I Remember A Time.

I remember a time when my grief felt insurmountable, when even the sound of our local river couldn’t reach me.

It was 2015, and I was going through an intensely difficult relationship breakup.

I honestly didn’t feel like I could go on.

I was so depressed and felt profoundly alone, as if I were dead on the inside.

Nothing seemed to work—nothing—not even my precious spiritual practices. They didn’t make the smallest dent in the mammoth feeling of sadness and despair.

And then something began to shift.

I started to notice small, fleeting moments of lightness. When I walked my beloved greyhound, Jeanie, the aroma of fresh grass and the sight and sound of the river piqued my interest and lightened my being, even if only for a moment. It was as if Mother Nature was reaching into my heart, brushing away the darkness, whispering to me, "I’m here. You’re not alone."

These moments reminded me of something profound: I am always connected to the divine and that my suffering and the beauty I had begun to see again, actually exist together.

Feeling the grass, seeing the river, and soaking in the light aroused a sense of hope that my sadness, as heavy as it was, was a part of me and not something to remove or release, it was actually a profound expression of love.

Light Within

There were other encounters especially while meditating. I lit a candle in a dark room and noticed how its soft, golden light flickered and danced, filling the space with warmth. That light, small and trembling, seemed to mirror something within me—a spark of life, and in time I began to reconnect with the idea that perhaps this was a reflection of my Shakti. Since then, lighting candles has become a sacred practice for me. It’s my way of checking in with myself, asking questions such as: How is my light today?

It’s empowering to know that even when the sky feels heavy with grey clouds, pressing in on every side that I can still connect with this light. This simple practice reminds me that I can create moments of light, even in the darkness.

Finding the Magic in the Mundane 

In the bhakti traditions, there’s an emphasis on bhav—the emotional and spiritual attitude behind any action. It’s not just the act itself but the feeling, the intention, that transforms the mundane into the magical. Lighting a candle, placing a flower on an altar, bowing to the light at the start of the day, or chanting before a meal can all become deliberate ways to honor this paradox.

Sitting here with you, I am reminded of flowers. I think flowers are a perfect expression of this paradox:that light and darkness can exist side by side and are actually doorways or portals to the divine.  Flowers are full of beauty, but they don’t last. Which is kind of sad. In my garden, I’ll see buds in full bloom alongside others that have already withered and died. Offering flowers on my altar, the petals soft and fragrant, fall gently to the altar as if bowing to their impermanence. I feel deeply grateful to those flowers and their dharma. 

The Nectar Within

The yogic sages teach that within each of us is a reservoir of love, bliss, and energy—a lake of Consciousness, alive and waiting for us to drink its nectar. As the Shiva Sutras (3:17) say: 'महाह्रदानुसंधानान्मन्त्रवीर्यानुभवः / By meditating on the great lake, one experiences the potency of mantras.

But this connection requires effort. We have to choose to open ourselves to it, to expand our energy, to remember even when it feels impossible. Lighting a candle, taking a walk, or simply sitting with a flower or listening to a mantra can be a remarkable, transformative, miraculous moment. Moments of saying yes to life, even in the face of sorrow. They are reminders that within us, the nectar of life is always flowing and wanting to connect with us.

Closing Reflection

When I felt most lost, beauty found me.  O beloveds, light a candle, offer a flower, listen to a mantra, or sit in nature—all these small, sacred movements remind us of our own light. If you are in a place of grief, I want you to know that beauty is still here, waiting for you. She won’t erase your sorrow, but She will hold your hand through it. In these sacred movements, may you find the courage to say yes to life, even as sorrow lingers by your side

May you find a glimmer of your own light, reflected back to you, as the truest expression of who you are.