more achievements piled ever higher. Yet the seeker comes to see that no matter how lofty the tower, it never touches the sky. And so the seeker believes awakening must follow the same law: more  scriptures, more seminars, more books, more knowledge piled upon knowledge. But this endless addition only creates weight — binding us to concepts and illusions, leading us further from our true nature. The real path is subtraction — the art of unlearning, of shedding layer upon layer, until we return home to the self that was always here. Enlightenment is not the sum of accumulation. It is the art of subtraction. The art of letting go. The art of shedding — peeling away the conditioning until we stand naked aga...

                   Consider this, old friend. We dwell within a realm of opposites, a stage of the mind where forces clash, blame festers, and hearts grow heavy.  In this theatre of duality, no clarity is born. Division begets division. Conflict births conflict. Anger breeds hate, and hate begets violence. But the world calls for something far greater — a masterpiece of unity. Not forged in the struggle of opposites, but woven from a single thread — a principle, a vision, a purpose, a love. United we rise. Divided we struggle. Such is the nature of the mind’s realm — two sides of a coin locked in endless battle: Right against Left. Light against Darkness. Right against Wrong. Self against Self. Within this earthly dimension of duality, peace cannot dwell. Light cannot thrive. Love cannot abide. These are not found in thought. They are not born of the mind. To know peace is to rise above the mind… into a state of no-mind. To know lig...

                                      Sit, breathe, and remember, old friend. You are not the images flashing on the screen. You are the screen itself — clear, open, silent and untouched. Picture this: thoughts are like trains. Fear pulls in. Desire departs. Memories arrive. Plans rush through. Watch them come and go at the station. Do not board. There is a presence in you that does not chase or cling. It notices each arrival and departure — bright, bruised, trivial, sacred — without keeping a schedule. It simply watches. So let’s begin. Find a seat that supports you. Let your posture soften. Take three slow breaths, letting the air sink to the hara — the quiet space below the belly. From here, the day opens. Now ask, softly: “Who notices this breath? Who watches these thoughts?” Pause. Don’t rush to answer. The answer will not shout. It comes like a silent breeze slipping through a small crac...

Consider this, old friend. When the mind begins its restless spin— caught between the ache of yesterday and the whisper of tomorrow— when you find yourself circling in faded echoes of memory or sketching fragile outlines of what has not yet arrived, Pause... Breathe into the stillness... See it plainly for what it is: a carousel of thought, horses dressed in painted illusions, a tune repeating endlessly, spinning in circles— forever going nowhere.” And in that radiant instant of awareness, whisper gently within: “My point of power is here— in this present breath, in the quiet space between thoughts...in this radiant now." Feel the tether snap. Watch as your attention, once bound to phantoms, turns like a flame rekindled and returns to the hearth of your own presence. For a moment, the object dissolves, and the subject awakens. The attention that once chased outward makes a graceful turn inward, returning home to itself. Here, in the untouched present, you uncover the hidden throne...

Consider this, old friend… Money is but a symbol, a shimmering invention of man, born from the ancient barter when one loaf of bread was weighed against a jug of wine, and later etched in gold, silver, and ink.  But beneath its shifting forms lies the essence of all things—energy. Energy moves, flows, transforms. And here’s no accident—the very word currency comes from current. Like electricity, it flows, and in flowing, it gives life to everything it touches. So too with money—it is the current of human exchange, sparking opportunity, illuminating paths, and nourishing all who stand within its stream. Even when you place it in the vault of a bank, it is not resting—it is lent, invested, circulated, feeding the roots of commerce and the branches of human endeavor. Money flows not from people but through them—just as the river does not belong to the rock or the reed, but moves past them, nourishing all it touches. Notice how it changes in value, this idea of exchange. A dollar was w...