A Blur, A Breakthrough, and the Beauty of Community
January 11 (11/11) was, in many ways, a blur. The day before, I must have had a cyst or something rupture, as I was hit with an overwhelming wave of dizziness, nausea, and exhaustion. I spent most of the day lying in bed, my eyes closed, unable to do much of anything. It was humbling to feel so incapacitated, but I suppose medicine comes in many forms, and rest was exactly what my body needed.
What struck me most that day was the outpouring of love and care from the friends I’ve made here. People checked in on me, asked if they could bring me anything, and offered their support in ways that touched my heart deeply. Their kindness reminded me how special this community truly is—lovely, soulful beings I feel so grateful to have met.
By the end of the day, my energy had improved enough for me to attend the evening satsang and kirtan. While it felt a bit overstimulating, it was also incredibly nourishing to be in the presence of my soul family, sharing music and devotion. Afterward, we celebrated Raghunath’s birthday—a beautiful moment that made me appreciate him even more. He has such a good heart and is a gifted teacher, storyteller, and musician. The way he raises his children as devotees is inspiring, especially his youngest son, Tarun, who is here with us, fully immersed in learning the drum, ancient texts, and other invaluable lessons.
There are several children on this trip, including Bobbi’s amazing and gifted daughter, and seeing them here has sparked something in me. When I have children, I’d like to raise them in an environment like this—one that nurtures their spiritual growth and connection to these teachings.
That said, I’ve always been a bit unsure if I want children or not. Deep down, I think I do, but there’s a fear of bringing a child into such a cruel and uncertain world. I also think about the mental health struggles I’ve faced and wonder how I would guide a child through similar challenges. And then, of course, there’s my women’s health issues—endometriosis and PCOS—that leave me uncertain of my chances of conceiving. Not to mention, I haven’t yet been in a relationship with someone who I feel would be worthy of being the father to my child in a healthy and loving dynamic. But even with these fears, I can’t help pondering the topic—especially since my brother Wayne and his wife Soo are expecting their first child in just a few months. I’m going to be an auntie! It’s exciting and surreal, and it’s definitely made me reflect on what family means to me.
Physically, I’m still not back to normal. My stomach has been delicate, so I’ve been sticking to boiled veggies and papaya for meals and indian electrolytes for drinks. The bleeding has also been intense, which has taken a toll on my energy. After some reflection, I’ve made the decision to skip morning practices for the next few days. I know discipline is important, and these early mornings are precious, but I need to prioritize rest. Before coming here, I wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep—sometimes as little as 3-7 hours a night—and my body is crying out for the full 8 hours it needs, especially during my period. It’s hard for me to fall asleep early, but I’m making an effort because I want to rejoin morning practices when I feel more restored.
This morning began gently, with no drumming practice. Instead, we gathered for group photos of the mridanga training. It was a bittersweet moment for me—while I’ve enjoyed the challenge of learning this new instrument, part of me is ready to shift my focus back to the harmonium, which is the reason I came here. I’ll admit, I still have a twinge of discomfort from what happened during drumming the other day, but I’m choosing to release that as I move forward.
With the rest of the day free, I took a walk around the property with Chief and Jose after lunch. As we strolled, he began explaining some of the Krishna stories, which I’m finding fascinating. There are so many reenactments of the different lilas (divine play stories) around the property—artful depictions of these ancient tales. What I hadn’t realized before coming here is that this place is run by ISKCON (the International Society for Krishna Consciousness). Nearly all the temples and exhibits are Krishna-based, which, if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely crazy about. It feels a bit overwhelming at times to see everything so singularly focused.
Later in the afternoon, I learned a few people would be practicing harmonium at the goshala (where we also practice yoga) around 4 p.m. By the time our walk was finished, it was closer to 4:45 or 5 p.m. I was pretty hot and tired and wasn’t about to drag my heavy harmonium down there, so I decided to take the scenic route instead.
I walked leisurely through the path that winds around the cows. There’s something undeniably magical about them—the gentle energy of the cows and bulls felt grounding and peaceful. I took my time, pausing to really connect with them, to be present, and to take a few photos. That walk became its own kind of meditation, a moment of stillness that felt deeply nourishing.
When I got up to the goshala, I ended up joining a couple of others for a few hours of harmonium practice. The rooftop setting was beautiful, especially as the daylight transitioned into night. The moon, almost full, added a magical quality to the evening that felt like pure serenity. There’s something about the moon that connects me deeply to my Shakti nature—that watery, dynamic energy capable of creation and transformation. It feels especially potent that my period came two weeks early to sync with the full moon in Cancer. With Cancer rising and a Pisces moon in my chart, water is such a defining element of who I am.
As the day came to a close, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. It was a really good day.
Until next time… with love & gratitude,
Eve aka Kali Grayce
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