15 – 17 March 2025
This journey through India has gifted me more time than I ever expected—time to think, to reflect, to feel everything deeply. At times, these reflections are clear and enlightening. At others, they’re confusing and confronting. India, in its own chaotic poetry, continues to mirror back to me a thousand versions of myself: breathtaking beauty and unimaginable kindness right beside filth, scams, and frustration. If this country is a mirror, what is it showing me?
We left early for our return to Shri Jasnath Ashram, expecting an easy journey with a pre-booked bus. But, as India does, it had other plans. The bus never came. After waiting endlessly, we were told it had been cancelled. Instead, we ended up crammed onto a local bus, squashed beneath luggage and surrounded by curious strangers. What should have been a four-hour journey stretched into five and a half. Then another two hours on a second local bus to Khimsar, followed by 45 minutes in what I swear must be India’s oldest tuk-tuk. We might have arrived faster on foot.
As I stared out at the slow-moving world around me, my thoughts began to swirl. Over the past few years, I’ve undergone profound inner transformation—what many would call an awakening. I’ve changed deeply, and I know I’m not alone. A collective shift is happening across the world. But here, in this place that once felt like the spiritual heart of Earth, time feels like it’s moving backward.
India—once revered as the land of sages, yogis, and ancient wisdom—now feels disconnected from that spiritual essence. The light has dimmed. Of course, there are still true teachers here, but they’re rare, hidden. In their place, yoga has become commodified, spiritual retreats have turned into luxury getaways, and the soul of these practices often feels lost.
On my first trip, I encountered real teachings, real presence. And I know many still do—especially those just beginning their journey of remembrance. But the India I’ve found this time feels like a reflection of the old world: traditions followed blindly, rituals performed without depth, and a population longing for something more, something better.
The great irony? We—the Western seekers who once came here to learn—are now the ones being looked to for guidance. The world has shifted. The earth has tilted. The age of seeking outside ourselves is ending.
We are now the carriers of light.
This realization has shaken me. For so long, I felt insignificant in my role as a lightworker. I lived in a high-vibrational bubble back home, unsure of where I fit into the wider spiritual picture. But here, I’ve been forced to face myself, to stand in my truth, and to accept a new reality: we are no longer students. We are becoming the teachers.
It feels strange, even backwards, but it is real. The new age is not coming—it’s here. And in it, true mastery won’t be found in another human, a temple, or a guru. It will be found within.
I am learning to live that truth now. To hold it with both humility and power. The torch has passed, and we must rise to carry it forward.
