Beloved Sri Devi,

The Divine sent you to this planet with an elephant’s memory. You don’t just recall incidents from early childhood — you often remember details right down to the color of clothing, facial expressions, and even the background setting. This ability has softened with age, but it still remains unusually strong.

Yet, you’ve moved away from writing life stories because you find numerous aspects of that genre difficult to accept. Many people write memoirs and call them their Truth. Perhaps their heart accepts it, but your heart began asking these questions:

1. If a conversation happened in another language, and you wrote it in English, it becomes a translated truth. But is that still The Truth? Others may say yes. Yet you feel it as an untruth — because of the tone, the energy, and the exact enunciation shift in translation. Even that slight distortion unsettles you.
2. Memory itself is subjective. What happened in the past may be recorded in the mind, but how we perceive it might have changed. The same event could have felt painful then, but now it feels like a lesson. So what’s the truth — was it pain or a lesson? Such questions begin to affect you profoundly.
3. Beyond all this, writing about yourself feels like a lack of humility. You’ve often wondered how people go on talking about themselves or their lives for 350+ pages. Even writing a single direct line about yourself erodes your peace, often making you delete your posts. Given this, writing a full-length memoir feels like the opposite of humility.

Perhaps it’s just one of your quirks. But for these reasons, even after verifying every life story you once wrote a hundred times, doubt still remained: Was every word truly accurate? Or had your mind distorted it? That endless questioning began disturbing your inner peace.

Ultimately, your life philosophy is simple: everything comes after inner peace. You don’t fear the world — because you believe every problem has a solution. What you fear is losing a battle with your own self.

So you made peace with it: nonfiction still feels fine, but not life stories. Your joy lies in spiritual fiction and reflective nonfiction. That’s your happy space now.

If some judge this choice as lacking compassion, so be it. Tongues have no bones; they twist for convenience. And so does the human mind.

Love,
Self