Grab a coffee, this is a long post......☕ I have a confession to make. I cry. Often. And not just at the big, obvious things, the tragedies that make the headlines, the disasters that flash across our screens. I cry at the small, quiet, everyday moments that reveal the brokenness of our world. I cry watching a news report about a child who went to bed hungry. I cry reading a social media post about someone who was treated with cruelty simply for being who they are. I cry listening to a podcast about injustice, about ecosystems collapsing, about people fleeing their homes while the rest of us scroll past. And sometimes, I cry at the sheer weight of it all. The tears come unbidden. They well up in my throat, burn behind my eyes, and spill down my cheeks. And in those moments, I feel something visceral, a deep, aching sadness in my chest. A grief that is not just mine, but collective. A sorrow for the state of our world, for the dreadful, unspeakable things that we, all of us, collectively allow to continue. We see it. We know it. And yet, what do we do? We turn a blind eye. We scroll past. We change the channel. We tell ourselves it's too big, too complex, too far away. We shrug our shoulders and say, "I wish I could do something." We wring our hands and mutter, "Someone really should help." We post a black square, a broken heart emoji, a prayer emoji, and then we carry on with our day. And so it continues. The suffering, the exploitation, the destruction. The endless cycle of outrage followed by apathy, of tears followed by silence. But here is the question that keeps me awake at night.... Is our crying a beginning or an ending? Is it just an emotional release, a momentary purge that makes us feel better without changing anything? Or is it the first crack in our armour, the first stirring of something that might actually lead to action? Because I'll be honest... I am tired of just crying. I am tired of feeling sad and then doing nothing. I am tired of the "I wish" that never becomes "I will."

Hi Everyone 👋 I am sitting here this morning, still a little fragile, but my heart is so remarkably full that I had to come here and write this out before the feeling fades. As some of you know, I had scheduled a live video call for us last night. I was genuinely excited. My notes were ready, my space was set, and I was looking forward to that beautiful, electric energy of us being together in real time. And then, about forty minutes before we were meant to connect, my body decided to stage a full scale rebellion. Out of nowhere, I was hit with a wave of severe stomach cramps and the kind of aggressive digestive distress that leaves you completely humbled on the bathroom floor. It wasn't just discomfort; it was a total system shutdown. In that moment, all my carefully laid plans dissolved into nothing. I couldn't stand up straight, let alone sit in front of a camera and offer coherent wisdom. With a heavy heart and a churning gut, I made the call to cancel. Now, I want to pause here and be completely honest with you. In that vulnerable moment, as I lay there curled up, a wave of shame and guilt washed over me. I felt like I had let you down. I worried you might think I was making excuses or that your time had been wasted. The inner critic whispered, “You call yourself a teacher? You can’t even show up for your own community.” But then, something extraordinary happened. I reached for my phone, dreading what I might find. And there they were...your messages. One after another. Not a single complaint. Just wave after wave of pure, unadulterated kindness. “Oh dear, sending healing vibes.” “Sending you positive vibes.” “Hope you feel better soon.” “Hope you feel better soon, Baba Ji! Sending you healing hugs.” "So sorry to hear that. Sending you lots of healing light" Do you have any idea what that did to my spirit in that painful moment? It didn't just soothe my embarrassment; it healed something deeper. It reminded me that I am not just a content provider to you. I am a fellow traveller, held in the warm embrace of a true Sangha. The Intersection of Illness and Grace

So, so sorry everyone, but I needed to cancel today’s live call as I have severe stomach pains 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻.

In a reply to my post 'The Time is Now', one of our community members @Chen Profesorsky sent me this image and asked me to ask Chatgpt for a translation, and here it is 😊 So it does fit well with my original post, Thanks @Chen Profesorsky Friday – The Day of the Number 6 in Great Power and Rarity But not every day we encounter this combination. The day is connected to the number 6, appearing three times in the date.The total sum of the digits in the date is also 6. It says that Friday is traditionally associated with: - Love - Compassion - Healing - Beauty and family - Recovery - Abundance - Balancing between all parts of life What does the number 6 symbolise? - Love - Compassion - Home and family - Healing - Abundance - Balance It then says: There is another layer to this day. It describes 26 as a number with spiritual significance associated with the Divine Name (a reference from Jewish numerology/Gematria), suggesting themes of: - healing energy - unity - mercy - compassion It concludes: Therefore, from an energetic perspective, this day is an opportunity to act from the heart rather than from fear. A Short Exercise for Today The poster encourages readers to ask themselves: - What do I want to invite into my life through love? - What is the right time to release love so something new can enter? - Thank everything that has already broken. - Ask forgiveness from yourself. - Try to understand what has completed its purpose. Central Message One of the main paragraphs says: The energy of love is not only about "holding on." Sometimes the highest expression of love is knowing how to let go. If a relationship is no longer serving your soul...If a job no longer brings light...If an old pattern no longer allows growth... ...then the energy of the number 6 also knows how to close a door lovingly so a new one can open. Sometimes healing comes not through what enters your life...but through what leaves it.