Lately, things have been heavy. Not because I’ve done something wrong, but because someone else thinks I did. Xandra. I never imagined she would drag me into something I had no part in. She’s pushing to involve me in a lawsuit, trying to tie me into a book that I never even agreed to, as if I’m guilty of something. But I’m not.
It’s strange how fast something can escalate. You keep your distance, mind your own business, and still, someone finds a way to bring you into their storm. Maybe they carry a grudge. Maybe they don’t fully understand what they’re doing. Or maybe, like in Xandra’s case, they just want someone to blame. But deep inside, I know I didn’t do anything wrong. And even if the outside world doesn’t see that, I do.
There are moments when I sit with these thoughts, and they feel like poison slowly dripping into my peace. When thoughts like fear, anger, or revenge start entering the mind, they don’t come loudly—they come quietly, like small shadows slipping in. If I let them stay, they grow. And the more they grow, the more they pull me back into that old familiar place. A place I’ve worked so hard to leave behind.
It’s not the darkness that scares me anymore—it’s the forgetting. Forgetting who I really am. Forgetting the peace I’ve tasted. Forgetting the strength I carry when I’m centered. Because when I remember—even if I’ve fallen—I can rise again. That remembering is light. That light is my power.
Spiritual life isn’t easy when there’s noise around you. Lust, jealousy, bitterness, hatred—these things don’t just come from inside. Sometimes, they come through the people who bring their problems and try to plant them in your mind. But if I allow that, if I let their energy stay, I lose touch with myself. I stop growing.
And I don’t want to stop growing.
That’s why I stick to my practices. Worship, meditation, yoga. These are not just routines for me—they are lifelines. They help me stay grounded when the world feels like it’s spinning. They help me calm the storms when people like Xandra try to shake me.
One day recently, while doing my kriya, something strange happened.
I sat down, determined to stay focused. Eyes closed, breath slow. My body was relaxed but alert. I had just begun sinking into a deeper place when I heard a loud thud—like something had fallen nearby. It was sudden and strong. Anyone would have opened their eyes. But I didn’t. I refused to let it pull me out of that space.
Then, not long after, in the darkness behind my eyelids, I saw a face. Rathe.
She appeared unexpectedly, with a sly expression. Not kind. Not innocent. There was something unsettling about her presence, like she came with a purpose. I had seen her before in moments like this—always trying to break my focus, always showing up when I was close to peace.
But this time was different.
This time, I could feel her energy carried a message—revenge.
Maybe it was not her personally, but what she represented. That same kind of disturbance that people like Xandra try to cause. A presence that didn’t come to teach, but to disturb. That tried to plant fear. That tried to pull me back into the emotional mud I had left behind.
But I didn’t react. I didn’t even flinch. I reminded myself that I had the power to choose what I allow into my space. I simply brushed her away from my mind like a passing thought. I pressed deeper into my kriya. I held my breath steady. I kept going.
In that moment, I wasn’t just meditating—I was defending my peace.
There are always going to be people, thoughts, or energies that try to knock us down. They’ll come in many forms—lawsuits, lies, angry words, false claims, strange faces in meditation. But we don’t have to let them win. We don’t have to respond with the same energy they bring.
I continued the practice without pause. I didn’t care what noises came from outside. I didn’t care who appeared in my mind. I knew what I was doing, and I wasn’t going to stop. That day, something inside me became clearer: my peace isn’t something that can be taken unless I give it away.
By the time I finished the practice, the noise was gone. The face disappeared. The tension in my chest faded. I felt light again. Not because the outside situation had changed, but because I didn’t allow it to change me.
Xandra can do what she wants. She can talk, blame, accuse, and even sue. But the truth stands on its own. And I will too. I know who I am, and I won’t be dragged into something I didn’t create. I won’t give more energy to people who thrive on creating problems.
Let them chase revenge. I’ll choose stillness.
Let them stir drama. I’ll return to silence.
Let them try to shake me. I’ll keep returning to myself.
Because at the end of the day, the real battle isn’t out there—it’s within. And I’ve already decided: I’m not going to fight people anymore. I’m going to rise above them.
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