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You’ve looked for God in temples. In gurus. In heartbreak. In astrology apps. But you never thought to look where He’s always been—inside you. There comes a time when every distraction starts to lose its shine. The people who once felt like oxygen now feel like noise. The wins you thought would complete you feel like hollow medals on a shelf you no longer care to dust. You can stop looking. Not because there's nothing to find, but because you're looking in the wrong direction. All your life, you’ve been told God is somewhere out there—in a temple, on a mountaintop, in the skies, in scriptures you struggle to understand, in rituals you were taught but never really felt. And yet, you sit quietly with yourself sometimes, feeling something you can’t explain. Not noise. Not silence. Just… presence.

The search you’ve been on isn’t for God. It’s for yourself. And the two are not separate
He said: “I reside in the heart of every being.”
It’s not poetry. It’s not metaphor. It’s a truth we keep forgetting because it’s too simple, too intimate. We’ve been conditioned to look outward for everything—love, success, validation, peace. And when we don’t find it, we assume something’s wrong with us. Or worse, that God has abandoned us. The biggest lie you were sold is that you have to become something to be close to God. As if He’s handing out access based on performance. But Krishna doesn’t ask for a spotless soul or a flawless track record. He doesn’t measure you by how spiritually fluent or emotionally graceful you are. He meets you in your rawness, not your resume. The Gita doesn’t begin on a mountaintop. It begins on a battlefield. And not just any battlefield—Arjuna’s breakdown. His moment of paralysis. His confusion, his fear, his refusal to move. And what does Krishna do?

• He doesn’t say, “Get it together.”
• He doesn’t say, “Come back when you’re enlightened.”

He sits beside him. In the mess. In the fear. In the middle of the noise. If God could be there for that moment—what makes you think He’s not present in yours? He sits within. Quietly. Waiting for you to notice. Not when you’re perfect. Not when you’ve finally figured it all out. Now. In the mess. In the questions. In the days you can’t feel anything but tired.

If He’s in every being, then we’ve all been walking temples—some just forgot their light.
You were just never taught to listen inward. We’re raised to chase achievements, not awareness. To tick boxes, not ask questions. We keep thinking peace is a destination: a job, a partner, a lifestyle, a version of us that looks good from the outside. But Krishna didn’t say “become better and then I’ll be with you.” He said: I am already within you. The moment you stop looking for God in things and people and titles—you feel it. The stillness. The knowing. The small, gentle clarity that doesn’t need a spotlight to exist.
It means the people you’ve hated, the ones who’ve hurt you, the strangers you judge from a distance, the parts of yourself you’re ashamed of—all of it holds the same seed of divinity. This isn’t about condoning what’s wrong. It’s about refusing to forget what’s still right inside even the most lost. The world doesn’t need more people who perform goodness. It needs people who recognize God, even where He’s hard to see. Because when you remember that divinity isn’t selective, you stop being selective with your compassion. And that’s when healing actually begins.

Stop waiting to be saved. Start remembering who you already are
Most people think God is meant to rescue them. But Krishna never promised rescue. He promised realization. And they are not the same.

• Rescue says: “You are helpless. I’ll do it for you.”
• Realization says: “You’ve forgotten. Let me remind you of your power.”

In a world constantly telling you you’re not enough, Krishna’s truth is rebellion: You are already whole. But wholeness doesn’t feel like a spiritual high. It feels like sitting in your pain without abandoning yourself. It feels like forgiving when you could’ve hardened. It feels like choosing clarity over comfort.
And the moment you stop outsourcing your worth to people, praise, or performance—You’ll hear Him. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But unmistakably. A quiet knowing that says, “You were never without Me. And you were never less than Me.”

God is not lost. We are just too noisy to noticeHe’s not in the future you're planning. He’s not in the past you regret. He’s in the stillness between your thoughts. In the sigh after you cry. In the truth you whisper to yourself at 2 a.m. when no one is watching. So sit. Not to become more spiritual. But to finally stop running from what’s already inside. God is not far. He’s just waiting for you to finally come home— To yourself.
He is something to remember. So if you’re sitting in a room full of people and still feel alone… If you’ve ticked every box but your soul still aches quietly at night… If you’re tired of pretending, performing, pleasing… Then stop. Close your eyes. And ask: “If God is within me, what am I running from?” You don’t need more affirmations. You need honesty. Silence. And maybe for the first time—your own presence. Because Krishna never left. He was just speaking in a language you’d forgotten how to hear. And when you finally do? You’ll realize the light you kept searching for… was always waiting to be lit from within.

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