Quiet Clarity is a 2x/week letter on stillness, ambition, and meaning — for people building without losing themselves.
As I step into my mid-20s, I've started to see something clearly.
A lot of what I thought was me… wasn't really me at all. It was conditioning.
It was layers of old fears, upbringing, and unconscious reactions that I'd mistaken for who I was.
The way I thought, felt, even the way I processed situations wasn't really deliberate. It was automatic.
I used to wonder why I felt so out of place around certain people. Why I'd pull away or feel distant for no clear reason.
Now I see that was all conditioning too.
Somewhere inside, I had this quiet belief that I was different, maybe even above, and without realizing it, I'd act in ways that reinforced that distance.
A subtle remark here, a bit of detachment there, and soon the space between us would grow. Then I'd tell myself the story again: "See? They just don't get me."
But the truth is, it wasn't them. It was the unconscious part of me trying to protect itself by separating.
Bringing that pattern into awareness changed everything. I could finally see it for what it was: not superiority, not clarity, but just conditioning. And once I saw it, I could choose differently.
I think many of us feel this in different areas of our lives. We grow up believing we just are a certain way. But the truth is, you can always choose to change.
This conditioning doesn't always show up as superiority—sometimes it's the opposite.
We mess up once and tell ourselves, "I'm not good enough" or "I'm incompetent." But what if the reality was just that you messed up once?
For me, that story was about school. Because I didn't get good grades, I'd repeat to myself that I wasn't smart, that I just wasn't good at academics. But that in itself was just a story I had created. What if the reality was simply that I wasn't studying effectively?
Looking back, that's exactly what it was. I didn't pay attention in class, and I'd spend less than 30 minutes on math homework before giving up.
But back then, I was so lost in my story. I was unconscious.
The same pattern showed up with my parents and friends. Whenever they'd comment on my career choices (even lighthearted jokes my friends would make) I'd feel instantly attacked.
My chest would tighten, my defenses would go up, and I'd either withdraw or snap back. I'd leave those conversations feeling like they were putting me down, like they didn't believe in me.
But here's what I realized: I was reacting to the story I'd built about my career, not to what they were actually saying. Deep down, I was insecure about my path. I had doubts I hadn't admitted to myself.
So when they made a joke or asked a question, it hit that place I was protecting. They weren't attacking me. I was attacking myself through their words.
If I had just learned to see it through their lens, to hear the care behind my parents' questions or the playfulness in my friends' jokes, the whole thing would have dissolved. It wouldn't have impacted me at all.
They were just being themselves, and I was filtering everything through my conditioning.
Let’s take it a step further. Maybe they were joking from their own insecurities, but so what? If I’ve truly come to terms with what I’m doing, why should I be affected?
Because that moment showed me something simple but uncomfortable. It was never really about them.
Every reaction I’ve ever had was a mirror that was just pointing me back to the part of me that still wanted to be understood.
I’ve learned that most of life is like this. I’ve learned that I can’t change everyone around me. And when I was attached to changing other people, I felt hurt when they wouldn’t change.
But I can change one thing: and that’s how I react to the world around me. When I understand that, peace comes automatically.
Once we start making these patterns conscious, we can actually come to terms with reality. We can see that most of what we're reacting to isn't what's happening, it's the old stories we're still carrying.
And in that awareness, we finally get to choose who we want to be, and that’s when real peace emerges.
From Amma’s Hand
From Nanna’s Voice
