When I was a child, my grandfather had a chair by the window. It wasn\u2019t grand or fancy\u2014just a simple wooden chair with a well-worn cushion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Each morning, he\u2019d sit in it silently for what felt like hours. No newspaper. No radio. Just stillness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One day, I asked him, \u201cWhat do you do there, Grandpa?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He smiled and said, \u201cI sit with the part of me that never changes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the time, I had no idea what that meant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Years passed. Life, as it does, became noisy\u2014filled with thoughts, roles, worries, and other people\u2019s expectations. I tried to be someone. I tried to fix everything. I became my stress, my sadness, my successes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But none of it brought me peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One especially heavy day, I found myself back at the old family home. The chair was still there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sat in it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I breathed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And in the silence, I heard Grandpa\u2019s voice, not out loud, but in my being:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou are not your thoughts. You are the one who sees them. Sit with the part of you that never changes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tears came.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then something else\u2014awareness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I watched my thoughts pass like clouds. I felt a flicker of peace I\u2019d forgotten.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I realised:
That chair wasn\u2019t just for resting. It was for remembering.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That I was never broken\u2014only distracted.
Never lost\u2014only listening to the wrong voice.
And always\u2026 the stillness was right here, beside me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n