Still Searching for Answers

Not every thought that crosses our mind is meant to start a storm.Some simply arrive uninvited, gentle, and curious asking us to pause and look within.
I had one of those moments recently. It wasn’t about anyone in particular, and it wasn’t meant to create a fuss. It was just… a thought. A question that surfaced quietly, then stayed with me, waiting for meaning.
Maybe that’s what life often is a series of questions without quick answers.
And maybe that’s okay, because the search itself teaches us patience, humility, and peace.
I’m still searching.
Still waiting for the kind of clarity that only time and truth can bring. It was one of those evenings when silence felt louder than words.

The world outside was calm no voices, no distractions just the soft hum of stillness.
I sat by the window, a cup of tea slowly turning cold in my hand, as my mind began its usual journey. My thoughts, like restless travelers, never stay in one place.They drift sometimes gently, sometimes wildly from one question to another.And before I knew it, I was already somewhere far, far away from here.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about people how easily we build walls around each other.
When I meet a stranger, young or old, I usually start with a smile. The conversation begins softly “How are you? Where do you stay?”
And just when the warmth begins to grow, a question always arrives like an uninvited guest
“Which religion do you belong to?” I never understand why that question needs to appear between two humans who were simply connecting.Why does something as pure as a smile suddenly have to pass through the filter of belief? And if I happen not to belong to their expected religion, I often wonder what do they think of me in that instant? Does the conversation lose its color? Does kindness have boundaries drawn by faith?
From there, my thoughts travel again to the image of a man I often imagine. A kind, honest man who spent his whole life doing good.He helped others, spoke gently, and lived with a clean heart. But he never believed in God no religion, no prayer, no rituals only good deeds. And I wondered… when he dies, will he still reach paradise? the so-called final home of every soul?
Would the good gods who created us open their gates for someone who didn’t believe in them, yet lived a life they would be proud of? Or does one need religion as a passport to prove their righteousness before the divine?

Before I could answer myself, another thought arrived.
I remembered how some people say our future is written in the lines of our hands.
They look, trace, and predict as if destiny hides beneath our skin. But what about those who have no hands? Does fate forget them? Or does it write their story somewhere else maybe in their hearts, or in the way they look at life?

And just like that, my mind jumped again
this time into the vastness of the universe, endless, silent, and beautiful.I wondered what the world would look like if every thought could be captured like a selfie a picture of the mind instead of the face.Would people still hide behind smiles? Would we still pretend to be okay? Or would we finally see how colorful, chaotic, and fragile our minds truly are?

I took a deep breath and smiled at the stillness around me.The tea had gone cold, but my thoughts they were still warm, still wandering.
And somewhere between those wandering thoughts, I found a strange kind of peace.
Perhaps it isn’t faith or names that matter, but how gently we live as humans with kindness, understanding, empathy, caring, and love, and the warmth we leave behind in the hearts we meet.