08/06/2025
Part 1:
“I’ve always been this.” — Sharu, Kathmandu
People often ask me,
“How did your spiritual journey begin?”
But I don’t know how to answer that.
Because when I really sit with that question…
I realize — have I ever been traveling?
I feel like I’ve always been this.
Always been here.
Even before I was born, something sacred had started.
In my mother’s womb, I felt Shakti — that life force,
That grace.
She wasn’t just a mother.
She became something divine.
A channel. A realized Mataji.
And my father —
He didn’t wear robes or speak scriptures,
but his life was saintly.
Silent. Simple. Patient.
That patience is in me too.
As a 7 years old, I was deeply curious.
I’d ask and be in conversation with monks, priests, gurus visiting our home —
“Why are we born?”
“What is karma?”
“What happens after death?”
Nobody told me to ask.
It just rose inside me, naturally.
Our home transformed.
It became a place of devotion, healing, mystery.
I watched people arrive with heaviness —
and leave with light in their eyes.
It was magical.
It was intense.
Then, when I was around 12 or 13,
half my body went numb.
Paralysis, the doctors said.
But my mother said,
“OM will heal you.”
And it did.
OM became my medicine.
My mantra. My rhythm.
I used to chant it like a game —
but inside, it was working on me.
I later realized I had been practicing Vipassana as a child —
Observing my breath.
Watching sensations rise and fall.
Without even knowing the word for it.
Rituals never mattered much to me.
I told my sister,
“Aarti isn’t a place. It’s a moment with yourself.
And that moment can happen anywhere.”
I never wanted spirituality to become a rulebook.
I wanted it to be alive.
Meditation, to me, isn’t something I do.
It’s something that happens.
Like walking barefoot in the forest and suddenly realizing,
You’re fully present and feel connected to everything around.
And that’s enough.