“And as we learn to choose rightly between the dualities of good and evil, eventually we rise above both, and attain that state which Jesus and Krishna and the Masters attained — the state of EVENMINDEDNESS, living always in the bliss-consciousness of God in which no dualities can distress or upset us.”
Yogananda, Paramahansa. Solving the Mystery of Life: Collected Talks & Essays on Realizing God in Daily Life Volume IV (pp. 271-272). Self-Realization Fellowship. Kindle Edition.
It is alright right where I am.
Not as resignation. Not as defeat.
But as a declaration of sovereignty.
The world howls otherwise. It measures, compares, demands. It points endlessly toward a horizon that recedes with every step—more money, more status, more proof that you have earned your place among the restless. It whispers that peace is conditional, that fulfillment is deferred, that your life is a negotiation with the future.
It feeds on desire—endless, restless desire—promising that the next acquisition, the next achievement, the next moment will finally complete you. But desire, untethered from truth, is a mirage. It shines in the distance, convincing you to walk farther, strive harder, become more—only to dissolve when you arrive, replaced by another shimmering promise just beyond reach.
But the deeper truth stands unmoved.
It is alright right where I am.
If it changes, if it improves, if the winds turn favorable and fortune smiles—then it is alright then also. Not more alright. Not finally acceptable. Just… alright, again. Because the foundation was never built on circumstance. It was built on presence.
And if things become worse—if the sky darkens, if loss arrives, if the ground beneath you trembles—it is still alright. Not because suffering is denied, but because something deeper than circumstance remains untouched. There is a ground beneath all ground, and it does not collapse.
That ground is not empty. It is alive.
It is the presence of God.
As Eckhart Tolle said, “Don’t let a mad world tell you that success is anything other than a successful present moment.” But the successful present moment is not merely awareness—it is remembrance. It is the turning of the heart toward God within the now.
A moment becomes truly successful when it is inhabited consciously—and offered upward. When the breath itself becomes prayer. When attention becomes devotion. When you are not just present, but present with God.
And in that presence, the illusion of desire begins to fall away.
You see it clearly—the mind reaching, grasping, insisting: “If only I had this… if only things were different… then I would be at peace.” But in the light of awareness, you recognize the pattern. Desire promises completion, but it perpetuates absence. It keeps you leaning forward, away from the only place God can be known—the present moment.
This is the hidden fire.
To be mindful of God in this very moment—to remember, to love, to surrender—is to transform ordinary time into sacred ground. The battlefield becomes an altar. The struggle becomes an offering. The silence becomes communion.
Because the truth is this: the “mad world” is not just out there. It is internalized. It lives in the voice that says, “Not yet. Not enough. Not until…” It pulls you away from God by pulling you away from now, dressing its urgency in the language of desire.
But the spiritual warrior returns.
Again and again, he returns.
Not to the next desire—but to its dissolution.
Not to the illusion—but to the real.
To the breath.
To the moment.
To God.
He does not wait for perfect conditions to remember. He remembers in chaos. He remembers in stillness. He remembers in joy and in pain. He remembers when life rises—and when it falls apart. And when desire arises, he does not become its servant—he becomes its witness, letting it pass like a cloud that cannot anchor him.
And in that remembrance, he stands unshaken.
Because this breath is not empty—it is given.
This moment is not random—it is permitted.
This life is not owned—it is entrusted.
And so he stands.
In traffic, and remembers God.
In silence, and remembers God.
In uncertainty, and remembers God.
In suffering, and remembers God.
In blessing, and remembers God.
And he says, It is alright.
Not because everything is ideal—but because God is here. Not because desire has been fulfilled—but because its illusion has been seen through. Not because the path is easy—but because he does not walk it alone.
From that alignment, something extraordinary happens. Action becomes clean. Effort becomes focused. Desire, purified, is no longer a chain—it becomes intention aligned with truth. Change, when it comes, is no longer a desperate grasp but a movement guided by trust. Improvement is welcomed—but not worshipped. Difficulty is endured—but not feared.
Because the foundation remains unchanged:
It is alright right where I am.
If it improves, it is alright.
If it worsens, it is still alright.
If I remember God in this moment—this moment is successful.
This is not passivity. This is devotion.
This is not complacency. This is communion.
This is not escape. This is union.
To master the present moment is to sanctify it—to fill it with awareness, to free it from the illusion of desire, and to offer that awareness back to its source. And in that sacred exchange, success is no longer something you chase—it is something you live.
Right here.
Right now.
With God.
Already.
