After writing about money and security in my last blog, I found myself unexpectedly drawn to the story of the Titanic. I had never looked into it in detail before, but something called me to reflect on it.
So many wealthy people boarded that ship with confidence, perhaps even a sense of invincibility. They brought with them their treasures, their finest clothes, and their precious jewelry. Yet, when the ship sank, all of it went to the bottom of the ocean with them. Some passengers gave up their places on the lifeboats for others. They accepted their fate with calm. Others panicked. But regardless of their reactions, they shared the same ultimate reality: everything external can be taken from us in an instant.
What remains in moments like these? Inner peace. Self-connection. Faith. No amount of wealth or possessions can protect us from life’s unpredictability. True security doesn’t come from the outside — it’s rooted deep within.
And yet, how tightly we hold on to the illusion of outer security. We stay in jobs we don’t enjoy, in roles that limit us, just to feel safe. I hear people say, “I’m not happy here, but at least it’s secure.” But what is security, really, if it robs us of joy?
I’m not saying we should walk away from everything. Not at all. Security can be a beautiful thing. But we have to remember: we can only hold something new when our hands are empty. Clinging too tightly to what we have — out of fear — leaves no room for the life we could live.
A quote I heard recently from the Indian monk Keshava Swami stuck with me:
“We have taller buildings but shorter tempers. Wider highways but narrower minds. We’ve conquered outer space but are still struggling with inner space… We lose our health to gain wealth, then spend that wealth to regain our health. We have more degrees, but less sense.”
So true, isn’t it? We’ve gained so much — materially — but in many ways, we’ve lost ourselves. And that’s the greatest loss of all.
Don’t get me wrong. I love comfort. I love beauty. I love nice things. I’m not anti-pleasure or anti-material. I just know that without a strong relationship to ourselves, none of it satisfies. The outer can only enhance what is already alive inside us.
This comes back to one essential truth:
Everything begins with awareness.
How do we experience life? What lens are we looking through? If we’ve been raised to believe that life is a struggle, that joy is rare, that nothing comes easy — then that becomes our experience. Not because it’s true, but because we’ve accepted it as our truth.
We watch the news and consume the worst of the world — because we’ve lost touch with the news inside of us. Our own desires. Our joy. Our curiosity. And so we fill that empty space with fear.
But what if life is simply a reflection of what we’re aware of?
Dreams work like this. When we dream at night, we create everything — the people, the setting, the fear, the love. It’s all us. And waking life isn’t so different. We experience life not as it is, but as we are.
Even on the Titanic, everyone was living the same event, but not everyone experienced it the same way. Some resisted. Some surrendered. Some panicked. Others chose peace. The difference wasn’t the situation — it was their state of being.
I’ve realized something: only I can free or imprison myself.
It’s not money.
Not my job.
Not a relationship.
Not circumstances.
Only me.
The side of the coin I choose to look at becomes my reality. I used to see only one side — the side of fear, lack, self-doubt. But pain made me curious. Suffering made me ask: Is this really all there is? That question led me to spiritual truth. To teachers. To inner work. To stillness.
Truth has many faces, but it always leads to the same place: home. Peace. Awareness.
If you’re seeking peace, you have to go there — into yourself. That’s where the answers are.
And if I can help share what I’ve learned, or walk a few steps with you on your path, I would be deeply honored.