Harmonium, Heartbreak and Holding my Power
January 13, 2025
Today marked the beginning of our harmonium training, something I had been eagerly anticipating. Having Bobbi, an experienced teacher, join us was a refreshing addition, as she focuses on chords. Lala, on the other hand, teaches melodies and traditional bhajans—k one of the reason I came here. Their teaching styles complement each other, but the way the course is being managed and the time is divided between students has been frustrating.
Lala tends to spend 15 minutes with some students, circling back to them multiple times, while rushing through others—myself included—in just 5 minutes. When she says it’s “to get to the next person,” it leaves me feeling like an afterthought. It’s challenging because I want to make the most of this experience, and it doesn’t feel good to be rushed. I’ve been debating whether to speak up. I don’t want to come across as complaining, but I also know I deserve equal attention. I'm sure its not intentional but it sure is noticeable. (Update; i said something)
In the evening, I attended satsang, which was packed with energy. The music and atmosphere drew me in, and soon I was singing, dancing, and even jumping with joy. For a moment, I forgot about my body’s fragility. Unfortunately, my knee didn’t forget and has been reminding me ever since. It’s a hard balance when everything in my body feels delicate, but my spirit yearns to release and fully experience the moment.
After satsang and dinner, I went for a walk with the friend I had practiced eye gazing with the previous evening. What had felt like a deep and meaningful connection the night before now felt slightly off. There was a strange shift in the energy on my end—somewhere between exposed and vulnerable, like I had been cracked open in a way that wasn’t fully comfortable. I didn’t feel the same easy sense of friendship that we had shared in the past couple of days, exchanging songs and lighthearted conversations. I couldn’t help but wonder if something had changed, and I found myself silently hoping it hadn’t affected how he saw me or our friendship.
We strolled around the pond, bathed in the soft glow of an almost full moon. As we began to “reflect” on the previous evening, he hit me with a flood of things I wasn’t entirely expecting. Tonight, I learned that he had been seeing someone before coming here. While I respect his honesty and the space he suggested giving this connection, it brought with it a pang of familiar heartbreak.
It’s the kind of heartbreak that asks: who distracts who? Was I a fleeting balm for his uncertainties, or was he a distraction from the rough days I’ve had leading up to this moment?
I’ve realized that protecting my peace means not settling for fragments of love. I want—and deserve—a love that fully shows up for me, one that doesn’t just hold space in fleeting moments but commits to the fullness of who I am.
The way his hands fit my chest, as if they were made to rest there, reminded me of my capacity to connect deeply. But it also reminded me of what I want: a love that mirrors the intention, care, and sacred energy I bring. A love that is steady, grounded, and whole.
This fleeting connection, while beautiful, feels like a nudge from Kali to stand firm in my truth. Her energy reminds me that I am both soft and fierce, that I can honor my Shakti while also setting boundaries to protect my peace.
In that moment, a heavy uneasiness set in. I felt like I might be filling some sort of void for him—whether with my company, my energy, or even my body. While I appreciated his honesty, I couldn’t ignore the rising anger within me. My “soft Kali,” who had so delicately danced between surrender and grace the night before, now began to bare her fangs. It wasn’t just about him; it was old insecurities bubbling to the surface, memories of feeling like an afterthought or a placeholder.
If I’m being honest, I was a tiny bit angry. I came here seeking something so specific—surrender, grace, transformation... for myself. I wasn’t looking for a distraction, and I would have been perfectly content leaving our practice at eye gazing. But it was he who had initiated something more.
As I look ahead to Bali and Rishikesh, I feel hopeful. Perhaps the kind of connection I’m seeking will meet me there, but more importantly, I trust that my alignment with myself will bring the love I deserve. My Shakti is powerful, my love is sacred, and I am no longer willing to settle for anything less than a connection that fully shows up for me.
This journey isn’t just about learning harmonium or dancing under the moonlight. It’s about learning to honor myself in every way—and in every interaction, no matter how small.
For now, I return to my practice, knowing that I am choosing myself. And that is more than enough.
With Love & Gratitude,
Eve AKA Kali Grayce
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