I am caught in turbulent water, thrown against rocks – Panic rising: Will I get hurt this time? Will I escape? Will I choose something different, or drown in the same cycle again?
The current pulls me under, again and again – proving, performing, trying to show I am worthy of being here.
The same waters, the same rocks – they return until I learn. Sometimes these aren’t even mine – cycles passed down through generations, waiting for someone to finally break them.
Until – I see it: a choice. Stillness.
The voice – the sly one, dressed as fear takes over, masking behind persuasiveness. Before I realize, I feel defeated. I’m caught in my pattern. I recognize the cycle.
The frustration rises. I’m drowning again. But then, I pray for help and surrender. “Please help. Help me be gentle with myself.”
And I feel it – the courage to move on.
Again, the rocks, the panic, the realization: a choice.
This time, I pray. I stay in the presence. I ask my inner wisdom to guide me. I trust.
And I choose what wisdom shows me.
Then – a fresh breeze. Sunrise filtering through leaves, golden and simple. Birds singing. The smell of damp earth. I feel safe. At Peace.
The forest holds me gently. I am no longer proving, performing, drowning. I am simply here.
Somewhere in my healing journey, there was this gentle slowing down – a soft withdrawal from my usual urgency to react, to fix. Before, when I felt triggered or when sadness and panic hit, there was always this restlessness, this need to fix something, to move quickly. That place was not comfortable to be in.
What I never expected was that this slowing down was actually nature’s way of teaching me to be present. Through my trauma, I discovered this was a sign in my healing journey – that I was learning to let go and be more accepting.
One day when my best friend was asking me how I was doing, the words just came: “I’m steeping, like a tea bag in hot water.” I was surprised I even said that, because it was exactly how it felt.
Now when I need this time, I grow quieter, naturally gravitating toward solitude – long walks in nature, visits to the spa, or simply sitting on my balcony watching the sky and trees. I write sometimes, or just think, or don’t think at all. During this time, I don’t rush to process or understand. I just let whatever I’m feeling exist.
There’s something profound in this stillness. A calmness emerges that I never found in all my previous rushing toward solutions. Realizations surface naturally, like bubbles rising in still water. And in those moments, I find myself talking to my Creator – not in desperation, but in surrender.
“This is where I am. I need your help.”
It might take a day, sometimes longer, but eventually something shifts. There’s lightness. Clarity. A deeper understanding I couldn’t have forced. And always, always, humility.
I realize now that healing doesn’t happen through panic or the urge for immediate fixes, but through presence. Through simply being with what is, without needing to change it right away.
The most healing happens when I stop trying to heal and just… steep.
This process has taught me that sometimes the answer isn’t to do something about our emotions, but to be with them. To trust that sitting quietly with our experience, creating space for it to exist, allows something natural and necessary to unfold.
I’ve learned I need time alone with whatever I’m going through. And in that solitude, in that steeping, I find not emptiness but fullness. Not avoidance but the deepest kind of presence.
Maybe what we call healing isn’t always about getting better faster. Maybe sometimes it’s about learning to be present with ourselves exactly as we are, trusting that this presence itself transforms us in ways our rushing never could.
In daily life, whatever we do – whether we experience negativity like anger, frustration, jealousy, or hurt – I’ve come to understand that if we look deeper and deeper into our actions, we’re all seeking the same thing: peace, happiness, and contentment.
I think all that negativity is our unconscious way of trying to prove our self-worth through our ego. We demonstrate this in ways we’re not even aware of – through our struggles, our pain, our reaching for something more – all in an attempt to show that we’re worthy of love and recognition.
In my own life journey, I’ve recognized these patterns – wanting to feel seen, feeling inferior, trying to be the best at everything, people-pleasing, being self-critical, or carrying shame. Through my meditation practice and self-awareness, I’ve come a long way in understanding these tendencies. While they still show up every now and then, I can now choose differently when I notice them. We all have our own ways of unconsciously trying to prove we deserve love and happiness.
The truth is, we don’t have to do anything to earn that peace or prove our worth. It’s already within us. Our Creator loves us completely, and we have always had this love. The unconscious ways in which we try to prove our self-worth to ourselves and to others around us is never needed.
Sometimes we go through difficult experiences and learn from them. We realize that certain behaviors, thoughts, or choices aren’t bringing us the happiness we’re seeking. We start to notice that when we look for fulfillment outside ourselves – whether through hurting others, seeking power or even through self-criticism and shame – it doesn’t satisfy us. All these patterns come from the ego trying to find worth and meaning, when we already possess infinite worth simply by being.
When we observe how our life unfolds with these patterns, we can see how they affect the quality of our life and the quality of our mind. We can make different choices and turn inward instead. We can ask ourselves deeper questions about why we do what we do, why we react the way we react.
Many people don’t want to do this inner work because we’re afraid of what we might find about ourselves. We’re afraid of our shadows, our mistakes, our deeper wounds. But those questions, when we’re brave enough to ask them, can lead us deeper into self-awareness and self-discovery. It’s like removing a thorn that got deep within us. Yes, it hurts when the thorn is in, and it hurts even when we try to get it out – but we need to do it to be healed.
This process is beautiful. It’s a way of unbecoming who we think we are to discover who we were always meant to be – how we were originally created. The unbecoming process is like peeling away layers of an onion. As you go deeper, removing each layer of conditioning, fear, and false identity, you get closer to the pure essence that was always there.
This is what remains when everything else falls away – love, peace, and our true nature. We feel at peace knowing we do not have to prove anything to anyone. We feel comfortable knowing we are not perfect, and this makes it easier for us to let down our guard and accept ourselves as we are. This also enables us, as a ripple effect, to be more present and naturally accepting and loving toward others. When we are accepting of our own imperfections and loving toward ourselves, it becomes natural to extend that same acceptance and love to others. The nature of pure love is giving rather than expecting, and this changes our dynamic in relationships.
This understanding doesn’t require any special experiences or practices. It’s available to us in every moment of daily life, in every challenge, in every choice to look within rather than outside ourselves for what we’re truly seeking. Meditation practices help us through this self-awareness journey and help us become comfortable with ourselves. They allow us to see ourselves through a lens of detachment, helping us be more loving and gentler toward ourselves.
The journey inward is the journey home to who we’ve always been.
I’ve been having recurring thoughts about a particular service that I find meaningful and purposeful – something I could extend to others. But when I looked deeper, I recognized this mental chatter for what it was. A mind that is busy and urging action often stems from the ego seeking validation, while true divine guidance feels calm, peaceful, and organically natural. If something is truly meant to be, it emerges from this place of clarity and peace – not from racing thoughts.
Through my meditation practice, I’ve learned that God speaks to us through our hearts in the present moment. When we’re completely open to the here and now, we receive what we need. Meditation helps us recognize when thoughts come from ego versus divine guidance from our Heart and makes it a choice to shift back to simply being present.
So I realized: I don’t need to chase after racing thoughts or dreams. What’s meant for me will come in the given moment. All I need to do is be here and now, accepting whatever the moment offers with grace and gratitude. When I say yes to the Creator with a thankful heart, I become clear about what needs to be done – whether it’s catering to someone’s needs, cleaning someone’s space, offering a smile to a stranger, or feeding the hungry. The form doesn’t matter; what matters is the open-hearted presence I bring to it.
Even daily planning can flow from this centered space. When we plan from the present moment, it helps quiet mental noise and allows us to be more focused, rather than anxious about outcomes.
This insight deepened while I was eating. My mind became busy with random thoughts – thinking about this, planning that, wondering if I should watch something on my phone. These thoughts were pulling me away from simply being present and respecting the food before me. Then I remembered: I don’t have to chase after things to do or think about. The moment I felt this truth in my heart, everything shifted. I became quiet, fully present with my food, relishing every bite without needing any distractions.
This revealed something profound about mental restlessness. When we’re not present, the mind becomes noisy, always seeking something to chase or think about. This restlessness comes from the ego trying to maintain control, to feel important, to avoid the beautiful simplicity of just being.
We don’t have to chase anything. When we’re truly present, serving as instruments of our Creator, everything we need is already here and now. The peace, the purpose, the next right action – it all emerges naturally from this space of open-hearted presence.
May this reflection serve as a gentle reminder to return to the present moment, to trust in divine timing, and to find peace in simply being.
Have you ever gone to a movie theater by yourself? Bought that big bucket of popcorn, settled into your seat, and watched exactly what you wanted to see – no negotiations, no compromises? Have you ever taken yourself to your favorite restaurant, ordered your go-to dish, and simply enjoyed your own company?
I call it dating yourself. And it’s one of the most liberating things I’ve discovered in my thirties.
It all started when my bestie shared how much she loved going to theaters on her own. Something about that struck a chord in me. Her simple joy in choosing her own movie, her own time, without negotiation or compromise, inspired something in me I hadn’t realized I was missing.
My husband has always been wonderfully loving and surprising – he still is. This isn’t about lacking love in my life; it’s about discovering an additional layer of fulfillment I didn’t know I needed.
When I first tried going to a movie alone, I felt a rush of freedom I hadn’t expected. Just me, my popcorn, and exactly the story I wanted to lose myself in. The same goes for restaurants. Sitting alone at a table, ordering exactly what I’m craving, taking my time – it’s not lonely. It’s intentional. It’s caring for myself in the most direct way possible.
I used to wait for others to make my birthday special, to remember Valentine’s Day, to surprise me with thoughtful gestures. But somewhere along the way, I realized I was placing a heavy burden on the people I love – expecting them to be mind readers, to fulfill needs I hadn’t even clearly expressed.
Now? Every Valentine’s Day and every birthday, I take myself on a proper date. I plan exactly what I want to do, buy things that make me happy, celebrate who I am and who I’m becoming. It’s become my annual tradition – one I genuinely look forward to. And you know what’s beautiful about this shift? When my loved ones do surprise me – with a hug, a smile, a gift, a dinner invitation – it feels like pure joy instead of that craving or wondering within me about what they might do or give. They’ve always given out of love, but now I receive their gestures without the weight of expectation. When I do receive their loving gifts this way – already fulfilled and content – it’s pure bonus joy, free from any sense of need or demand. It makes me truly grateful for all the love I’m receiving, in a way I never was before.
I’ve learned to tell my husband exactly what would make me happy, without the guessing games. “I’d love a surprise,” I’ll say, “It could be anything.” And he delivers, every time, because there’s clarity now instead of pressure.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized how crucial it is to be comfortable with our own company – not just as we age, but throughout our lives. We need to know who we are when no one else is around. We need to enjoy our own thoughts, our own interests, our own dreams.
This isn’t about becoming isolated. It’s about building a strong foundation of self-knowledge and self-care that makes us better partners, parents, and friends. When we’re not constantly running from ourselves or depending on others to fill every emotional need, we can love more freely and authentically.
When we take responsibility for our own happiness, something beautiful happens. The people in our lives can love us without the pressure of being our sole source of joy. Their gestures become gifts instead of obligations. Their presence becomes chosen rather than needed.
And when life inevitably brings changes – when children grow up and need us less, when relationships shift, when we face the natural solitude that comes with aging – we’re ready. We’ve already built a loving relationship with the person who will be with us through it all: ourselves.
I was talking to a friend recently about how much I enjoy spending time with myself, and as I spoke, I realized how transformative this journey has been. Learning to be my own companion hasn’t just made me more independent, it’s brought me a deeper peace. Less expectation, more fulfillment. I’ve become happier because I’m not waiting for others to fill a void; I’m already whole.
When I do need something from others, I simply ask. And I’m grateful that my family is supportive of this approach. There’s clarity now instead of resentment, requests instead of demands.
This is simply my story, my way of finding peace and fulfillment. I wanted to share how this approach has changed my life, how it’s helped me love the people around me more freely, and how it’s brought me to a place of genuine happiness.
When we learn to be our own providers of joy, when we stop placing the burden of our happiness entirely on others’ shoulders, something shifts. The love we receive becomes a beautiful addition to our lives rather than a desperate need.
Dating yourself isn’t about being alone; it’s about being whole. It’s about those solo movie nights, those birthday celebrations you plan with excitement, those honest conversations where you simply ask for what you want. It’s about finding that quiet confidence that comes from truly enjoying who you are.
Sometimes the most important realizations come from the simplest conversations with friends – moments when we suddenly see how much we’ve grown, how much peace we’ve found, and how beautiful it is to just be ourselves.
This morning, after I fed the birds in the little park area in front of our home, I sat down to meditate near the trees. I watched these little birds come and eat, and I felt so happy I lost track of time.
There’s a crow who visits my balcony every morning for his feed. He once came into our home through the open balcony door, cawing to remind me it was feeding time.
There were times when I used to feel lonely. But now, with the crow visiting me and me feeding the birds, I realize no one is really alone. We’re all here together. We’re so connected.
I feel this is such a blessing. I feel connected to these beings, like I belong with them. The land where I feed the birds isn’t mine in the human sense, but I can still feed them there. The birds aren’t confined to me, but I still feel like we belong to each other. The trees aren’t confined to me either, but I feel I belong alongside them.
When we belong and coexist, there is no sense of controlling or owning. We’re living with them as family.
That’s when it hit me – I had it backwards. I used to think I needed to own things to truly enjoy them. Like the times I felt if I had a bigger outdoor area, I could have a bird feeder hanging in my garden or grow more plants and flowers to enjoy. But the truth is, I don’t need to own anything. Everything already belongs to me. The whole world belongs to all of us.
It really does feel like we all belong to it. The trees, the birds, the sky, the water – it’s all just there for me, for all of us. We belong to it, and it belongs to us.
I feel such abundance, such richness – not because I possess anything, but because I have access to everything through belonging. Everything is given to us without needing to grasp or control it.
I feel immense gratitude to our Creator for providing us with all that we need – everything is already given – and for all the beauty that’s already there for us to enjoy.
We can still grow plants or take care of our animal friends in our space, but that doesn’t restrict our sense of belonging to the vastness of creation.
This thought made me feel so vast, so free. I felt truly happy – not because I had something, but because I let go of needing to have it. The happiness comes from not controlling, not owning, just being and connecting.
We’re so blessed. We have this entire world, and we can experience it as belonging to us while we belong to it. When we see it that way, everything changes. We want to take care of it. We want to coexist with each other because we’re all part of this same beautiful belonging.
This is such a beautiful reminder to step out into nature whenever we feel down or alone – to realize the beauty and peace that nature offers, reminding us we’re never truly alone.
We’re all family, belonging to this unlimited creation – a gift of God’s unlimited love flowing through everything around us.
Once upon a time, in a distant realm, there was an enchanting forest. The forest, home to evergreen trees, birds of many kinds, animals, and insects, sang with beauty, happiness and mystery in its full splendor.
Tall and ancient sequoias, which had lived for thousands of years and stretched endlessly to the sky, were the eldest guardians of this forest. All the beings in the forest believed their emerald crowns could touch the heavens and sing praises of the Creator. These giants bore the wisdom of ages, having witnessed the first of many creations in the forest. Their massive trunks symbolized strength, their firm roots on Earth showed their humility. These humble giants knew every flower that bloomed, every bird that sang and understood all languages of the animals, insects and birds. All beings in the forest called them “the elders” and revered them with love and admiration.
Among these giant sequoias, Eirene was the forest’s eldest guardian. At over 4000 years old, Eirene stood tallest and wisest. On full moon nights, the whole forest gathered at her feet, where Eirene would sing songs of creation, of love, and of divine purpose.
On one such night, Eirene sang – her voice soft as rustling leaves, while all the beings listened with reverence and open hearts.
Bumble bees buzzing on golden daisies Butterflies hovering on delightful pansies Fireflies glittering in evening’s glow Dragonflies hovering in starlit snow Thank you, God, for your beautiful artistry
Zebra galloping swift and strong Deer leaping with graceful joy Monkeys swinging between trees in glee Majestic lions roaming wild and free Thank you, God, for your strength divine
Woodpeckers drumming on sturdy tree bark Owls hooting tales through moonlit dark Hummingbirds dancing with whirring wings Sparrows greeting morning as they sing Thank you, God, for this heavenly chime
Red and white roses in bloom, their passion unfold White jasmine’s intoxication, a treasure to behold Gardenia’s creamy petals whisper deep forest essence Lavender purple, calming peace in twilight presence Thank you, God, for each fragrant prayer
Nature’s symphony – wind, water, song Whispers of hidden stream that gently hum along Distant roar of waterfalls, reminding of a thunderous rain Cool breezes dancing to ease summer’s strain Thank you, God, for Earth’s eternal hymn
Listening to Eirene’s deep and soothing voice, Reya felt peace settle in his heart. Gratefully, he touched his chest with his wings, a tear dropping from his eyes. Majestic and watchful, he perched on Eirene’s ancient branches, his yellow beak shining like shimmering gold. His sharp yet gentle eyes gazed at his family nest, where his young chicks slept peacefully.
Reya had immense gratitude for the forest. In the shelter of Eirene’s roots lay the beginning of Reya’s story – an egg tossed by a mighty storm, found and protected by the entire forest. Eirene felt motherly towards this egg and whispered to her forest friends, who kept the precious egg warm and safe. When the chick hatched, Eirene named him Reya, and the forest became his first teacher.
The forest creatures became Reya’s family, each teaching him in their own way. The sparrows shared their joy of flight, the lion taught him courage in silence, and Eirene, with her ancient wisdom, became more than a teacher – she became the mother his heart needed.
As seasons passed and Reya watched his own chicks grow, a quiet sadness became to stir his heart. Each night, as the forest settled into darkness, questions about his past surfaced. Even surrounded by so much love, there was a gentle ache he couldn’t quite name – especially when he watched his little ones nestled close to their mother.
One day, Reya sat quietly on his branch, deep in thought.
Eirene noticed the sadness in Reya’s eyes and asked:
“What is in your mind, Reya?”
With his eyes lowered, Reya said:
“My heart overflows with gratitude for all I have received. You have been more than a guardian, Eirene – you and the forest have been the family I needed. You taught me not just how to live, but how to understand the Creator’s Love.”
Reya paused.
Eirene said gently,
“That is the Will of God. He wants you to be happy and ensures you get the help you need. We were just His instruments, doing what we were meant to do. Every forest creature who helped raise you was His way of holding you close. He speaks to us through the love we share. I am grateful to Him that you are grateful, my dear Reya. But tell me, what is troubling you?”
Reya looked away.
“I am grateful for everything, but lately my heart feels heavy. When I see my chicks with their mother, I can’t help but wonder about my own parents. There’s a darkness inside me I can’t shake, even though I know I should feel only gratitude. Please forgive me.”
“And, if it is in His Will that I must be happy, why does my heart still ache?” Reya asked softly.
Eirene looked at Reya with kindness as a gentle breeze stirred the air. She spoke softly,
“My dear Reya, what you’re feeling isn’t wrong. Missing your parents while being grateful for your present life – both can exist together. ”
She paused before continuing,
“The Creator gave us free will because love cannot be forced. Each challenge – each life facility – is an opportunity to choose love again. Your sadness isn’t a failure, Reya. It’s part of your journey home to Him.
Life gives us challenges – what I call life ‘facilities.’ Each difficulty is an invitation to grow closer to the Creator. Your sadness about your parents is one such ‘facility,’ a chance to deepen your understanding of true love.
My dear Reya, our Creator speaks to us from our hearts. Beneath every voice that guided you, behind every act of love from our forest family, there has always been one true Parent – our Creator. Listen to Him. When we surrender to His love, joy and peace follow.
As you meditate, you hear His voice more clearly, and you realize He is with you all the time and only we choose to move away from Him due to our own busyness and wants. The act of surrendering ourselves to Him and living each moment completely in the present brings us joy and peace. We act out His Will as we surrender to Him. It is a joy that needs to be experienced. Do not worry, Reya. I will pray to Him for your peace.”
Eireen smiled and closed her eyes for a moment in a heartfelt prayer. When she opened them, the sun was setting, painting the sky in blazing orange and soft pink. The birds chirped joyfully as they returned to their nests, bringing a sense of calm to the forest.
Eireen looked at Reya with gentle kindness and said,
“Reya, just touch your heart. Smile to your heart with the same happiness you feel when you see your chicks. Feel the gratitude. When you feel naturally at peace, close your eyes and meditate. Remember, our Creator has given us everything in this moment. Ask Him for faith, for trust. Pray to him wholeheartedly, Reya. He is always listening to you and helping you.”
Eirene closed her eyes and continued,
“Thoughts are like a web. The more we think, the more we become trapped, like a little fly. The only way out is to relax, smile and touch our Heart. Feel the Love. That Love will free you from your thoughts.”
Reya with tears in his eyes and a heart full of gratitude, said,
“Thank you Eirene. Thank you for listening to me. I feel much lighter. I will do as you say.”
With that, Reya closed his eyes and touched his heart with his wings and sat in deep silence.
Days passed, and Reya meditated each morning and evening. Slowly a gentle peace began to settle with him.
One morning, while flying far from his nest to gather food for his chicks, Reya felt something in his heart – a quiet but clear voice urging him to return home. Without hesitation, he turned back immediately.
As he approached the forest, he saw smoke rising above the trees. He flew towards the danger and discovered flames spreading through the forest. He found young birds trembling in their nests, unable to fly. Without a second thought, Reya began gathering them on his strong wings, carrying them to safety.
Flight after flight, he returned to the flames, rescuing as many as he could. The heat scorched his feathers, and his wings ached, but Reya kept going. He guided smaller creatures to shelter and refused to rest until every creature he could find was safe.
When the fire finally subsided, Reya sat quietly on Eirene’s branches. His body was tired, but his heart was light and content.
“How did you know to come back?”, asked a young sparrow that he had rescued.
Reya was silent for a moment before answering with deep gratitude,
“I heard a voice in my heart. It guided me to save our forest family. It was the voice of our Creator.”
Eirene, who had stood strong through the fire, spoke softly.
“You see, Reya, our Creator’s Love flows through our actions. Today, you were His instrument, just like when the forest creatures were His arms of protection for a lost egg.”
Reya looked at his wife and his sleeping chicks, safe in their nest. He understood now – his story wasn’t just about living but about living with purpose: to serve the Creator and extend love to others.
That night, Reya felt complete. His meditations have prepared him to trust the quiet voice of love within his heart. Reya was finally at peace, knowing his true Parents have been with him all along, residing in his heart.
As all the forest settled into a peaceful evening, Eirene sang in joy:
Praise to You, our Creator of Peace Praise to You, our Creator of Joy Praise to You, the most Powerful Praise to You, the Gentlest Praise to You, the True Source of Unconditional Love
Thank you for giving us all we need without us having to ask Thank you for being the voice in our hearts, guiding us to our True Home Thank you for forgiving us for our mistakes Thank you for healing us Thank you for loving us unconditionally
Praise to You, our Creator of Peace Praise to You, our Creator of Joy Praise to You, the most Powerful Praise to You, the Gentlest Praise to You, the True Source of Unconditional Love
Growing up, I was an overthinker – anxiety following me through various situations, likely shaped by my childhood environment. I would get caught in cycles of self-doubt, constantly revisiting situations and imagining how I could have done things differently.
During my depression phase, these patterns intensified. I experienced outbursts of anger and sadness that felt beyond my control. The emotions became toxic, much like being in unhealthy relationships. I realized that just as I would eventually choose to distance myself from toxic relationships – stepping away from their drama rather than engaging – I needed to learn to do the same with these overwhelming emotional patterns.
What brought clarity was understanding that our True Self isn’t any of these parts within us – the anxiety that spins stories of what could go wrong, the inner critic that constantly judges, the part that flares with anger when feeling unseen, or the shame that whispers we’re not enough. Just as I learned to handle difficult relationships by choosing when to engage, I discovered I could do the same with these inner voices. When self-doubt starts its familiar spiral, when anger rises unexpectedly, when fear tries to take control – I can observe these parts of myself without getting lost in their stories. These all stem from the “I” – the ego. This simple knowing has changed how I navigate my inner world.
Spiritually, I’ve come to see myself as a child of God, imperfect yet deeply loved. When I notice those challenging parts within me – anger, arrogance, greed, pride – I pause, breathe, and ask for help. It’s easier to find peace when I remember I’m within His arms. This understanding has shifted how I view healing – God truly takes care of us, healing not just the surface but the very roots of our pain.
The breakthrough came when I stopped feeling ashamed of my imperfections in prayer. I realized I don’t need to be perfect to seek Him – in fact, it’s my very imperfection that draws me closer. This has been a profound paradigm shift: I don’t have to take myself so seriously because of my imperfections. Instead, I can remain aware and consistently choose love.
I am deeply grateful to my spiritual teacher, Mr. Irmansyah Effendi, whose guidance helped me understand these truths at a deeper spiritual level. Through his Heart practices, I’ve learned to observe and work with these parts of myself in a way that brings genuine peace and understanding.
Perhaps you too have noticed different parts within yourself – voices that judge, worry, or react. Have you ever considered that these parts, which don’t stem from love, might not be the real you? What if you could observe them with the same distance you might observe challenging people in your life? Sometimes just creating that small space between ourselves and these emotions – recognizing that they’re parts we experience but not our true essence – can open up unexpected paths to peace.
Depression crept in during what felt like the darkest phase of my life. Years of carrying unexpressed feelings had taken their toll – childhood hurts, trauma, and patterns I hadn’t even recognized. I had developed ways of coping that I didn’t even realize were coping mechanisms: trying to keep everyone happy to prevent any discord, bending backwards to maintain harmony. Yet paradoxically, I would sometimes experience sudden bursts of anger toward loved ones – reactions to hurt that would erupt because I had no other way to express my pain.
Growing up in a joint family, where multiple generations lived under one roof, I learned early to navigate around tensions. When voices were raised or feelings expressed too freely, punishment followed. These lessons stayed with me, shaping how I moved through relationships, always trying to keep peace at the cost of my own truth.
After my father’s passing, old hurts surfaced in ways I had never experienced. Grief opened doors I had kept tightly shut, and through them came waves of resentment and pain. Life seemed to conspire to bring more difficult experiences – harsh words from others that cut unusually deep. I felt myself breaking.
Ironically, in my darkest moments, I stopped doing the very things that had helped me before. Meditation, which had been my anchor, felt hollow. Talking to understanding friends seemed impossible. I retreated into silence, feeling utterly alone and unrecognizable to myself. The ways I had learned to cope, to find joy, to make sense of life – nothing seemed to work anymore. I felt lost in a deep shame, afraid to be alone with this version of myself I no longer knew. All my efforts to choose happiness felt like they had been just surface-level pretense.
But something in me kept moving. I started to run – not for fitness, but from an instinct to survive. I ran from my fear, my anxiety, my pain, pushing myself as far and as fast as I could. Tears would stream down my face as I ran, and I stopped caring who might see.
During this time, I also began talking therapy. These sessions helped me untangle mental knots I hadn’t even known were there, helping me understand patterns that had been invisible to me before. While therapy helped clear these mental blocks, nature offered something different.
Along my running route, I noticed a tree. It stood tall and kind, and something about its presence spoke to my heart. I began to stop at the bench overlooking this tree during my runs. I would sit there, relaxing my body as I had learned in meditation practice, talking to the tree as a friend. I found myself sharing freely about how I had been feeling, and asked for its help to find positivity and happiness again. Each day before leaving, I would hug and kiss the tree goodbye. These moments made me feel understood, assured, and strong – as if the tree knew exactly what I needed without words.
Gradually, I began to notice it wasn’t just this one tree – it was all of them. The plants, the breeze, the birds – they formed a supportive presence I can hardly put into words. Something deep within me recognized that I was part of this greater whole, all of us held in our Creator’s loving embrace. I wasn’t alone; I had never been alone.
I found myself spending more time outdoors, hiking alone, simply being with nature. My meditation practice returned, deeper now, grounded in this new understanding. Later, at a retreat, my spiritual teacher led us in meditation among the trees, and I understood why nature had felt so healing – when we open our hearts fully to the present moment, we can feel our Creator’s love flowing through everything around us, connecting us all.
Depression, though once so overwhelming, gradually lifted. The combination of therapy helping me understand my mind’s patterns, and nature helping me open my heart, created a path toward healing. Now, finding peace is as simple as sitting on my balcony among my plants, watching the sky, listening to birds. In these quiet moments, with my heart open and present, happiness flows naturally – not for any particular reason, but simply because I can feel our Creator’s love in everything around me.
This lesson remains: we humans aren’t separate entities striving alone, but integral parts of a greater whole, all held in our Creator’s loving embrace. In nature’s presence, I found not just healing, but a way back to that endless love that had been there all along.
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