Every so often, I catch myself living as if my life is unfolding inside a courtroom. Maybe you recognize the place. It is that inner world where you seem to hold all the roles at once.

One moment, we are the prosecutor, convinced the world has wronged us and ready to present evidence that people should be different. The next moment, we are the defendant, defending our worth, proving we are not the failure our thoughts insist we are. And when the gavel lands, we become the judge and jury, handing out sentences like:

“You are not good enough.”
“People are cruel.”
“It is hard out there in the real world.”
“Life keeps doing this to me.”

None of it is malicious. It is just what happens when insecure thinking takes over. The courtroom is built out of thought, furnished with opinions, and guarded by beliefs that look solid. Once we step inside, everything feels personal and heavy. Life becomes something to fight, justify, correct, or survive.

But there is another room in the same building. A quieter room. A room without verdicts or victims.

The classroom.

In the classroom, we are not proving anything. We are discovering. We are experimenting. We are trying things out, seeing what works, seeing what does not, and learning without the weight of accusation. It is a place where fresh ideas bubble up, and curiosity replaces judgment. Mistakes are not crimes. They are part of the curriculum.

We forget this sometimes. We forget that the doors between these rooms are not locked. We wander into the courtroom by habit, but we are never required to stay there. The moment we see what room we are in, the door appears. And with one fresh thought, we are already in a different space.

Life feels completely different when we shift rooms.

The courtroom gives us drama, tension, and reruns of the same old storyline.
The classroom gives us creativity, playfulness, and a sense of possibility that does not depend on perfect circumstances.

Both rooms exist inside us. Both are created moment to moment through Thought. Yet the experience could not be more different.

This is your world. Your life. Your stage.

We can keep acting out last season’s crime drama, full of evidence, suspicion, and characters who never seem to change. Or we can take our seats in the classroom, look around with fresh eyes, and start shaping something new. Something alive. Something that uplifts us and maybe even inspires others.

So here is the simple question that quietly changes everything:

Which room would you like to be in today?

If you paused right now and looked gently at your current state of mind, which room are you in? And what becomes possible the moment you step into the classroom?

Because you are free to choose. And the whole feeling of your life flows from the room you choose to be in.

Much love,