Surrendering to the Unexpected: A Lesson from Kali
January 10 2025
Today was one of the scariest and most humbling experiences I’ve had in a long time. It reminded me of the fragility of the human experience and the deep power of surrender.
The day began like any other here in India. After a restless night, I woke up later than usual, feeling a little off but determined to show up for the day. I had some watermelon for breakfast and went to my drumming class, even though I felt slightly light-headed and emotional. I had been carrying a mix of gratitude and sadness, touched by kind messages from friends but also longing for support from people I expected to hear from. It was one of those days where
emotions linger just under the surface.
As I settled into drumming, I noticed a subtle wave of unease rising. Old childhood memories began surfacing—random, fragmented, and without any clear rhyme or reason. The practice, which usually grounds me, felt like it was shaking something loose within me. Then suddenly, everything changed.
A wave of dizziness washed over me, and before I knew it, everything went black. I collapsed, completely losing sensation in my hands and feet. I felt paralyzed, trapped in my own body. Panic set in, not from the memories but from the sheer terror of being unable to move. I vaguely heard voices—friends urging me to breathe, to stay present—but I felt powerless.
When I began to regain consciousness, I was shivering, dizzy, and nauseous. A doctor was called, and while my temperature was normal, my blood pressure was unusually low. He suggested I needed electrolytes, and looking back, I wonder if my body was simply depleted—emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
Thankfully, Trish and Catherine were there for me, walking me back to my room and making sure I was okay. Their kindness brought tears to my eyes. I was embarrassed for interrupting the drumming class, but they reassured me that it wasn’t something I could control. Their compassion reminded me that I’m not alone in this journey, even when it feels like I am.
It wasn’t until I returned to my room that I realized my period had started, and it wasn’t just any period—it came less than two weeks after my last one and hit me with an intensity I hadn’t felt in a long time. Heavy bleeding, severe cramping, and an overwhelming sense of physical and emotional exhaustion. A few people checked in on me, and I felt really supported in what was a very scary situation. Trish and Nikoletta came to my room to make sure I was okay and asked if they could get me some lunch. I decided to walk down myself to check out what they had. I was pleased to see they had added notes to distinguish what was vegan and gluten-free on the main board after I had expressed my frustration with Mara last night. I guess communication will get you somewhere.
I ended up getting some cucumber salad with peanuts and a tiny bit of a veggie sauce situation. Neither sat well with me, and I’ve been passing blood clots all afternoon, so I’m taking this as a nudge to be super gentle on my stomach this evening. It feels really frustrating because I honestly feel like I can’t do anything right. I eat something, and it causes inflammation. I go to class, and it ends in chaos. When will it get easier? I’m ready to get to the other side. I’m so desperately seeking grace at any cost—and by that, I mean I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Any disciplined practices, rituals, or guidance Kali brings my way, I will dive in headfirst. I know that transformation isn’t meant to be easy, and I’m committed to leaning into whatever this process requires.
The timing of my period felt significant. It mirrored everything I was feeling—raw, unprocessed, and spilling over. It made sense in a strange way, as if my body was purging not just physically but emotionally. The fainting episode, the memories, the heaviness—it all felt connected, as though Kali herself was orchestrating it. Her energy feels so present in my life right now—guiding me, yes, but also tearing apart the parts of me that need to be released. She doesn’t work gently; she works powerfully, unapologetically, and sometimes in ways that feel like she’s manhandling me.
As I reflected on what happened, I realized how much I’m being called to surrender—to the process, to my body, to this journey. For now, I’m focusing on rest and self-care. I’m letting myself cry and sink into stillness. I’m leaning on the support of those around me and reminding myself that it’s okay to ask for help. My body is clearly trying to tell me something, and instead of fighting it, I’m choosing to listen.
This journey has been anything but easy, but I know deep in my heart that these moments—the messy, scary, uncomfortable ones—are where transformation happens. Kali is here, breaking me down so that I can rebuild stronger, freer, and more whole.
To anyone else navigating their own waves of chaos, remember this: surrendering doesn’t mean giving up. It means trusting the process, even when it doesn’t make sense. It means leaning into discomfort with the faith that something beautiful is waiting on the other side.
For now, I rest. I trust. And I let Kali lead the way.
With love & gratitude,
Eve AKA kali grayce
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