A NEW DOOR

Mental suffering rarely comes from the moment itself.
It comes from the pull — to escape it.
To reach for something else.
To push away what’s here.

There’s a quiet restlessness inside us, a constant hum.
A craving: “I need more.”
An aversion: “I don’t want this.”
And beneath both, a subtle belief: that this moment is not enough.

We live in a world built on that belief.
A world that sells us endless versions of becoming —
a better body, a better life, a better self.
But rarely does it remind us that who we are now is already whole.

So we chase. We resist.
We scroll, consume, compare, improve.
We are taught to seek peace somewhere else —
in the next achievement, the next relationship, the next version of ourselves.

But what if peace isn’t something to find?
What if it’s something that appears
when we stop moving away from the now?

Because this moment — this simple, breathing moment —
is already complete.

The light on the wall.
The breath in your chest.
The silence between words.
Nothing is missing here, except our full presence.

And when we begin to notice the movement —
When we ask, gently,
“Is this a craving? Is this an aversion?”
the cycle starts to soften.
The grip loosens.
And we fall back into reality —
not the one imagined or improved,
but the one alive and shining, just as it is.

Suffering fades when we stop arguing with life.
And the now, when we truly meet it, is always beautiful.

You are enough.
You are beautiful the way you are.
And this moment, just as it is, holds everything you need