Author: Rhea
I spent a quiet New Year in Goa — the land of my ancestors. Even as the Year of the Snake ended, I found myself still shedding – Skin.Hair…and Stories. For sixteen years, I have lived by a ritual: choosing one word to guide the year ahead.For 2025, the word that came to me — or perhaps chose me — was Ancestors. I did not know then how deeply that word would ask me to descend. This past year has been a journey of unearthing, the scars my ancestors carried, the silences they survived, the stories they buried – just…
You left. And didn’t.I feel the grief and the courage and the silent knowingthat it is all ok.I do not know where the breath goeswhen it leaves people you may have never know,But our bodies always knew and continue to.And then there are the trees ofcourseThe wind carries your voice—soft and strong —into the aching branches.You paused in this world to teach us the grief of glaciers,the prayer in a fox’s eyes,how to bow to a world breakingand.. still sing.Now, the earth holds youThe wind will celebrates your voice forever.with fierce love,and trembling joy.The Spiral lives in my spine.The Great…
Journaling – The Difficulty and Importance. ✨As a coach, I often encourage my coachees to journal. But let me be honest: journaling is not easy.Facing a blank page can feel uncomfortable. The inner critic shows up. The temptation to distract ourselves is strong. And yet, it’s often in those moments of resistance that the real work begins.Journaling is not about perfect sentences. It’s about presence. It’s a space where we allow our thoughts, feelings, and questions to emerge without judgment. Over time, this practice becomes both a mirror — reflecting back our patterns — and a compass — pointing us…
On a holiday in Goa. This afternoon I was sitting at a peaceful sea facing quiet restaurant on a breezy afternoon. After ordering my veg meal and listening to my favourite song list. Content.Then came in a group of 6 holiday people in their late 60’s and sat at s table next to mine. My ‘excotic’ food platter arrived. An elderly gentleman from that table, smiled in surprise looking at my plate, I smiled back in amusement.A few minutes later, he looked at me and seemed to be asking me something.. I had to once again take a break from…
There are days when I go into the ‘woods’and leave every name behind, or try to.No “mindfulness.” No “wellness.” – Just the lush and the hushthat comes when the body remembersHow to listen.The path does not ask for anything. The trees do not brand their green.The wind has never once said, “Breathe with awareness.”It plays with my hair without permission – it’s quite wilful to be honest.There was a time when silence didn’t need a stage.It didn’t need a logo, a campaign or a model.It just was. Rich as earth. Deep as breath. Present as love.Now, we dress Silence up…
As a practising Biomimic it warmed my heart to see this.It is so overt that it is covert in its message.This partnership between the Austrian Power Grid (APG) and the brilliant minds at Meissl Architects isn’t just smart engineering—it’s design with deep feeling.They’ve looked at the world around us—at its inherent grace, its effortless efficiency—and decided to mirror that back. So more of us can really see- the AND.The secret? It’s all in the biological archetypes, the elegance found in nature’s blueprint. The core principle here is a gentle, almost whispered integration of form.The support structure, which must be strong…
Fear is not an involuntary affliction, but rather a profound, self-authored state of being.It is Consciously or unconsciously chosen through the selective engagement and persistent amplification of catastrophic or paralyzing thoughts. It is the voluntary surrender of the present moment to the tyranny of a negative future projection.Something which is, itself, a sheer product of one’s own interpretive narrative.Simply put -Fear is something you choose… when you choose to think those thoughts. EverytimeIf an unexamined life is not worth living..Then an unexamined fear is not worth fearing-Rhea
I held a sheet of paper today.thin, pale, soft at the edges – absentmindedly.And thought of the tree it once was, standing in a green hush,the wind combing its branches – like a patient mother.How astonishing, that something which once held birds,Now holds my thoughts, Just as gently..My questions, my small attempts at understanding.A tree becomes a page, and a page becomes a teacher.As a childI folded paper into planes that lifted toward the ceiling,Toward possibilities.And boats that braved rainwater riversAs though… courage had no limits.and imagination..no boundaries.I did not know then.. that I was learning…craft, geometry, imagination,and…the wild grammar…
I was touched— not by hands,but by something older than language,something that traveledthrough bone and memoryto find me.It rose like a forgotten riverfrom the places where my ancestorshad buried their grief, their silence,their unspoken wounds.And when it reached me, it cracked open the doorsI did not know I was holding shut.I felt generations, their ache, their hope,their unfinished prayers—gather around me – not to burden,but to release.As if they had been waiting for someone brave or ready enoughto stop running, to finally turn toward the painand say,“Ok I am ready to do my bit. – It finally rests with me.”So…
We Create to Hold the Need to Be Better.I have often wondered why does creativityfeel so settling quietening….liberating?Creation feels like a voluntary act of humilitya quiet way to own our awesomeness,without needing to shout or explain.We build,because we believesomething more beautiful, more useful, more servingis always possible.All invention is a whisperfrom the future, asking us to grow.Like the Oak tree it comes back to prod its seed state,To manifest it magnificence..grow.Have we stopped to wonder..If a calculator weren’t faster than us, we wouldn’t need it?If music didn’t make us feel more deeply, we wouldn’t seek it.If a painting didn’t offer…