Category: Life quote

  • When the Path Becomes Heavy, Remember the Sacred Within

    By Choitalyk Ruman

    There are times when the journey does not simply feel steep, it feels endless. Each step carries the weight of unseen burdens, and the soul grows tired from carrying what was never meant to be carried alone. In such moments, hope does not vanish loudly; it fades in silence. Faith feels distant, and even prayer seems to echo back unanswered.

    When this happens, do not rush forward.
    Pause.
    Turn inward.

    Return to the self that existed before pain taught you how to shrink. The self that once trusted life without needing proof. That earlier self still lives within you; quiet now, perhaps bruised by loss and disappointment, but never destroyed. Waiting. Remembering.

    Life has pressed hard. It has asked you to endure more than you expected. It has shaped you through longing, separation, and unanswered questions. Yet suffering is not proof of failure, it is often the doorway through which wisdom enters.

    In that stillness, another memory rises gently.

    Remember your mother’s voice, the songs sung before the world felt harsh. The warmth that held you before you learned to guard your heart. Those teachings were not small; they were sacred transmissions. They planted roots deep enough to survive storms.

    Never forget who you are.
    Never forget how to fly, butterfly.
    Never forget where you come from.

    You carry a rich lineage, an ancient culture etched into your spirit. Even when the world pressures you to soften your edges or become someone easier to understand, resist. There is no need to abandon your essence to belong.

    Be you.

    The path of becoming is not gentle. It asks for surrender, patience, and trust in the unseen. At times, you may feel cracked open, uncertain, or lost, but this is not the end. This is transformation. Just as the butterfly does not escape the cocoon without struggle, your unfolding requires endurance.

    The cocoon is dark, and the struggle is real. Like the butterfly, you cannot skip the pressure and still learn how to fly. Transformation always feels like loss before it feels like freedom.

    So walk forward gently, not with force, but with remembrance.
    Let suffering refine you, not erase you.
    Let faith return slowly, like dawn after a long night.

    Let suffering soften you, not silence you.
    One day, someone will see you, not as a type, not as a color, not as a version but as a whole human being.

    You are not broken.
    You are becoming.

    You were never rejected by life.
    You were protected from forgetting who you are.

  • To My Beloved Son

    By Ummey R.Miah

    In the garden of the Eternal, you blossomed
    A sacred trust, a soul of light.
    Breathed into being by the Beloved’s grace,
    You shine with radiance upon your face.

    O Rohan, child of my heart, yet not mine to own,
    You are heaven’s jewel, more rare than gold.
    A single drop from the Infinite Sea,
    Dancing for a while on this path with me.

    Like the reed that Rumi wept for, once torn,
    Your spirit remembers the Source it was born.
    And I, a humble traveler through time,
    Am blessed to walk with your steps in rhyme.

    Your laughter carries the Song of the spheres,
    Your tears unveil where love draws me near.
    In every breath we share together,
    I glimpse the Divine in subtle weather.

    May your soul find the Beloved in all things,
    May Love be the wind beneath your wings.
    May your heart remain a sanctuary clear,
    Where Truth and Peace forever appear.

    You are the answer to my silent prayer,
    A mirror revealing God everywhere.
    Not mine by possession, but heaven’s sending,
    Two souls entwined, toward the One ascending.

    ##ChoitalykRuman:#ummeymiah

  • The Story of a Woman Named Tahura

    By Choitalyk Ruman

    I have a friend named Tahura. Full name was Tahura Parvin. For as long as I can remember, she had been searching for love. She always believed that somewhere out there was someone who would make her whole, someone who could finally fill the emptiness she often felt inside.

    But over time, she began to notice something. Attraction was not love-it could appear quickly and just as quickly fade away. Longing was not love either — it was only temporary. The rush of excitement, the nervous energy, even the sweetest promises — all of these, too, could change or break with time.

    After many rises and falls in her life, one evening Tahura had a realization. Love was never outside of her. Love was not a thing to be given or taken, but a quiet field within her, always present. In that field lived joy and sorrow, hope and despair, beginnings and endings. Relationships might stay or dissolve, people might come and go — but the field itself never disappeared.

    She understood then: no one had ever “given” her love. In truth, she had only touched her own vastness when she was with another, and then she had mistakenly credited them for it. And when she thought love was gone, it hadn’t actually left — she had simply forgotten the field within. Love, she saw, was like the ocean, unchanged beneath the rise and fall of waves.

    Today, Tahura no longer searches for love outside herself. She has learned to live as the light. Instead of clinging to another’s affection, she finds joy in giving love freely. Her greatest discovery has been this: what she longed for all along was already inside her.

    With a gentle smile she often says,
    “The search begins and ends in the same place — in presence. I realized that I am love itself, and once I knew that, everything changed.

    ????????????????

    Copyright © 2025 ChoitalykRuman (Ummey R Miah).
    All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means — including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

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    ?????? ????—???????? ??? ???? ???? ??????? ?? ???? ???? ???? ?????????? ????? ?????? ???????? ???? ????????? ??? ??? ???????? ??????? ????? ???? ????? ??????, ???? ???????? ???? ????????? ??? ???? ????? ???? ?????? ???? ????, ????? ????????? ??? ????? ???? ????

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    ?????? ???????? ???,
    “?????? ?????? ???? ??? ??????, ???? ??? ???????? ????????? ?????? ??? ??????, ??? ????? ????????? ?? ??? ????? ?? ?????? ???? ?????

    ????????????????

    Copyright © 2025 Choitalyk Ruman (Ummey R Miah).??????? ?????
    All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means — including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

  • The Path of Service

    By ChoitalykRuman

    When a soul turns toward the light of giving,
    the heart does not close, it opens,
    wide as the horizon,
    soft as dawn.

    Wounds once heavy with sorrow
    become rivers of wisdom,
    and scars turn into silent teachers,
    whispering compassion with every breath.

    Yes, an open heart is tender.
    It bleeds, it aches,
    it feels the world too deeply.
    But sensitivity is not weakness,
    it is the rare gift of seeing,
    of hearing the unspoken,
    of carrying light into the dark.

    Those who walk this sacred path
    are not perfect.
    They are simply lovers of love,
    choosing it again,
    and again,
    even when it costs them something.

    And every act of kindness,
    no matter how small,
    lifts the soul higher,
    closer to its true home,
    closer to the essence of Love itself.

    ???????????????

    #ChoitalykRuman, #UmmeyMiah 9/2025

  • Cornfields and Cattle: Lessons That Still Live

    By Choitalyk Ruman

    I had just returned to my hotel room in Dayton, Ohio, after a long day of official work. I stopped in the lobby for a quick coffee, and a woman sat down in the chair next to me. What started as casual small talk about travel and family soon turned warm and friendly. Her husband and children were at the pool, and while they swam, she began telling me about her grandmother’s farm back in Dayton.

    “Grandma had acres of cornfields that stretched toward the horizon,” she said, her voice soft and nostalgic. “Cattle grazed in the pastures, and the family supplied milk to the local store and meat to the community. It was hard work, but steady, honest, and full of care.”

    As she spoke, I could almost see it: the green stalks swaying in the Ohio breeze, the lowing of cows at dusk, the smell of fresh hay in the barn. She smiled as she remembered riding the tractor with her grandmother, listening to her say, “Life is like the harvest. You plant, you wait, you tend — and when the season is right, it gives back.”

    I listened quietly, feeling the weight of her memories. I had never known my own grandparents — my grandmother passed away when my father was just seven — so I had no fields, no barns, no hands to guide me through lessons of patience and care. Yet as I sat there, absorbing hers, it felt as if I were touching a fragment of the love and wisdom I had missed.

    She looked at me with a gentle smile. “Every time I see a cornfield,” she said, “I think of her. She didn’t just raise crops and cattle — she raised us, with patience and care.”

    In that hotel lobby, with the faint laughter of her children drifting in from the pool, I realized the quiet power of stories. Even when they aren’t our own, they bridge absence, loss, and distance, carrying lessons of patience, love, and life across generations.

    -ChoitalykRuman #ummeymiah

    2025 ChoitalykRuman (Ummey R Miah). All rights reserved.

  • Seasons of the Soul: Every stage of life holds its own light.

    By Choitalyk Ruman

    It’s a beautiful Saturday morning. The sun spills across the earth in golden rays, and autumn leaves glow like fire-tipped candles dancing in the breeze. The crisp air clears my thoughts, and I feel my body, mind, and soul awaken in harmony. Driving slowly, I gather the beauty around me as inspiration. Then, as if touched by the wind, my mind drifts back to the stages of life—each one like a season, each one with its own light.

    Childhood – The Spring ?
    Childhood is the spring of life—fresh, green, and bursting with promise. Days feel endless, stretching like wide meadows filled with laughter and play. We chase butterflies, build castles out of sand, and dream under the sky, believing the world is nothing but magic. Just as spring awakens the earth, childhood awakens the heart with wonder and curiosity.

    Young Adulthood – The Summer 😕
    Young adulthood is summer—bright, bold, and alive with energy. The world feels wide open, like a sunlit horizon waiting to be explored. We dream fiercely, chase love, build homes, and carve paths with passion. Days run short because they are overflowing—with work, ambition, adventure, and joy. Just as summer asks the earth to grow strong and flourish, young adulthood asks us to be brave, to step into our power, and to shine.

    Middle Age – The Autumn ?
    Middle age arrives like autumn, full of richness, yet touched with change. Our lives carry many colors—family, responsibilities, achievements, and lessons learned. We balance caring for children with guiding our parents, juggling dreams with duties. Time moves faster, like leaves falling in the breeze, reminding us that nothing stays forever. Yet autumn is not only about endings—it is about abundance. The lines on our faces are not losses but harvests, proof of all the love we’ve sown and the wisdom we’ve gathered. Autumn teaches balance and reflection.

    Old Age – The Winter ??
    Old age is winter—quiet, gentle, and filled with deep peace. The world slows down, and the noise fades. Houses grow quieter, yet hearts grow fuller, holding memories like treasures. We sit by windows or on porches, watching seasons turn, knowing we’ve walked through them all. Just as winter holds the earth in stillness, old age teaches us gratitude—thankfulness for love shared, for battles fought, for moments lived. Wrinkles become the poetry of time, and silence becomes a friend.

    Childhood (Spring) gives us wonder.
    – Young adulthood (Summer) teaches courage.
    – Middle age (Autumn) shows balance.
    – Old age (Winter) reminds us to be grateful.

    The beauty of life is that each season prepares us for the next.

    And now, as I drive on this golden Saturday morning, surrounded by autumn’s glowing beauty, I realize how perfectly the seasons of nature mirror the seasons of life. The trees remind me that change is not loss—it is transformation. The golden leaves remind me that even endings can shine. And the sunlight pouring over the road reminds me that no matter the stage, life always offers light.

    So wherever you are—whether in the bloom of spring, the fire of summer, the harvest of autumn, or the stillness of winter—walk gently. Carry an open heart. Leave behind love, kindness, and memories that will outlast the turning of every season.

    Because just like this golden autumn day, every stage of life is a gift.

    #ChoitalykRuman ##ummeymiah

    2025 ChoitalykRuman (Ummey R Miah). All rights reserved.

  • ???? ???? ???????????

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    “???? ?????? ???????????? ???? ??????? ??????? ???? ???? ??, ?? ???? ????? ????? ??? ??????? ???? ???”

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    ???? ????? ?????? ??? ???????????? ???—???? ????, ???? ??????; ???? ??????, ???? ??????? ?? ?? ???????? ?????? ???? ????? ???, ??? ?? ???? ?? ???????? ??????? ?????? ????? ????

    2025 ChoitalykRuman (Ummey R Miah). All rights reserved.

  • Life is a Train Journey

    By ChoitalykRuman

    That afternoon in Washington, D.C., the city was alive with both motion and stillness. Near the White House, the wide roads stretched like open arms, their edges softened by lines of tall trees. The air carried the scent of autumn leaves mixed with the hum of traffic. Tourists paused to take pictures, office workers hurried by with files in hand, and somewhere in the distance, a saxophone sang a tune that wrapped itself around the city’s rhythm.

    I walked slowly, a little weary from the day, letting the breeze brush gently against my face. The buildings stood tall and proud, yet the whispering leaves reminded me that even in the midst of steel and stone, nature still found its voice.

    By the time I reached Metro Center, my feet were heavy, and I longed for rest. As I descended into the station, I watched streams of people vanish into tunnels, each carrying stories of their own. I boarded the train toward Dunn Loring, leaned back against the seat, and let my thoughts wander. That’s when a memory returned—something a friend once shared with me about her mother, a wisdom passed down from her grandmother.

    Her grandmother used to say:
    “Life is like a train, child. You don’t stop at every station, and not everyone rides with you until the end.”

    When she was young, those words felt like just another one of her grandma’s sayings, the kind whispered while cooking or sewing. But as time moved on and her own hair began to gray, the meaning became clearer.

    In youth, the train feels crowded, noisy, and fast. Friends, neighbors, classmates, family—all aboard together. The compartments are full of laughter, plans, and endless chatter, and it feels as if the ride will last forever.

    But slowly, passengers begin to step off. Some leave because their path takes them elsewhere. Others are lost suddenly, leaving empty seats behind. With each stop, the train grows quieter.

    And that is where her grandmother’s wisdom takes shape. The secret is not to mourn everyone who leaves but to cherish those who remain beside you. To look out the window and notice the changing view—sunrises and sunsets, fields and mountains, rivers and cities—because that scenery is part of the gift of the journey.

    Her grandmother’s words still echo:
    “Don’t be afraid when the train empties out. Be grateful for the company you had, and when your stop comes, step off in peace, knowing you traveled well.”

    Life, I realize, is exactly like that train—filled with comings and goings, meetings and farewells, noise and quiet. And in the end, the beauty is not in perfection, but in the simple truth that the journey was ours.

    • #ChoitalykRuman; #ummeymia

    2025 ChoitalykRuman (Ummey R Miah). All rights reserved.

  • Pause and Just Relax

    By ChoitalykRuman 2025

    Pause here awhile,
    beside the calm stream,
    where water keeps its secrets
    and silence cradles you tenderly.

    Your body loosens,
    and the restless mind grows light.
    Each thought, once heavy,
    slips away—
    like petals carried on a gentle current.

    The ripples soften,
    your worries dissolve.
    They sink, they vanish,
    until only stillness remains.

    Awareness stretches wide,
    like a sky without borders,
    opening into quiet vastness.

    With every breath,
    you unfold into ease—
    no urgency, no haste,
    only the rhythm of belonging.

    The world hums faintly around you,
    yet peace seeps into every cell,
    resting in hidden corners of your being.

    There is no doing here,
    no burden of effort—
    just the slow unfurling
    of what was always present.

    So breathe,
    and allow this moment
    to hold you gently.

    • ChoitalykRuman
    • #ummeymiah