There’s an absurdity to this life.
We arrive with nothing, reach for everything, and leave with nothing again.
We spend years chasing a permanent feeling through temporary things- running like hamsters on invisible wheels, calling it ambition, calling it purpose, calling it success.
The Grammys were a few days ago. A golden statue is handed over, and suddenly worth feels confirmed- as if being chosen by a room of humans makes you more real than you were the night before. As if recognition creates value instead of merely reflecting opinion.
What does a trophy mean to a soul that already exists?
We live in a world that measures humans by status, looks down on those with less success, judges quietly, then performs compassion for the poor from a safe distance.
We study medicine to save lives while upholding systems where survival depends on money. We call it order. We call it reality.
We call drug addicts broken- yet applaud workaholics, the “disciplined,” the “driven,” the socially acceptable addicts whose substance is achievement, whose withdrawal is silence, whose high is validation.
Both are running. Both are escaping. One hides in drugs, one hides in control , power , labor and the need to stand out. One bleeds outward, raw and exposed, the other shines polished, unable to detect vulnerability- because we love strength and despise fragility.
Both chase relief. Both flee from themselves. yet neither arrives. Both are shadows of the same hunger, circling the void, searching for what cannot be found outside
We are energy in motion, rushing toward something unnamed, as if the void ahead is late for an appointment.
So many of us are anxious, depressed, fractured- not because we are defective, but because we keep searching outside for a state that can only be generated within. We inherit meanings: career, money, recognition, legacy. We’re told what matters before we’ve had the chance to decide.
I released two songs. People listened. Some liked them. Some didn’t. And the earth kept spinning.
Nothing changed. I was still me- still surviving, still loving, still riding the quiet waves of being human.
Fame once felt like it could justify my suffering— like applause would make the pain worth it. But pain doesn’t need a trophy. It needs presence. it needs acceptance. It needs integration.
Making music feels good. That is enough.
My purpose is not a headline. It’s my presence. My aura. The softness in my voice when I speak to a stranger on a bus and unknowingly shift the next hour of her life— a domino falling in silence.
Every stage of life is the peak. You are only a baby once. Only a teenager once. Only this exact version of yourself right now, once.
There is no summit. No final arrival. Just moments unfolding.
Maybe this is a game- not trivial, but temporary.
A space to feel everything: joy, grief, anger, love. To create. To connect. To reduce suffering where we can. To increase inner peace where it’s possible.
And when it’s over, perhaps we dissolve- not into nothing, but into one vast field of light, where all the fragments remember they were never separate at all. ✨