What activities do you lose yourself in?
“In striving, the mind becomes steady; in letting go of the fruits, the soul becomes free.” — Bhagavad Gita
Dated: 14.3.26
Too many outstanding goals sat in front of me like a long list of unfinished roads. Each one had its own strategy, its own careful planning, its own imagined victory. Yet most of them remained untouched, abandoned halfway, buried under the quiet weight of procrastination.
I asked myself again and again if the root of all this delay was fear. Fear has a strange way of hiding itself. It does not always shout. Sometimes it whispers from the past, like a dream that refuses to disappear.
In that dream I saw my departed father again. I asked him what he was doing with the watches he had carefully placed inside a box. His hands were moving slowly over a notebook.
At first I thought he was cleaning something or scraping dust away, but when I looked closer I saw that he was tearing the pages apart. The notebook was filled with the things he had once written down—his hopes, his plans, the quiet dreams he carried through the many stages of his life.His face carried a sadness I had never fully understood before.
It was the expression of a man who had watched his circle slowly fade, like people walking away from a fire after the warmth was gone. In his eyes I saw the memory of a boy who had once been left alone in 1953, and how that same loneliness kept repeating through the frames of his life like a film that refused to change its scene.Yet when death finally came to him, the ending was not empty.
His wife and daughters stayed beside him, doing everything they could to keep him comfortable. They remained there quietly until he took his last breath. My brother and his wife arrived only twenty minutes too late, missing the final moment between breath and silence.
In that final space he must have realized something simple and undeniable: he was born alone, and he would leave alone. Afterward the house filled with voices singing the sacred hymns of Thevaram for thirty-one days, guiding his journey to the land beyond.
I do not know what heaven or hell truly looks like. What I understand now is something much closer. If I invite the wrong energy into my mind, I create my own hell while still alive. But if I release that weight, even for a moment, I can feel something that resembles heaven before death ever arrives.
To free myself from my own hell is to stop holding tightly to everything that has already burned itself into the past. It is to chant continuously, to practice the teachings I follow, to learn to eat simply and cook vegetarian food with gratitude—accepting that even the vegetables on my plate have given up their lives to sustain mine. If they can let go so completely, then I too must learn to let go.
I began to lighten myself by giving things away: books that once filled my shelves, clothing that carried old memories, small objects that tied me to yesterday. Each one released made the body feel a little less heavy, as if the road toward my own heaven was not somewhere far away but somewhere within reach while I am still alive.
Even though I procrastinate and wander away from my plans again and again, something still moves forward slowly. Sometimes it takes days, sometimes months, sometimes years. But eventually I return to the page, write down the task, complete it, and whisper two small words to myself: done, and thank you.
Those words push me forward, step by step, through the fog of delay.And in the quiet moments, when the chanting settles into the rhythm of my breath, I lose myself in the simple act of writing—
watching thoughts fall onto the page like ashes from a fire that has finally finished burning.
“In striving, one walks the path; in surrender, one reaches peace.” — Bhagavad Gita
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