A wooden murti of Goddess Saraswati is looking at me from my small crowded desk.

Actually, I am staring at Her beauty. I am getting closer to Brahmi’s these days, invoking Her power and energy to let my thoughts flow into the page with ease, comfort, and no self-judgment: yeah, good luck with this last one, Elena. I chant Her sweet mantra before I begin writing. There are so many entanglements in my brain I need help unraveling them, having them make sense and press the letters on my keyboard, as I am right now. Of course She always graciously helps. There is a sense of relief when I click the “publish” button, like I have gone up the steepest snowy mountain and now it’s time to catch my breath. 

However, Saraswati is not the only Goddess I connect to these days. There is a Lalita temple right outside my window, I can hear the drumming of some type of festival in Her honor as I write, how magical is that? I came to the mountains, though, to feel the powerful presence of Ma Durga and I know Mahadevi is here, even right now, guiding every step of my at times wobbly way: gentle yet sturdy without asking anything in return. Like a mother. THE mother. Am I that kind of mom towards my own children? I can’t help, but ask myself. I wish I could say I am, and yet I would be lying. I did the best I could in the situations I was in, that’s for sure. Was it enough, though?  I still need to forgive myself, to keep my heart more open, no matter the various sorrows  and heartaches that try so hard to shut it; like a shell on the beach picked up by a stranger, looked at just because and then dropped back down on the sand.

Today I found the prettiest flowers for the Goddess. I don’t know their names. I hardy know any flowers’s names, actually. They are of many colors, even if the red roses are the ones that seem to stand out more than the others. All together they are breathing in the green vase someone left in the kitchen closet of the house I am renting. I love how they brighten the small room, the light is dim even though all the switches are turned on. The Devas are going to love these, although I can’t speak for them of course, I say to myself as I place the bouquet on the altar. Two candles and a stick of nag champ, as part of my morning ritual.  

I always think of the Goddess when I buy flowers, a small gesture of devotion, gratitude, and surrender, nothing compared to all They do for me. In my being human I am kind of limited, you know. It’s only when I open to the Divine, when I let go of self-sabotage I guess you can say, that I tap into a larger version of myself. I often go into the space in the middle of my chest where I can connect to the Divine oh so easily, especially when I feel betrayed from the human world. Am I going to be in Their sweet company when my physical body will die, I wonder? 

Most times than not I see myself in others, I understand there is no separation, but I got work to do on this one. I find myself more and more within myself these days, wanting nothing especially expecting nothing. Funny thing, the heart isn’t it? You spend your whole life trying to figure it out, like solving a math problem, following it like a soldier follows the leader, listening to it and then you finally get it that you don’t need to go anywhere or be any one. You are perfect as you. As the manifestation of Divine nature you are. All you have to do is slow down, liberate the brain’s intricacies like an old yarn come undone, let go and let God. 

Thanks for reading ❤️

 

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