I chase what cannot be caught: success, love, meaning down endless corridors of want. Each achievement opens onto emptiness. Each embrace dissolves into hunger.
The thief I’m hunting is myself.
I knew a man who spent years building the perfect house, only to realize he was homeless inside it. Another collected a thousand friends but couldn’t find companionship. I am this story. You know it too.
The search ends when I stop searching. What I seek lives in the space between thoughts, in the breath I’m taking now, in the awareness writing these words.
I turn around. It was always behind me, wearing my face.
Check this guy out: Ramana Maharshi
