The Salt of Awakening

What major historical events do you remember?

It was 4 a.m. when I awoke — not to any alarm, but to an unseen rhythm that felt older than time itself. This was my second dawn rising early, and something in me whispered: progress. The sacred salt water awaited me — clear, still, shimmering faintly in its bowl. I had watched a video the night before showing how many faiths, from ancient to modern, used salt and water to cleanse and realign energy.

I began the prayer as shown, repeating it again and again, perfecting it with devotion. For an hour, I stayed with the ritual — chanting, breathing, feeling the layers of resistance unfold within me. Thoughts from the unseen crept in — telepathic flashes, distractions, doubts. Yet I stayed centered.

I remembered Mahatma Gandhi, who had walked miles to lift salt water from the Indian sea — resisting oppression not with anger but with purity. His salt became the world’s lesson: that resistance, when rooted in peace, purifies all who touch it.

My sadhana deepened. I saw her — the other side — rise wrapped in her blanket, standing by the window, sensing something amiss. Her lover stirred, missing the warmth she took with her. I stood behind her, watching, resisting the illusion, then embracing it. The image faded like mist.

As I finished my chants, I took the sacred water — now holding the energies released — and placed it in the freezer. It was an experiment born of intuition: to freeze all negativity in its own cocoon, sealing it from returning.

At 6:45 a.m., I sensed resistance again. The other side flared — I saw in my mind’s eye the burning camphor and scattered chilli powder. Yet, through prayer, I let it pass.

Then something unexpected happened. Later that day, my mother opened the freezer, curious, and accidentally touched my frozen experiment. Not long after, she complained of sudden backaches. I too began to feel the same ache, as if we shared a mirrored pain. I realized I should have warned her.

That evening, I gathered the courage to open the freezer again. I scraped up the remaining residues — the salt crystals, the frost, the traces of energy — and returned them carefully into the experiment, sealing it once more. Within moments, my backache lifted, and soon after, my mother fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. When she woke, she felt fresh again.

It was as if the salt had drawn the shared heaviness out of both our bodies — restoring balance. I knew then that I must continue this ritual until all remnants of negativity were gone for good.

In my reflection, I thought of the Buddha, resisting illusion through breath; Nelson Mandela, resisting hatred and embracing forgiveness; Joan of Arc, resisting fear and embracing faith; and Gandhi, turning salt into peace. Each had faced their own unseen battle — resisting with courage, embracing with grace.

Their spirits seemed to stand beside me as dawn’s light touched the window. I understood what they had all known:
To resist is strength. To embrace is healing. To unite both is awakening.