A Return to Oneself
On remembrance, authenticity and the harmony of oneness.
There is a place within, be it in your heart, your soul or gently nested behind the eyes, that does not ask anything of you. It does not ask us to become anything new, to fix, to heal or to strive. It is a place where, beneath the noise of living, we reunite with the indelible peace of our original self. It is whole unto itself, yet inseparable from something greater. It has always existed, it always will, and it remains accessible whenever we choose to return to it.
Many of us spend much of our lives seeking a deeper meaning, a truth, a purpose—our purpose. And it would be remiss not to mention that many spend much of their lives simply trying to make it through another day. One begins to wonder what it is all for, and for whom?
Perhaps this is the great misunderstanding of our time: that fulfilment is found in becoming more, when often it is found in becoming truer. Not in striving to be someone else, but in honouring the quiet call of our own nature. A softening back into what is already known, though often unacknowledged.
When we live in accordance with our true nature, we do not move away from the collective—we contribute to it. What is true for us is rarely separate from what serves the whole. The harmony of the whole depends upon the authenticity of each part.
Our greatest teacher, Mother Nature, demonstrates this beautifully. All of nature and her creatures live in accordance with their truth, never questioning their purpose or their place. The bee never doubts its role with the flower. It does not wish to become the flower, nor does the flower attempt to become the bee. Each serves a different purpose, yet together they create something greater than either could alone.
Similarly, a violin would struggle to play the role of a cello, just as a flute would lose its voice trying to become a drum. Yet when each instrument expresses its own nature, something remarkable emerges — harmony. The beauty of the symphony depends not on sameness, but on each part faithfully playing its own note.
Returning to oneself is harmonising with our authentic nature and original role in the world. For it is not only for ourselves, but for the collective. Each of us contributes our own note to a greater harmony. An ode to oneness. To oneself.
There is nowhere to go to find it. Nothing to accumulate. Only the uncovering, the unearthing, the letting go of what is not truly you. What we seek and who we are has never been separate from us. And like the bee does not strive to be the flower, we need not strive to become anything other than ourselves. Returning to oneself is an act of remembrance.
That true self is found in small moments — in pause, in breath, in presence. In the times where nothing is required of us, and nothing is performed. And yet, there is no final form to take. Only a continual unfolding, guided not by force, but by awareness.
Perhaps this is why we are drawn to objects of meaning — not for what they give us, but for what they quietly reflect.
A piece of jewellery, a tattoo, or a cherished garment becomes more than adornment. It becomes a marker — of where we have been, and a subtle reminder of who we have always been. In this way, adornment becomes remembrance.
And in remembrance, we return — again and again — to ourselves and to the oneness connecting all things.