Ep 01 – Let’s start with your name

Dear Diwa,

You’re turning two months old in a few days.

Which is honestly insane to me because I still feel like I just met you yesterday.

Right now I’m doing this recording while you’re asleep beside me, and I keep looking over every few minutes just to make sure you’re still breathing. Apparently that’s just motherhood now. Constant low-level panic mixed with an amount of love that feels genuinely unreasonable.

And I think that’s part of why I wanted to start doing this. Not because I think I have life figured out. God no.

But I keep having these thoughts while holding you. These weird little moments where I suddenly become very aware that one day, you’re going to grow up and become your own person with your own mind and your own understanding of the world.

And there are things I want you to know. Not in a “let me lecture you about life” kind of way.

More like…
I want to leave little pieces of myself behind for you.
Little breadcrumbs.

So I figured maybe the best place to start is your name.

Diwa.

I remember sitting with that name for a long time before you were born. I kept saying it quietly to myself, trying to feel if it was you.

And the thing about names is… people think parents just pick names because they sound pretty. Which, sure, sometimes they do. But I think names carry energy too. Intention. Meaning.

And I knew I didn’t want to give you a name that felt empty.

Diwa means spirit.
Consciousness.
Awareness.

And maybe this sounds dramatic considering you’re currently a two-month-old baby who cries like you pay bills, but I remember looking at you and thinking: this child is going to need awareness to survive this world without losing herself.

Because the older I get, the more I realise how easy it is for people to fall asleep to themselves.

Not literally. I mean spiritually. Emotionally. Mentally.

People stop questioning things. Stop listening to their intuition. Stop noticing when something feels wrong. They become disconnected from themselves and call it adulthood.

And I don’t want that for you.

I don’t care if you grow up to be the smartest person in the room.
I care more about whether you can still hear yourself underneath all the noise.

Because there’s so much noise now.

The internet.
Social media.
Algorithms.
People constantly telling you who to be, what to buy, what to think, how to look, how to perform your life for strangers.

It’s exhausting even for me, and I grew up before all of this.

You’ll grow up inside it.

And I think that’s partly why your name matters so much to me.

Diwa.

A reminder to stay awake.

Not paranoid.
Not fearful.
Just… aware.

Aware of yourself.
Aware of your energy.
Aware of the people around you.
Aware of what feels true and what feels manipulative.
Aware enough to pause before blindly following the crowd.

You also have a second name. A beautiful one. But I’ve chosen not to share it publicly.

And honestly, the older I get, the more I think privacy is sacred. This world encourages people to turn themselves inside out for attention. To document every moment. To hand strangers access to every corner of their lives.

But I want you to know that you are allowed to keep things for yourself.

Not everything meaningful needs an audience.

Some things become more powerful precisely because they are protected.

I hope you learn that early.

Anyway… this became a much deeper conversation than I expected to have with someone who still can’t hold her own head up properly.

But here we are.

That’s motherhood, I guess.

You hold this tiny little person in your arms and suddenly you start thinking about consciousness and humanity and the future of the world at two in the morning while covered in milk stains.

Life is weird like that.

I love you, kid.

More than you’ll probably ever fully understand.

Love,
Mama

Words on a page only go so far.
Hear this letter exactly as it was spoken.