The Ache Of Not Knowing Why

Some days arrive without warning, not as events, but as feelings.

Not joy. Not grief. Just a strange stillness. Like standing at the edge of yourself, uncertain which way is home.

There is no crisis, no clarity. Only a question. One that doesn’t speak in words but in weight.

And you wonder - Was all this becoming just a way to avoid being?

The mirror shows a familiar face. The voice speaks the practiced lines. But somewhere behind the eyes, there’s someone watching it all. Not tired, but waiting.

Waiting for you to stop performing healing. To stop chasing wholeness like it’s somewhere you must arrive. To stop believing the ache is a flaw instead of a doorway.

From the Lankavatara Sutra:

“Things are not what they appear to be: nor are they otherwise.”

Let that riddle sit quietly. If you’re not the masks, and you’re not the ache… who, then, is breathing beneath both?

These words don’t demand belief. They invite a pause, a presence. A moment to consider, to reflect.

they carry the ache,

like a stone in the pocket,

too familiar to discard,

too heavy to name.

they’ve tried gratitude,

burned incense,

read books about letting go,

still, the ache remains,

not louder, just honest.

like the ocean’s pull beneath the wave,

it asks nothing,

only presence.

not fixing,

not fleeing,

just being,

until even the ache,

softens into awareness.

Don’t rush to label what you felt while reading. Let it echo. Let it linger. You are not meant to be tidy. Or clear. You are meant to remember something wordless, something that has never left.

You’re not broken. You’re becoming bare.

You’re not lost. You’re returning.

If something stirred, even quietly, echo it back.

A pause. A breath. A wordless knowing.

No need to explain. Just share what moved.

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© 2025 Beyond Silence. Written by "the one listening."

If shared, please credit with care.