Life in Neutral Gear: A Dream and a Lesson in Lightness

 

Last night, I had a peculiar dream.

I was driving. Nothing dramatic—no high-speed chase, no Hollywood crash. Just a turn on a quiet road. Except I went a little too close to a truck. Centimetres close. One of those moments where you instinctively hold your breath, even though nothing actually happens.

Then it got stranger: the car started rolling downhill. Not forward—backward. Maybe in reverse. Maybe neutral. I couldn’t quite tell. Gravity had taken over, and the car was doing what gravity does best.

And that was it.

No panic. No disaster. No life lesson delivered with thunder and lightning. I woke up, chuckled, and moved on.

When Life Doesn’t Need Interpretation

We live in a time where everything demands meaning. A dream must mean something. A pause must be explained. A slowdown must be fixed.

But sometimes, life isn’t asking for interpretation. It’s just passing through your mind like a cloud.

The dream didn’t scare me. It didn’t excite me. It didn’t instruct me to change careers, relationships, or life direction. It was simply… odd. And oddly funny.

The Pressure to Always Be “In Control”

We’re taught that being in control is a virtue:

• Hands on the wheel.

• Foot on the accelerator.

• Eyes on the destination.

But real life doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes you’re not accelerating. Sometimes you’re not braking. Sometimes you’re just… rolling.

And that’s not failure. It’s not laziness. It’s not confusion.

It's a transition.

In a car, neutral is what allows you to shift from one gear to another without grinding the teeth off the transmission. In life, we often try to shift from "High Speed" to "Rest" without hitting neutral first. We wonder why we feel the mental grind. Neutral isn't just a state; it's a necessary buffer.

Neutral Is Not Stuck

Neutral gets a bad reputation. It sounds like indecision. Like stagnation. Like something has gone wrong. But neutral is also a pause without danger.

The engine is fine. The road still exists. You’re still in the car.

You’re just not forcing movement. And perhaps that’s okay.

Rolling backward—as I did in my dream—often feels like losing progress. But if the road is clear and you aren't hitting anything, are you really failing? Or are you just seeing the path from a different angle?

Taking Things Lightly Doesn’t Mean Taking Them Carelessly

Laughing at a strange dream doesn’t mean dismissing life. It means trusting that not every experience needs to be held tightly, dissected, or turned into a narrative about who we are and where we’re going.

Some moments are just moments. They pass. They leave a smile. They don’t ask for anything in return.

There’s a subtle confidence in being able to say: “That was strange… anyway.”

No overthinking. No panic. No need to explain. Just a quiet chuckle and a cup of coffee.

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Final Thought

If you ever find yourself rolling downhill in neutral—in a dream or in life—check one thing: Are you safe?

If the answer is yes, maybe you don’t need to do anything at all. Maybe you can just smile, adjust when needed, and let the momentum happen. Not every movement needs to be a mountain climb. Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is let the wheels turn and see where you land.

Tip for the day: Find one small thing you’ve been over-analyzing and give it the "Neutral Treatment." Smile, breathe, and let it just be.

Beyond the Crystal Ball: Why Faith Outshines "Internet Prophecies"

 

Person meditating under night sky with stars

A long time ago, I answered a question on Quora about whether psychics and tarot readers are "the work of the devil." Recently, I received a notification that the answer was being shared again. Rereading my words reminded me of how relevant this topic remains today. Many of us, when faced with a crisis, look for a "glimpse into the future." But are we looking in the right places?
The Trap of the "Online Oracle"

I remember a friend who went through a significant life crisis. Desperate for clarity, he turned to a famous online astrologer. This man’s website was slick—filled with videos of him discussing his "supernatural intuition" and promising extraordinary wealth, love, and success if his guidance was followed.

My friend paid for a personalized report. Here is what happened:
He was given access to a "members-only" area filled with generic ebooks.
He was told his "precious" report would take 48 hours to craft.

When the report finally arrived, my friend noticed something strange. The readings for different days were just generic sentences repeated randomly. Out of a 365-day report, there were only about 25 unique sentences shuffled around.

Even worse, he was immediately bombarded with "upsell" emails. The astrologer claimed he needed more paid guidance to handle the opportunities coming his way, while also pushing him toward "affiliate" psychics and crystal healers.
The Confession of a Tarot Reader

This isn't an isolated case. I once read the confession of a retired tarot card consultant. She was a college student who took a job as a chat consultant for a psychic website. She didn't even own a deck of cards!
She would simply click a button on a software program and read whatever random script popped up. She eventually quit after a heartbroken man kept coming back daily, spending his rent money on "tips" to win back an ex-girlfriend. She realized she was selling false hope for a pay check.
The Vedic Perspective: Science vs. Scams

Is astrology itself evil? I don't believe so. True Astrology is a science rooted in the Vedas, which are ancient texts of divine origin. However, there is a massive gap between the science of the stars and the people who use it as a "hook" to trap the gullible.

In the Bhagavad Gita (15.15), Lord Krishna says:
"I am seated in everyone’s heart, and from Me come remembrance, knowledge and forgetfulness. By all the Vedas am I to be known..."
This tells us that while the stars may show a map, the "Map Maker" is within us.
Why Faith is the Ultimate Shield

I have seen cases where dire predictions were made—accidents, financial loss, or ruin. Yet, when the individual put their faith in God and continued their work with integrity, those disasters never manifested, or they passed through them unscathed.

Lord Krishna also affirms: "Yogakshemam vahamyaham"—I carry the burden of your welfare; I preserve what you have and provide what you lack.

Final Thoughts
My aim isn't to dismiss astrology or those who practice it genuinely. However, I want to caution you:
Don’t be gullible. Many online reports are generated by simple software, not human insight. And, people sometimes believe that just because something is written in their star signs for yearly predictions, they should expect the Heavens to open or showers of gold from the sky. One can use astrology to make important decisions in life, provided you have found a genuine, knowledgeable person well-versed in this science.
Don’t have blind faith. Even a genuine prediction is just a possibility. The Supreme Lord can change any outcome.
Action over Prediction. If you want a better life, don't just wait for the stars to align. Put your faith in the Divine, do your duty, and you will always find yourself at the right place at the right time.

Life is a lesson meant to reform us, not a script we are trapped in.

The Gardener’s Grace - Why purpose often reveals what searching cannot

 Finding what is lost by doing good.

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The Lost Sunglasses That Led Me Somewhere Else

In a cupboard I almost never open—wedged between forgotten kitchen gadgets and old linens—I found salvation.

Not just the missing gardening scissors.
Not just the packets of Carnation and Nasturtium seeds I’d been hunting for weeks.
But there too, resting beside them like a patient friend, were my favorite sunglasses.

The very ones I’d spent two hours tearing the house apart to find.

I had searched everywhere with growing desperation: my office bag, my biking pack, the bookshelves, bedroom drawers. I turned the house upside down. Eventually, exhausted and defeated, I sat down convinced they were gone for good—those perfect summer sunnies I couldn’t imagine the season without.

That’s when I looked out the window.

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When Searching Becomes the Problem

My backyard was quietly asking for attention.

The veggie patch lay empty and forlorn.
The rose and jasmine bushes had grown wild, their branches tangled in rebellion after weeks of neglect.

I had meant to tend them—but I couldn’t find my gardening scissors.
Or the Carnation and Nasturtium seeds I’d bought with such optimism.

At that moment, something shifted.

I made a simple decision:

Stop looking for what I wanted.
Start looking for what was needed.

Let me at least find those flowering seeds, I thought.
Fill the empty patch. Give these plants the water they’ve been asking for.

I stood, walked to that forgotten cupboard—and everything was there, waiting.

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A Lesson from the Garden About Purpose and Action

This moment brought to mind Paulo Coelho’s line from The Alchemist:

“When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

Santiago learns that when we pursue our Personal Legend, the world bends to meet us. The Soul of the World responds to our deepest desires.

But my morning taught me something quieter—and perhaps more useful.

The universe didn’t respond to my wanting.
It responded to my reorientation.

When I stopped obsessing over my frustration and turned toward caring for something beyond myself, the path cleared.

---

Karma, Detachment, and the Results We Chase

The Bhagavad Gita says it with remarkable precision:

“Karmany evadhikaras te ma phalesu kadacana”
You have a right to perform your duty, but not to the fruits of your actions.

For two hours, I had been fixated on the fruit—finding my sunglasses.

It was only when I returned to my karma—the simple act of tending life in my garden—that everything I’d been seeking revealed itself.

Of course, the first thing I did after finding them was head straight outside—watering the plants, refilling the birdbath.

Not because I deserved it.
Not because I’d earned it by searching harder.
But because I’d finally aligned myself with something larger than my own small want.

---

What Are You Really Looking For Right Now?

I keep thinking about those Carnation and Nasturtium seeds.

How they were there all along—waiting to become something beautiful.
How close I came to never finding them because I was too busy searching for something else.

Maybe you’re looking for something today too.

A missed opportunity.
A lost connection.
Clarity about which direction to take.
An answer that keeps slipping just out of reach.

What if you stopped looking for your sunglasses—and started looking for your seeds instead?

---

Why Tending Often Works Better Than Searching

What if the thing you need most isn’t found through searching—but through tending?

Through showing up for something that needs you, rather than chasing something you need.

The garden is still teaching me.

I am waiting for the Carnations to bloom, their petals unfurling in soft shades of pink and white and for the Nasturtiums to sprawl across the empty patch, bright orange faces turned toward the sun.

And yes—I will be wearing my sunglasses while I water them.

But I hold them more lightly now.

---

Where Answers Are Often Found

Because I know where to look when things go missing.

Not in the places I’ve already searched.
But in the cupboard I open when I stop searching altogether.

When I turn my attention to:
• what needs doing
• what needs tending
• what needs care

That’s where everything is waiting.

Beyond Moral Absolutes: Understanding Dharma in a Complex World

 

It is said that 'One should not look at the source of a sage or a river,' because a little dissatisfaction and many doubts arise. Questions such as whether the actions of our soldiers on the borders (killing enemies and terrorists) are righteous are usually raised by "armchair intellectuals."

Consider a farmer who grows 70 to 80 bags per acre. We call him a great man who is solving the food shortage. The government honors him with the title of "Rythu Ratna." He gives advice to fellow farmers, and it seems that he truly cultivated his land in a righteous manner and deserved such fame.

But along with the rice plants, many weeds grow in the field. What harm does it do if he lets them grow alongside the crops? Does he plant the seeds and let the weeds flourish? No—he uproots them and throws them out. They dry up and die. Is this dharma?

He applies pesticides to protect his crops from harmful insects. Is this moral? Can insects be killed like that?

He sets traps so that rats don't damage his harvest. They die. Is this dharma?

So, is it virtuous to eat food grown through all these acts that involve taking life?

In this mortal world, happiness has a touch of sadness, and sadness has a touch of happiness. Similarly, good has a touch of bad, and bad has a touch of good. If a good deed accomplishes more good than harm, then one should pursue it. One should not sit around overthinking like Pisces and Aries caught in endless deliberation.

Understanding the Trap of Endless Deliberation

This phrase uses astrological archetypes to illustrate the mental trap of "analysis paralysis"—when someone is so caught up in their own thoughts that they fail to take necessary action.

Pisces: The Dreamer (Emotional Overthinking)

Pisces is often associated with a vast inner world, sensitivity, and idealism. A person "thinking like a Pisces" might get lost in the moral complexity of a situation. They might worry so much about the "soul" of the weeds or the feelings of the insects that they forget the goal is to feed people. It represents being drowned in empathy to the point of indecision.

Aries: The Initiator (Frustrated Deliberation)

Aries is traditionally known for action, fire, and moving forward. When an Aries is "caught in deliberation," it is a state of internal conflict. They want to move, but they are stuck questioning the "rightness" of the path. It represents the friction of a naturally decisive person who has been paralyzed by "armchair intellectuals" or social criticism.

Dharma requires action. People are spending too much time in the "mental" or "spiritual" clouds (Pisces) or fighting internal battles of ego and doubt (Aries), rather than simply performing the duty at hand.

The farmer doesn't overthink the weeds; he pulls them. The soldier doesn't overthink the enemy; he protects the border. Krishna doesn't overthink the war; he establishes righteousness.

"Endless deliberation" is a luxury of those who don't have to produce results or protect lives. It's a call to move past the "what-ifs" and focus on the root cause and virtuous action.

War is violence and injustice. What is the point of seeking righteousness in it?

One should think about the action first—not about the reaction—and discern the virtue within it.

This is what we are witnessing in society now: condemning reactions without understanding why such reactions occurred. No one cares to examine the root cause. The way of society needs to change.

If a snake eats a frog, it should be considered nature's law. There is no place for human morals in observing this.

I remember once speaking to a person who was criticizing Krishna, saying that he could have avoided war if he wanted. That person even went one step further and said, "I actually support Duryodhana. He was a righteous king," etc. I inquired further: "What's your problem with Krishna?" Finally, he told me that his grandfather was a devotee of Lord Krishna and left home to go and stay in Vrindavan alone. (Obviously, if he had grandchildren, he would have completed all his so-called family duties.)

In the Vishnu Sahasranama, we worship the Lord as "Dharmayupa," meaning "He who possesses all dharmas within Himself." We worship Him as "Dharmagub, Dharmakrit, Dharmi"—"He who protects dharma, who practices dharma, who is established in dharma." The Upanishads declare that "He who is the foundation of all the dharmas of the universe is the Supreme Soul."

What Krishna did was Dharma. What he taught was Dharma. What he embodied was Dharma. Why doubt?.

Here are a couple of slokas from Srimad Bhagavatham (1.2.28-29),

vāsudeva-parā vedā
vāsudeva-parā makhāḥ
vāsudeva-parā yogā
vāsudeva-parāḥ kriyāḥ
vāsudeva-paraṁ jñānaṁ
vāsudeva-paraṁ tapaḥ
vāsudeva-paro dharmo
vāsudeva-parā gatiḥ.

In the revealed scriptures, the ultimate object of knowledge is Śrī Kṛṣṇa, the Personality of Godhead. The purpose of performing sacrifice is to please Him. Yoga is for realizing Him. All fruitive activities are ultimately rewarded by Him only. He is supreme knowledge, and all severe austerities are performed to know Him. Religion [dharma] is rendering loving service unto Him. He is the supreme goal of life.

After 12 Years and 240 Articles: My Journey to The Quiet Anchor

 

When I started this blog more than a decade ago, I had no grand plan to write a book. I simply wanted a space to explore the questions that kept me up at night: How do we find meaning in a world obsessed with speed?.

How do we lead with authenticity when the pressure to perform is constant?

Through 240 articles on self-improvement, motivation, and spirituality, we've walked this path together. Your comments, shares, and insights have been an invaluable compass, guiding my own growth and shaping the very foundations of my philosophy. To be recognized as one of the Top 15 Spiritual Blogs in India was a profound honor, but it was your engagement that truly validated the search for a quieter way.

For years, I've tried to distill these ideas into short, actionable posts. But the truth is, the "noise" of our modern world isn't a problem that can be solved in 800 words. It's a fundamental challenge to our leadership, our well-being, and our very souls.

And so, after countless hours of reflection, research, and distillation, I am incredibly proud to announce the publication of my first book:

The Quiet Anchor: Leadership in the Age of Noise

This Isn't a Book of Criticism, But an Invitation to Wisdom.

As Rumi wisely shared: "Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself." This sentiment is the very heart of The Quiet Anchor.

This book isn't about blaming systems, criticizing leaders, or pointing fingers at the endless demands we face. Instead, it's an invitation to an internal revolution. It's about finding the unwavering stillness within yourself so that you can become the steady point for your team, your organization, and your own life.

What You'll Discover Inside:

• The Power of Strategic Stillness: Learn how to cut through the digital chaos and find clarity when everything feels overwhelming.

• Leading with Presence: Cultivate a calm authority that inspires respect and trust, without needing to be the loudest voice in the room.

• The Anchor Framework: Practical, actionable steps to ground your leadership, ensuring you can navigate storms without losing your way.

• Bridging Spirit and Strategy: Discover how ancient spiritual principles can offer profound insights into modern leadership challenges.

This book is the culmination of everything I've learned from this blog, from my own experiences, and from the incredible community that has grown around this space. It's for the leader who feels the exhaustion of constant demands, but still believes in leading with integrity and impact.

If you've ever found solace or inspiration in these pages, I truly believe you'll find your home within The Quiet Anchor.

Ready to Find Your Anchor?

You can order your copy of The Quiet Anchor today from your preferred retailer:

https://books2read.com/u/4XGMp9

Thank you for being part of this incredible journey. I am so eager to hear what you think of this next chapter.

With heartfelt gratitude,

RK Pingili Author, The Quiet Anchor: Leadership in the Age of Noise

The Dragonfly's Lesson: Finding Our Way Home

 

The other day, a dragonfly found its way into my office. I first heard it—that distinctive papery whisper of wings beating against glass. There it was, pressed against the window, its iridescent body catching the afternoon light as it zipped frantically from one corner to another. Outside, just beyond that invisible barrier, my garden waited in full bloom, the kind of sun-drenched paradise a dragonfly dreams of. But the creature couldn't find its way out. It darted left, then right, exhausting itself against the transparent wall that made no sense to its ancient instincts.

I watched for several minutes, feeling an unexpected kinship with its struggle. Finally, I grabbed a piece of paper and gently coaxed it into my cupped hands. Its wings tickled my palms. When I stepped outside and opened my hands, it paused for just a heartbeat before launching itself into the garden, disappearing into the vibrant green. The relief I felt was immense—a shared sense of liberation that surprised me with its intensity.

Later that evening, I couldn't stop thinking about that little dragonfly. Its desperate search for home, its confusion in unfamiliar territory, felt strangely familiar. It reminded me of something I'd read in the Bhagavad-gita: "The living entities in this conditioned world are My eternal fragmental parts." The text describes us as spirit souls, fragments of something infinite, often finding ourselves in places that don't quite feel like home. We push against invisible barriers, seeking happiness and meaning in temporary circumstances, yearning for a freedom we can't quite name.

We flail around trying to escape what the Gita calls the "ocean of birth and death"—that endless cycle of seeking, struggling, and starting over. We want lasting peace and purpose, but we keep hitting walls we can't see, feeling frustrated and lost without understanding why.

Just as I had to intervene to help the dragonfly, the Gita suggests that divine grace waits to help us too. There's a verse that says: "To show them special mercy, I, dwelling in their hearts, destroy with the shining lamp of knowledge the darkness born of ignorance." But here's the thing—we have to make ourselves visible. We have to signal that we're ready for help. A dragonfly beating its wings catches your attention; a motionless one might go unnoticed.

So what does it mean to "signal" for help? What makes us visible to that grace?

1. Create Daily Rituals of Connection

Whether you call it prayer, meditation, or simply quiet reflection, regular moments of intentional connection matter. For me, this includes chanting—repeating sacred phrases that quiet my racing thoughts and tune me into something larger than myself. But it doesn't have to look like that for you.

It might be morning journaling where you express gratitude, evening walks where you reflect on your day, or simply pausing before meals to appreciate the food and the hands that prepared it. The form matters less than the consistency and sincerity. These small acts of remembrance throughout the day are like breadcrumbs leading us home.

I've also found that reading wisdom literature—like the Bhagavad-gita, poetry, philosophy that lifts your perspective—acts like a compass when you're disoriented. It reminds you what direction "home" is.

2. Become the Person You're Seeking

There's an old idea that we become like what we contemplate. If the divine represents the highest qualities—compassion, honesty, humility, courage—then cultivating these in ourselves is like tuning a radio to the right frequency.

This isn't about perfection or moral superiority. It's simpler than that. When I practice patience with a difficult colleague, when I choose honesty over convenience, when I forgive someone (including myself), I feel more aligned, more at peace. These aren't just ethical choices; they're homecoming practices. They remind me who I really am beneath all the noise and confusion.

I'm not always good at this. Some days I fail spectacularly. But the trying itself seems to matter—the intention to grow toward light rather than shrink into bitterness or cynicism.

3. Find Your People

I used to think spirituality was a solitary pursuit, something you figured out alone in mountaintop meditation. But the truth is, we need each other. Being around people who are also searching, also trying to live with integrity and meaning, makes an enormous difference.

It's like having traveling companions when you're lost. They might not know the exact route either, but together you can share observations, encourage each other when the path gets steep, and celebrate small victories along the way. Last month, when I was going through a particularly dark time, it was a conversation with a friend—someone who understood this spiritual homesickness—that helped me see clearly again.

Your companions might be found in a faith community, a book club, a volunteer organization, or just a handful of friends who ask deep questions over coffee. The point is to not walk alone.

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That dragonfly taught me something that day. We're not meant to stay trapped in confusion and struggle indefinitely. Somewhere within us is a homing instinct, a sense of where we truly belong. And when we make the effort—through small daily practices, through growing our character, through walking alongside others on the path—help comes. Grace notices us. The window opens.

I see dragonflies differently now. Each one is a small reminder: keep searching, keep signaling, keep trusting that the garden is real and that you'll find your way back to it.

The question I'm left with is this: What are the invisible windows in my own life? Where am I exhausting myself against barriers I can't quite see? And am I making the kind of effort that will catch the attention of whatever force might gently guide me home?