Mizuki Dreams

I believe I am currently in the dark night of my soul.

My mind is full of questions. My soul feels exhausted; I’m worried about things that haven’t yet come to pass. Plans are uncertain, outcomes unclear. The days are passing in supersonic motion, yet there are no visible wins or results.

At times like this, people say one must retreat into solitude, escape to a mountain retreat, or a meditation centre to find answers.

For a moment, I thought I needed the same.

Then I remembered a Zen story about a monk and an empty boat.

A young monk, seeking perfect silence, rowed a small wooden boat to the middle of a quiet lake and began meditating. For hours, he enjoyed deep stillness.

Suddenly — thud!

Another boat had collided with his.
Anger rose within him. He prepared to shout at the careless boatman who had disturbed his peace. But when he opened his eyes, he saw that the other boat was empty. It had simply drifted loose from the shore.

In that moment, the monk understood something profound.

The anger was not caused by the boat. It had always been inside him.
The collision only revealed it.

This story returned to me recently as I navigated the past few months, working from home, balancing professional responsibilities, caring for my son through his exams and assignments, and supporting my mother, who needs more comfort and attention with each passing year.

Some days, I find myself lecturing my mother as if I were the parent. The “elder daughter” in me, the one who was always the Chief Decision Officer or the  Voice of Reason growing up, still shows up, sometimes more strongly than I would like.

But that realization led me to an unexpected place.

I began remembering how I studied during my school and college years.

Growing up in the noisy lanes of Parel–Lalbaug, silence was a luxury we never had. Loudspeakers, street sounds, children playing, the city never slept! So I adapted. I studied from midnight till dawn.

Those quiet hours belonged to me.

Over time, I learned something powerful: once the mind decides to focus, the world cannot distract it. And then I could study just as easily during the day, regardless of the blaring loudspeakers or the children playing and shouting just across the street.

Which makes me wonder…

How did I forget that person?

When did I start believing that I needed perfect silence, meditation music, or mountain retreats to find calm?

Perhaps the truth is simpler than the mind likes to believe.

The inner self never leaves. It waits quietly beneath the noise of responsibilities, expectations, and restless thoughts.

Some days we will drift away from it.
Some days we will find our way back.

But if we keep returning, patiently, persistently — something remarkable happens.

We realize the peace we were searching for was never hidden in mountains, retreats, or silence.

It was always waiting within us.