The Beauty of Existence

After so many years, I am still surprised that I am here.

Not just existing, but here, standing at this point in life, having crossed fifty, quietly walking towards sixty. Sometimes it feels unreal. Not in a dramatic way, but in a gentle, almost whispering way. Like I blinked, and decades passed.

Now when I look around, I do not just see people. I see phases. I see stories. I see life unfolding like a movie right in front of me, and for the first time, I am not rushing through it. I am watching it.

I see babies, fragile and pure, trying to understand their own bodies. Their tiny fingers open and close as if they are trying to hold on to life itself. Their eyes wander, searching, learning, absorbing everything without knowing anything.

Then I see toddlers. Determined, curious, stubborn in the most beautiful way. They reach out and grab whatever feels important to them in that moment, not knowing whether it matters or not, but fully believing that it does.

Then come the children. Their world is simple. Their purpose is clear. To play. To laugh. To fall and get up again without overthinking. There is a lightness in them that we slowly lose without even realizing when it slipped away.

Then I see teenagers. Full of fire, full of confusion, full of colour. They want to be seen. They want to be heard. They want to matter. Every emotion feels bigger than life, every dream feels urgent. It is a beautiful chaos.

Then comes youth. The energy shifts. There is focus now. A hunger to prove something. To earn. To build. To become someone in the eyes of the world. There is pressure, but also excitement. The feeling that life is just beginning.

And then, without warning, life becomes full.

Marriage. Children. Family. Work. Responsibilities that do not ask whether you are ready. Days become busy. Nights become short. Years begin to move faster than they should. Or at least, that is how it feels.

I have lived all of this.

And the truth is, I was always in a hurry. A hurry to grow up. A hurry to move forward. A hurry to reach somewhere I could not even clearly define. I thought life was something to catch, something that might slip away if I slowed down.

But now I know.

Nothing was running.

Nothing needed chasing.

It was all moving at its own pace, and I was moving with it, whether I realized it or not.

Life did not rush. It glided.

And what a ride it has been.

There were moments I thought I would never survive. There were moments I wished would never end. There were tears that came without warning and laughter that filled entire days. There were times of having nothing and times of having more than enough. There were people who held my hand and people who let go. There were beginnings that brought hope and endings that brought silence.

I have seen life in all its forms.

And today, when I look back, I do not feel regret.

Not even for the mistakes.

Because those mistakes were not interruptions. They were part of the path. They were the teachers I did not know I needed.

But there is one thing I feel very clearly now. "I do not want to repeat it."

Not because it was bad. But because it was complete.

That chapter has been lived fully, in all its colours, in all its imperfections.

And if there is one thing life has gently, patiently taught me, it is this.

If you do not want to live the same pain again, do not carry it forward.

If you do not want the same patterns, do not hold on to the same emotions.

If you want the best from life, then do this just one thing in life

Love.

• Love everything. Not just the easy parts. Not just the people who were kind to you. Not just the moments that made sense.
• Love even what hurt you, because it shaped you.
• Love even what left you, because it made space for something else.
• And most importantly, love yourself, not for what you achieved, not for what you became, but simply because you are.

Do not store negativity like it is something precious. It is not. It only keeps you tied to what is already over. Let it go, even if it takes time. Even if you have to let it go again and again.

Because somewhere along the way, you realize something very quiet, very powerful.

Life was never asking you to rush. It was only asking you to live. And now, as I walk forward, there is a strange calmness. Not because everything is perfect. But because I no longer feel the need to hold on to everything.

There is space within me now.

• Space to breathe.
• Space to accept.
• Space to just be.

And in that space, there is a softness, a quiet kind of joy that does not need to be loud to be real.

For the first time, I am not trying to become anything.

I am simply here.

And that, somehow, feels like enough.

Enjoy your life while you are in it.

Meena