Perhaps today is not the day for memoirs, but a little churn and a twist from the norm. Today, I write about home—a place we often go back to at the end of a rough or a jolly good day. A home is not just a place, but a realm within us. A space where we find peace, contentment, and joy. Home is the scent of familiar spices wafting from the kitchen, the creak of a well-trodden wooden floor, the soft hum of voices that know our stories without needing to ask. It is the quiet sanctuary after a long day, the laughter echoing in the corridors of memory, the warmth of a beloved presence, even when miles apart. It is not confined to four walls and a roof, nor is it defined by the grandeur of its architecture. But home is also change. It is the bittersweet moment of packing up childhood belongings, leaving behind walls that once echoed with our growing pains. It is the ache of longing when we search for traces of what was, only to find that time has repainted the doors and rearranged the furnit...
There are moments in life that feel sacred, not because of their grandeur but because of the rawness they hold. They arrive unannounced, wrapped in the simplicity of a smile, a conversation that lingers, or the way the world suddenly feels aligned in a way it never quite has before. When we meet a special soul, when we give ourselves fully to the moment, something shifts—we are no longer just existing; we are living. The sacrosanct act of giving it whole. Of offering ourselves with unreserved intention, allowing our thoughts and emotions to flow freely without the barriers we so often construct. There is something deeply human, deeply divine, in that surrender—where nothing is held back, and everything is embraced. It is in these moments that we come to understand the quiet, profound truth: the joy we seek, the peace we crave, has always been within arm’s reach. To be present is an act of gratitude. To take in the moment slowly, allowing it to fill every corner of our being, is a gift ...