Victims of Impermanence

Two days ago
you said you loved me.

Today,
you avoid my eyes.

The friction will pass,
but until then,
we remain
victims of impermanence.

 

Handling the Last Bite

Look out for the flicker
that arrives with the last bite—
the mind reaching
for one more.

Those few seconds,
if not handled with care,
become restraint’s
demise.

 

A Collection of Verbs

Life is always aspiring
to build a collection of verbs
so as to define itself—

achieving, acquiring, winning,
proving, conquering, possessing—

everything except
just being
a Being.

 

A Quiet Country Within

Unpacking our evolutionary drive to achieve, shedding the armor of ego, and discovering an inward country where we no longer need to strive.

Inside our lives yearn for transition from a life of frantic verb tenses — doing, achieving, becoming — to the simplicity of being.

Arun Kumar

The human mind, perhaps by evolutionary design, exists in a perpetual state of striving. Across the long expanse of our species’ journey, failing to reach for the next meal was a quiet sentence of extinction. Yet today, that same ancestral hunger fuels a restless “what next?” across every dimension of the self: the cognitive urge to draft the next essay, the sensory craving for the next river cruise, the material drive toward a larger home, or the subtle social itch for the next nod of public recognition.

When, if ever, does this striving cease? When will I finally cross the border into that inward country where the self feels light, liberated from a relentless pursuit of becoming that must be continuously fed?

Reflecting on this, I suspect that reaching such a place requires neither conquering the world nor solving its infinite riddles. The key may be far simpler: entering a state of quiet contentment — not because I have acquired everything, but because I have realized there is nothing more I need to acquire, no further proof of worth I need to offer. Reaching that inward country marks a shift away from the frantic verb tenses of existence — doing, achieving, becoming — and into the simple grace of being.

What would it feel like to dwell there? To trade the relentless pull of glowing screens for a slow walk beneath a forest canopy? To stand among ancient trees and watch the sunlight filter through leaves in patient, quiet shafts of gold and green — and to return day after day, until the rhythm of the woods becomes the rhythm of my own heart?

To live this way perhaps requires a softening around the edges of the self. We spend so much of our lives fashioning and defending the ego, wrapping it around us like heavy armor. But what if I were to let it slip off, like an ornate garment no longer needed? In that shedding, I might finally sense a quiet belonging with the rest of creation, allowing the compulsion to strive to simply dissolve.

In such a state, the inner tremors of ambition may settle into gentler, deeper currents. The mind, no longer braced for perpetual performance, could finally learn the language of stillness. There, I might realize what was true all along: the universe never demanded a justification for my presence. The requirement was only ever a fiction of my own making.

I am fortunate that buried beneath all this striving there survives a quiet longing for a home lost along the way — a domain of slower days, deeper breaths, and unquantified, unrushed moments. It is a soft flame that occasionally flickers, calling me to step across the threshold into that interior landscape. One day, if I am finally there — looking up at the light filtering down through the canopy and breathing the quiet air — I will accept the raw, beautiful fact of existence, knowing at last that I have arrived, with no next stop left to strive for.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.