Sometimes I sense a deep void in my life. As if there is a missing piece that I’m unable to find. As if I am in search of something. The blissful moments spent with family and friends, the travel trips to beautiful destinations, reaching my fitness goals; none of these things fill that void. Temporarily it seems like they do, but the void appears no sooner than the charm of those shiny moments wear off.

One thing that helps fill that void is reading Vietnamese Buddhist Monk Thich Nhat Hanh’s words — “You are complete in this moment.” The Thay (‘teacher’ in Vietnamese) says that our body is our home and whatever we want lies within ourselves and there is no external object that can complete us.

His words gives me solace that I don’t need to be in search of something to fill the void. That there is no void. That the something I am searching for is elusive. But it’s not easy to live by those words every day, as soothing as I may find them while reading.

The only possible solution I have found to fill the void is with words. With writing. The act of writing is the only cure, the only act that makes me feel like I am doing something worthwhile.

Somewhere deep inside I believe I can write, but I fear succumbing to pretentiousness, to write something that is not me. In the digital world we live in today, instant gratification has become a new norm. The gratification of getting instant likes and comments. To write for an audience. To wonder whether the sacredness of writing would have that much meaning if there is no audience.

I live in constant fear whether I am a good enough writer or not. To some extent I am able to manage that fear, thanks to my favorite teacher and mentor Joe sir because he always reminded me that I am one of his best. That personal certificate is enough for me to not doubt myself. It helped me arrive at a point  where I don’t worry so much about being a good or bad writer, but to just write. I don’t want to remain a writer who does not write. All I need to do is write. And keep wanting to write.

What keeps me from writing then? I fear I won’t be able to uncover the truths inside me about myself and my views about the world. Paradoxically, I fear the truths that could tumble out of me. It would take immense strength to face and speak those truths that leer their head every now and then, some buried deep inside. Those that have not found a voice.

I remind myself that I must write because the act of writing is meditative. What is meditation ultimately? To me, it’s a process to be in touch with your innermost self. To be in the moment. To be fully present. Writing helps do all of those. I find no better reason than that to write.