21/01/2026
There is a particular kind of power that only comes with time.
Not the sharp, striving power of our thirties and early forties, when we are pushing and building and proving and when just moving forward feels like strength.
But a quieter, deeper power — refined by experience, shaped by loss and love, and softened by wisdom. A shakti: life force tempered by knowing.
My friend Angela carries a special SHAKTI.
She is a Mother, a teacher, a friend to so many & steady presence in our city.
She has walked the road fully: through joy and grief, love and disappointments, the raw devotion of motherhood, and spiritual awakenings that do not shout about themselves.
Not the kind shared on social media, but the kind that leave you silent, changed, and more tender toward the world.
What makes this woman special is not what she does, but how she holds.
She has a rare capacity to sit with the sorrow of another — to truly stay — without rushing, fixing, or turning away. In her presence, grief is allowed to breathe. Pain is not judged or minimized. There is a deep listening in her that feels ancient, as though she remembers something we have forgotten: that being witnessed is often the greatest medicine.
She is humble, mostly unaware of the brightness of the light she carries, or the tenderness with which so many see her. This unknowing is part of her grace. True spirituality, after all, is not declared — it is demonstrated. It shows itself through compassion, and with age, through the wisdom of knowing when and how to wield that compassion well.
In her, I see ‘compassion’ as a breathing presence. One who knows the weight of life and chooses, again and again, to meet it with love.
We met in school aged 5 then reconnected as women, mothers and bhakti hearted yoga teachers. Thank you for being my friend on this path of life …