A Note From This River at the Turn of the Year

Every year feels like a bend in a river. A river that is I.

When I look back at my online writing, it doesn’t feel like a straight line of progress. It feels more like water finding its way—sometimes rushing, sometimes pooling, sometimes disappearing underground for long stretches.

I began writing online in 2020 on several platforms before finally writing on my webhome. I didn’t have a plan, an audience in mind, or a clear destination. I just wanted to know and understand myself better.

I wrote because something inside me needed to share, to make sense of this confusion, pain, curiosity, awe, and see if it resonates with anyone else too.

Over time, some people found these words. Some stayed, some moved on, some wrote back commending the effort. That was enough.

As the years passed, the river widened.

Alongside personal reflections, questions about children, education, attention, mental health, and wholeness kept appearing.

I noticed that my inner inquiry was slowly turning outward—not to preach or instruct, but to ask how we might help the next generation grow without losing their aliveness or wholeness: How to make them or rather let them remain whole.

At some point, these two streams became distinct.

One stream is deeply personal. It carries my own doubts, struggles, small insights, and unfinished learning. This is where I write as a human being—fallible, searching, often unsure. I’m calling this space Whole Human. How I had always tried and still trying to do things to become a whole human.

The other stream is more outward-facing. It is concerned with children, parents, and the conditions that help young minds remain curious, attentive, alive, and whole. This is not separate from my inner work, but it is shaped by responsibility rather than confession. This space continues as Whole Explorer. Where I feel the need to help children and parents explore what it means to be whole. 

Both streams arise from the same source (Both live at www.wholeexplorer.in). But they serve different needs.

If you find yourself drawn to personal reflections—how one person tries to live, make sense of suffering, and stay awake in an often overwhelming world—you may feel at home with Whole Human.

If you are a parent, educator, or simply someone who cares about how children grow into adulthood, Whole Explorer may speak to you.

I noticed that my inner inquiry was slowly turning outward—not to preach or instruct, but to ask how we might help the next generation grow without losing their aliveness. How to make them or rather let them remain whole.

You don’t need to subscribe both. You don’t need to decide anything now. Rivers don’t demand loyalty; they invite presence.

Looking ahead, I sense the writing deepening rather than expanding outward. Fewer platforms. More coherence. More reading and listening. In time, this body of work may take the shape of a book or an online course—but only if it emerges naturally from sustained inquiry, not ambition.

For now, I remain where I have always been: learning as I write, and writing as I learn about things I understand and don’t.

If you are here, thank you for walking alongside this river for a while—whether you stay for a few steps or many miles.