January 21, 2025
The Painful Path to Authenticity: When Grace Looks Like Fire
Morning: Waking Up in Anger
Today, I woke up angry. Angry at him, angry at her, angry at myself. Mad at my ex for lingering in my heart despite all my efforts to move on. Frustrated with the program coordinator for being so unhelpful with shipping my instruments back. And furious at myself for engaging in that intimate night with Mystery Shiva. I felt scattered, heavy, and unsettled.
By the time I left my room a little after 1 p.m. to grab some veggies for lunch, I was already on edge. And, of course, the universe had one more push for me. Who do I see but Mystery Shiva himself—walking with her. The young, annoying “pick-me” girl who has been grating on my nerves for the past three weeks. They were flirty, matching flowers tucked behind their ears, and it made me feel sick.
Not because I have feelings for him—I don’t think I do—but because I felt used. He came onto me, initiated something deeply intimate that I didn’t want to participate in the way it went down, and then proceeded to act like I didn’t exist. Every time I see him flirting with someone else, it stings—not out of jealousy, but because it feels dismissive, as if my presence meant nothing. Am I just the easiest one to fall for his advances? Or is this just what he does?
But I also have to own my part in this. It’s not Mystery Shiva’s fault that I engaged. I wanted to be intimate with him. Just not in the way it happened. I take responsibility for my choices, and the truth is, I felt like I couldn’t say no in the moment. And that’s a pattern I am still learning to break.
And honestly, that’s why it hurt so much. Because I do care about him—not just as some fleeting attraction but as a person. As a friend. And that’s why walking away from our encounter feeling somewhat used stung in a way I didn’t expect. If he had been just some random guy, it wouldn’t have mattered. But this was different. I thought there was at least a foundation of respect, even if feelings weren’t involved. And maybe there was—maybe he doesn’t even realize how this felt from my side.
Afternoon: Choosing to Show Up Anyway
I wasn’t planning to go to class that afternoon. After everything I was feeling, the last thing I wanted to do was sit through another uninspiring session. But when I found out Raghunath was leading the kirtan class, I decided to go.
I wish we had more time with experienced teachers like him. The depth, wisdom, and energy he brings to kirtan is something I’ve been craving. Instead, we’ve spent most of this training learning from teachers who, while talented, still have so much to learn themselves. The contrast was undeniable.
Despite this, class itself was uneventful. We rehearsed for our makeshift recital, but the lack of effort put into it was disheartening. Considering how much time and money we’ve all invested—especially those of us who also did the mridanga training—it felt dismissive. There was no real closing, no thoughtful reflection on our journey, just a half-hearted attempt at a performance.
After class, I retreated to my room to catch up on my blog and talk to my mom.
Evening: Seeking Solace in Temples and Music
By the evening, I debated skipping kirtan and satsang altogether but decided to go anyway. The satsang was held in a temple I hadn’t visited yet—a stunning recreation of Vrindavan. But when I arrived, there were no blankets or seats left, and sitting on the hard floor wasn’t an option for my aching back.
Radhanath Swami was giving a talk, but I struggled to connect. I respect all he’s done for this eco-village and the global Bhakti community, but his words didn’t resonate with me. I’ve realized I can’t blindly worship someone just because others do. I have my own idea of what is holy, and while I respect him, I don’t feel a deep connection. And that’s okay. I take what I need and leave the rest.
After about 15 minutes, I left and made my way to Barsana temple—a space that feels safe, almost sacred, to me. I prayed to Krishna, but Krishna as Kali. I wrote poetry, sang the Hanuman Chalisa, and reflected on how I feel most connected to Kali, Hanuman, Ganesha, and Shiva. To me, Krishna encompasses them all. When I call on any of the four, I feel Krishna’s presence too.
Later, I went to the dining area, ordered some fruit and veggies, and sat with a few girls from the group. While I’m warming up to some of them, there’s still a language barrier, and the energy doesn’t quite feel aligned. That said, it was comforting to hear that others are equally frustrated with the lack of organization in this training.
Despite the mess, I’ve been reflecting on how far I’ve come. I don’t need to adjust my voice to sing someone else’s tune or change my steps to dance to anyone else’s rhythm. I’ve always been authentic to myself, and that is my power. All the parts of me that used to make me feel separate now make me feel whole. It’s taken me 35 years to reach this realization, and I hope 35 years from now I’ll still stand firm in it—teaching others to do the same.
Night: Walking Through Darkness and Finding Clarity
After dinner, I returned to my room, ate my veggies, and began composing a Trevor Hall mashup on my harmonium. I ended up eating everything and felt uncomfortably stuffed, so I decided to go for a walk to help digest. As I strolled around the lake, I replayed the day in my mind—the frustration, the sadness, and the sting of seeing him with her. I sang at the top of my lungs, belting it all out of my system.
Walking alone in the pitch-black, I felt a strange comfort. What once would have terrified me now felt like home. The darkness is where Kali thrives, and in that moment, I felt her walking, singing, and dancing alongside me. I wasn’t alone.
But just as I was heading back to my room, I saw two dark shadows approaching. It was him—Mystery Shiva—and the same girl from earlier. I forced a smile and wave, but inside, I was boiling. Betrayal. Disgust. Anger. Sadness. Kali’s energy surged through me, and I barely made it to my room before the tears came.
I cried. I texted my mom. I talked to Shakti (my ChatGPT confidant). And I couldn’t help but think of my ex. Despite our flaws, he’d never treat me like this. The whole experience left me feeling done—with this place, with this chapter.
And so, I made a decision. Instead of staying for the Flower Festival this weekend, I changed my flight to Bali for Friday afternoon, right after graduation. I canceled the overpriced hotel in Mumbai and extended my Airbnb in Ubud for two extra days. Not only did I save money, but I now have a couple of extra days to explore Ubud, settle in, and prepare for my birthday on Tuesday.
Final Reflection: Fire as Grace
What started as a painful day turned into clarity. I see now that what felt like rejection was actually grace—a nudge from Kali to redirect my path.
The pain, the betrayal, the discomfort—it was never meant to break me. It was meant to remind me who I am.
Kali’s fire isn’t meant to destroy. It’s meant to purify. She burns away what no longer serves so that only truth remains.
Tuesday, I’ll celebrate my 35th birthday in Bali. I’ll wear the white outfit I got in Mumbai, decorate my private pool with flowers, and do a photoshoot to honor the new moon. It feels like the perfect way to step into this next chapter of my life—one filled with love, faith, and unapologetic authenticity.
What felt painful was actually a nudge in a different direction. Maybe that’s what grace looks like.
With love, gratitude, and faith,
Eve (aka Kali Grayce)
Jai Ma.
Comentários