The piece feels like a person sitting with their own pain, turning it over slowly in their hands, trying to understand why life shaped them the way it did.
Every question carries the quiet tremor of someone who has suffered enough to start searching for meaning rather than escape.
The gurukul becomes a tender metaphor a reminder that we grow through difficulty, through guidance we didn’t choose, through lessons we never asked for.
There is a longing here for a teacher who can steady the heart when nothing makes sense.
Calling God the guru feels like reaching for a presence strong enough to hold the weight of unanswered questions.
The text mourns how we were taught facts but not how to live, how to love, how to endure, how to heal.
Therapy becomes the place where adults relearn the emotional lessons childhood never offered.
The voice feels both fragile and brave, comforting itself while trying to comfort anyone who has ever felt lost.
The invitation to “trust and let go” reads like someone whispering the reassurance they themselves need most.
In the end, the piece becomes a soft promise that even our hardest moments are shaping us into something whole.
Thank you Adriao. Yes, some things are best left unsaid. I started writing this intending to tell what I discovered but I was stopped short because after a point, people have to discover truths for themselves. And that’s why the promise got there instead of what I planned to reveal as to what came out of that suffering I endured!
If I am correct, they used to start around 12 and then would study under the guru for 12 years. It would be ideal time as today’s youngsters start to have their own phones around middle school anyway to keep in touch with their peers!
The piece feels like a person sitting with their own pain, turning it over slowly in their hands, trying to understand why life shaped them the way it did.
Every question carries the quiet tremor of someone who has suffered enough to start searching for meaning rather than escape.
The gurukul becomes a tender metaphor a reminder that we grow through difficulty, through guidance we didn’t choose, through lessons we never asked for.
There is a longing here for a teacher who can steady the heart when nothing makes sense.
Calling God the guru feels like reaching for a presence strong enough to hold the weight of unanswered questions.
The text mourns how we were taught facts but not how to live, how to love, how to endure, how to heal.
Therapy becomes the place where adults relearn the emotional lessons childhood never offered.
The voice feels both fragile and brave, comforting itself while trying to comfort anyone who has ever felt lost.
The invitation to “trust and let go” reads like someone whispering the reassurance they themselves need most.
In the end, the piece becomes a soft promise that even our hardest moments are shaping us into something whole.
Thank you Adriao. Yes, some things are best left unsaid. I started writing this intending to tell what I discovered but I was stopped short because after a point, people have to discover truths for themselves. And that’s why the promise got there instead of what I planned to reveal as to what came out of that suffering I endured!
Interesting! I actually think this system would be useful for today’s men (and women, to a lesser extent)
If I am correct, they used to start around 12 and then would study under the guru for 12 years. It would be ideal time as today’s youngsters start to have their own phones around middle school anyway to keep in touch with their peers!