The Wisdom of the Lotus: A Journey Through Shadow and Light
February 9-10 2025
Groundhog’s Day, Again
The bite ended up being nothing. Just another passing mark on my skin, fading as quickly as the worry that had consumed me. And this—this is what anxiety does when you let it manifest. It takes something small, something insignificant, and turns it into a storm. It feeds on uncertainty, whispers fear into the quiet spaces of your mind, and convinces you that danger is always looming. But I remind myself that not every sensation is a threat, not every discomfort is a catastrophe.
Waking up with a belly ache from my nightly ritual of dragonfruit and papaya, I know I may need to rethink my choices soon. The sugar-free candies aren’t helping either, wreaking havoc on my digestion and keeping me up all night. My period is late—again. Endometriosis makes the week before unbearable, and when my cycle lingers, it feels like a cruel joke. But I decided to be gentle with myself, to embrace the slow unraveling of my body’s rhythms. The universe must have heard my silent plea for rest because when I check the schedule, I see I had a hot stone massage in an hour. The rain began pouring as I lay there, melting into the warmth of the stones, my earbuds playing the “Bali Ma” playlist, a soft embrace of sound that reminds me I am held. Saraswati’s energy lingers in my mind—the goddess of wisdom, music, and creativity. I think of her as I surrender to the warmth, knowing that the path to knowledge is often found in stillness, in allowing the lessons to flow rather than chasing them.
Surrendering to the Rain
Afterward, I sank into a clean bathtub, grateful for a moment of solitude, even if the water never quite gets warm enough. The millipedes have made their way out, reminding me they are not caterpillars and will never become butterflies. But I choose to keep the metaphor intact—this is still my caterpillar era, a time of transformation, even if the creatures surrounding me do not reflect my evolution. Saraswati, who rides upon a lotus, reminds me that wisdom is not always about immediate answers—it is about holding space for the unfolding, for the process, for the poetry of becoming. The past life regression I had planned for the afternoon got postponed, and though I should be annoyed, I welcome the empty space. Time slows in the rain, inviting me to soften into stillness, to release the need to always do.
Disruptions, Frustrations, and the Search for Control
I check Air India flights, trying to map out the tangled web of my upcoming travels when i leave Rishikesh—Delhi to Bali and back again before returning to India in June. The logistics feel overwhelming, and I long for something simple, something steady. The Balinese dance performance in the evening is canceled last minute, but no one bothers to tell me. I had rushed through dinner, eating past fullness, only to find myself struggling up the stairs and alone on the upper deck, irritation creeping in. My mind spirals into old narratives of being unseen, unconsidered. It wasn’t just the inconvenience—it was the feeling that other people had been informed while I was left in the dark, the whisper of an old wound resurfacing. Why was I the last to know? Why was I overlooked? My brain started crafting stories, convincing me it was personal, proof that I didn’t belong. By the time I returned to my room, I was knee-deep in emotions I didn’t know how to process, so I turned to the familiar—a mountain of fruit, followed by the entire package of sugar-free candies until my stomach was in knots. It wasn’t purging, but it was still a form of self-punishment, a silent protest against myself.
The Red Witch Awakens
Sleep was elusive, but sometime in the early morning, as the sun began to rise, I felt the shift. A clot released, my period finally arrived. The full moon is just days away, and my body has fully surrendered to its rhythm. I am a red witch, bleeding with the lunar cycle, connected to something far older than time itself. Women who bleed with the full moon are said to be in their most powerful phase, aligned with the energy of release and manifestation, magic coursing through their veins. Perhaps there is power in my pain, wisdom in my wounds.
Healing Through Bodywork and Memory
Morning came, and I skipped yoga again, opting instead to dive into my writing before my rescheduled past life regression. In true Santhika fashion, it was postponed once more, but instead of frustration, I asked to see Guru Meade. His schedule aligned, and I was grateful for the divine rearrangement. I chose his bodywork session over meditation, knowing that my own upcoming Thai massage training had left me curious about different healing modalities. The session was unlike anything I expected—painful yet precise, a dance of energies moving through my body. At first, my mind resisted, skepticism creeping in, but then memories began to surface. Childhood walks with my best friend, afternoons spent lost in the pages of books, the solace of Borders bookstore with my grandma Anita. Saraswati felt present—her energy whispering through the echoes of my past, reminding me that I have always found wisdom in words, in music, in the gentle unfolding of my own creativity. My subconscious whispered a message: read more.
And then, the lotus.
The memories shifted, and suddenly, words and rhymes began forming in my mind—poetry waiting to be written. I recalled seeing a single lotus in a pond outside the yoga shala a few days ago, standing tall above the water. But today, after the heavy rains, the lotus had been knocked over. It was then I realized—my journey mirrors the lotus. It grows in the mud, in the filth, in the chaos, and yet it rises, untainted. Saraswati, always depicted sitting upon a lotus, holds her veena, her scriptures, her rosary—symbols of wisdom, devotion, and the rhythm of life. And in that moment, as I lay on the mat with Guru Meade’s hands guiding my body through its own release, I saw it—
I saw myself upon that lotus, carrying my music, my poetry, my healing, my becoming.
A Dance with the Elements
I stayed in the shala to move and write, and as soon as I began my asana practice, the wind howled through the space, blowing mats away, soaking my journal. The symbiosis between my body and the elements was undeniable, as if the universe was responding to my energy in real-time. After two hours of yoga and writing, I returned to my room for lunch, still feeling the discomfort of the night before. My relationship with hunger is something I am still unraveling—was I eating out of anxiety, or was I truly hungry? The distinction is blurred, but I am learning.
A Walk Through Town
Later in the afternoon, I took a walk into town. The air was thick with the lingering scent of rain, and the streets glistened with puddles reflecting the moody sky. I wandered through small mom-and-pop shops, mindful of my growing load but still drawn to the handmade goods that lined the shelves. A narrow street led me down to the beach, my feet sinking into the black sand as I approached the water. The ocean was restless, waves crashing against the shore, stirring something deep inside me.
A Lesson in Aparigraha
Back at the retreat center, I felt the familiar stirrings of hunger and anxiety. When they brought my dinner, they told me they were out of fruit—as if I wasn’t hoarding some inthe fridge. Part of me wanted to get offended, to assume they were keeping it from me, deciding I had enough. Another part of me knew the truth—I do need to switch up my nightly indulgence of fruit if I want to get better rest. Maybe this is a lesson in aparigraha—non-hoarding, releasing attachment to what I think I need, rather than what actually serves me. Hoarding food has been a theme in my life, a pattern rooted deep in my eating disorder. Sometimes, I don’t even keep it to eat it—I just need to know it’s there. A safety net. A sense of control. Something to work on. But to be fair.. all i've been eating here is two meals a day of protein and just veggies plus the fruit. Lots of fruit.
Surrendering to the Flow
A shower, dinner, and the final touches on this blog post were all that remained before I tucked myself in for an early night. There is something shifting within me—an awareness, an unfolding, a deeper surrender.
The Wisdom of the Lotus
The lotus rises from the mud, untouched by the filth that surrounds it, emerging as a symbol of purity, wisdom, and rebirth. Saraswati whispers through my poetry, Kali burns away the illusions I once clung to, and the lotus beneath me unfolds, petal by petal, revealing the wisdom I have carried within me all along. I surrender to the tides of this unfolding, knowing that, like the lotus, I will continue to rise.
With love and gratitude,
EVEolving eve aka Kali Grayce
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