For a long time I thought spirituality was something you did alone. You sat on your cushion, you read your books, you tried to be a little kinder than yesterday, and you figured it all out in the quiet of your own head. That's a lovely picture. It's also, I've come to believe, a bit lonely and a bit incomplete. What changed my mind was satsang. So what is satsang, really? The word comes from Sanskrit. Sat means truth, and sangha means company or gathering. Put them together a

It started as a whisper. Somewhere in the middle of my spiritual journey, in the season of my life where I was unlearning a lot of things, Bali kept showing up. In a conversation. In a dream. In a photo of a stone path lined with green that I couldn't stop looking at. I've learned not to ignore that kind of pull. So I planned the trip, booked it for myself, and went alone on purpose. I didn't want to be distracted from whatever was waiting for me. I landed in Ubud, which many

I grew up with Krishna's flute in my ears. Long before I understood what devotion meant, I knew the blue of his skin, the peacock feather tilted just so, the sweetness of butter stolen from a mother's kitchen. Krishna was the deity of my childhood altar, my wedding mandap, my late-night prayers when nothing made sense and I needed something to feel like play instead of pain. He was joy. He was the friend who danced with you even when your world was falling apart. For most of

There's a particular kind of loneliness that has nothing to do with being alone. You can be surrounded by people — coworkers who know your coffee order, neighbors who wave every morning, even family who loves you fiercely — and still feel like you're speaking a language nobody else quite understands. Like you're translating yourself constantly, softening the strange parts, trimming the edges so you'll fit through doors that were never built for your shape. And then, sometimes

For a long time I carried around a half-remembered line, one I believed came from Paramahansa Yogananda: something like "Lord, tell me thy will." It felt like the kind of prayer you reach for late at night, when a decision has been sitting on your chest for days and you just want to set it down — to let something larger than yourself carry it for a while, so you don't have to. I think most of us know that feeling. The moment before a hard choice, when you'd give almost anythi

There is a moment, in almost everyone's life, when a person walks in and something older than memory stirs awake. Maybe it was recognition. Maybe it was grief that had no name. Maybe it was a love so instant it felt inherited rather than built. We often reach for ordinary words to explain these moments — chemistry, timing, luck. But some connections carry a weight that ordinary words can't hold. They feel written. Pre-arranged. As if you agreed to this, once, somewhere outsid

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change." Say it slow. Feel where it lands in your chest. That line has been stitched onto pillows and printed on coffee mugs so many times we've almost stopped hearing it. But underneath the familiarity is something ancient and raw — a plea whispered by people at the end of their own strength. The prayer keeps going after that first line, asking next for the courage to change what can be changed, and then, quietest of

"When meditation is mastered, the mind is unwavering like the flame of a lamp in a windless place. In the still mind, in the depths of meditation, the Self reveals itself." — Bhagavad Gita Krishna doesn't say the Self is hidden. He doesn't say it's far away, or reserved for the rare few who renounce the world. He says it reveals itself — but only once the mind stops flickering. The whole obstacle is motion. Everything else follows from that one image: a flame steady because n

Om Guruve Namah - I bow to the Guru They say the guru finds the disciple when the disciple is ready. Looking back now, I understand exactly what that means. Twelve years ago, I was searching for something I couldn't name. There was a quiet restlessness in me, a longing for something deeper that I simply could not find in the world around me. So I kept diving inward — into my yoga, my meditation, my prayers — holding onto a faith that what I was seeking was also seeking me. Th