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Saturday, July 5, 2025

“Where Time Took a Pause: A Vacation Etched in the Soul”


Where Time Took a Pause: A Vacation Etched in the Soul

There are journeys that begin with a ticket, a suitcase, and an itinerary—then there are voyages that begin with the soul yearning for solace. My most memorable vacation was not marked by the extravagance of destination, but by the exquisite stillness it granted my inner being. It wasn’t the place alone, but what it awakened in me: a forgotten whisper of peace, a silent echo of eternity.

It was nestled in the cradle of nature—where the mountains stood in stoic meditation, wrapped in mist like monks in contemplation, and rivers sang psalms of eternal flow. The days began with dew on the grass and ended with golden twilight spreading its wings over the horizon like a celestial benediction. No clock ticked here. Time folded upon itself, and I became its humble observer.

Each morning brought the gentle sermon of the breeze—unburdened, unbothered. It taught me the art of surrender. The rustling leaves read to me the verses of detachment, and the chirping birds strung together ballads of belonging without possession. The fragrance of wildflowers and damp earth was a scripture on simplicity. There, my senses were not bombarded—they were baptised.

The world is too much with us,” said Wordsworth—and rightly so. But in that divine little corner of the earth, the world loosened its grip. No digital deluge, no urgent errands. Just the companionship of clouds, conversations with the wind, and the gentle reprimand of silence. I did not need music; the wind in the trees was enough. I did not need company; solitude sat beside me like a wise old friend.

What made this vacation unforgettable was its power to cleanse—not just the clutter of my calendar, but the accumulated noise of my existence. It reminded me of the inner landscape I had long abandoned for the allure of destinations with Wi-Fi and waiting lists. I realised that the true pilgrimage is not outward but inward.

Under a sky embroidered with stars, I once lay down on the grass and looked up—not to count constellations, but to count how long it had been since I last felt awe. That evening, I did not pray with words—I simply breathed, and that was worship enough.

The mountains did not speak, yet they conveyed the wisdom of stillness. The river did not stop for anyone, yet it embodied grace. The trees did not move, yet they grew taller in silence. Every element conspired to initiate me into the lost art of being—just being.

Some lines etched from that sacred pause:

Let the mountain teach you silence,
Let the river show you flow,
Let the meadow speak of stillness,
Let the sunset teach you glow.
Where no schedule owns your moments,
And no gadget claims your time,
There lies a hidden temple—
Not of stone, but thought, and rhyme.

In that brief window of escape, I found something timeless: the profound luxury of being at peace with oneself. That is why, even now, when life roars loudly, I retreat to that memory—where time took a pause, and my soul resumed its song.

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“Where Time Took a Pause: A Vacation Etched in the Soul”

“ Where Time Took a Pause: A Vacation Etched in the Soul ” There are journeys that begin with a ticket, a suitcase, and an itinerary—then th...