The One Who Walked Away

When the world watches one man walk away from a plane crash that killed hundreds, something stirs in all of us. It’s not just shock—it’s recognition. We’ve each walked through wreckage of our own. We’ve survived things we thought might break us. And deep down, we know: survival isn't random—it's a calling. This is a reflection on purpose, breath, and what it means to remember why we’re here.

The plane hit the ground in flames. Two hundred and forty lives ended in a heartbeat.

But one man, barefoot and bloodied, crawled out from the wreckage. Smoke rising. Sirens echoing. And he looked up—and saw the sky.

“I thought I was dead... but then I saw the sky.”

His name is Vishwash Kumar Ramesh. He was seated in 11A, beside an emergency hatch that cracked just enough for him to escape through fire and steel. He limped away alone, the only living heartbeat among hundreds.

And here we are, staring at that truth: one survived.

Why him?

Why does the Universe choose one to live when so many don’t?

Was it strategy, chance, or something more sacred?

We can analyze the impact angles, the hatch position, the seconds of delay in the flames. But behind all that data is a deeper question we’re all whispering in our hearts:

What happens to a life that is spared?
What becomes of the soul that walks away?

Survivor’s guilt is real. But so is survivor’s purpose.

Some lives are spared to become messengers. To remind the rest of us that this moment matters. That no breath should be taken for granted. That we’re not here to scroll and numb and wish our way through the day.

We’re here to wake up. To serve. To feel. To live.

My personal truth?

I’ve had countless moments in my life—quiet or chaotic—where I’ve thought, “Is this really all there is?”

I’ve survived more emotional fires than I can count. A lifetime of fight or flight. Of chaotic love, dramatic loss, and breathless mornings where I forgot who I was.

And yet—every story like this reminds me to come back. Back to breath. Back to presence. Back to purpose.

I often forget. I get caught in the noise, in the doing, in the world’s way of measuring worth.

But when I return to my higher self, I remember:

I’m here to serve.

I’m here to serve myself. I’m here to serve others. And I’m here to feel joy—not just sometimes—but as a way of life.

“There’s nothing more important than that you feel good.”

Even when it hurts. Even when you’re grieving. Because feeling good doesn’t mean avoiding the pain—it means feeling safe inside it.

The Three R’s

1. Remember who you are—you are not just an earth suit.
2. Recognize your purpose—there is a reason you’re here.
3. Reconnect to Source—because this life is shorter than we think.

At 68, I sometimes still ask, “How did I get here?” But when I pause long enough, I know: Time is an illusion. And presence is the only place real life exists.

When I am present… When I serve… When I feel my own soul moving through this body… That’s when I find heaven on earth.

So now I ask you—just as I ask myself every day:

If today is your miracle day, the day you walked away from the wreckage—
What will you do with your breath?

Will you numb it? Or will you live it like it was gifted for a reason?

🌬️ A Breath of Reflection

Close your eyes. Place your hand over your heart.
Take a slow, full breath.

And ask:

What if this breath is the one I was spared for?
What if today is the day I begin again—on purpose, with purpose?

Let the answer come not as pressure, but as a whisper from your soul.

🙏 A Prayer for the One Who Remembers