I found myself on this journey with the Fellow Travellers almost by chance. It all started with a casual discussion somewhere, which led to my being added to the group. Over the past few months, this journey has been marked by a subtle, persistent discontent—a sense that something was missing, even though everything in my life seemed outwardly complete. It was like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch—an underlying longing for something deeper. This discontent wasn’t a loud, alarming sensation but a quiet yearning for peace, happiness, and a more profound connection to life. The more I engaged with the discussions, read, and reflected intellectually, the deeper my sense of unease grew. I couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but I felt drawn inward, searching for answers beyond the surface of my everyday existence. What struck me was that this journey, which I initially thought was about filling a gap, wasn’t about adding something new to my life; it was about uncovering what had always been there. The real question thus became, why was I so caught up in this chase? What if the barrier to my contentment wasn’t my lack of effort but the belief that effort was even required? This subtle discontent has become the very catalyst for a deeper questioning of life and my own beliefs in general. A thread in one of the chats yesterday got me thinking a bit deeper.
I have been reading a lot of scriptures starting from Tatvabodha, then Atmabodha, Vivekachudamani and recently started with Bhagavad Gita. In the meanwhile I have been getting daily doses of deep insights from teachings of Ramana, Adi Sankaracharya, and various Upanishads and not to forget the thoughts of other spiritual thinkers like Mooji, Eckhart Tolle and the likes in search for some answers. At the heart of this search, I found an illusion: the belief that fulfillment lay somewhere in the future. I convinced myself that peace, enlightenment, or wholeness would come once I achieved certain things. Maybe it would come with an accomplishment, a perfect relationship, or a deep spiritual breakthrough. But the more I chased this idea, the more I realized that this belief only created a gap between me and what I sought. And the gap was “the distance between who I feel I am and the values and ideals I was chasing" – things I wish I had in the past or would have in the future. It dawned on me that fulfillment, by its very nature, can’t exist in a future moment—it’s always anchored in the present.
I have always been intrigued by this concept of time – the past, the future and of course the Present. Whether I read about space or the Universe, about life, in the scriptures, everywhere the buzz word is “Now”, “The Present”, “Live in the Moment”. What is this Time all about? The future, as we imagine it, is always something that hasn’t arrived yet, a distant possibility. But when the future finally unfolds, it will occur in the present moment—what we call the “now.” Similarly, the past, which we often think of as something that has already happened, also exists only in the present, in our recollection of it. The “past” was never anything other than a sequence of moments that were once “now.” Whether it’s the future or the past, both are anchored in the present moment, where time truly unfolds. The future also happens in the Now. Time, in essence, is always unfolding in the present moment.
I started to recognize how my beliefs shaped how I saw the world and myself. Many of these beliefs were hidden beneath the surface, like filters I hadn’t realized I was looking through. They whispered that I was unworthy or that happiness depended on something outside of me. My ideas of success, happiness, by my being liked by others – all came under question. These deep seated, conditioned ideas distorted how I interpreted my experiences, often preventing me from seeing the truth that was already available. The deeper question became whether these beliefs were truly serving the life I wanted to live. Could I see their influence and, in doing so, loosen their grip on me?
It was ironic, but dissatisfaction—the very thing I was trying to escape—was the force that has often pushed me forward. This discontent shook me from complacency, urging me to question the narratives I had accepted without thought. Though uncomfortable, I began to realize that this restlessness was a gift—a call to look deeper. I began to wonder if my discomfort wasn’t a sign of something missing but an invitation to rediscover something I am overlooking.
As I grappled with these questions and continued to reflect, I encountered what seemed like innumerable gates—old patterns, fears, and doubts and new challenges emerged—things I hadn’t noticed before—old patterns of overthinking and intellectualizing. But in retrospect, many of these obstacles turned out to be illusory. There was a paradox I encountered: the “barrierless barrier.” I came to see that the barriers I thought I had to overcome were never truly real. But here is the twist: I only am realizing this after the effort is made. The seeking itself, though ultimately unnecessary, has become the very means through which I have come to see its futility. I started to ask myself, what if the journey itself was more important than the destination?
What has become clear to me is the power of the present moment. True fulfillment does not come from acquiring something new; it comes from questioning the very belief that something is lacking. Do I lack success? Do I lack money? Am I lacking in anything that is important to me? Everything a man desires in a normal life at my age is already available on my plate. Adequate money, travel to the choicest places, satisfying and contented relationships. Am I looking at others plates to see what is missing in mine?
When I took a step back and deeply looked at the present moment, I realized that what I had been searching for was never absent. It had always been there, waiting for me to notice. I asked myself, what would it feel like to simply rest in this moment without trying to fix or change anything? Could it be that just being—without striving—would reveal the completeness I had longed for? I can’t remember the number of times some of my Fellow Travellers have said this again and again – Just Be. Remain a Witness.
The beauty of this journey lies in its individuality. Each person’s path is shaped by their unique experiences and insights, and mine has been no different. At times, the next step felt sparked by curiosity or joy; at other times, it arose from facing challenges or embracing uncertainty. I learned there is no single formula, no universal roadmap—just the unfolding of what resonates most deeply with me. What answers one, need not be the answer that you seek. The question shifted from where the path would lead to whether I was willing to trust its guidance.
And yet, even as I am gaining insights, I recognize that the work does not stop there. Some patterns run too deep to be unravelled by reflection alone. I found that these conditioning patterns required active engagement with life—through relationships, challenges, and the rhythms of daily existence - the occasional arguments with the better half, the discussions with the children, the realities and vagaries of daily life. It is in this integration that the insights of my spiritual journey has become lived experiences. I have come to see that how I respond to life’s ordinary moments reflects my growth in the truest sense. Spirituality, I realized, isn’t an escape from life (which was what my understanding was) —it is a deeper immersion into it.
My question to myself has been “Where am I headed?” and the answer to that was another question which needed to be answered first - “Where am I right now?” I use this regularly in my career counselling sessions. Ultimately, my spiritual journey has become less about reaching a destination and more about realizing that the destination has never been elsewhere. It is about simple awareness to what is already present, seeing through the illusions of lack and separation, and living in the wholeness that is, has and always will be. As the journey unfolds, I am finding that the questions I had once asked—about peace, happiness, and enlightenment—are no longer questions at all. They are transforming daily into living truths, revealing themselves in the quiet stillness of the present moment. Each day, as I continue to walk this path with my Fellow Travellers, I see that the answers I once sought are not outside me, but within the very experience of living fully in the present.
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