Striving towards Excellence

-Karthik Gurumurthy

I think about the masks we wear throughout our lives. It's not talking about physical masks, but the fake personas we put on without even realizing it. What is a mask after all?  It is  basically something we do out of compulsion to fit in when we feel threatened or uncomfortable. It's not something we consciously choose - it's this automatic behavior we slip into. Our past experiences color our perceptions in ways we don't even recognize because they're buried so deep in our subconscious.

As we  grow up, we kept on collecting masks - from teachers, neighbors, comic book characters - until they had this whole repertoire of personas to slip into depending on the situation. Looking back, I  realize these masks were all developed when they were immature, and now it feels "sickening and suffocating" because these automatic responses prevent us from being spontaneous and authentic.

It's like we're all actors on a stage, but behind the scenes, we're crying over the price we pay for wearing these masks. Once we are on a path to  spiritual growth , I see us basically entering this "hall of mirrors" where you start seeing yourself reflected in everyone else. Instead of being separate, you realize you're connected to everyone. It's not about some other worldly thing - it's about discovering your true nature and seeing how you're just one reflection of something much bigger.

You're not a human having some occasional spiritual moments - you're actually a spiritual being having a temporary human experience.

When someone really grows spiritually, they become this natural channel for love - not the effortful, conditional kind, but the pure, childlike love that just flows. They see harmony beneath all the chaos and unity beneath all the separation.

It's such a contrast to those suffocating masks we wear - this is about becoming completely authentic by connecting to something much deeper than all our social personas.

-Karthik Gurumurthy

I've been thinking about a different kind of courage lately—one that our world rarely celebrates...

I see bravery in your decision to slow down, to leave that to-do list unfinished. There's something profoundly courageous about choosing not to cross every finish line, especially when your body whispers "enough."

I recognize the fearlessness it takes to choose your soul's quiet voice over the relentless chorus always pushing for more. How bold and rebellious you are, honoring your natural rhythm while the world races at breakneck speed around you.

Our culture has taught me to admire the endlessly ambitious—those who never stop producing, achieving, conquering. We've learned to applaud people who refuse rest, who sacrifice body, soul, and heart on the altar of achievement. We celebrate those who hide their vulnerabilities, their fatigue, their humanity behind masks of perpetual motion.

Yes, this relentless drive can be heroic. Sometimes it's necessary for survival or serving the greater good. But I've come to see another kind of heroism—quieter, gentler, yet equally powerful.

I want to celebrate those who listen to their bodies' wisdom, who seek only what their souls truly need. These are my new heroes—the ones who don't force or push, but instead surrender to each moment as it unfolds.

I find myself applauding those who may not chase conventional success, but who nurture something deeper, subtler, more essential. I'm moved by the courage of those who pause—even briefly—to sit with their heart's ache. This, I've learned, can be harder than climbing any mountain.

My heroes now include those who honor their limitations, who can't keep pace with our culture's frantic tempo yet show up fully for each profound, necessary moment. In a world that demands we betray our own rhythms, our own souls, choosing authenticity becomes an act of rebellion.

I've discovered a beautiful paradox: when I stop my incessant doing and listen to my inner voice, I finally hear what I must do and what can fall away. In that stillness, I discover what truly serves my soul—and through that, what serves the world. Nothing more, nothing less.

A hero, I've realized, is simply someone brave.

So I invite you to join me in this soft bravery. Become a new, quieter kind of hero. The world may not applaud—few will even notice. But I promise you this: your soul will celebrate, and that's the only ovation that truly matters.

In choosing to honor our natural rhythms, we're not just saving ourselves—we're modeling a different way of being for a world that desperately needs this wisdom.

-Karthik Gurumurthy

I've noticed how when I fixate on stuff that bothers me, I just stay bothered. And when I'm obsessing over problems, I'm too wrapped up in them to actually find solutions. The truth is, I'm only powerless when I decide to be. I always have the choice to look for something good, even in messy situations.

I'm starting to believe that my progress in life is directly related to how well I can let go of problems and move forward with a positive mindset. It's like my ability to release what's bothering me determines how far I can go.

Too often, I miss opportunities because I've convinced myself I'm trapped by circumstances I can't control. But that's not really true - I'm never actually stuck with my problems. Solutions are always within reach if I just let go enough to get some perspective on what's really happening.

My problems don't have to hold back my growth today. I can choose a different response.

-Karthik Gurumurthy

I find it interesting to see how relationships naturally evolve throughout our lives. Think about your own friendships growing up - those friends from high school might have been your whole world back then, but now you might just catch up maybe once a year.

There's also this natural ebb and flow with family relationships. Some people were super close with cousins as kids but drifted apart once they moved away as adults. Others managed to stay connected despite living thousands of miles apart. For the longest period of time, I tried my best to be connected with lot of my cousins even though it was mostly one-sided.  Except for my cousin Chitra nobody from my family have attempted much to meet our family. Over time, I've shifted away from measuring others' investment in our relationship. I've gradually learned to create healthy space between myself and others, realizing that maintaining some distance isn't a sign of disconnection but rather of mature independence. I've come to appreciate that relationships don't require constant proximity or validation—it's perfectly acceptable, even necessary, to establish boundaries and honor our need for personal space.

What I found truly fascinating was how our interests and values evolve over time. During the pandemic, I genuinely missed social connections, but when in-person gatherings finally resumed, I noticed a striking disconnect. Many people behaved quite differently in real life compared to their social media personas. The disparity between online expression and actual behavior was jarring - revealing a broader disconnect that made me reconsider the authenticity of these relationships.

The problem isn't that relationships change - that's natural and inevitable. The issue comes when we don't adapt or when we cling to connections that have naturally run their course. Being resilient means having the flexibility to let some relationships evolve, some strengthen, and some gently fade while being open to new connections.

-Karthik Gurumurthy

I find myself returning to Judy Grahn's powerful words about the common woman being "as common as a thunderstorm" - that image of someone walking around quietly all day while containing electric, angry energy inside a passive form. In my daily life, I see this dynamic everywhere.

Last weekend, my wife Shobana  showed remarkable restraint when faced with an unsolicited and inappropriate comment from a relative who, despite their misplaced sense of wisdom, felt entitled to lecture her about volunteering. Out of respect for his age, she chose not to respond, though the comment was entirely unwarranted.  During my high school years, my mother displayed tremendous grace when a relative of ours who was visiting us made a disrespectful and completely unwarranted remark. Out of deference to his senior status in the family, she chose to maintain her dignity by not responding, though the comment was entirely inappropriate. The parent who calmly handles a child's tantrum in public while internally screaming. We've created a society that often rewards passive acceptance, particularly from women, while providing few healthy outlets for the legitimate anger that builds inside.

I've noticed how many people, including myself sometimes, walk around angry without even realizing it.  How I'll nod pleasantly through uncomfortable situations at work, saving my true thoughts for the drive home. How I'll swallow my words when interrupted, the electricity of frustration buzzing just beneath my skin. How I've perfected the art of appearing calm while processing intense emotions. It's like, our jobs and daily life situations make us feel stuck and powerless, and that feeling of being trapped just makes us even angrier.

The Serenity Prayer has been super helpful for me - you know, the one about accepting what you can't change, finding courage to change what you can, and figuring out which is which. When I really take an honest look at my life, I'm often surprised by how many things I actually do have power to change, even when I feel stuck.

For the stuff I just can't change (or choose not to tackle right now), I'm learning that acceptance works way better than just spinning my wheels in anger that goes nowhere or, worse, turning that anger against myself. And it feels pretty amazing when I do gather up the courage to change the things within my control.

Today I'm trying to look at my anger differently - like it's something I'm choosing rather than something that's just happening to me. I'm wondering if my anger might actually be covering up some fears I haven't faced. Maybe if I figure out what those are, I can find better ways to deal with the real issues.

-Karthik Gurumurthy

I share in humanity's common nature, and what benefits one person contributes to the benefit of others as well.

I've come to understand that ecology—the study of how all life interconnects—extends beyond the physical world into our emotional realm. We've all met those emotional polluters, right? That relative who gossips about everyone quietly, the friend who's always the victim in their own story, or that family member who bullies everyone at gatherings. Nobody wants to hang around that energy!

Ironically, these individuals are often talented and sometimes hold positions of authority over others.  But here's the thing – we're all connected. So maybe when I stay calm and don't take the bait when my super smart relative starts trash-talking people in their absence, I'm actually influencing them as much as they're trying to influence me. When I don't join in or react, I'm helping clean up our shared emotional space.

I've caught myself being "nice" in ways that actually make things worse. Like when I laugh awkwardly at my smarty relative's mean jokes just to keep the peace at family get-togethers, or when I listen to my friend rant about the same problems for hours without ever suggesting they might need to change something. My politeness isn't actually helping anyone there. I'm working on being genuine without enabling the toxic stuff. Instead of nodding along when someone starts gossiping, I can change the subject. If someone's wallowing in self-pity, I can offer real support instead of just sympathy. That's how I'll try to be truly helpful rather than just polite.

I've come to recognize that prioritizing my well-being sometimes means declining family gatherings rather than attending only to leave emotionally depleted. While social expectations often pressure us to participate regardless of personal cost, I now understand that establishing boundaries around environments that consistently diminish my spirit isn't selfish—it's necessary self-preservation. These occasional absences allow me to engage more authentically during the gatherings I do attend, rather than repeatedly exposing myself to dynamics that leave me feeling diminished or misunderstood.

Among our family members is a relative who consistently distances herself, perceiving our dynamic as harmful to her wellbeing. While we've developed a mutual desire for space, we find ourselves reluctantly reconnecting during mandatory family gatherings. These occasions create an unavoidable intersection of our separate paths, compelling interaction despite our shared preference for distance.

The situation places both parties in a delicate position of maintaining appearances while navigating unresolved tensions. Family obligations create a unique paradox where people who have consciously chosen separation must temporarily coexist in a shared space, often performing cordial exchanges that mask deeper disconnections. This creates an emotional labor for everyone involved—balancing family loyalty with authentic self-protection, honoring tradition while acknowledging the reality of strained relationships, and managing the subtle expectation that blood relations somehow override personal boundaries.

This complex dynamic reflects the challenging intersection between individual wellbeing and collective family identity, where neither complete separation nor genuine reconnection seems possible within the current framework of our relationship. While I've come to acknowledge the regrettable nature of this relationship, I'm gradually embracing acceptance as a form of wisdom rather than resignation. Some dynamics exist beyond our capacity to transform them, and recognizing this boundary has become an essential part of my emotional maturity. Instead of expending energy on what cannot be changed, I'm learning to redirect my focus toward relationships where mutual growth remains possible.  My dad always used to say, "What cannot be cured must be endured" So be it.

-Karthik Gurumurthy

My dad always used to quote, " What cannot be cured must be endured"

In magic and in life there is only the present moment, the now. We human being have enormous difficulty in focusing on the present; we’re always thinking about what we did, about the consequences of our actions, and why we didn’t act as we should have. Or else we think about the future, about what we are going to do tomorrow.

Past and future only exist in our mind. The present moment, though, is outside of, its eternity.

It is not what you did in the past that will affect the present.

It’s what you do in the present that will redeem the past and thereby change the future.

Our life is a constant journey, from the birth to death. The landscape changes, the people change, our need change, but the train keeps moving. Life is the train, not the station.

Understand what is going on inside you and you will understand what is going on inside everyone else.

Anyone truly committed to life never stops walking.

Bless and you will be blessed.

The knowledge that the willpower and courage are not the same thing. Courage can attract fear and adulation, but willpower requires patience and commitment.

We always tend to value what comes from the afar, never recognizing the beauty around us.

Routine has nothing to do with repetition. To become really good at anything, you have to practice and repeat, practice and repeat, until the technique becomes intuitive.

What cannot be cured must be endured.

What hurts us is what heals us.

Don’t think what you’ll people afterward. The time is here and now. Make the most of it.

If you want to see a rainbow you have to learn to like the rain.

Tears are the blood of the soul.

Love can save everything.

Place all your feelings outside yourself and you will be renewed.

Expand your energies you will remain young.