The Monkey Mind

By the grace of an inquisitive mind, the body searches for a possible solution to the conundrum of existence. What, where, when, which, how, and so on—the questions constantly meditate on the nature of the self, the world, and purpose, propelling us forward, whether swiftly or sluggishly, toward a certain destination. The thirst for self-knowledge is always there; it's just difficult to sit still, contemplate it, and then put it into words. Is the body not meant to keep moving rather than remain still? Signals summon us to uncover certain aspects of truth. We become fascinated by its different facets, enthralled by their depth, and tunnel-visioned into a particular dimension—drowning in the sheer weight of its magnitude. Yet, as the confusion clears, the weight of our own existence grows, making it difficult to move as lightly as before. We become rigid in our own truth, shaped by a worldview that, despite its significance to us, remains but a minuscule fragment of the whole. Only...

Freedom is neither an illusion nor a delusion. It is a choice—independent of any influence or external force. Yet, every choice carries consequences, whether beneficial or harmful, in both the short and long term. At its core, freedom is the ability to choose, based on the belief that truth is, in essence, of our own making. External forces—governments, corporations, and other authorities—capitalize on this belief. They control our perception of truth, shaping our decision-making. But ultimately, we are our own greatest enemy—the most loyal wardens of our own prison. A prison built from identity, social status, boundaries, differences, and countless other constraints. And the bitter truth is that there are many things we do not need—we want them simply because someone else wants them. This wanting creates an opportunity for exploitation. Our mind space is occupied by thoughts that are not our own, desires that are not our own—tempting lies that carve out a sense of inadequacy that, in ...

There is nothing wrong with me. It's just that the righteous feeling I have cultivated since childhood has stayed with me until this day. So, each time I encounter you, or more precisely, a version of you in another person, I hesitate. I cannot break free from the usual loop of thinking about you, searching for you, and for so long imagining myself being with you. Beyond that, there is nothing but the authority of time, which strips away all my feelings, and once again, I am back. Back to my comfort zone where all emotions fade. I am no longer myself, and you are no longer yourself. I remain in the void, and everything that once was is no more. There is nothing to discuss. Endless hours and days just slip away. Here I am, in the middle of my physical age, and the question has arisen once again. So, I dictate, my thoughts fragmented, my sentences half-formed, incoherent in a way that feels disconnected. I am disconnected from the conversation that surrounds me. I rarely think about ...