In daily life, whatever we do – whether we experience negativity like anger, frustration, jealousy, or hurt – I’ve come to understand that if we look deeper and deeper into our actions, we’re all seeking the same thing: peace, happiness, and contentment.
I think all that negativity is our unconscious way of trying to prove our self-worth through our ego. We demonstrate this in ways we’re not even aware of – through our struggles, our pain, our reaching for something more – all in an attempt to show that we’re worthy of love and recognition.
In my own life journey, I’ve recognized these patterns – wanting to feel seen, feeling inferior, trying to be the best at everything, people-pleasing, being self-critical, or carrying shame. Through my meditation practice and self-awareness, I’ve come a long way in understanding these tendencies. While they still show up every now and then, I can now choose differently when I notice them. We all have our own ways of unconsciously trying to prove we deserve love and happiness.
The truth is, we don’t have to do anything to earn that peace or prove our worth. It’s already within us. Our Creator loves us completely, and we have always had this love. The unconscious ways in which we try to prove our self-worth to ourselves and to others around us is never needed.
Sometimes we go through difficult experiences and learn from them. We realize that certain behaviors, thoughts, or choices aren’t bringing us the happiness we’re seeking. We start to notice that when we look for fulfillment outside ourselves – whether through hurting others, seeking power or even through self-criticism and shame – it doesn’t satisfy us. All these patterns come from the ego trying to find worth and meaning, when we already possess infinite worth simply by being.
When we observe how our life unfolds with these patterns, we can see how they affect the quality of our life and the quality of our mind. We can make different choices and turn inward instead. We can ask ourselves deeper questions about why we do what we do, why we react the way we react.
Many people don’t want to do this inner work because we’re afraid of what we might find about ourselves. We’re afraid of our shadows, our mistakes, our deeper wounds. But those questions, when we’re brave enough to ask them, can lead us deeper into self-awareness and self-discovery. It’s like removing a thorn that got deep within us. Yes, it hurts when the thorn is in, and it hurts even when we try to get it out – but we need to do it to be healed.
This process is beautiful. It’s a way of unbecoming who we think we are to discover who we were always meant to be – how we were originally created. The unbecoming process is like peeling away layers of an onion. As you go deeper, removing each layer of conditioning, fear, and false identity, you get closer to the pure essence that was always there.
This is what remains when everything else falls away – love, peace, and our true nature. We feel at peace knowing we do not have to prove anything to anyone. We feel comfortable knowing we are not perfect, and this makes it easier for us to let down our guard and accept ourselves as we are. This also enables us, as a ripple effect, to be more present and naturally accepting and loving toward others. When we are accepting of our own imperfections and loving toward ourselves, it becomes natural to extend that same acceptance and love to others. The nature of pure love is giving rather than expecting, and this changes our dynamic in relationships.
This understanding doesn’t require any special experiences or practices. It’s available to us in every moment of daily life, in every challenge, in every choice to look within rather than outside ourselves for what we’re truly seeking. Meditation practices help us through this self-awareness journey and help us become comfortable with ourselves. They allow us to see ourselves through a lens of detachment, helping us be more loving and gentler toward ourselves.
The journey inward is the journey home to who we’ve always been.
This morning, after I fed the birds in the little park area in front of our home, I sat down to meditate near the trees. I watched these little birds come and eat, and I felt so happy I lost track of time.
There’s a crow who visits my balcony every morning for his feed. He once came into our home through the open balcony door, cawing to remind me it was feeding time.
There were times when I used to feel lonely. But now, with the crow visiting me and me feeding the birds, I realize no one is really alone. We’re all here together. We’re so connected.
I feel this is such a blessing. I feel connected to these beings, like I belong with them. The land where I feed the birds isn’t mine in the human sense, but I can still feed them there. The birds aren’t confined to me, but I still feel like we belong to each other. The trees aren’t confined to me either, but I feel I belong alongside them.
When we belong and coexist, there is no sense of controlling or owning. We’re living with them as family.
That’s when it hit me – I had it backwards. I used to think I needed to own things to truly enjoy them. Like the times I felt if I had a bigger outdoor area, I could have a bird feeder hanging in my garden or grow more plants and flowers to enjoy. But the truth is, I don’t need to own anything. Everything already belongs to me. The whole world belongs to all of us.
It really does feel like we all belong to it. The trees, the birds, the sky, the water – it’s all just there for me, for all of us. We belong to it, and it belongs to us.
I feel such abundance, such richness – not because I possess anything, but because I have access to everything through belonging. Everything is given to us without needing to grasp or control it.
I feel immense gratitude to our Creator for providing us with all that we need – everything is already given – and for all the beauty that’s already there for us to enjoy.
We can still grow plants or take care of our animal friends in our space, but that doesn’t restrict our sense of belonging to the vastness of creation.
This thought made me feel so vast, so free. I felt truly happy – not because I had something, but because I let go of needing to have it. The happiness comes from not controlling, not owning, just being and connecting.
We’re so blessed. We have this entire world, and we can experience it as belonging to us while we belong to it. When we see it that way, everything changes. We want to take care of it. We want to coexist with each other because we’re all part of this same beautiful belonging.
This is such a beautiful reminder to step out into nature whenever we feel down or alone – to realize the beauty and peace that nature offers, reminding us we’re never truly alone.
We’re all family, belonging to this unlimited creation – a gift of God’s unlimited love flowing through everything around us.
For over a year, I had been feeling this desire to feed the birds. Living in a condo without the possibility of having a bird feeder on my balcony, I felt to go to PetSmart and buy bird food and feed birds outdoors. But I didn’t act upon it – my procrastination got in the way.
Finally, last week, I felt at least this year I should do it and act upon it. And I did it. The idea came to me: why not go to the trees in front of our home, to the little park area where there are trees? Why not feed them there?
I bought a bag of bird food – dried corn, seeds, and peanuts – and began my morning routine of feeding the birds under the trees in the park area in front of our home during my walk with my dog, Tuffy. Watching them come and eat filled me with such joy.
God’s Provision for His Little Ones
This morning, I woke up a bit late and made my way to the trees around 10 AM with my bag of bird food. As I was scattering the seeds on the ground, I noticed a lady walking toward the same tree. We smiled at each other, and she asked, “Do you feed the birds?”
“Yes,” I replied, “I just started doing this recently.”
What she told me next revealed the beautiful miracle unfolding. She had been feeding these same birds for the past year. Right there, in the very tree where I had been placing food on the ground, she had three bird feeders hanging – feeders I had somehow never noticed.
With tears in her eyes, she shared that she was moving away at the end of this month. She was heartbroken thinking about the birds who had come to depend on their daily feeding. Who would take care of them? She couldn’t bear the thought of these little creatures going hungry.
And there I was – having just begun this same calling on the exact same tree, just one week ago.
“Don’t worry,” I told her, “This is taken care of. I will continue feeding them.”
In that moment, I saw so clearly how God orchestrates His care for even the smallest of His creatures. The birds would not go unfed. One instrument was preparing to leave, and another had already been called into place. The same work of love, continuing seamlessly through different hands.
As we talked more, Marianna (she graciously allowed me to share her name and our story) showed me how to properly use the bird feeders. We discovered we had so much in common – both of us believers in listening to God through our hearts, both drawn to the same spiritual language.
Marianna and me by the tree
I shared with her how there was a time when I felt deeply connected to the trees, when I would hug one particular tree daily, asking it to be my friend and give me strength – to help me become solid and humble like the tree itself, unassuming and non-presumptuous.
She smiled and said “I have a tree I hug every day too.”
How can such connections be mere coincidence?
Reflections on Divine Orchestration
This whole experience revealed such a beautiful truth to me. It’s not about me or Marianna at all – it’s about God’s tender care for these little birds. They needed to be fed, and He made sure they would be.
One instrument was preparing to leave, and another had already been prepared and placed. The same work of love continuing through different hands. How perfectly He orchestrates!
This experience reinforced what I believe: that God takes care of everything. When we stay in the moment and listen to what our heart is telling us – we become part of His plan. This is what matters most to me: trusting that God handles everything, that He knows everything, and that He is as close as we can imagine, even beyond that.
It’s important to remember and remind ourselves that this is not something we are doing – or to feel great about it. It’s humbling to realize and feel that we are just instruments in God’s hands, just as Marianna was His instrument for the past year. The birds’ needs never go unmet because God sees them, cares for them, and provides for them through willing hearts.
This is the miracle: not the human connection, but the divine provision. God’s seamless care for His creatures, ensuring that the food these birds depend on continues to come, day after day, through whoever He calls to serve. And in this calling, we discover the most intimate relationship of all – with the One who knows everything, who orchestrates everything, who is closer than close.
Thank You, God
Thank you, Marianna, for listening to your Heart and feeding these birds so lovingly, and for helping me see how beautifully God provides for His creation.
And thank you, God, for using us both in Your perfect plan to care for these little ones. Thank you for showing me that even the birds are not forgotten, and that You make sure they are fed through willing hearts.
The miracle isn’t in human connections – it’s in Your seamless, tender care for every living creature. How amazing that You would call me to continue this sweet work of feeding Your birds.
But it’s not just the birds who are taken care of. God’s love is so complete that everyone is taken care of. Marianna and I are both filled with joy, gratitude and trust in You.
Every time we hear God’s voice in our heart and act upon it, we are transformed. When we become His instruments and don’t claim responsibility for ourselves, we are changed in the humblest way. God’s love transforms everyone who is touched by it – it transforms everything connected to it.
Sometimes the most profound truths are revealed in the simplest acts: that God sees, God cares, and God provides – even for the smallest sparrow.
In a small orphanage at the edge of a busy city lived a little girl named Eva. Her dark brown curls framed her almond-colored face. While other children complained of boredom, Eva found magic in the ordinary – ants carrying crumbs in perfect lines, raindrops racing down windowpanes, dandelion seeds drifting on summer air.
Unlike the other children who felt the ache of being parentless, Eva carried a different truth in her heart. Years ago, when she was tiny and weeping because she had no parents, her teacher had knelt beside her.
“You are not an orphan, dear,” the teacher had said softly. “Your true Father and Mother live in your heart.”
Those words planted roots deep in Eva’s soul. She embraced them completely, with that pure, unquestioning faith that only children possess. Not once did doubt cloud her certainty. While other children dreamed of being chosen by new parents, Eva already knew she belonged to someone greater than any earthly parent could be.
Each night, Eva knelt beside her small bed, hands folded tight in prayer. She spoke not to some faraway god but to a Father she knew listened to every whispered word:
My Father, please help me be happy My Father, please show me the way towards You My Father, please help me find my dream My Father, please help me know Your Will for me My Father, be my guide in my heart
On the night before her seventh birthday, after Eva finished her prayer, Eva asked her Father.
Father, could I hear Your voice? Could I see You, just once?
This wasn’t her doubt speaking – it was a child’s heart longing to be closer to someone beloved.
She chose her most treasured dress for the occasion – a light blue sleeveless one with white ruffle frills that touched her knees. It had come in a donation box, but somehow it fit her perfectly, as if meant just for her. She smoothed the fabric with care before climbing into bed, certain that tonight, her birthday night, she would finally meet her Father face to face.
Chapter 2: The Forest’s Welcome
Birdsong woke her – not the usual morning chirps but something musical and intentional, like a birthday melody created just for her. Eva opened her eyes, not to peeling ceiling paint but to ancient trees dappled with golden sunlight.
Fear never touched her. Instead, she felt something like coming home after a long journey – as if the orphanage had been the dream and this forest her real home. The air filled her lungs differently here, each breath deep and sweet.
Eva understood immediately – this was extraordinary and more than a dream. This was an answer, an invitation. The feeling of love surrounding her in this place, the happiness bubbling up from somewhere deep inside – this was her Father’s presence. The forest itself spoke His love directly to her heart.
A blue butterfly landed lightly on her curls. A hummingbird buzzed close, carrying a tiny white flower in its beak, which it tucked gently into her hair. Eva giggled, delighted.
Eva sensing that the beauty around her was a language of love meant just for her, whispered:
“Thank you for inviting me, Father“
A family of deer emerged from between the trees, eyes gentle and knowing. The mother deer approached and nudged Eva’s hand with her velvety nose, then gestured with her head for the girl to follow. The fawn pranced around her excitedly, occasionally rushing back to touch noses with Eva before darting ahead again.
As they walked, Eva noticed how different this forest felt from the small park near the orphanage. The air was pure, each breath filling her with energy. The sky above showed patches of clearest blue, with clouds that seemed to hang low enough to touch, as if welcoming her presence.
In the distance, mountains stood like wise guardians, ancient and knowing. The trees along the path swayed gently, creating a refreshing breeze that carried the scent of wildflowers and old bark. And the flowers themselves – they seemed to turn toward her as she passed, their blossoms brightening, as if offering greeting.
“Everything is alive here“
Eva whispered to herself, understanding intuitively that in this place, everything was aware – conscious in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend but could certainly feel.
Chapter 3: The Garden of Wonder
As the deer family led Eva deeper into the woods, more animals began to appear. Rabbits peeked from behind ferns, squirrels paused on branches to watch her, and butterflies danced around her head.
The mother deer stopped in a patch of sunlight. She looked at Eva, then up at the trees. Eva followed her gaze.
At first, she saw only branches and leaves. But then she noticed how the leaves moved together, like they were talking to each other. The birds weren’t just flying – they were carrying messages from tree to tree.
The fawn nudged Eva’s hand and led her to a puddle of water. When she looked down, she saw not just her reflection but somehow the reflection of the entire forest. In that moment, something clicked in her heart.
“Oh,” Eva whispered. “It’s all connected.”
A bluebird landed on a nearby branch and began to sing. A rabbit thumped its foot in rhythm. Then the crickets joined in, and even the leaves seemed to rustle in time.
Eva didn’t know how, but she understood what they were telling her: Here, nothing is alone. Here, everything belongs. Here, even the smallest ant matters to the tallest tree.
She felt tears of happiness in her eyes. The animals weren’t showing her magic tricks – they were showing her the truth that had always been there, if only people had eyes to see it.
Her heart so full it could no longer contain itself, Eva began to sing. The words came to her as naturally as breathing:
Hidden treasures everywhere, In the earth and in the air. Now my eyes can truly see How we’re bound, eternally.
Father’s love flows through this place, Touching each with gentle grace. Tiny seed and mighty tree, All belong in harmony.
Thank you for this gift so rare, This secret world You chose to share. In my heart I make this vow: I’ll remember what I’ve found now.
When her song ended, the forest responded with a sudden chorus of bird calls, as if applauding. A shower of golden light filtered through the canopy above, touching her face with warmth like a loving hand.
The deer motioned with her head for Eva to follow again. Just ahead, sunlight poured into a clearing where an ancient oak spread its massive branches. Beneath it, an old man tended a garden of plants Eva had never seen before – flowers whose petals seemed to glow from within, medicinal plants whose spicy-sweet fragrances mingled and danced in the air around them. His home was a shelter crafted from interwoven branches and leaves, resembling a giant bird’s nest.
“The birds taught me how,” he would later explain to her with a smile. “They are the greatest architects of the forest.”
The old man looked up. His kind eyes showed no surprise at seeing a seven-year-old girl in a blue dress standing at the edge of his garden, accompanied by woodland creatures.
“Ah, Eva,” he said in a gentle voice. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Throughout the day, Eva experienced wonders beyond imagination. She drank nectar directly from flowers that bent toward her lips, tasted exotic fruits that grew nowhere in her known world, and helped the old man prepare a simple lunch of forest vegetables with lemon and creamy milk made from forest nuts that tasted divine.
“Why is there so much food?” she asked, watching animals come and go, each taking only what they needed.
“In this place,” the old man explained, “there is always enough. No being claims more than they require, and so no being ever lacks. The animals are not lesser than humans here – indeed, in many ways, they understand better how to live in harmony with creation.”
Chapter 4: Father’s Voice
As evening approached, the clouds above the clearing parted, and warm, golden light poured down like honey. Eva felt wrapped in something she couldn’t see but could certainly feel – love, pure and simple.
A voice spoke to her, not through her ears but straight to her heart:
“Few children ever find this place, Eva. You’ve come because your heart has always been open to love.”
Eva stood still, breathing in the golden light. She noticed it dancing around the edges of her blue dress.
“My sweet child,” the voice continued, warm as summer sunshine, “you look so pretty in your special dress. Did you wear it just for me?”
Eva nodded, her face breaking into a delighted smile.
“It’s my favorite,” she whispered. “I wanted to look nice when I met you.”
When the voice fell quiet, Eva gathered her courage. The question she’d wondered about for so long finally found its way out.
“What would you like me to call you?” she asked softly.
“What would you like me to call you?” she asked softly.
A feeling like a gentle smile surrounded her.
“People call me by many names. You can use any that feels right to you.”
Eva thought for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the ruffle on her dress. Looking up into the golden light, she asked,
“Can I call you my Father?”
The light glowed brighter, like a sunrise.
“I am your Father, Eva. I always have been.”
Tears filled her eyes, happy tears that rolled down her cheeks. For a long moment, she simply stood there, letting the words sink deep.
The light shifted, like someone kneeling down to be at her level.
“You’re wondering about going back, aren’t you?” the voice said gently. “About how to find your way when you return to the orphanage.”
Eva looked up in surprise.
“How did you know what I was thinking?”
“I’m always with you, little one. I know you better than you know yourself.”
She nodded, suddenly shy.
“When I go back… how will I hear you talking to me like this?”
The light seemed to come closer, like a father embracing his child in his arms.
“My voice is quieter there, but it’s still the same voice,” her Father explained. “When you feel peace inside even when things are hard outside, that’s me speaking to you. When you know something is right deep in your heart, that’s me guiding you. Just stay open, like these flowers that always turn toward the sun.”
“But what if someone is mean to me?”
Eva asked, thinking of one of the older girls who sometimes pulled her hair.
“What if I need help and I can’t hear you?”
The light wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
“I’m with you even then, Eva. Sometimes being brave means walking away. Sometimes it means finding someone who can help you. Love doesn’t mean letting others hurt you – it means finding the wisest way forward. When you’re not sure what to do, just get quiet inside and listen. I’ll always find a way to guide you.”
Eva looked at the light around her and smiled.
“Father,” she asked, “in my prayers I always ask to know Your will for me. What is it that You want me to do with my life?”
Her Father’s presence seemed to brighten around her.
“My Will for you, dear one, is simple: to love and be grateful. To see the world as you see it now, with everything connected. To do all things from your heart, whether they seem big or small. When you wash dishes, do it with love. When you help someone, do it with your whole heart. And always remember to be thankful – for the sunrise, for a kind word, for the air you breathe.”
The light gently touched her cheek, like a parent wiping away an unshed tear.
“I don’t need you to do any one specific thing, Eva. I only ask that you bring love and gratitude to everything you do. Your unique way of seeing beauty in simple things is already a gift to the world.”
Eva pondered this for a moment. Then, looking down at her small hands, she asked her next question.
“Father, I’m just a little girl,” she said. “What difference can I make in such a big world?”
“That doesn’t matter, beloved child. What matters is what you choose in each moment. Every choice creates ripples that spread farther than you’ll ever see.
The results of your choices aren’t yours to control. Once you’ve chosen with love, let go of what happens next. The outcome isn’t yours to keep – it was never yours.
A single kind word to someone hurting might save a life you’ll never meet. Standing for truth might spark courage in hearts unknown to you. The smallest act of love ripples outward endlessly, touching shores you’ll never visit.
This is peace – to act with love and then release all attachment to what comes of it. This is how even a little girl becomes light in a shadowed world.”
Eva felt something heavy lift from her shoulders. She didn’t have to fix everything – just do her small part with love.
Looking up into the golden light, she asked her final question, the one she’d wondered about most of all.
“How will I see you when I go back?”
The light grew softer, and her Father answered in words that seemed to sing:
I’m in the love that fills your heart, In happiness that makes you smile. I’m in your faith that never wavers, In your surrender, filled with trust.
When you share kindness with all beings, From tiniest ant to tallest tree, That’s when you see me most clearly – In love that flows abundantly.
Look for me in passing clouds, In birds that soar on gentle wing. I dwell in people all around you, In every plant and living thing.
I live within the smallest atom, While universes rest in me. I’m found in kindness and compassion, In all the goodness you can see.
I’m in your courage when life’s hard, In strength that helps you stand. I’m in the calm that finds your heart, When dark thoughts cloud your mind.
I flow within your very blood, child, And in each breath that gives you life. Open your heart to feel my presence – I’m always here, in joy and strife.
Eva closed her eyes, letting the words wash over her. When she opened them again, she saw the forest differently – every leaf, every creature, every ray of sunlight now shimmered with her Father’s presence.
“I see you now,” she whispered, “everywhere.”
Chapter 5: The Inner Light
From the golden light descended a pendant with an emerald stone that seemed to hold the forest’s essence within its depths. A delicate chain formed itself around the stone and gently floated toward Eva, settling around her neck. The pendant came to rest against her heart, warm and pulsing with the same rhythm as her own heartbeat.
“As you asked in your prayers, my will for you is to experience your world with love and kindness, sharing creation’s beauty with all you meet. This pendant will remind you of what you’ve seen here – a secret knowledge to carry in your heart.”
The golden light gradually faded, leaving Eva standing in the clearing with the emerald pendant warm against her skin, glowing with an inner light that matched her heartbeat.
The old gardener approached, kneeling down to her level and placing his weathered hands gently on her shoulders. His eyes held the same loving warmth she’d felt in God’s presence.
“It is time to return, sweet heart,” he said softly, drawing her into a gentle hug that felt like a blessing.
When he released her, he motioned with a loving sweep of his arm toward the wolf pack waiting silently at the clearing’s edge.
“They will guide you safely home.”
The largest wolf, silver-furred with amber eyes, bowed its head low. Eva followed the wolves through the twilight forest, her heart full of wonders seen and wisdom given.
She woke the next morning in her small orphanage bed. For a moment, she thought it had all been a beautiful dream – until she felt something heavy and warm against her chest. Looking down, she found the emerald pendant, glowing with an inner light that only she could see.
Eva smiled, tucking the pendant beneath her dress. Its origin would remain her secret, but its message she would share through how she lived – with kindness, with wonder, and with a heart surrendered to a wisdom greater than her own.
One fine day, I see saggy eyes, wrinkles on my skin Where were you before? Is it stress, is it my tiredness, is it my depression? That brought you to me. Being noticed not just by me but by family I realize I may be growing older.
Is this how getting old presents itself to me? Witnessing a silver hair Fatigue visiting more often Metabolism slower, body shape unpredictable Seeing younger men and women as my own kids Sometimes a reason for my excuse for stillness.
As time went by, I realize the abuse, neglect and being ungrateful My body has gone through because of me I feel remorseful, sorry, but I cannot change my past She has traveled with me for 46 years non-stop and continues.
I thank you, my divine abode, for providing me the space where my life can live in. You are a gift given by Him You were made just perfect in His eyes I ask for forgiveness from you and promise I will take care of you, To serve you, nurture you in gentleness and humility In gratitude for you as you are His blessing to me.
Thank you for this outer skin you have given me To protect the inner body from heat, germs and things not good for my life in you I promise to be present as my skin is touched with gentleness and love As I bathe and do my skin rituals To ensure my skin feels nourished and happy Not for others to compliment or pass me a second look in wonder But for me to ensure you are happy inside and out.
Thank you for giving me the appetite So I know I must eat so you are nurtured I promise to eat healthy Unprocessed food, greens, vegetables and fruits Plenty of water for hydration Not for me to lose weight or look in a certain way But for you to be happy and healthy, So that my life in you can live a minute more.
Thank you for the bones, muscles and organs That function and that work as magic To carry the life in me forward So I have another moment of living I promise to take care of you Through my walks, jogging, exercise Lifting weights so your muscles do not weaken For me to ensure you feel strong and happy.
Thank you, God, for this beautiful body To choose You through my actions this lifetime Giving me another chance This body being one of the most beautiful miracles created by You.
Dear God, please give me the mind, realizations, intention To only choose You To be grateful, loving to my body and all the gifts You have given me To live each day with purpose and meaning Using this most precious gift given to me by You.
A smile to my Heart brings a Joy to my Soul. The more I meditate and give the Love to my Heart, I realize I am being Loved. My Heart reminds me of my purpose… to share and Give the Love to others, to act as Beautiful Instruments of the Divinity.
What more do I need when I am being caressed in Your Love? What more can I ask for when held in Your Grace? Here, I become speechless in Gratitude so deep… Deeper than the oceans, Deeper than the darkest nights. Oh how peaceful is this? I am one with the Divine.
My Dear Love, Please help me… In every way and all ways. As I know so little, little than the drop in the ocean. I am Your child, Your Baby. I want to be held in Your arms, be safe in Your palm. Bless my Being that I may always know I am nowhere but right here in Your arms, Where I have always been and always will be held In Your strong, embracing arms.
How deceiving is this illusion? This illusion of separation, That I am away from You, which makes me feel I am scared, on my own. Only to realize that experiencing this ego is one of the ways I realize I need You more than ever.
As every time I go deep in my ego, go very deep in my emotions, and have a clouded day that makes me feel I have nowhere to go… Makes me cry, shout and deny You all at the same time. You are right there observing me like a Mother watching its child’s tantrums with a smile that says it all. And, then when the child in me has finished its tantrums, You open Your arms so that I can run to You as Your little baby. What words do I have to explain this union?
Beloved Source of Unconditional Love, please bless me so that I am never separate from You, even during times of doubt. I do not need the ego to realize Your Love. Please help my Heart to know that every time I choose my ways, I turn away from Your Love.
Melt me in Your Love. Burn me in Your Eternal Flame. Bless my Being so that I am One with You. I surrender my will, my desires and all my efforts to You, At Your Lotus Feet. To be One with You, to be Your Instrument. Bless my Being as You melt this feeling of separateness through the thoughts and feelings of my wants, my desires and my emotions. As my Divine Love, I cannot live even those moments of feeling away from You.
Bumble bees buzzing on golden daisies Butterflies hovering on delightful pansies Fireflies glittering in evening’s glow Dragonflies hovering in starlit snow Thank you, God, for your beautiful artistry
Zebra galloping swift and strong Deer leaping with graceful joy Monkeys swinging between trees in glee Majestic lions roaming wild and free Thank you, God, for your strength divine
Woodpeckers drumming on sturdy tree bark Owls hooting tales through moonlit dark Hummingbirds dancing with whirring wings Sparrows greeting morning as they sing Thank you, God, for this heavenly chime
Red and white roses in bloom, their passion unfold White jasmine’s intoxication, a treasure to behold Gardenia’s creamy petals whisper deep forest essence Lavender purple, calming peace in twilight presence Thank you, God, for each fragrant prayer
Nature’s symphony – wind, water, song Whispers of hidden stream that gently hum along Distant roar of waterfalls, reminding of a thunderous rain Cool breezes dancing to ease summer’s strain Thank you, God, for Earth’s eternal hymn
Praise to You, our Creator of Peace Praise to You, our Creator of Joy Praise to You, the most Powerful Praise to You, the Gentlest Praise to You, the True Source of Unconditional Love
Thank you for giving us all we need without us having to ask Thank you for being the voice in our hearts, guiding us to our True Home Thank you for forgiving us for our mistakes Thank you for healing us Thank you for loving us unconditionally
Praise to You, our Creator of Peace Praise to You, our Creator of Joy Praise to You, the most Powerful Praise to You, the Gentlest Praise to You, the True Source of Unconditional Love
The reason for me to write these reflections and share them is my way of reaching with the outer world, perhaps in a way that feels safe for me.
Working from home since Covid has in a way disconnected me from the outside world and socializing. Moving to a new place prior to Covid didn’t help either – the isolation of Covid amplifying the challenge of building new connections. Even before, I have been this reserved, someone who can easily connect deeper one-on-one, rather than in a group. It has come from some challenging trauma around school bullying and people.
I have come a long way taking care of myself – physical fitness, health, mental health, routine practices like meditation, being in nature. Through these practices and therapy, I’ve found peace in solitude, even learned to embrace it deeply. Yet there’s a part of me that longs to be around people – not in large groups, but in meaningful connections.
This morning brought a realization I hadn’t expected: I don’t feel safe around people I don’t know, especially when I need to meet them physically and regularly. This understanding explains why I haven’t joined or have not continued any in-person classes recently – yoga, art, or community groups. Perhaps it’s the fear of getting hurt again, or maybe something deeper I’m still trying to understand. It’s strange because I used to regularly participate in group activities before – volunteering at a hospice, working in homeless kitchens, being a community teacher. But especially since moving and through these Covid years, I’ve felt paralyzed around people. It’s daunting.
While my therapy and meditation practices have helped me heal so much from my depression, find my cheerful self and in fact made me happier than I have ever in my life, there’s a part of me that is still hurting and not open to embrace the goodness of socializing in a way that speaks to me, to feel safer inside beyond the people, environment that I am used to.
Writing this down feels healing somehow. At this moment, I offer a prayer to our Creator to help with continuing my healing journey, to be replaced with Love from Him.
Being aware is the first step, isn’t it? I can feel it – this understanding is already part of the healing. I know I’ll move through this phase too, just as I’ve moved through others before it.
My mother’s aunt, Meenatchi Avva, was the quintessential grandmother figure who inspired me in my childhood formative years. She came to live with us in her 80s, bringing with her a quiet strength and wisdom. Petite and unassuming at first glance, her rounded frame belied how effortlessly light on her feet she actually was. With her stark white hair, porcelain complexion, and a slow, deliberate gait owing to her deeply bowlegged legs, she embodied both grace and resilience. She combed her hair neatly and tied it back into an effortless bun. Her skin bore wrinkles of time, but her smile and mischievous sparkling eyes hinted at a youthful exuberance.
Married at 13 – a common practice then – Avva often reflected her love for learning and how her husband supported her independence. This rare dynamic for their time deepened her belief in personal choice, a value she carried into every aspect of her life. His unwavering support allowed her to pursue passions like Carnatic singing and attending drama shows, deepening her belief in personal freedom. This mutual respect in her marriage shaped her conviction that women should live by their own choices. When she shared about her married life, I could see how passionately she loved her late husband.
What truly set Avva apart was her graceful blend of dignity and humor. She exuded warmth and positivity that was utterly contagious. Her presence brought an aura of calm and purpose. I have never seen her complain or use harsh words or speak ill of others behind their backs. She commanded respect without asserting authority and infused lightheartedness into everyday life through witty songs and faint sarcasm. She often sang songs with playful twists, masking hidden meanings behind a knowing smile. I still remember when she subtly teased a family friend – recently remarried and living with two wives – through a cleverly altered song, leaving my mother and me stifling our laughter once we caught on.
Her quite confidence, strength and humor made it natural for me to gravitate towards her.
For me, as a young teenager, her influence was transformative. I often confided in her, sharing my frustrations about family culture, misogynistic attitudes and what I felt were unfair practices. While I debated with her about feminism and women’s rights, she taught me the wisdom of choosing the right time to express strong emotions. Though I challenged her views on timing my expressions of frustrations, I now see the wisdom in her advice to speak when emotions are calm, and the moment is right.
Yet, our conversations weren’t always serious – we giggled over college stories, and she playfully would ask what kind of man she should find for me. I’d confidently say, ‘Not a doctor, and someone who lives far away.’ She would chuckle, ‘Far? How far?’ and I’d shrug, ‘Just far from home.’ It was my youthful yearning for independence, spoken aloud to someone who understood.
Avva and I slept together in the afternoons in the prayer room on the floor. At times, she would allow me to put my hands and legs on her while sleeping and would gently pat me to sleep. I did not remember having a close relation with either of my parents’ mothers but felt very fortunate for her to fill that role for me.
Avva fit seamlessly into our family, and it was evident she adored living with us. To my mother, she was a guiding hand and a source of empathy. To my father, whose demanding job often kept him away, she became a symbol of the mother he had lost. Their morning coffee conversations were filled with lighthearted exchanges, and Avva even playfully defended my mother in their debates, bringing a balance to our home.
While Avva’s presence brought comfort to our entire family, it was in her personal rituals that her true essence shone brightest. These daily practices weren’t just routines; they were the quiet manifestation of how she moved through life – with purpose, grace, and an unwavering sense of self.
Each morning, she began her day in quiet devotion yet never expected anyone else to follow her routines. Her daily rituals mirrored the balance she maintained between tradition and independence.
Every morning before sunrise, Avva quietly began her day with a bath and personally washed her clothes, refusing help despite the household maid. Using a long wooden stick, she hung them on the ceiling rack in the prayer room. The room, cool with red granite floors and lined with deity images, became her sanctuary. Lighting the oil lamp, she carefully placed fresh garden flowers before the gods. Only after completing her prayers and sharing prasadam would she rejoin the household, grounded and ready to engage with us all.
Though deeply traditional, Avva never imposed her beliefs on anyone. This quiet respect for individual choices mirrored my own discomfort with being pressured to conform. Her presence affirmed that one could stand firm in personal beliefs without expecting others to follow suit. It was a silent lesson in living authentically. Avva’s quiet strength and deep respect for individuality enkindled in me the courage to make my own choices. She taught me that independence isn’t about rejecting tradition but about living truthfully and allowing others the freedom to do the same. Her life was a beautiful balance of devotion and freedom – one I strive to embody every day.
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