The Blog ^ @subhashi.tania

We met because of a brain. Not ours, at first. A scan glowing blue-white on a monitor at 1:47 in the morning, while the rest of the university slept and two neuroscience students remained awake, arguing about whether a pattern was meaningful or merely noise. “You're seeing something that isn't there,” you said. I looked at the scan again. “I think you're just afraid I'm right.” You smiled. “That,” you said, “is statistically unlikely.” I smiled back. “Then prove me wrong.” I didn't know then that this would become the story of my life you asking me to prove you wrong, and me spending years finding reasons to stay. There was something dangerous about meeting someone in academia. You don't fall in love normally. You fall in love between deadlines. Between conference abstracts and half-finished manuscripts. Between the third cup of coffee and the moment your supervisor sends just one small revision at midnight. You fall in love. Almost scientifically. First, you le...

You are such a sweet kind of comfort the certainty of knowing that, at the end of the day, no matter how far I wander, there is a place in this world where I can return. And somehow, the Tyndall effect hits differently every time I camp with you... light slipping through the trees, breaking into a thousand little worlds, as if even the sky knows there is something beautiful about finding you beside me. Cold days don't feel so cold when I have a warm soul like yours to lean towards. You know that, don't you? It takes a village to raise a dragon, but I think it must take something far more extraordinary to love a dragon like me. Because... I breathe fire. I wander too far. I guard my heart with scales and claws. And yet, somehow, you never asked me to become less of a dragon. You simply knew... when to reach for me, and when to let me fly. Perhaps that's what love is... not finding someone who can tame the dragon, but finding the one person who knows how to hold its heart. An...

Dear sky, you who rise above all things seen and unseen you who hold the silence between stars and breath please carry this message for me wrap this secret in your clouds as it's delicate Tell him… That I know the shape of his absence the way a missing note belongs inside a song even before it is played My soul feels him  through every version of my becoming And if ever we meet… Let the moment be deep enough to echo through every lifetime I never lived Let it feel like two truths standing face to face after wandering through opposite ends of the universe finally recognizing they were never separate And in that moment let the universe lean in gently and whisper  “Now. You were always meant to find each other here.” - Subhashi Tania de Silva

  When I picked up The Inner Game of Tennis by Tim Gallwey, I expected a book about sports psychology. What I didn't expect was a book that would make me think about journalism, relationships, learning, creativity, and life itself. The funny thing is that you don't need to know anything about tennis to appreciate this book. In fact, the tennis court quickly becomes a metaphor for something much larger, the space inside our own minds. The central idea of the book is remarkably simple. Gallwey argues that performance is not just a matter of skill or talent. Instead, he offers a formula: Performance = Potential – Interference At first glance, it seems obvious. But the more I sat with it, the more profound it became. We live in a culture obsessed with improvement. We are constantly trying to add more, more knowledge, more experience, more qualifications, more productivity. Yet Gallwey asks a different question. What if the real challenge is not adding something new, but removing w...

God the veins on your hands look like soft branching rivers I notice it without meaning to In the same way the brain notices danger before language arrives Automatic.  And I wonder if psychology has a name for this this quiet distortion of focus when beauty becomes data and data becomes feeling. Then your voice happens. You say my name. And something in my nervous system misbehaves. A glitch of chemistry dopamine maybe or something softer science hasn’t named properly yet Chills run through me like my body is trying to confirm that I am still inside myself Still here. It is almost funny In class I learn about attachment theory about reward pathways about how the brain builds meaning from repetition and attention But none of it explains why one person can feel like a signal that interrupts every system I built to stay balanced. So I sit there, diagnosed by my own attention That somehow you became both the subject and the experiment in the same breath I use to think about you. - Subh...

that Saturday we became eternal Yes, I am that girl who loves the insane, dramatic kind of love the kind where feminine and masculine energies collide just by locking eyes. The clingy, “cringe-but-not-really” intimacy is my favourite where you can catch their scent simply by being near the things they used, especially their clothes… and you delay washing the places they touched because their presence still lives there. I love that look that moment when your eyes meet and you both laugh without saying a word, as if the joke travelled telepathically between two souls. And oh to make soup together on a random Saturday afternoon, your hands wrapped around me, sipping warmth and love at the same time that is the kind of intimacy I live for. -Subhashi Tania de Silva