My back is against the wall as I sit in the crowded café watching the scenes unfold. Some people raise their voices above the live music, more intent on being heard than on listening. Others laugh at jokes made funny only by the

At some point, during a loud game I could not make sense of, I slipped away. No one noticed. I walked into the trees until the noise softened behind me and found a tall pine with roots like open arms. I sat. Back

As I sit across from him, watching his hands and feet dance across the cajón, I am reminded of the words of Swami Satchidananda: “When you become a channel for the music, the Divine flows through you.” He is not playing an instrument;

In many yoga and spiritual circles, we’re hearing more and more about the “divine feminine” and the “sacred masculine.” These words are often offered as tools of empowerment, healing, and reconnection to some primal truth. But what if the language we’re using to

As she talked, my attention drifted to the background music. At first, it was just a sound, but then something shifted. The music seeped into me in a way I had never experienced before. The melody was unlike anything I knew, yet the

Walking through the temple grounds, I found myself mesmerised by the murals narrating the life of the Buddha. Each intricate detail seemed alive, radiating wisdom. One mural, in particular, held me spellbound: the Buddha seated beneath the Bodhi tree, emaciated from severe fasting