Unbecoming the Seeker

I can’t do it all.

There are days when I try, when I wake up determined to hold all my identities together like a delicate balancing act: the traveller, the yogi, the student of Vedanta and the one who remembers to call home, the one who walks with awareness, speaks with clarity, breathes consciously.

But there are also days—more than I admit—when I don’t want to be anything at all.

I just want to curl up like a cotton ball in my bed, tucked in quietly under the weight of blankets and stillness.

No philosophy.
No framework.
No discipline.
Not even a breath to observe or
…..a thought to question.

Just… me. Breathing. Barely moving. Not seeking, not avoiding. Not trying to be “aware” or “present.” Not trying to be anything.

And oddly, those are the most honest moments I know. The most spiritual too, though I wouldn’t call them that.

A Place Beyond Identities

There’s something tiring about trying to live a “spiritual” life. About constantly evaluating oneself through the lens of teachings. Did I act from ego? Did I observe the Self in that moment? Was that sattvic? Did I maintain equanimity?

It’s noble work. It sharpens the mind and purifies the heart. But it can also become another mask. Another performance. Another standard to meet.

Sometimes I feel like I’m pretending to be a Vedantin. Pretending to be a yogi. Quoting scriptures like I understand them in full, adjusting my posture when I sit in meditation so it “looks” meditative. Sometimes it feels like I’m doing all the right things, except being myself.

And then there are moments where all of that falls away—not because I’ve transcended it, but because I’m too tired to maintain it.

And that’s when something real shows up.

The Peace That Needs No Effort

In that curled-up state, when the lights are low and the world is far, I find a strange peace. Not the kind that comes from discipline or deep inquiry or pristine alignment. But the kind that comes from not trying to be anything at all.

No observer.
No doer.
No one to purify.
No one to liberate.
…Just being.

And in that space, I’m not rejecting Vedanta or Yoga. I’m just not clinging to them. I’m not performing a role. I’m not striving for moksha or progress or transformation.

I’m simply resting.

Not as an escape. But as a return.

Where Philosophy Ends

Sometimes I feel like the whole journey of self-inquiry leads to this: to not having to be anyone. Not even the one who’s inquiring. To be able to sit with oneself without a name, without a goal, without the pressure to evolve.

And in those moments—half-awake, half-asleep, lying still without purpose—I connect. Not with some cosmic Self or spiritual essence. But with me. The raw, unfiltered, fragile, soft centre that’s always been there.

That quiet presence is enough. It asks for nothing. It doesn’t recite shlokas. It doesn’t analyse. It doesn’t try to prove or earn or embody anything.

It just is.

And maybe, just maybe… that’s all I’ve been searching for through every book, every hike, every meditation, every act of effort: a place where I can be absolutely myself without expectation.

Letting That Be Enough

I’m beginning to feel that this too is Yoga. Maybe the deepest kind. The Yoga where there’s no method, no posture, no witness—only the moment as it is. The Vedanta where there’s no question of liberation, because there’s no one left to be bound.

And maybe I don’t need to label it at all.

Maybe it's just one human being, lying down, no longer pretending.

And in that, somehow, utterly and fully alive.

Shambhavee Jha