1 & 2 April 2025
I was genuinely looking forward to yoga classes with Parinita, so I was a bit disappointed when she told me she’d be away this week. She hasn’t seen her family in months, and of course, I completely understand her need for rest and reunion. Still, it left an unexpected gap—and to my surprise, I ended up filling it.
I taught the 7 a.m. yoga class both yesterday and today. We had one regular student and two new guests—a sweet Dutch couple staying at Sai Veda for a few days of much-needed stillness. It’s funny; I didn’t expect to be teaching yoga in India, but it felt good to reconnect with students, to guide again, even if just for a few peaceful mornings.
The Dutch couple have been lovely—gentle, soft-spoken, and grounded. We’ve shared quiet conversations and more than a few laughs over the similarities between our languages. Afrikaans and Dutch are so closely related that I can understand most of what they say, though they find Afrikaans a bit harder to follow. It’s always a curious dance, this interplay between language and connection.
In quieter moments, I’ve been having some beautiful conversations with the Ayurvedic doctor and his wife, who live here at the center. Both are highly trained and deeply intuitive in their work. I would’ve loved to learn more from them and dive deeper into the therapies they offer, but our interactions have been limited by time and the rhythm of the center.
Aside from conversations and my ongoing mural work, there’s not much else to do here. The surrounding village is still and uneventful—just a few traditional ashrams and wandering sadhus. There’s nowhere to walk, no lively streets or colorful corners to explore. So, I’m using this quiet stretch to focus on my Reality Creation Process and Josiah’s business course. Some days I feel frustrated, like I’m moving in circles with no real progress. But I remind myself, again and again: divine timing. Trust the unfolding.
As for the mural—what was meant to be a simple, joyful creative task has turned into a test of patience. The back-and-forth over supplies, the poor-quality brushes and paints, the constant asking for what I need… it’s exhausting. I’ve done my best to make it work, but even mixing the right colors has been a challenge. To top it off, I’ve somehow hurt my right shoulder, which is slowing me down even more.
Thankfully, I’m not alone here. The Dutch couple’s kindness, the smiles from the staff, and the quiet presence of a few friendly souls make a big difference. Still, the cultural gap between me and my very young manager feels ever-present. I’m out of ideas on how to bridge it. I’ve tried everything I know to improve our communication, but it often feels like we’re speaking different languages entirely—on every level.
So, I breathe. I stretch. I paint when I can. And I hold onto trust—that this chapter, like all the others, is teaching me something vital. Even if I can’t see it clearly just yet.
