Inner Soul Journey

01/01/2026

11:11

Chant *SUNPO MAGIC HELP ME MAKE MOST AMAZINGLY HAPPY 2026*

30/12/2025

30/12/2025

Happiness isn’t outsourced. It’s cultivated within.

One day, it finally sank in:
my happiness was never someone else’s responsibility.
It has always been mine.

I realized that the love, care, and happiness I was seeking
were always meant to come from me.

That moment changed everything—
I stopped waiting, and I started living.

Happiness is a daily practice, not a distant goal.

So I began small.
Listening to my body, honoring my needs,
choosing joy in everyday rituals.
Self-care became my responsibility,
and with each choice, I grew lighter.

When you nurture yourself, you nurture the world.

And as I filled my own cup,
I noticed the overflow—
my joy touched others,
my peace inspired peace,
my love became contagious.

That day, I chose self-responsibility over self-pity,
self-love over validation,
and peace over approval.

And that decision changed everything.

If you are reading this—

Remember: you are allowed to choose yourself.

29/12/2025

11:11

Chant *SUNPO MAGIC BLESS ME WITH NEW BEGINNINGS IN ALL ASPECTS OF MY LIFE*

27/12/2025

NEVER OWN A DISEASE.

The body can experience many sensations, but it is the mind that decides how long suffering stays.
What you repeatedly think, speak, and emotionally attach to becomes a dominant signal to your body.
When illness becomes part of your identity or daily conversation, the mind keeps recreating that experience.

Instead, gently shift your awareness.
Acknowledge what your body is communicating, but do not let it define you.
Speak less about symptoms and more about healing, strength, and balance.

Your cells are always listening to your inner dialogue.
Fear weakens the system, while calm belief activates recovery and resilience.
Be kind to yourself — healing begins when you choose thoughts that support life, not labels that limit it.

You are not your condition.
You are the consciousness guiding your body back to harmony.

27/12/2025

The best revenge is none…
Because silence carries the strength of sages, and forgiveness is the fire that purifies the soul.

In the Bhagavad Gita, it is said: “The one who conquers himself is greater than the one who conquers a thousand men in battle.”
To heal is to conquer yourself. To move on is to step into freedom.

Do not become like those who wounded you—become like the river that flows past the stones, unbroken, unstoppable.
Let your heart be like the lotus: untouched by the mud, radiant in its own light.

Your peace is your greatest answer.
Your growth is your quiet revolution.
Your compassion is the legacy that outshines all harm.

Walk forward with dignity, carrying no shadows—only the lamp of wisdom, the fragrance of love, and the strength of your own becoming.

25/12/2025

Two years ago today, my father began his heavenly journey. While we weren't always close, the final years of his life gave us a gift I will cherish forever: time. In those years, we talked more than we had in my entire life.

I listened to stories of the 13-year-old boy who shouldered the weight of a family, building a business to ensure his siblings were educated and cared for. Understanding his childhood helped me finally understand the man. He learned early that his duty was to provide, not necessarily to express. His life was built on sacrifice rather than appreciation, and yet he remained a pillar of strength.

From him, I learned that with God’s support, you can achieve anything. I watched him defy age—eating his favorite sweets, taking no medicine, and walking faster than all of us. I carry his legacy in the watch and the ring he never took off; they are no longer just accessories, but a piece of his presence.

Papa, I see now that I absorbed your energy. My ability to build a business, to provide for my son, and to create a sturdy foundation for my family came from you. Your love with Mom was silent but unbreakable. Thank you for being the sturdy ground I stand on. I miss you, and I hope you feel the love I didn't know how to say back then. Please, give me a sign that you hear me.

Papa, I never told you how much I loved you.
I never thanked you while you were here.
So I’m saying it now — with all my heart.
I hope you feel it. I hope you send me a sign.

I miss your presence.
And I wish — just once — you had shown me your love.

Asha

25/12/2025

"Every Tuesday at 3 PM, my mother calls the same wrong number.

Has for six years.

"Hello, this is Susan. Is Robert there?"

Same response every time, "No Robert here. Wrong number."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to bother you."

Then she hangs up. Sets a reminder for next Tuesday.

I thought it was dementia. Mom's 71. Maybe forgetting she'd already tried this number.

"Mom, that's not Robert's number. You've called it 300 times.

Why do you keep calling?"

She looked at me strangely. "I know it's not Robert's number."

"Then why"

"Because someone answers."

Turned out, the woman who answers is 83. Lives alone. Has severe social anxiety. Never leaves her apartment. No family. No friends.

"Six years ago, I called your brother's old number by mistake,"

Mom explained. "Woman answered. We talked for two minutes.

When I apologized for the wrong number, she said, 'Please call again anyway. Nobody calls me.'"

"So you just... kept calling?"

"Every Tuesday. We talk for exactly twelve minutes. About nothing. Weather. TV shows. Her cat. Then I say I have to go, and

she says okay."

"For six years?"

"For six years."

"Does she know you're calling on purpose?"

"Of course. I'm not subtle. But we maintain the fiction. I 'accidentally' call. She 'happens' to answer. We pretend it's chance, not choice."

"Why the pretend?"

"Because accepting help is hard. Accepting a wrong number is easy."

Mom's phone buzzed. Tuesday, 3 PM reminder.

She dialed. "Hello, this is Susan. Is Robert there?"

A pause. Then laughter. "No Robert here, Susan. But I'm here.

How was your week?"

I listened to them talk. About the weather. A TV show. The cat's vet appointment.

Twelve minutes exactly. Then, "I should let you go."

"Okay, Susan. Same time next week?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll accidentally dial this number again."

More laughter. Goodbye.

Mom hung up. Looked at me. "Her name is Dorothy. I've never met her. Don't know her last name. Don't know her address. Just
her voice every Tuesday for twelve minutes."

"What if you stop calling?"

"Then she stops having Tuesdays."

Mom died last year. Suddenly. Heart attack.

I found Dorothy's number in her phone. Called it.

"Hello?"

"Hi. My name is Sarah. I'm Susan's daughter. I think... I think you were expecting her call today."

Silence. Then crying.

"She's gone, isn't she?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry."

"Can I ask you something? Did she ever tell you why she really called?"

"She said you needed someone to call."

"That's what she told you. But I'm calling to tell you why I answered. Because your mother's voice on Tuesdays was the only thing that kept me alive. I had the pills ready four times. Four different Tuesdays. And every time, at 3 PM, she called. And I couldn't do it after hearing her voice."

I've been calling Dorothy every Tuesday for nine months now.

Same time. Same "wrong number" fiction.

Because my mother taught me, sometimes the most important call you make is to the wrong person.

On purpose.

Every Tuesday.

For as long as someone answers."

Let this story reach more hearts....

24/12/2025

24/12/2025

The Year of the Snake (2025) taught us how to shed. It was a year of quiet recalibration — not loud endings, but precise ones. The Snake didn’t rush us forward; it asked us to pause, to listen to the discomforts we kept ignoring. It showed us where we were living out of habit instead of truth, where we were staying small because it felt safer than being seen. Growth in the Year of the Snake didn’t come through force. It came through awareness. Through honesty. Through the brave decision to let something old fall away even when no one else could see why.

The lesson of the Snake was simple but demanding: clarity precedes change.
Before anything could move, we had to understand what was misaligned. We had to name what no longer fit. We had to trust that shedding was not a loss, but a preparation. The Snake reminded us that wisdom often arrives quietly — and that not everything meaningful announces itself with urgency.

The Year of the Horse (2026) asks us to move. Where the Snake slowed time, the Horse returns momentum. This is a year animated by courage, motion, and trust in your own legs beneath you. The Horse does not overanalyze the road — it runs it. It invites you to act on the truths you uncovered, to live what you learned instead of endlessly processing it. If the Snake helped you understand who you are becoming, the Horse asks you to embody it.

The energy of the Horse is expansive and alive. It favors bold decisions, forward motion, and choosing freedom over familiarity. This is a year that rewards honesty in action — saying yes when you mean yes, leaving when you know you’re done, trusting your instincts enough to follow them without needing constant reassurance. The Horse doesn’t wait for perfect conditions. It trusts momentum to create clarity as it goes.

Together, these years form a powerful arc. 2025 stripped away what wasn’t true. 2026 gives you the courage to run toward what is.

You are not starting from scratch in the Year of the Horse — you are starting from wisdom. You move forward lighter, clearer, and more aligned than before. The shedding is complete. The path is open. And now, you’re invited to trust yourself enough to take up space in your own becoming.