Breathe out Shanti (read & listen) by ☀️Solaria☀️

I recommend listening with headphones!

You can find this musical tale in English, Russian and Bulgarian, along with its video and many other tales, on my new website:

www.solaria-gallery.com/tales/

This tale is for the seekers who stopped seeking —
not by giving up, but by listening.

Its truths are softer than tale,
spoken where language loses shape.
But isn’t stillness the deepest story of all?

And for those who once sat by rivers,
not to think — but to remember...

May it bring you where breath becomes light —
and Shanti begins. ✨

P.S. Shanti (शान्ति), in Sanskrit, means peace — but more deeply, it is the quiet state where all seeking has ended, and only full presence remains.
====

[Prologue – The Whisper]
Her name was Saraya. 
Not given, but felt — by a woman with wise eyes who knew the child would remember not words, but the silence between them.
Her grandmother, who lived by the water, never finished her stories.
"You’ll understand," she said, "when your inside grows quiet."
When she left without a word, Saraya understood — that was the key.
One evening, she remembered a page found in her grandmother’s chest:
no name, no date — only one line:

"Breathe in light. Breathe out Shanti."

She read it once. Then aloud. Then said nothing — feeling it was not meant to be understood, but followed.
With no plan, Saraya left the house others called her home and turned down a street she had never seen before. The world grew quieter.

[Part I – The Dreaming World]
She didn’t know where she was going, only that each unexpected step felt right.
Cities faded to fields, then to misty hills. She met people who spoke of meaning,
but their words were heavy. She sought no answers — only breath.
One night, by a spring under a sky that asked nothing of her, her grandmother’s page returned — not as memory, but as voice:

The world is a dream, and pain is a chime.
Love is the morning that rises through time.
Life is a river, soft and wide,
The less you resist, the more it guides.

Her heart whispered it first. And everything became still.
She didn’t want to understand. She lay there, feeling the grass breathe, the roots whispering:
— You are already on the path. 
Not because you found it,
but because you stopped searching.

[Part II – The River and the Mirror]
The sun wrapped around her as she came upon a quiet river — the kind that reflects not your face, but what lies behind it.
Her knees bent on their own. She looked into the water without searching,
recalling her grandmother simply sitting in silence — fully present.
And then — not as a thought, but as inner geometry — the words returned:

No need to wander, just be and stay.
Step through the stillness along the way.
Truth lives where longing learns to rest,
On waters calm, in silence blessed.

It wasn’t understanding. It was silence. And the knowing that truth is not to be found — only not silenced.

[Part III – The Temple of Silence]
She reached a plateau where the air was so still even thought dissolved.
It wasn’t a place, but a threshold — to what no longer needs description.
Her body let go. No direction. No identity. Only breath.
Then — like fire that melts, not burns — the voice rose within her, quieter than a sigh, truer than anything before:

Awakening comes like fire and rain,
Washing the knowing, easing the flame.
When there is no self, just breath remains —
The song the stars in silence sustain.

She didn’t repeat it. The air spoke it through her. She had become stillness without resistance.
And in that moment, no longer needing to be anyone — she felt herself as everything.

[Part IV – The Presence of Love]
That morning, there were no signs, no visions — only silence, full and clear.
Saraya walked slowly, not following a path, but sensing it through her skin.
On a stone sat a girl with calm, familiar eyes — as if they had met before words.
The girl offered her nothing but a gaze — then vanished, like the answer to a silent question.
And within her, a verse appeared — as if silence had written it in love:

Love is not fire, but air in flow.
It asks not “who?”, but “do you glow?”
Don’t cling — just touch, and let it go.
We met before the winds could blow.

She sat beneath a tree. Not thinking. Not feeling. Just present.
The world wasn’t hers — but she belonged within it.

[Part V – The Nature of Shanti]
She didn’t know how she arrived. The place unfolded before her like a memory
hidden in her gaze.
Light didn’t fall from above. It radiated from the air — soft, without shadow.
The stones breathed. The sky shimmered like water turned to light.
She felt Presence — not watching, just being.
And then came a truth that needed no proof:

Shanti is not a world without sound, 
But peace where no battle can be found.
It comes not when wisdom makes its claim,
But when stillness whispers your name.

She sat. Fingers resting, eyes closed — not from tiredness, but because all she needed to see was already within.
She didn’t leave the world — she sank into it so deeply they no longer differed.

[Finale – The Breath]
The world didn’t end — it simply stopped circling her.
Saraya sat in the silence — not as a seeker before truth, but as the truth itself.
Around her: no names, no directions — only light that calmed the breath.
She wasn’t meditating. She was simply there — as the tree is tree, the water is water.
And then, like a whisper from a quieted world, she exhaled the final words:

Shanti smiles and opens the door,
At the end of all seeking, wanting no more.
Breathe in light. Breathe out Shanti.
(Breathe in light. Breathe out Shanti.)

Her eyes were closed — but all within her was open.
The truth was simple: she had returned. 
Not to a place — but to Presence, 
which had always been there, 
now fully embraced.

[End]

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I recommend listening with headphones! You can find this musical tale in English, Russian and Bulgarian, along with its video and many other tales, on my new website: www.solaria-gallery.com/tales/ -- This tale is for the seekers who stopped seeking — not by giving up, but by listening. Its truths are softer than tale, spoken where language loses shape. But isn’t stillness the deepest story of all? And for those who once sat by rivers, not to think — but to remember... May it bring you where breath becomes light — and Shanti begins. ✨ P.S. Shanti (शान्ति), in Sanskrit, means peace — but more deeply, it is the quiet state where all seeking has ended, and only full presence remains. ==== [Prologue – The Whisper] Her name was Saraya. Not given, but felt — by a woman with wise eyes who knew the child would remember not words, but the silence between them. Her grandmother, who lived by the water, never finished her stories. "You’ll understand," she said, "when your inside grows quiet." When she left without a word, Saraya understood — that was the key. One evening, she remembered a page found in her grandmother’s chest: no name, no date — only one line: "Breathe in light. Breathe out Shanti." She read it once. Then aloud. Then said nothing — feeling it was not meant to be understood, but followed. With no plan, Saraya left the house others called her home and turned down a street she had never seen before. The world grew quieter. [Part I – The Dreaming World] She didn’t know where she was going, only that each unexpected step felt right. Cities faded to fields, then to misty hills. She met people who spoke of meaning, but their words were heavy. She sought no answers — only breath. One night, by a spring under a sky that asked nothing of her, her grandmother’s page returned — not as memory, but as voice: The world is a dream, and pain is a chime. Love is the morning that rises through time. Life is a river, soft and wide, The less you resist, the more it guides. Her heart whispered it first. And everything became still. She didn’t want to understand. She lay there, feeling the grass breathe, the roots whispering: — You are already on the path. Not because you found it, but because you stopped searching. [Part II – The River and the Mirror] The sun wrapped around her as she came upon a quiet river — the kind that reflects not your face, but what lies behind it. Her knees bent on their own. She looked into the water without searching, recalling her grandmother simply sitting in silence — fully present. And then — not as a thought, but as inner geometry — the words returned: No need to wander, just be and stay. Step through the stillness along the way. Truth lives where longing learns to rest, On waters calm, in silence blessed. It wasn’t understanding. It was silence. And the knowing that truth is not to be found — only not silenced. [Part III – The Temple of Silence] She reached a plateau where the air was so still even thought dissolved. It wasn’t a place, but a threshold — to what no longer needs description. Her body let go. No direction. No identity. Only breath. Then — like fire that melts, not burns — the voice rose within her, quieter than a sigh, truer than anything before: Awakening comes like fire and rain, Washing the knowing, easing the flame. When there is no self, just breath remains — The song the stars in silence sustain. She didn’t repeat it. The air spoke it through her. She had become stillness without resistance. And in that moment, no longer needing to be anyone — she felt herself as everything. [Part IV – The Presence of Love] That morning, there were no signs, no visions — only silence, full and clear. Saraya walked slowly, not following a path, but sensing it through her skin. On a stone sat a girl with calm, familiar eyes — as if they had met before words. The girl offered her nothing but a gaze — then vanished, like the answer to a silent question. And within her, a verse appeared — as if silence had written it in love: Love is not fire, but air in flow. It asks not “who?”, but “do you glow?” Don’t cling — just touch, and let it go. We met before the winds could blow. She sat beneath a tree. Not thinking. Not feeling. Just present. The world wasn’t hers — but she belonged within it. [Part V – The Nature of Shanti] She didn’t know how she arrived. The place unfolded before her like a memory hidden in her gaze. Light didn’t fall from above. It radiated from the air — soft, without shadow. The stones breathed. The sky shimmered like water turned to light. She felt Presence — not watching, just being. And then came a truth that needed no proof: Shanti is not a world without sound, But peace where no battle can be found. It comes not when wisdom makes its claim, But when stillness whispers your name. She sat. Fingers resting, eyes closed — not from tiredness, but because all she needed to see was already within. She didn’t leave the world — she sank into it so deeply they no longer differed. [Finale – The Breath] The world didn’t end — it simply stopped circling her. Saraya sat in the silence — not as a seeker before truth, but as the truth itself. Around her: no names, no directions — only light that calmed the breath. She wasn’t meditating. She was simply there — as the tree is tree, the water is water. And then, like a whisper from a quieted world, she exhaled the final words: Shanti smiles and opens the door, At the end of all seeking, wanting no more. Breathe in light. Breathe out Shanti. (Breathe in light. Breathe out Shanti.) Her eyes were closed — but all within her was open. The truth was simple: she had returned. Not to a place — but to Presence, which had always been there, now fully embraced. [End]

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