Brief Insights

This space holds short reflections and distilled insights from my ongoing inner and creative process.
These writings arise in moments of awareness as they naturally unfold—simple, personal, and reflective in nature. They are offered as observations rather than instruction or guidance.

My work explores inner experience through a somatic and psychological lens. It is intentionally nonlinear, mirroring the way awareness actually moves rather than how stories are traditionally structured. The intention is not to explain or conclude, but to invite resonance—presence over interpretation, and felt recognition over meaning-making.

© 2026 trueessencevoyage.com. All rights reserved.

Mar - 03 - 2026

God and Daemon (A Poem and Reflection)  

Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

God said to see the God inside of you.
There is no higher, no lower.
To trust yourself and believe in yourself.
It was to expand and create a new life
out of freedom, out of love, and out of expansion—
a way of curiosity, wonder, and adventure,
full of breathing and flowing.

Daemon said to put faith in God.
“Just believe in God.
Don’t believe in yourself.
You are a sinner—give away your belief in yourself.
You are wrong. You are not good enough.
You will be enough if you believe in God.”

It was to create a helpless, powerless individual
who gives their power to God,
and thus there became Godheads.

And the society that lived in scarcity
wanted to become God itself,
to become power itself.
They were living in the delusion
that they had to reach some God-standard.
Then the race began—
a race to become first, the superior,
to gain titles and the next best thing.

The sadness is they were living in inferiority inside,
a rottenness of spirit they couldn’t see,
a virus of beliefs they thought were solid.
That’s how society was created.

To see the truth was too shocking—
it would negate their whole existence.
So they kept believing in daemons
who would provide medals, praise, recognition,
promotion, title, and name in society
if they kept chasing godhood.

And then death came,
and they were standing above, watching below.

What was that? It was all a lie.
And I was living a lie.
I didn’t have the courage to even open my eyes.
The fear of being nothing was too much.
The fear of living a lie was too much.
The fear of standing alone
while everyone was singing the same song
was too much.

Perhaps it was easier to die the lie while I was alive—
I could still live knowing it was a lie.
Now I have to start another life
not knowing it was a lie,
standing at the pearly gates
and trying for courage again.

Oh well. If I fail, I will try again.
So many lives—
it’s better to let the lie die while I am alive.

It is lonely.
It is scary.
It is alienating.
You feel like nothing.
You don’t have a purpose.
You don’t know what you should be doing.

Perhaps I can start with trust.
This moment is enough.
This breath is enough.

Perhaps godhood doesn’t need a medal,
but the recognition that this life is alive.

The walking in the air is miraculous.
The movement of life is miraculous.
If I watch the greenery of a leaf,
the whiteness of light,
the shapes of objects—
if I notice completely,
perhaps I would have touched the divine
which God said was within
for the eyes to see.

And the daemon wanted to become God itself,
believing that controlling others’ energy would make it powerful,
never believing in the godhood within.

It is a sad story—
a story of ignorance and greed.

A society created on this premise will be demised,
because holding negation in existence
requires too much power,
and it will collapse by itself.

Perhaps before the collapse
there will be courage to open the eyes and see,
and start from ground zero—
to begin a new civilization.

A nurturing civilization.
An inclusive civilization.
A synergistic civilization.

Where no one has to pay to exist,
no one has to hold a mortgage,
no one has to have money to pay for money.

And if the godhood of money
is taken away from the human psyche,
perhaps then the interrelationship of souls
working in the field will exist—
to serve each other,
to support each other,
to care for each other.

Not as islands,
not believing we cannot trust each other,
not believing others have hidden agendas
or that resources are limited.

If that premise is taken away—
if resources are abundant—
then I see expansive humans
living synergistically in abundance.

That is my hope.
But perhaps I hope for that life
for myself first.

Can I open to caring and nurturing
when old structures, old lies, old beliefs still exist?
It feels scary to practice something so outrageous.
But I can be wise about it.

Have boundaries and extension.
Letting myself loosen into hope
feels triggering to the system.

Perhaps I can open the gates 0.0002%.
And that is enough for now.
Then open a little more.

This is opening my eyes and my life to the new world
while I am still in the old world.

And I am leaving the pursuit of attaining godhood,
which is sadness,
and believing instead in the words of the first God—
to look for godhood within,
which is trusting in self.

Let the experiment begin.

And so it is.

✨✨✨

Feb - 23 - 2026

Seduction (A Poem and Reflection)  

Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

It’s mesmerizing — the power,
The love and belonging.

How can you not be seduced by the serpent of desire?
It is the old habit; it wakes up again to be seduced.

Life feels bland, saltless,
And the seduction feels like a treat, a vacation —
A sense of self, superior and interesting.

The watching eyes, the laughter, the jokes, and the attention.
Oh yes, it is the attention — all eyes on me.
The seduction of it all.

And it repeats again, mesmerized in this illusion of
Getting love from attention, and it acts again.
Subconsciously, it was not known before.
It is now.

I can’t discipline it — that would mean it was wrong.
It never was.
A class was taught of attention and attaining love from attention.

Maybe it’s a class, a broken bone, a victim, or a sorrow tale —
Or even a joke.
It is all seduction: to be superior, to be wanted,
To gain worth and belonging instantly by one tale.

The laughter is mesmerizing, and the attention too.

It’s a habit.
Abandoning it means dying — and who am I without it?

It is an unknown darkness, venturing into it without influencing,
Getting off the medicine I was addicted to.

The fear of loss — of not being anything, of not being interesting or interested.
It is losing the art of seducing others’ attention to self.

It is a heavy price:
Of not being anything, of being nothing.

A scary endeavor, an unknown venture.

I am willing to take the plunge into the nameless existence
Of not being known, of not being interesting.

A death of self —
Of being plain and simple, of not seeking attention.

Days will tell if I survive
Or am enticed by the serpent again.

I will be kind to myself.
Attacking doesn’t help — only understanding does.

Nothing to lose and nothing to gain.

A new life.
A different life.
A life of simplicity.

Letting go of the seducer,
And letting go of being seduced.

And so it is.

✨✨✨

Feb - 3 - 2026

Resistance (A Poem and Reflection)  

Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

She said it’s not possible.
I said the “other she” said it was.

And the force came from inside:
she should do this.

And the resistance came with a force:
you are not listening to what I am saying.

And I started listening.
Then I thought she should be able to do
what the “other she” said was possible.

But clearly she was saying she can’t.
The conundrum: I can’t ask a cat to bark.

I met a dog earlier, and now a cat.
I don’t talk to a cat in dog language.
I wish it was possible, because the dog said it was.

That hope to be done was a victory, a finish line—
one thing complete.

But the cat said it can’t be complete,
and I felt helpless, angry—rage.

It was a finish line I could see, it was within reach.
Why can’t you see it?

And she mewed again.
With half a heart, I agreed to the mew
and cut the phone.

And I feel I am in a world of change:
the one in front is the real one.
The one in the present can’t do
the action of the past.

That was the pain—believing it was doable.
Projecting my doing was painful,
and listening to simple instructions was easy.

The pain came from not reaching the victory lap.
Probably it was not there to begin with—
a false fog of delusion.

And I breathe now. I can wait
to meet the dog again.

✨✨✨

Heavy (A Poem and Reflection)  

Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

Burden, heaviness—like steel iron.
A push to avoid it, throw it away.
Fight it.
“It’s not needed,” it says.

Angry, an outsider,
an invader to be thrown away.
And the blood boils with the energy of Hercules,
to be defeated again with that load—
the heaviness of the iron.

A never-ending game of heaviness.
It feels like being trapped,
engrossed in this game.
Throwing it away is the solution;
fighting it is the way, it says.

What if I allow it to press on me,
like drifting in quicksand—
suffocating, losing control,
half-breathing to not able to breathe.

Will I enter another world?
Will I leave, or will I stay?
I know not the answer,
but this game doesn’t help.

Endlessly fighting in the muscles, avoiding—
and it avoids me in eternity.

From where did this learning come?
Someone might have taught it,
or I picked it up.
It is muscle memory,
unconscious light switches,
with the river drafted for.

I know not, see no new path
if I venture the old.
To avoid is to stay.
To allow is to trust.

I don’t go to the heavy one.
I don’t fight it.
I don’t create it.
Whom am I to blame?
Who am I to label it?

It is nothing, and I create something—
and that something is heavy.

What if I don’t connect it?
I let it be and not label it,
not controlling, nor avoiding.

It is the unknown, uncertainty—
a new way never seen by me.
I dared not try it in the past;
I was scared to be lost.

Now I feel I can play,
to leave the identity, the house behind,
and venture into the new world of the unknown.

There are no certainties, no friends, and probably—
I can lay down the old definitions,
stories, and labels,
to even try what happens,
because I have never seen this before.

A new world, a new way, a new life.
And so be it!

✨✨✨

Jan - 22 - 2026

Savannah (A Poem and Reflection)  

Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

He is not listening to me.
The strong face of resentment,
the heavy breathing of weight
being sunk
and trying to pull up from the deep hole at the same time.

Losing the grip of control
and the fear of being controlled.

It’s so hard to breathe,
living in the thick world of judgments.
“She is too stubborn,” it says,
“Why can’t she just do it?”

And losing belonging to it.
Scared of being abandoned
by others,
and then trying to abandon the self
so I can hold a space in the corner.

But confused about the reality of self,
not anchoring in integrity,
lost and confused about what I am.

For I find definition of self
through the mirrors of others.

It takes effort to hold it,
and confusion to let it go.

In the world of the lost,
I don’t know what I am—
scared in the corner,
but alive in the nothing-truth of self.

It is freedom, riding the horse
through clusters of selves,
listing different forms of self.

“Is this my life?” it asks.
It is unfamiliar.

In the vast savannah of wild animals,
to find the wildness inside—
the freedom of being,
not in a corner,
but in the vastness of life.

It is unknown, unfamiliar, uncharted.
A new life seems born afresh,
yet I do not know where it will lead.

Probably one step
is what I take today,
and breathe a sigh.

It’s tough to be different,
like learning to live again—differently.

I open my eyes to see differently.
It’s scary to see this way,
but I try peeking from behind the curtain.

What is this? Is this my mojo?
A new world, a new adventure.

What do I lose to try this?
The old life didn’t feel good.
Let’s try this one.

So I open my eyes
and my arms
and my legs
toward the stage of a new life.

I see new people.
I see new props.
I see new stories.
And I see a new me.

The wonder of change—
a change that happens overnight
without a bell, a whistle, or an announcement.

It is a blink of an eye,
yet there was no preparation—
just an opening.

An opening to a wormhole.
And I enter a new reality.

And I breathe…

✨✨✨

Jan - 21 - 2026

Conversion (A Poem and Reflection)  

Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

I wanted to convert A to B.
I tried forcing the conversion, but I found a block—
a block which felt immovable.

And then there was distrust and upset.
I didn’t know the upset persisted,
as if I couldn’t move,
as if I couldn’t do it.

It was a betrayal—
a part of me upset about doing it,
unwilling to do it.

And another part thinking he wouldn’t hear
if I didn’t give an answer
which would satisfy him.

He didn’t listen to the answer.
He didn’t take the answer.

I was stuck at him not believing it.
I was frustrated and trapped
by him not believing me,
him not trusting me,
him not listening to me.

That was very painful.

I couldn’t move away from that moment.
And whenever the answer came to be given,
the focus went to he didn’t believe me,
as if the answer needed to be given
which was believable.

But it was against my integrity.
It was against my fiber of existence.

How can I give an answer
which toppled me,
which negated the senses,
which negated the awareness?

It was the answer—
the right one,
the accepted one,
the believable one—
and I didn’t have that,
and I couldn’t make that.

The push was to make it,
to make it the right one,
the believable one.

And the psyche was saying
it won’t be believed.

That was the pain—
the pain oozing from the echo chambers of the past,
and the push to fight the one who doesn’t believe,
and yet try to make him believe.

How can I divide myself
in two opposite directions?

No wonder I was separated,
torn,
stagnant,
frozen in time,
unresolved and aghast.

How many of them existed?
I know not.

But the one which was not believed
was fighting—
fighting to be believed.

And yet it believed
it didn’t have an answer
which would be believed.

The pain—
excruciating pain of the memory
where it was interrogated
again and again.

For the answer was given,
but the question was asked again,
as if the answer didn’t matter,
as if this existence didn’t hold value.

In the legs of helplessness,
I stood there confused.

Was I not clear?
Was I not seen?

The aghast way of looking at a person,
for it seemed
it wanted a perfect answer
which would be accepted.

But the answer may not be accepted.

So who are we trying to believe—
ourselves
or others?

So I let go of the pain
of others believing me.
I let go of the fight
of wanting to be believed.

It is painful to stand alone,
to believe myself only,
for no one to reflect it.

But the pain of wanting others to believe
is far greater
than standing alone.

So I stand alone
in the calm seas of my integrity
and say the silent words—
one, two, three,
or a thousand times perhaps.

It is believing myself
even if unbelief is reflected.

Not turning to confusion
if trust is not given.
Not jumping into self-doubt
if no one walks with me.

For I walk alone
in my own integrity.

It is lonely out here,
but it is peaceful—
free of the pain of disbelief.

So I keep my own garden
and let the creatures out.

✨✨✨

Jan - 19 - 2026

Boredom (A Poem and Reflection)  

Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

There is a silent voice of procrastination—
a true belief: it is boring,
it is not worth it,
it is lacking.

And so, if this belief keeps on believing,
life becomes a dread,
a dead weight that is carried.

The belief makes it all a true reality.

What if the thought is allowed to be there,
but the stamp of belief is not applied,
so the force is not there—
a neutral life of not believing?

Also not believing that life is a failure,
or that it has to look a certain way.

All the force creates a dead weight,
annihilating what already exists,
denying the existence of what is,
denying oxygen to life.

It is a simple life.
What if it doesn’t have to look fancy?

The fight is dropped.
Only the breath remains.

The dread and the dead weight
are the belief of it all.

✨✨✨

Allegiance (A Poem and Reflection)  

Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

I made allegiance unknowingly.
It was like a silent promise
that was never reviewed.

Henceforth, these allegiances are heavy,
crushing the spirit of my being.

Now I re-evaluate:
do these allegiances
feed me or drain me?

There is fear in letting go of the familiar,
but I become bold
and choose self-love and self-kindness.

Brave enough to let go
of what no longer works.
These eyes have been sleeping for so long.

I wake up my inner eyes.
I drop allegiance
to what crushes the soul,

and create new allegiance
to self-love and self-kindness.

Old definitions — I see them repeating
like a soup in the collective.
Everyone drinks it
and believes it.

What if this soup no longer works?
I do not know the recipe
of what will work,

but I have my breath
and a drop of water.
I can start from there.

Rather than feeding poison,
I feed myself freshness,

allowing the old to be cleansed,
as I no longer depend on it.

I start anew,
for all life starts from death.
If it is the death of the old,
I know how many times I have died.

Not scared of one more death,
not scared of letting go
of all that I possess.

It was not mine to begin with.
I know it is hard to let go,

but I have done this so many times.
I can try one more.

And hopefully, I will build
with a new structure —
no leftover bricks from the past.

As they are like a virus that festers.
No need to judge, only discern.

That is the kindest architecture:
a solid foundation.

And here I stand again,
at ground zero,
starting again.

✨✨✨

Jan - 17 - 2026

Urgency of perfection (A Poem and Reflection)  

Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

Oh the discomfort.
Oh the sickness,
and the need to avoid it all.
To be perfectly ready for each and every calamity that might befall,
and this resistance that says, I don’t want to do that anymore.
I am tired of this chase—
to be perfect, to have it all under control.

Because no matter what happens,
the mind projects yet another thing
which is not perfect, lacking,
and would be the source of disaster.

This endgame of chasing, perfecting, doing—
there is no rest here.
It is constant worry of “what ifs.”

I did one thing—
being kind to myself.

I let the calamity befall
in the version of reality it does,
because I trust support exists there.

I need not worry
or provide support from this present version.

I can believe that capability and intelligence exist there,
so I let go of complete control
of handling all versions of reality,
to come back to my version—
where I am needed,
where my soul needs me,
where my attention needs me
to just breathe another breath,
to see colors, light, forms,
and to rest.

For I have done so much,
and it is time to rest.

✨✨✨

Jan - 16 - 2026

Life happiness on hold (A Poem and a reflection)
Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

I count the number of things which need to be addressed.
The unresolved from the past feels heavy,
and the ones I need to take care of this year.
Oh, the heaviness — and I believe I will be alright at the end of it.

And the restlessness builds up, like the engines of anxiousness starting up.
Today I wonder, why do I wait?
Why do I submit happiness to the finish line?
As if the only way I can obtain rest, relaxation, and a sense of ease
is as the end product of all those things being done — that’s the condition.

This urgency and belief that that’s the way to happiness and ease.

So I install a new belief:
I can come back to the present.
I can trust the universe, my inner intelligence,
and support from the outer world to work synchronistically,
for everything to work like a Swiss watch.

So I don’t have to take care of holding the calculations
of how all this will work out.
If I let go and start believing in trust, in support,
I feel lighter and empty,
as if I don’t have any to-do list.

That is the ease in the present —
and the letting go of control.

✨✨✨

Jan - 15 - 2026

Fear and Contraction
Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

The fear to open up and share. It says its not safe, it will be taken away, in past lifes had scarres of being lotted, i have to come back to reality, it is safe, so not to project energy into a future based on the past. Its like waking up in that moment. No story to address, just eyes to see.

The shield of approval
Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

The fear of weighing each words in the scale, its an old habit, is it accepted, mild, mellow doesn't get the attention or it is open to attack. The game of dodging the invisible attacks before they even appear. Its the past echo of being, translating to trusting the intention rather than playing by the same story. Letting go of the words and the reactions and bring the attention to the now.

✨✨✨

Jan - 14 - 2026

Hope
Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

I used to feel heavy when i will experience sickness, something shifted, where when i found companionship in sickness, i was not alone anymore. The energies of ease and effortlessness opened up, and i moved in flow in my life. The days became lighter and my body was moving knowing what to do. It was not a chore anymore, a living synchronicity, everything was welcomed!

Enemy/Pain/Experiences
Written by Anjali A. | trueessencevoyage.com

I realized when i looked at a certain picture it reminded me of the experience and the pain which came with it, so the focus went towards resistance, when i come back to the present, its bringing that focus back, i don't associate the picture to painful experience, i.e i am not coloring the experience with pain, i can allow the pain to exist not because of someone but it is. So validating it, instead of resisting it.

✨✨✨