Five Reasons to Stop Writing

I have nothing to write and share.
This thought comes often. Along with its companions.

What’s the point? Who am I writing for? What new am I offering that the world doesn’t already know?

Why even care to share what I learn and experience? My instinct says keep it close. Best-kept secrets are strengths, competitive advantages. Maybe it’s like enlightenment - only you can understand your own.

Everyone’s busy with their own lives. If they don’t remember what you wore when they saw you, how will your personal reflections help them? The world and its beings are too self-focused.

My wisdom is common knowledge. Just because I felt or experienced something for the first time doesn’t make it special.
Elon Musk talks about inhabiting the Moon in 10 years and Mars in 20 years.

And here I am, writing about micro-details that seem too insignificant in the high-paced life we’re leading.

Yet yesterday, despite all these thoughts, I found myself in a meeting bringing up… Elon Musk.

We were discussing the future of business, our struggles, the usual concerns. I mentioned how Elon had shifted his earlier estimates - Mars habitat moved from 10 years to 20 years, with Moon as the nearer target now.

Eyes lit up around the table.

I continued. “Elon talks about consciousness and happiness in his interviews. And he approaches each of his businesses from there.”

I could feel the need to justify. In India, anyone who talks spiritual gets labeled ‘baba’ - dismissed as irrational. So I added, “He’s a scientist, believes in physics. But he also counsels Nikhil Kamath about having kids, building family, alongside his ‘collective consciousness’ ideas.”

One person looked up. “Happiness? What is happiness?”

Not skeptical. Genuinely asking.

I shared the link to the podcast. He noted it down. The others had already moved to the next agenda item. Meeting ended.

Later, I realized - Elon never used the word “happiness” in that podcast. He talked about consciousness, meaning, purpose.

I added “happiness.”

Was it my discovery? Or my longing

Riding back home, I did my routine - not a habit yet, but I’m working on it. Being a viewer of myself. My mind and body.
I maneuvered through traffic. It felt effortless when I stayed as viewer.

Strained when I slipped back into being the doer. And in that witnessing, something became clear. I didn’t teach them about consciousness. I mentioned Elon, and one person asked about the word I added - happiness. The wisdom didn’t transmit through my certainty. It revealed through my projection.

You can’t control when someone’s eyes will light up. When a casual mention becomes the entry point for their curiosity. When your “insignificant micro-detail” becomes exactly what they needed to hear.

But you also can’t predict what your words will reveal about what you’re seeking.

So I continue to write.

Not because I’m certain anyone’s listening. But because I’m discovering what I’m actually asking.