I am caught in turbulent water, thrown against rocks – Panic rising: Will I get hurt this time? Will I escape? Will I choose something different, or drown in the same cycle again?
The current pulls me under, again and again – proving, performing, trying to show I am worthy of being here.
The same waters, the same rocks – they return until I learn. Sometimes these aren’t even mine – cycles passed down through generations, waiting for someone to finally break them.
Until – I see it: a choice. Stillness.
The voice – the sly one, dressed as fear takes over, masking behind persuasiveness. Before I realize, I feel defeated. I’m caught in my pattern. I recognize the cycle.
The frustration rises. I’m drowning again. But then, I pray for help and surrender. “Please help. Help me be gentle with myself.”
And I feel it – the courage to move on.
Again, the rocks, the panic, the realization: a choice.
This time, I pray. I stay in the presence. I ask my inner wisdom to guide me. I trust.
And I choose what wisdom shows me.
Then – a fresh breeze. Sunrise filtering through leaves, golden and simple. Birds singing. The smell of damp earth. I feel safe. At Peace.
The forest holds me gently. I am no longer proving, performing, drowning. I am simply here.
Somewhere in my healing journey, there was this gentle slowing down – a soft withdrawal from my usual urgency to react, to fix. Before, when I felt triggered or when sadness and panic hit, there was always this restlessness, this need to fix something, to move quickly. That place was not comfortable to be in.
What I never expected was that this slowing down was actually nature’s way of teaching me to be present. Through my trauma, I discovered this was a sign in my healing journey – that I was learning to let go and be more accepting.
One day when my best friend was asking me how I was doing, the words just came: “I’m steeping, like a tea bag in hot water.” I was surprised I even said that, because it was exactly how it felt.
Now when I need this time, I grow quieter, naturally gravitating toward solitude – long walks in nature, visits to the spa, or simply sitting on my balcony watching the sky and trees. I write sometimes, or just think, or don’t think at all. During this time, I don’t rush to process or understand. I just let whatever I’m feeling exist.
There’s something profound in this stillness. A calmness emerges that I never found in all my previous rushing toward solutions. Realizations surface naturally, like bubbles rising in still water. And in those moments, I find myself talking to my Creator – not in desperation, but in surrender.
“This is where I am. I need your help.”
It might take a day, sometimes longer, but eventually something shifts. There’s lightness. Clarity. A deeper understanding I couldn’t have forced. And always, always, humility.
I realize now that healing doesn’t happen through panic or the urge for immediate fixes, but through presence. Through simply being with what is, without needing to change it right away.
The most healing happens when I stop trying to heal and just… steep.
This process has taught me that sometimes the answer isn’t to do something about our emotions, but to be with them. To trust that sitting quietly with our experience, creating space for it to exist, allows something natural and necessary to unfold.
I’ve learned I need time alone with whatever I’m going through. And in that solitude, in that steeping, I find not emptiness but fullness. Not avoidance but the deepest kind of presence.
Maybe what we call healing isn’t always about getting better faster. Maybe sometimes it’s about learning to be present with ourselves exactly as we are, trusting that this presence itself transforms us in ways our rushing never could.
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.
I’ve been having recurring thoughts about a particular service that I find meaningful and purposeful – something I could extend to others. But when I looked deeper, I recognized this mental chatter for what it was. A mind that is busy and urging action often stems from the ego seeking validation, while true divine guidance feels calm, peaceful, and organically natural. If something is truly meant to be, it emerges from this place of clarity and peace – not from racing thoughts.
Through my meditation practice, I’ve learned that God speaks to us through our hearts in the present moment. When we’re completely open to the here and now, we receive what we need. Meditation helps us recognize when thoughts come from ego versus divine guidance from our Heart and makes it a choice to shift back to simply being present.
So I realized: I don’t need to chase after racing thoughts or dreams. What’s meant for me will come in the given moment. All I need to do is be here and now, accepting whatever the moment offers with grace and gratitude. When I say yes to the Creator with a thankful heart, I become clear about what needs to be done – whether it’s catering to someone’s needs, cleaning someone’s space, offering a smile to a stranger, or feeding the hungry. The form doesn’t matter; what matters is the open-hearted presence I bring to it.
Even daily planning can flow from this centered space. When we plan from the present moment, it helps quiet mental noise and allows us to be more focused, rather than anxious about outcomes.
This insight deepened while I was eating. My mind became busy with random thoughts – thinking about this, planning that, wondering if I should watch something on my phone. These thoughts were pulling me away from simply being present and respecting the food before me. Then I remembered: I don’t have to chase after things to do or think about. The moment I felt this truth in my heart, everything shifted. I became quiet, fully present with my food, relishing every bite without needing any distractions.
This revealed something profound about mental restlessness. When we’re not present, the mind becomes noisy, always seeking something to chase or think about. This restlessness comes from the ego trying to maintain control, to feel important, to avoid the beautiful simplicity of just being.
We don’t have to chase anything. When we’re truly present, serving as instruments of our Creator, everything we need is already here and now. The peace, the purpose, the next right action – it all emerges naturally from this space of open-hearted presence.
May this reflection serve as a gentle reminder to return to the present moment, to trust in divine timing, and to find peace in simply being.
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.
From the times of Covid when work from home became the norm, remote work has presented unique challenges, particularly in understanding and connecting with colleagues. You learn to interpret coworkers from whatever little they share during meetings or daily standups. Emotionally connecting with peers has been difficult, not to mention how crucial it is to understand each other to work effectively as a team.
Years ago, a new colleague joined our company. He sounded very sarcastic, often cutting people off and calling out mistakes in a somewhat snobbish manner when someone didn’t understand or comprehend what he shared. He quickly developed a reputation as a difficult person to work with, and very soon I had formed an opinion of him as being hard to collaborate with, intimidating, and aggressive. Let’s call him “Jacob” for privacy reasons.
With many new people joining our team at that time, I had suggested at our Retro meeting that it would help us bond if we did a casual team building exercise. I was pleased when my scrum master and manager agreed, seeing value in such an activity. My manager went the extra mile by preparing some creative questions for the team.
One question asked everyone to share something about their childhood – what was their best learning experience or what they wished they had learned better.
When Jacob’s turn came, what he shared caused a paradigm shift in how I perceived him.
Jacob revealed that he was orphaned and didn’t know his birth parents. He had moved between several foster homes as a child before being raised by an elderly couple when he was 8 years old in rural Iowa. His foster parents had a big farm with neighbors half a mile away. There weren’t many children his age nearby with whom he could relate and play. His foster parents were kind enough to teach him life skills and provide him education. He worked very hard to respect the opportunity he had and to thank his parents too.
He shared with a chuckle that due to his childhood and growing up with elderly parents, he had always struggled with connecting to people his own age. His weakness has been his awkwardness with people, and his communication style has suffered as a result. He acknowledged that he could come across as rude or too direct, but emphasized that he doesn’t do it intentionally – he’s simply struggling with it. He added that he’s actively working to improve.
Hearing him talk shifted something profound in me. It made me realize how quick we are to judge others. We don’t know their full story, and it’s true that to a great extent, our choices and behaviors are heavily influenced by our life circumstances and childhood conditioning.
While it’s important to listen to our instincts when our energy senses something or someone is not good for our mental health, we don’t need to rush to judgment or share harsh opinions. Rather, we can respect our feelings and create appropriate distance when needed, as our primary responsibility is to take care of ourselves.
We tend to waste our energy and time harboring negative feelings towards others or obsessing over “why” or “how could they” behave a certain way. This often leads us to assume things about situations unknown to us. We may never truly understand why people behave the way they do, but we can take care of our wellbeing, know our boundaries, and simply meet people where they are, keeping things uncomplicated. No one is responsible for our happiness except ourselves.
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
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.
In Chennai’s sweltering summer months, apartment complexes stand like their own little villages – multiple buildings rising at least 5 floors high, connected by common walkways and shared spaces. Krishna’s home sits in one such building, on the third floor, where life begins well before dawn.
By 5:30 am, the first wave of household help arrives. Women like Valli make their way through the security gate, heading to different apartments across the complex. Each building houses families on different floors, and these women have mastered the art of managing multiple households in carefully planned shifts.
A typical day for these household workers follows an unwritten but well-understood schedule. Valli, a tall and dusky woman with a warm smile, arrives early in the morning at Krishna’s home. Dressed in a simple polyester saree, her hair neatly braided, Valli handles essential morning tasks – preparing morning coffee, mopping the floors, washing clothes and tidying the kitchen. She then moves between three or four houses within the same complex, their timings synchronized with different families’ routines. Valli arrives again in the afternoon, when cooking is all done, and cleans the kitchen.
Despite working in multiple homes, these women form unique bonds with each household. In Krishna’s home, Valli found more than just employment – she found understanding, care, respect and a friend. While she dusted and mopped the floors, washed clothes, and tended to daily chores, Krishna ensured the relationship transcended the typical employer-employee dynamic.
Krishna on the left, Valli on the right
What strikes you first when you enter Krishna’s home isn’t just her booming voice or infectious laugh – it’s how the traditional hierarchy of ‘madam and maid’ dissolves at her doorstep. Her loud, cheerful ‘Good morning!’ echoes through the apartment as Valli arrives, making it clear this isn’t just another workplace.
In Chennai, where household help often moves silently through homes like shadows, Krishna’s approach stands refreshingly different. Her kitchen was just not a place where her maids had work to do but a place where dignity is served alongside meals. ‘Have you eaten properly?’ she’d ask Valli, not as a casual question but with genuine concern, understanding that a day of working across multiple homes demands energy and strength.
The transformation is visible in Valli’s demeanor. Despite her exhausting schedule – arriving at 5:30 AM after an hour’s journey, having already cooked for her own family – her tired face lights up in Krishna’s home. Here, she isn’t just someone who cleans and does chores; she’s a person whose well-being matters.
Krishna’s teasing banter, her way of checking if Valli had her morning coffee, her insistence on proper meals – these small acts show immense love, kindness and respect often missing in such relationships. When Valli developed tennis elbow, Krishna’s response wasn’t of an employer inconvenienced, but of someone genuinely worried about a person she cared for. While others might have simply reduced her workload, Krishna took action. She personally accompanied Valli to her trusted doctor, ensuring proper treatment and follow-up care. This wasn’t just about maintaining a household helper’s health – it was about caring for someone who had become part of her extended family.
During my visits, watching this dynamic unfold became a daily source of joy and learning. Seeing Valli’s warm smile, the way she moved comfortably in the space, the gentle assertiveness with which she could voice her needs – it spoke volumes about the environment Krishna had created. Despite life’s challenges, this had become Valli’s happy place, where her dignity remained intact, and her work was valued beyond the tasks she performed.
This is what makes Krishna special – her ability to transform what could be a mere transactional relationship into one of mutual respect and genuine care. In a society where class divisions often create invisible barriers, she shows how simple acts of kindness and respect can build bridges instead of walls. Krishna’s approach to treating household help with dignity isn’t limited to Valli alone; each person who works in her home finds the same warmth and respect.
This same depth of care extends to her furry family. Krishna’s love for animals manifests in remarkable ways. Her apartment, surrounded by stray cats, became a sanctuary when her son brought home Kai, a rescued kitten. This grey and white striped Bengal-like cat, with striking green big eyes, arrived traumatized but found healing in Krishna’s patient love. Even now, though Kai fears strangers and loud sounds, she finds comfort sleeping in Krishna’s arms at night.
Then there’s Rocky, the rescued Labrador with severe allergies. Krishna didn’t hesitate to adopt this 8-year-old dog, despite his medical challenges. She transformed her home to accommodate him – special bedding with multiple-layered, soft cotton blankets for his sensitive skin, specific dietary arrangements, and careful management of his interactions with the resident cats.
Despite her own health challenges, Krishna’s capacity for care seems limitless. Her personality might fill a room – loud, loving, and electric – but it’s her quiet, consistent kindness that truly defines her. Whether it’s a frightened cat, an ailing housekeeper, or a struggling dog, Krishna’s response is always the same: unwavering support and practical help.
In an age where corporate leadership often struggles to balance humanity with hierarchy, Krishna’s approach offers a simple yet profound lesson. While companies invest in leadership workshops and employee engagement programs, my sister naturally demonstrates what authentic leadership looks like in practice. Her method isn’t drawn from management textbooks but from a basic understanding: that treating people who work for us with genuine respect and care creates an environment where loyalty and dedication flourish naturally.
Each time I leave my sister’s home, I carry with me not just memories of her legendary hospitality, but profound lessons in human centered leadership. Through her, I learned that the most effective management style isn’t about power dynamics or formal protocols – it’s about acknowledging the dignity in every person who crosses our threshold. In the end, leadership isn’t about titles or power. It’s about the quiet, daily choices – choosing kindness over indifference, respect over hierarchy, and love over obligation.
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