The starting point of discovering who you are, your gifts, your

In the quiet dawn of reflection, the voice of Robin S. Sharma calls out like an ancient bell: “The starting point of discovering who you are, your gifts, your talents, your dreams, is being comfortable with yourself. Spend time alone. Write in a journal. Take long walks in the woods.” These are not mere words for idle contemplation — they are the map of the soul’s journey inward. They remind us that before one can conquer the world, one must first make peace with the self. For how can a tree bear fruit if its roots are unknown to it?

The ancients taught that the first and greatest of all battles is the battle within. To discover who you are is not an act of arrogance, but of courage. It demands silence, patience, and the willingness to face what lies beneath the noise of daily life. To be comfortable with yourself is to cease fleeing from your own company, to rest calmly in your solitude as one might rest beneath the shade of a great oak. Only there, in the stillness of your own spirit, does the whisper of your destiny become clear.

There is a sacred truth hidden in solitude. Those who fear it are often those who have never entered its temple. In solitude, the masks fall away. You see not the reflection the world projects upon you, but the uncarved essence beneath. Think of Siddhartha, who left his royal home to wander through forests and silence, until he sat beneath the Bodhi tree and awoke to enlightenment. He did not find truth in the noise of the palace, but in the stillness of his own being. Spending time alone is not withdrawal — it is a pilgrimage into the heart.

To write in a journal is another form of sacred listening. When the hand moves upon the page, the soul begins to speak. What once was tangled becomes untangled; what once was hidden becomes seen. The act of writing is both confession and creation — a mirror that reflects who you are and who you might yet become. The ancients wrote scrolls, philosophers kept their journals, and poets carved their thoughts into parchment so that the soul’s journey would not be lost to time.

And to walk in the woods — that is the oldest prayer of all. Among the trees and rivers, one finds the rhythm of life returning to its natural pace. The forest does not rush, yet all things are accomplished. There, the spirit learns humility, patience, and gratitude. The rustling leaves become the voice of the universe, reminding you that you are not separate from creation, but a part of it. In such walks, the heart remembers what it had forgotten: that peace is not something to be found outside, but within.

Consider Thoreau, who withdrew to Walden Pond and built his cabin in solitude. The world mocked him for leaving society, but he emerged with insights that nourished generations. He wrote not of crowds or fame, but of simplicity, mindfulness, and the art of being alive. Like Sharma, he knew that to truly discover your gifts and dreams, you must first step away from the noise of the world and listen for the faint voice of your purpose.

The lesson is eternal and luminous: before you can change the world, you must know yourself. And to know yourself, you must be still. The world teaches us to chase, to gather, to shout; but the soul teaches us to pause, to release, to listen. Make time for solitude each day. Sit in silence. Write what your heart feels, even if it trembles. Walk where the wind and trees can cleanse your thoughts. There, in that sacred quiet, your true self will rise — not as a stranger, but as a long-lost friend.

So let these words become a guide to your living: Seek comfort within, not validation without. Build a friendship with your soul, for it holds the map to your destiny. When you can walk alone and feel complete, when your own company feels like a sanctuary rather than a prison, then you have begun the greatest of all journeys — the discovery of who you truly are.