Every soul travels endlessly

As a young girl, I was always scared of the persona of Kali. I could never quite comprehend the need for a goddess to look so fierce. Though my soul was always drawn to her energy, my ignorance about her essence clouded my intuition. Universe had other plans and it's only through her, I understood the true nature of my soul. Her visionary messages, her aura has left mind-expanding imprints in consciousness. My life has transformed ever since the force of Kali has entered my life. Her grace has given me the honour to be her vessel and channelise her messages. I am in the process of writing my book- The voice of Kali to share the messages.

Following is an extract from my book.

2014

It was a cold Monday morning in London when I got into my car after the school run. It had been a crazy weekend; mixed with broadcasting on radio and organising get together with friends. Ideally, I should have gone home to have a restful cup of tea; instead, I drove to Bourne End, a town, about 25 minutes by car from my home. The lazy and constant humdrum of rain was unusually heavy that day. Was it an indication or the forthcoming event or a reflection of my inner dilemma? “I can still

turn back,” the thought had stuck many times while driving. “There is no reason for me to be on the road. Why am I going today? I can go tomorrow when it’s sunny.” My inner argument continued, rhythmic with the speed with which the car accelerated; almost as though it was offering a counter-argument. 

My mind was constantly telling me to turn back but my hear was being led by an unseen force. I was struggling to read the road signs as I drove my old black Mondeo through the labyrinth narrow countryside lanes of the beautiful Chiltern Valley. The rattle of the matched the peal of the rain slash, but that unfortunately meant that I was almost

unable to hear the directional instructions of google maps. My darling car had seen its days and was my friend for just another week until the new car arrived; much smaller in size and certainly more dependable. “I could have waited till then!” my mind kept nagging.

“Please turn left,” the automated google instruction said.

What! But there is no left. I almost screamed and then just out of nowhere I spotted the narrow turn, concealed behind lofty thick trees and lush bushes. There was a signboard pinned on the ground that said, ‘Vedanta Centre’. My heart skipped. So lost was I in my thoughts that I was deaf to the honk of the car that drove past. The young lady was screaming, but I could hear nothing. In response, I smiled aimlessly. Gradually, I turned the car back and drove through the gate that led to a much narrower lane, surrounded by pink spring flowers and giant majestic green trees. The air, trees, the grass, flowers; everything was familiar. The essence was familiar too. “Could it be …?” I thought as I turned towards the parking.

Almost instantly, my foot went on the brake. “No, no…this can’t be true.” I am sure that for those few moments, I had lost the sense of time and space. The dream that I had seen a few nights back ran like a movie before my eyes.

“It’s the same building!”, I gasped as I parked the car on the muddy wet ground covered with small white pebbles. Mine was the only car there. My body was shaking involuntarily  as I walked towards the enormous Victorian garden. “There should be a window there, a fountain in the middle and a bench on that side,” I thought as I made my way the stairs that led to a grey fountain amid the well-maintained garden. I almost froze when I saw the large window. Without a doubt, there was a stone bench on the pavement, right in front of the window. I touched the

rough rocky surface of the bench and drenched with divine love, sat there, contemplating the ease and comfort I felt and how I had missed the fact that the sun was shining again. All was clear; all was divine.

It had been 11 years since I had left home in India to join my husband in London.

Since the day I had come, I had fallen in love with this beautiful country. Irrespective of being away from family, I never really felt homesick or alienated. Frequent yearly trips back home were filled with love and happy memories. I never thought that I missed home, but that day, while sitting on that bench, I felt the warmth of unconditional love

the way I had never felt before. I had missed this love but was it because it reminded me of home or something else? Closing my eyes, I submerged myself in the invisible embrace that I felt. It was beyond borders, beyond family, beyond this world! I had felt the same essence in my dream, but this was far more powerful, far stronger than love itself. “What is it?” I questioned in bewilderment as I sat looking at the bricked grey

and red Victorian building. What was the meaning behind the profound vision of Swami Vivekananda, the philosopher who lived in nineteenth-century; the reformer who brought the eternal message of Vedanta to the Western world?

In my vision, the Swami stood radiant and stout. His eyes emitted the immense knowledge and wisdom his soul held. Such was his presence that though it was my dream, I felt that he was in control of the sequence. Almost like he commanded time and space itself, and just his presence could cease the humdrum of thoughts in my

mind. All was clear; all was divine. I wanted to bow in respect, but he had just chosen to grace me with his presence for a few precious moments, and it was urgent to pass me the message. He stretched his hands to give me a book called ‘Vedanta’ and an old black and hazy white photograph. I read the words clearly in the book, but my soul was not yet ready to see the picture. And then there was Kali, not in form but essence. I know she was the glow in his aura. Gradually he faded away giving clarity to an old Victorian building that I had never seen before. His energy was in

every flower, every brick, every speck of grass, every tree that was part of that compound. I felt the air of that area was filled with his essence. In the next flash, I was awake.

The vision ran continuously in my mind, as clear and vivid as I had stored it in my memory. Surprisingly, a couple of days after that dream, I bumped into a friend who very casually mentioned about a Vedantic centre in bourne end. Throughout the weekend hustle, I was present physically at home, but my soul was constantly travelling to the centre. “How could I have missed the link?” I smiled as I thought how the events in my life synchronised like a beautiful symphony and led me here today; to the essence of my existence. I was reminded of the intricacy of so many

small incidents that I just let go. My focus was always on the essential experiences but in reality, the smaller ones were the real treasures, leading to a major stepping stone.

When an elephant walks into a beautiful serene ocean, our focus shifts from the elephant to the vastness of the water, whereas if the same elephant walks into a small pond, our focus remains on looking at the elephant itself and the joy it experiences. A life-changing event shifts the focus from the intimacy of the root of the experience to the awe it creates. We remember the major milestones, but in reality, it’s those small ponds that we pass through that give us a chance to observe the intimacy of experiencing life, just as it is.

1982

“I see red buildings, red clouds, red faces, the glass is red, milk is red, the king is red, his queen is red, everything around me is red, even the white tiger is red!”

“There she goes again with her stories. Quick! Drink your milk,” my sister moaned; the one assigned to accompany me while I finished the food.

This was a regular feature while growing up. Being the youngest of four, I had no dearth of people in the house to tell my stories. They called them stories; for me they were true and I left no chance to convince everyone that I truly saw everything red in my mind.

“And there are so many tigers. Mummy you have to make them go!” I continued the non-stop chatter.

By this time my sister had given up and my mother had calmly taken over the task. “But my little girl; I have dedicated you to her. Ask her and she will help. She is your real mother, I am just raising you as her blessing,” my mother would gently point at the brass golden statue of the goddess on a tiger. There was a picture of her right above the statue. She looked beautiful in her red attire, embellished with golden thread; numerous hands with varied objects, sanguine smile and a tiger as her accomplice.  

“Who is my real mother? The red God?” I would ask with a gleam in my eyes. I loved the answer; irrespective of the numerous times I had heard the story of my birth, it still intrigued me. Believing that I was always protected, in some ways, it also made me foolishly fearless. As a child, I was rather bossy, extremely confident and spontaneous in many ways. I am gl­ad to have shed the bossy ways as I grew but have definitely retained the spontaneity.

My mother had apparently dreamt of my arrival in her life in a strange manner. Infact she had dreamt the arrival of all four us in different ways. The ability to see events in dreams has passed in our family in heritage. Days before my mother realised that she was carrying me, she saw a divine goddess with an ambush of tigers; my mother picked a small tiger cub which turned into a baby girl. The first dream was just the beginning of the series of recurrent dreams that she had till the time I was born; a dream of a group of tigers walking calmly on a mountainous lane. Right after my birth, her dreams morphed into vivid visions. She saw the goddess, dressed in red, instructing my mother to light a candle every day; a small reminder that my mother had been blessed with a cub from her clan. The recurrent dream of tigers ceased coming to my mother after that night.

I was 5-years old when my first vision came true. I don’t remember the intricate details, but I remember the shine in my mother’s eyes when she realised the magical synchronisation of events. This was an indication that she was keeping her promise to the goddess. With time, my belief has strengthened in the fact that dreams are not just a medley of our subconscious thoughts, they are the blueprint of our life. Every dream holds a message, a key to something that our soul is craving for or running away from. Dreams are a channel to connect our soul with its purpose. The seeds of belief were so deeply embedded in my life that no matter what, I just could not believe that my dreams could ever be untrue. They were sent to me for a reason and just like a skilful detective, I have to decipher the codes that come through those dreams. To see events prior to their occurrence could have been my destiny or it could be some skill that I unknowingly learnt through years of ardent belief. The belief in my first vision had become the trigger for a lifetime of visions that grew more lucid with time. What if I had just let that thought go as a 5-year-old? The events would have still occurred as they did but that journey that was initiated would have become a lone journey; which I believe is the story of many people.

I have hardly met anyone in my life who has not had a dream that came true or led to a realisation. It could be a dream of a solution to a persisting problem, a dialogue with a deceased loved one, a glimpse of some person or a name that held the key to a major life event. If nearly everyone has experienced the power dreams hold, why must we let it pass as a fleeting event? 

Thankfully, the universe carefully chose the family that I have been blessed with to balance my complex inner world with a simple outer world. I have three sisters; eldest being eight years elder to me, followed by seven years elder sister and third one is three years elder to me. Simple joys in life were our greatest treasures; a pillow fight, dress up games, board games or a pretend game where our house was the spaceship and we were in the Star Trek. With an abundance of love and fun at home, I never felt any reason to feel insecure or alone yet in strange ways, I was also living a parallel life which was completely detached from this world. Even as a child, I lived in a world of what-if’s?

What if we are living in someone’s dream?

What if we are just seeing what we think we can see?

What if there are invisible people watching us and walking with us?

When an average tween would think of life, studies and gossip, I lived in my own lone world; one filled with stories and questions. With time I had come to a realisation that this weird world was a part of my complex inner self and I really didn't have to share every detail with everyone. I remember numerous occasions when I would approach a complete stranger on the streets and tell them something either about a visit they must make or to call someone. The reaction of course was not always welcoming. With time, I started calling these spontaneous statements, messages. When a message came for someone in school or outside, I had an immediate urge to blurt it or else, mostly, I ended up with headaches. 

Being an army officer, my father was regularly posted to a new town. Which meant that we travelled frequently, made new friends and basically started from the scratch every two years. This nomadic lifestyle didn’t go very well with many, but I was somehow completely at ease with it. The prospect of a new place, new people, new stories excited me. Autograph diaries were a huge thing in those days. I remember how my friends would fill my diary with long notes about missing me and staying in touch or meeting again in future. Outwardly, I responded with similar enthusiasm but inwardly my mind would be eager to tell them that we all are nothing but stories. My time with their story was over and it was time for me to start the next chapter. To many friends who were particularly close to me, out of a sincere obligation to share knowledge, I did disclose the revelations but they responded in complete confusion. “Who fills your mind with such stories?” they would laugh. “I don’t know.” I would laugh it off nervously. But the question never left me. “Who filled my mind with these words? Who speaks to me?” The What if in my mind had started being channelized through poetry. Every verse had a question, every poem was a reflection of my confusion. This was the 11-year-old me asking the universe.

Whose soul is this that calls my name?

trying to pull me but all in vain.

Whose face is this that I see in the night,

Slowly vanishing in the morning light.

Whose feet are these that follow every step I take,

Which shadow is this that is with me at every move I make?

As I grew, my spiritual gifts expanded as well. I sometimes saw flashes of light; luminous figures fleeting by and often felt a strange warm energy passing through me. The golden statue of the red goddess vibrated an energy towards me which I didn’t recognise. The dreams about tigers were getting more frequent and vivid. One particular white tiger regularly showed up, just watching me from a distance calmly. He wished to say something but I never complied. As much as I was eager to hear, fear gripped my heart and I always forced open my eyes.

My mother and I share a very spiritual bond and as promised to God, she always reminded me that I had someone higher up there to answer my queries. I had not shared the profundity of many dreams with her but she just knew. She could see that I was experiencing some inner shift silently. Being divinely calm and devotional by nature, in response, she just smiled in solidarity. Her strength is in her silence, which for me is such an amazing miracle to watch. She has never lost her cool, or showed resentment over anything. Every task for her is an offering to God and is done with a warm balanced approach. This is her spiritual path towards enlightenment and with years, I have seen the expansion in the radiance of her aura. Such is her inner strength that even back then, I never had to share a word and she knew; she still knows. But I never shared this part of my life in much detail with my sisters back then. They were a part of something simple and fun and I didn’t want to spoil that normalcy which I felt around them. The light hearted way of looking at my spiritual gift by them has been one of my biggest boons. Had I had a more serious sibling relationship at home, spiritual pride would have engulfed and impeded my awakening. Of course, now they have become my spiritual fellow travellers.

It was a common practice in my house for my father to fill our minds with stories of war, bravery, soldiers and those who reformed the world with their actions. My father is a karma-yogi, dutifully following the path of karma with utmost sincerity. His morals and principles have been a foundation of our character. I have always seen him being respected at work, at home and by friends. As kids, we would be in awe on hearing his stories which he so beautifully narrated. No matter how many times we heard them, we responded the next time with the same excitement. Such is the power in his diction. Entwined within the stories were deep messages of life. His library was packed with books on Karma-yoga, meditation and Yoga Sutras. I was particularly drawn towards a simple book with a monotone picture on a radiant man. The title read, The Complete works of Swami Vivekananda. A familiarity filled my mind when his philosophies were discussed’ as though I had had deep insightful conversations about them with someone many moons ago. “Who are you and why do you feel so familiar?” the thought often crossed my mind.

Many times, in life we feel a calling, a pull towards a certain song, a colour, a place, a person, a task or a book. Our faint inner voice is sometimes trying to push us towards an unknown horizon. Some feel it more often than others. What is this pull? Is it an indication of onset of a new beginning or a fragment of our imaginations? The dilemma is always to follow that voice or ignore its plea. In my opinion, indications of treading towards a certain direction should never be taken as a trifling matter. These are the faint dull lines waiting to be filled with colours, a timeless truth that has been seeded by your soul and now awaits its revelation. For me, the pull was that book. I don’t remember when I started doing this but whenever questions engulfed my mind, I would randomly open Swami’s book for the answer. It had become a secret game for me; to ask a question, close eyes and open the book. The words hardly made sense and most times I would smile at my naivety. On one particular occasion, when I was about 15, I had a pestering question in my mind about visions. The words and voice in my head had started to become more prominent. The questions in my mind were getting answered automatically too. Words would just simply download and in an instance, I would reach a new depth of knowledge. A strange fear had been filling my heart. What was the truth behind the shimmering lights that I saw? Why’s and what’s started to engulf my mind with much more force. As a usual practice, I picked the book from the shelf, closed my eyes and asked the questions: “Why can I see certain events beforehand? Is this my imagination? Did you see dreams too?” Careful that none of my family members was nearby, I opened a random page. The content left me spellbound.  

The disciple asked, “Did you see any visions, sir, during your school-days?”

Swamiji: While at school, one night I was meditating within closed doors and had a fairly deep concentration of mind. How long I meditated in that way, I cannot say. It was over, and I still kept my seat, when from the southern wall of that room a luminous figure stepped out and stood in front of me. There was a wonderful radiance on its visage, yet there seemed to be no play of emotion on it. It was the figure of a Sannyasin absolutely calm, shaven-headed, and staff and Kamandalu (a Sannyasin’s wooden water-bowl) in hand. He gazed at me for some time and seemed as if he would address me. I too gazed at him in speechless wonder. Then a kind of fright seized me, I opened the door, and hurried out of the room. Then it struck me that it was foolish of me to run away like that, that perhaps he might say something to me. But I have never met that figure since. Many a time and often I have thought that if again I saw him, I would no more be afraid but would speak to him. But I met him no more.

I closed the book with shaky hands. My heart was accelerating with fear and excitement. Was this just a coincidence? I looked around me, aware of every sound; ironically wishing to see someone from my family. Frantically, I adjusted the book back on the shelf and ran back to my room. My sister’s presence was reassuring and comforting. It was a lazy Sunday summer afternoon and everyone was resting after a heartful lunch. I tried lying down too, still aware of a strong presence around me. The uneasiness was unbearable and moments later, I found myself standing in front of the brown shelf again. In my mind, all these dreams and visions were still very much a part of my life and a secret that remained within the comforts of my inner self. The sudden revelation made me feel exposed and watched in a strange way.  Closing my eyes, I opened a page that read…

“When I began lecturing in Chicago and other cities, I had to deliver every week some twelve or fifteen or even more lectures at times. This excessive strain on the body and mind would exhaust me to a degree. I seemed to run short of subjects for lectures and was anxious where to find new topics for the morrow’s lecture. New thoughts seemed altogether scarce. One day, after the lecture, I lay thinking of what means to adopt next. The thought induced a sort of slumber, and in that state I heard as if somebody standing by me was lecturing — many new ideas and new veins of thought, which I had scarcely heard or thought of in my life. On awaking I remembered them and reproduced them in my lecture. I cannot enumerate how often this phenomenon took place. Many, many days did I hear such lectures while lying in bed. Sometimes the lecture would be delivered in such a loud voice that the inmates of adjacent rooms would hear the sound and ask me the next day, “With whom, Swamiji, were you talking so loudly last night?” I used to avoid the question somehow. Ah, it was a wonderful phenomenon.”

The content shattered my every misconception about coincidences. There are none; Everything is planned.  After that incident, I never touched that book again, until it made way into my life at the age of 35, in the most magical way.

******

I didn’t realise that two hours had passed sitting on the bench at the Vedanta Centre. The glorious sun was shining in the clear blue sky. “Yes, the clouds of ignorance are starting to clear from my mind too,” I smiled. All the answers were always around, yet I was looking away in denial.

“I? Who is the I?” a voice said in my head.

“The I, that is me,” I answered.

“The 'I' is an illusion, a fake layer that is created by human consciousness. An illusion that is perceived in variety by varied minds. To find your essence, your own fragrance, your energy, you must first kill this ‘I’. Let the illusion diminish gradually and let the outer noises fade in the vicinity of the only voice that matters. To listen to the voice, you must first learn to disable your ears. To behold the vision, you must master the art of seeing without eyes. To feel the energy, you must fade the physical boundaries of the human body. The secret lies deep within you where only thoughts can hear, mind can see and soul can feel. She will tell you all about you but like a plain canvas, you must first be ready to be painted in her colours. She will show you who you are but only after you cross the fire of vanity. And after you have merged your ‘I’ into her fire, you will find that in reality she will only make it larger for the world to see. She will fan your flame and induce it with her own dynamic force to make your power invincible, to make your faith divine and suddenly there will be no need to know the ‘I’,” came the answer.

The words were flowing with an unrestricted flow in my mind. “Was it the meditative power of this place that illuminated every cell in my body?” I thought, bewildered by the sudden internal conversation. My soul was not yet ready to accept the she referred to in the conversation.

There were few more cars in the parking now. I still had ample time before I went to pick my 9-year-old daughter from the school. Stretching my legs, I made my way towards the main door, unsure of what to expect inside. The huge real wood dark brown door was ajar, giving view of a fairly huge corridor. A middle-aged British man, dressed in white shirt and black trousers, pulled open the door. He smiled as he gestured to me to enter, waiting to make his way out. With hesitant steps, I walked inside the high ceiling elegant and modestly decorated Victorian corridor. There was a small shoe rack on one side and a chest of drawers on the other. The small bowl with yellow mango bites brought back some childhood memories and a smile. The walls displayed black and white pictures of the revered masters; Ramakrishna, Sharda Devi and Swami Vivekananda. I ambled ahead to see if there was anyone else there. Meandering through the silent corridor, I finally saw a sign with an arrow leading to the meditation room. My eyes caught a glimpse of a pile of thin books tucked beneath some magazines arranged neatly on a small table. Following my gut feeling, I carefully pulled them out. My eyes widened and I shrieked oblivious of where I stood. The title of the book read Vedanta; It was the same book that Swami had given me in my dreams. They were similar looking series of small books written by the monks of the Ramakrishna Centre. “What are you wanting to say, Swamiji?” Taking a deep breath, I walked ahead and opened the meditation room.

The simplicity of the room was refreshing and divine. There was a monk on one side, lighting a lamp and incense stick. Seeing me, he smiled and nodded in response to my greetings. Moments later, I was on my own, sitting in a huge hall which had pictures of the masters. The events of the day had created a mixture of calm and storm within me. I tried closing my eyes but my mind was traversing timelines randomly. This should have been the moment I thought. I had seen the building, the books; surely enlightened would come to me here. My immature naivety was clearly evident. I could see the bench from the window and it felt ironic to see that in the storm out there I had found calm and in the calm of the room, I was struggling with an inner storm. Unable to bear the echo of the silent room, I went out in haste. As I sat at the bench to wear my shoes, I saw that the door of a room on the corridor that was closed earlier was now open. With much hesitation, I peeked inside. The monk I had greeted earlier was sitting on a sofa in the modest room. It seemed like a living room in old times with a typical fireplace, chandelier and iconic carving on the ceiling.

“Do you have a question?” the monk asked.

“I have but I don’t know…I am not sure,” I hesitated.

“Please sit. I have thirty minutes before I retire for rest. Tell me, what is in your mind?”

It seemed like a magical answer to my prayer. I sat really unsure of where to start from.

“Have you visited this place for the first time?” He asked calmly.

“Yes, but I have seen it in my dreams,” I blurted instantly.

“Ok, were you able to meditate?”

What? I had just told him something that had shaken my core and the reaction was so normal? Thinking that the monk may have not heard me, I continued. “Swami Vivekananda came in my dreams and gave me this book. In my dream, he was standing in front of this building. Then few days later a friend directed me to this place”

“This is a beautiful serene place, 10 acres of divine land,” the monk replied calmly.

“Swamiji, I am confused. I am so surprised by this coincidence. How are you so calm? How can I be calm like you?”

He smiled calmly. Looking outside, after a deep thought he replied, “It’s started to rain again outside. Suppose it starts to rain and the water drops come through this solid ceiling, would you be surprised?”

“Yes, I would be surprised.”

“What if there was no ceiling. Would you be surprised if the raindrop doesn’t fall in this room?

“Yes,” I replied.

“And are you surprised now that we are in the room and the rain out there is not falling on us?”

“No.”

“Why? Because you think that is how things should be? What if I told you that there is no ceiling? It’s an illusion of your mind. You created it and you see it according to the reasoning in your mind. I don’t see it and I am not surprised that the rain is not falling on us.”

“What does it mean?” I asked in complete confusion.

“Your ignorance has created the illusion of the ceiling in your mind. It thinks that only that can be seen, what eyes see; all else is non-existent.  The masters and their energies are all pervading. Your ignorance thinks that since you can’t see them, they don’t exist and should not be active. I see them and they are active. They are my truth so I am not surprised.”

“You see them?” 

“You are stuck in the experience. Seeing his vision is not the miracle, understanding his vision is,” he smiled and replied.

“But are dreams and visions coincidences?” I asked.

“There are no coincidences. Manifestation of grace is different in different people. For you, it may be through dreams; for some it could be art, music, devotion or work. Grace is all around us. But for that you will have to let go of the illusion of the ceiling, let go of the illusion of ‘I’.”

By this time, I was getting goose bumps. Eager to know more, I asked, “Can we see God in real?” I hesitated with a pause and carried on. “I once saw goddess Kali in form, just as I see you. Can that be real?”

The monk smiled again and like before, remained unfazed and unmoved in expression on my big revelation. I felt like a fool; like a nobody in front of his harmonious self.

“What is real Ekta? You have lots of questions in your mind. Break the ceiling and let the answers flow. You have the grace, accept it.”

******

The monk went for his afternoon nap, leaving me perplexed as I went out towards my car. I gave one last look to the building and the bench and thought of the monk’s words again. The confusion had clouded my mind again. “How do I break the ceiling?” I whispered lost in thoughts, startled suddenly by the phone ring. It was Sue Radley, a lady whom I had recently contacted for an interview for my radio show. She was calling to say that she had a sudden cancellation which meant her afternoon was free and maybe we could meet. It was 12:30 and lunch sounded like a welcome break from the emotionally draining day. We decided to meet in 30 minutes at the Italian patisserie, at the town centre. 

In those years, I hosted a weekly positive living show, Go Positive, on a local community radio. It was in its 6thyear of running and moderately popular with people of all cultures. Once, while on road, I was so agitated by the non-stop gossip about movie stars and celebrities that on an impulse, I called the manager of the radio station. An old man came on line and I immediately said with utmost concern that radio is a powerful medium to inspire. Why waste it with gossip? The gentleman, who unfortunately has now passed on, calmly asked if I would like to initiate such a show. I auditioned the next day and within three months, I had my solo show on the radio. Sue Radley was an aura reader and a clairvoyant, who I wished to invite as a guest for a live interview on my show. We had never met before; a common friend had connected us. It was not a usual routine for me to meet my guests prior to the show but Sue was nervous to be on the radio and lived near my town, so we decided to meet up. Throughout the drive, I was constantly thinking about the monk’s words and how they had left me in total confusion. “I wish he could have given more clarity. Why this confusion? What is confusion?” I thought aimlessly. 

“Confusion is not the absence of clarity; it is the denial of truth.”  Words immediately followed my question. It was the second time since morning that I had experienced the surge of clear confident words enveloping my mind. It felt as though someone had let open a flow of warm force over my head followed by a rhythmic tap between my brows. Looking for a safe spot to park, I stopped and grabbed my diary. Something told me that more words would come. Closing my eyes, I reminded myself of the monk’s words, break the ceiling and let the answers flow. I was not wrong. Soon the flow of the words resumed.

“An unwavering mind will succumb to the pitfall of confusion if it follows the random vibes of pain that arises from denial. In truth, every situation brings with it its answers; it's a reason to happen, obvious consequences of every path that one chooses to follow after experiencing the situation. When it is said that all answers are within, in reality it implies that every situation comes with answers and once you embrace the experience, you embrace the answers as well. Then comes the random dance of denial, shock, anger, pain and clarity. The truth was always walking beside you but your refusal to accept it as it is leads to create a situation of confusion. She reveals that the confusion is made intrinsically by the person experiencing the situation and clarity can never be found as it was never lost. Clarity can be unveiled. The more truth one embraces, the more one is able to see the myriad colours of clarity and relinquish the agitated mind with peace. Pain is self-made and so is peace. Make choices with wisdom of a wild, empowered, liberated and awakened heart, not from a conquered and tired mind.” 

“What just happened?” I questioned in complete amazement. My hands were struggling to match the speed with which the words came. “Is this the impact of that divine centre? Was my spiritual gift expanded because I chose to follow my calling, my intuition?”

I also noticed that the uneasiness had mitigated after this experience. A strange confidence and energy filled my mind. I felt blessed, almost as though I had levelled up in my learning. 

It was not hard to spot Sue Radley. My friend had described her as the one with the enthusiasm of life in the eyes, widest and warmest smile, and a medley of golden short curly hair, held back by her iconic collection of self-made headbands. I wonder how well I had been described to Sue but as soon as I entered the crowded patisserie, she immediately waved and came up to me, offering the much-needed warm hug.  

“You needed that hug, didn’t you?” she smiled and led me to the table by the window. 

“I hope you didn’t have to wait long. But how did you know it was me?” I popped the question.

“I have friends too…the one you can’t see,” she laughed. “Shall we order some sandwiches and coffee?” 

“You have a beautiful aura,” Sue said with utmost love in her eyes. Her loud laugh had morphed into a soft melodious voice. “It’s orange and pink in colour. There are spots of purple and green too, perhaps indicating some minor health issues.” Sue scanned the air around me with deep intent and said, “You are opening portals of immense wisdom and love.”

“Can you see aura just like that?”

“Yes, it’s an energy around you. I see it as myriad colours of light.”

“When did it start?” I took the diary out of my bag to jot the notes.

“No, you tell me. When did it start?” Sue’s bright blue eyes pierced right through me.

“Do you mean the radio programme?”

“No, seeing the visions,” Sue tapped my forehead.

“How did you know?” I was not expecting the conversation to flow in this direction.

“You really have to stop asking me that,” she smiled. “They are real you know; they are your destiny. She is your destiny.”

“Who?”

“The dark goddess; she is your guiding angel. The more you deny, the more you delay your destiny.” Sue said spontaneously. “Perhaps you need more time but whenever you wish, we can talk,” she had gauged my hesitation.

“I am sorry but it has been a strange day.”

“Tell me all about it,” Sue said with motherly assurance.

I have always shared every vision and dream with my soulmate, my wonderful husband. His nonchalant, empathetic, loving, logical and pragmatic approach to my visions has been the best gift of god. He is an extension of the love and normalcy that I have always felt with my sisters. Speaking to him keeps me grounded. At the same time, the universe also keeps bringing people in my life who completely resonate with my spiritual energy. It amuses me to see how disillusioned we are in our misconception that we control the entry and exit of people in our life. In reality, everyone we meet has already been placed in our life to give us a reflection of our own self and an understanding of our core nature. As the onion has multiple layers, so is our soul covered with layers of personalities, desires and experiences. We have to learn to live through each trait and desire within us to be able to understand who we truly are. To reach the deepest core, we must peel the layer one at a time. This is manifested through people we meet in our journey. Every soul we meet reminds us of something that our soul is either searching for or hiding from. Every person reflects a speck of our own personality and is a filler to balance what we lack in our spiritual growth. Their presence gives us the opportunity to indulge in that energy and live through diverse experiences. Once we have lived the experiences, we are given a choice to either embrace it and move on or be stuck in the timeless journey of denial and hate, only to meet that soul again and live through the same experiences until we learn to accept the situation as it is.

Sue had come in my life at a time when I was living in denial about one part of my own personality and perhaps, I had come in her life to revive her faith in her spiritual gifts of clairvoyance. Each of us had to meet the other at that particular time to fulfil a mutual exchange of energies and knowledge. If either of us had not listened to our intuitive calling to meet each other, we would have been devoid of an opportunity to release our soul from a self-bondage. It was not just the meeting; it was also the mutual synchronisation of the right questions and a choice to answer them that further led to raise the vibration of that meeting so it may fulfil the purpose it was planned for by the universe. 

In reality, our past choices had led us to make that one choice of meeting on that day. What if I had not called the station manager and expressed my concern about the quality of content? What if he hadn't called me for an audition? What if my friend had not connected me to Sue to be a guest for my show? What if I had let go of the vision of the Swami as just a coincidence? What if I had not gone to the Vedanta centre and experienced a shift? What if Sue had not called me to ask if we could meet? What if Sue had not trusted herself enough and not asked me about my visions? We can just go on and on, right to our childhood and to our parent’s life to see the patterns that affected that one single moment. 

A single moment can be a catalyst for the complete transformation of a life. Never underestimate the power of a single moment, a meeting or an idea that was a result of your intuition. A small thought can initiate a stalled journey, the one that can change the direction of life instantly. That one fleeting moment, the one that lasts for a few seconds but in those illuminated minutes, you experience a divine joy, a sense of relief and anxiety, an adrenaline rush in comparison to skydiving. That one moment of oneness and unison with the universe is the moment you decide to hush all the noises and hear the voice that has been singing a melody you are lured to follow. That one moment when you let your inner liberated self, guide you. You surrender with love and without doubt you follow the words that your soul already knew. You wonder what took so long? 

That one moment when holding on to your intuition, you follow a trail in darkness, believing that you will be guided constantly. That is the moment that will eventually become a blueprint and trigger for a colossal transformation. It could be so trivial that you let it pass as a coincidence but doing so will deepen the illusion of the ceiling and devoid you of the chance to open a new portal of knowledge and opportunities; Knowledge that leads to knowing and knowing that leads to spiritual empowerment.

We don’t see it but that moment of trust in intuition is what creates a ripple that gives rise to the storm, which ultimately becomes the force that breaks the ceiling and lets the answers flow.

Thus started my healing journey of spiritual awakening with Kali.