The tear of joy

What brings a tear of joy to your eye?

I kept using holy ash on my ears so I wouldn’t hear the telepathy from the other side. Still, she kept coming back. I didn’t want her thoughts pressing into me anymore, yet her presence returned again and again. I asked myself: what does she seek?

While practicing Chiti Shakti Kriya, I suddenly smelled baby powder, and then the unpleasant stench of baby poo. At one point, I felt the touch of a small baby’s last finger on me. I pushed it away and tried my best not to connect telepathically. I continued chanting as the kriya flowed, but the interference didn’t stop.

Then the divinity within whispered: “If she comes again, don’t let go. Hold her with all your might.”

Soon after, I smelled baby powder again and sensed her right hand reaching. I clasped her palm tightly within my own, letting my white light pass through so she could feel the vibration. She tried to flick her thumb free, but I held firm. I wanted her to experience the kriya directly, to face her own responsibility.

When the kriya ended and I released my palm, I felt a sticky sensation. I realized I had been holding the right palm of her grandson — an emptiness radiated from him. She had used the baby to connect with me, even kissing his lips, which filled me with shock and disgust. I rushed to the bathroom, washing my face and lips over and over, trying to cleanse the feeling.

Later, my phone displayed a strange message on a white background with blue font: “ow.”

Meanwhile, my mother was undergoing her own Inner Engineering session online at the exact same hour. The other side, three witches were watching wondering why my mom was so excited for. They watched intensely. I just walked through them as she kept calling, eager not to miss a moment. This too also faded away.  Her excitement reminded me of a child going to school, preparing for an exam. Her face glowed white with joy as she immersed herself in the practice.

I went to the temple after my sister actually sat down to discuss with me. I am flattered and glorying with light. I received a long list to buy her flowers for the puja.  I went to the temple to pray  and lit a ghee lamp to make peace for myself and others. Strangely I feel a shift inside me moved, the yearning to hold on to hanuman’s tail is here. I can feel the presence of praying to the deity as I got the front view standing in a folded palm singing the glory of the chalisa. That peace like a devotee’s prayers have been answered. I requested no disturbance and made me grow more so I can bring my mom,sister and myself to kaishi to join the sadhguru and sadhnapada program. And other stuff..make my journey worth the trip as I can continue with more journey as this journey is a stepping stone to the glory of the divinity’s grace.

That contrast struck me deeply — my chaos and struggle on one side, my mother’s pure glow on the other. This is my mom’s sharing.

For many years, I carried resentment toward my husband. Life with him was difficult, and even after he entered a special home due to dementia, the pain of the past stayed with me. I often asked why I had to endure sud I struggles, and the question weighed heavily on me.

Through Inner Engineering, I finally found a shift. At first, the practices felt like a test. Sitting quietly and facing old wounds was uncomfortable, almost like reliving what I wanted to forget. One week felt long, yet slowly, I began to feel something new—calmness. For the first time in years, I touched peace within myself.

Listening to Sadhguru’s words deepened this change. His reminder that forgiveness is about freeing ourselves struck me. I realized I wasn’t forgiving my husband; I was forgiving myself—for holding pain for so long and letting resentment rule me. That forgiveness was a release, as if invisible chains had fallen away.

I also began to see my husband differently. Instead of the man who caused me hurt, I saw someone bound by his own limitations. His dementia no longer fueled my anger; it awakened compassion. This change of heart lifted a burden I thought would never leave me.

In letting go, I discovered joy. It came quietly, like sunlight after a storm. I began smiling for no reason, noticing small wonders—the song of birds, the breeze on my face, light streaming through the window. These moments were always there, but resentment had kept me blind to them.

That single week of Inner Engineering, though challenging, became a blessing. What once felt like torture gave me peace, clarity, and joy. I now wake lighter, breathe easier, and walk with gratitude.

Today, I carry forgiveness in my heart and calmness in my mind. I no longer dwell on the pain of the past. Instead, I cherish the strength and freedom I have found. Inner Engineering has shown me that in letting go, I have gained everything—peace, clarity, and the joy of simply being alive. 

In a distant land stood a great tree, and beneath it dwelt Xandra. Others who lived under the same tree found their way to peace — their faces glowed, their spirits grew lighter. But Xandra remained restless, caught in wandering.

She went from medicines to bottles, from healers to priests, seeking release. Again and again the exorcists came, nine times and more, yet the same shadows returned. The villagers pitied him, asking, “How many times must one repeat the same cure before realizing the cure is not outside?”

One day, a simple message appeared, waiting for Xandra like an unopened door: a page left open, a place where she had only to write a single word — “hi.” It was not the page that mattered, nor the letters, but the act of opening. For the apple does not fall far from the tree, and the same source of light was offered equally to all.

Still, Raul the warlord mocked such yearnings, saying they were weakness. Yet the wind whispered otherwise: “Do it for yourself. No one else can walk into your freedom. Not Raul, not the priests, not the healers. Only you can take responsibility for your own heart.”

I still continue to detoxify myself as the words weave into stories.

And so the parable teaches: freedom does not come through endless remedies or borrowed strength. It comes when one dares to open the smallest of doors — even a simple word — and lets the light within flow outward.