How the Universe Nudged Me
If you haven’t read the previous post titled “My Beloved Grandma and the Indian Epics,” please start there.
You’ll be able to follow the thread we’re picking up here, in the next part of the story.
My husband and I were in Southern India in the summer of 2022 eating lunch with one of his college friends, someone he’s known for over four decades. Let’s call him K.
Over the course of a lazy lunch, the conversation turned to K’s wife, G, whose musical ability was well-known in their circles, especially in the days when they were all young and carefree.
“Does she still play?” my husband asked.
“No, man. These days, she’s busy listening to some guru or the other. She meditates. Her life has taken a completely different turn.”
My ears perked up immediately. I’d met K’s wife a couple of times. Random occasions like a school pick-up (our kids had attended the same school), or a social get-together. Being extremely shy, she’d hardly said a few words so I didn’t really know her.
Her husband, though, was a chatty extrovert and I felt comfortable enough to share some of my own journey. How I’d experienced an awakening following my mother’s death in early 2009, and how that had changed and rearranged everything in my life—including my marriage.
This led him to open up. He let me know that he and his wife were in a similar season because of her desire to devote most of her time to spiritual seeking.
Following that conversation I just couldn’t get K’s wife out of my head. It occurred to me that she and I were on similar journeys, a journey that is so alien to most of the world that it often feels like a lonely trek in the wilderness.
Ever since my marriage underwent a significant transformation following my spiritual awakening, I’ve been curious about other women in long-term marriages who have found themselves on a similar path.
I wanted to connect (or reconnect) with G and share the themes of grief and loss from my life. Of what used to be, and what I’d had to let go of in crossing the bridge to where I stand today. I hoped she’d share some of her journey with me and where her marriage was in all of this change.
My husband and I lived in Düsseldorf, Germany at the time. When we returned home, I asked him to text K and get hold of his wife’s phone number so that I could reach out to her.
My husband’s high-stress job requires him to juggle many balls, so he kept forgetting to text his friend. I was living my own life so I’d forget to remind him…until I remembered. Then he’d forget again…and the dance continued.
What’s interesting to me is, how I never forgot to nudge him every now and again—because the universe nudged me every now and again.
When a thought appears repeatedly I know I’m meant to pay attention to it, so I follow it, act on it.
Believe it or not, I didn’t get G’s number until late summer of 2023, nearly a year after our lunch with K in India. A lot had happened since. We’d wrapped up our lives in Germany and moved back to our townhome in suburban Chicago.
Once I had the number I reached out to G tentatively. After a few back-and-forth text messages, we managed to find a mutually convenient time (given the 11.5-hour time difference).
I was busy building the fantasy of two women opening their minds and hearts to share about the real and practical challenges of being married to men who don’t share in our journey.
Minutes into our conversation, I found myself getting choked up and felt a little embarrassed about it. I hardly knew the woman and I was now sniffling on a WhatsApp call. But speaking about the loneliness of walking the path does, sometimes, cause grief to well up.
Something in me picked up her energy shift. I can’t speak for her, but what I felt was her awkwardness, discomfort, and the reaching for a more positive, higher perspective. Like, this is your journey, not his. True. The ego creates the illusion of separation. True. This is the world of Maya, so nothing is real. True.
There was truth in everything she said. But, in that moment, my heart needed a small dose of understanding and compassion.
And then she said, “You can’t do this work alone. You must devote time to spiritual study. Are you doing that?”
“Well,” I said “I’ve been on the path for over a decade now, so I’ve been studying several modalities and guiding others as well.”
“Yes, but do you have a teacher?”
“I’ve studied with many teachers over the years. Some, I still continue to learn from,” I replied.
“Not just any teacher. You need to study scripture.”
I heard the stridency in her tone. Something in me tightened. I’d never been a fan of conventional religion.
“I’m studying online with a guru,” she continued. “It’s important to find a teacher who can interpret scripture for you.”
The very mention of the word guru was enough to make me want to end the call. But she wasn’t finished. “I’ll send you the website of my guru’s ashram.”
“Okay.” I didn’t need it, but didn’t have to be obnoxious about it.
We hung up.
A profound sense of despair descended over me. I’d entertained the fantasy of finding a sister-spirit, someone who would be interested in my story, listen deeply, and also share the story of how she ended up on her path.
Why had the universe nudged me to contact her knowing this is how our conversation would end? Does the universe think I need a guru now? Am I being guided to one? What am I meant to do next?
Question after question. No answers.
In the next part, the concluding part of this story, I’ll tie the threads together and share how the Bhagavad Gita fits into all of this.