I was born into an orthodox Brahmin Hindu family in Odisha, where the worship of idols in temples was a way of life. From a young age, I learned to see the divine in carefully carved wood, stone, and metal, believing these deities provided protection and bestowed blessings for abundance and well-being.
My family, our sacred texts, community, and traditions all reinforced this worldview, weaving it into the very fabric of my being. I followed this path unwaveringly for years, driven by traditions, education, and religious teachings. I sought guidance from various spiritual gurus, believing them to be enlightened beings capable of advancing my spiritual, mental, and financial well-being. Yet, over time, I began to sense hidden agendas behind many of these so-called spiritual leaders.
Retirement brought the gift of freedom to explore. I wandered across India’s vast tapestry—from snow-capped peaks to sun-baked plains, from ancient temples to remote ashrams, from mountain caves to wind-swept fields. I discovered an unexpected truth: the profound teachings come not from carved idols or charismatic gurus, but from the living world itself. Mother Earth and Her Sacred Elements are the truest teachers and guides. The rivers, seas, hills, mountains, trees, and plants—all of Nature’s creations—embody wisdom and divinity.
In the patient flow of rivers, I found wisdom. In the ancient silence of mountains, I discovered strength. The intricate dance of insects, the steadfast growth of trees, the warmth of sunlight, and the whispers of wind became my teachers. Every grain of sand, every blade of grass began to speak of a deeper truth—the Divinity. If divinity exists at all, it exists in these elements, not in man made idols or structures.
The realization reshaped my beliefs completely. Today, my devotion is directed towards Mother Earth and her sacred elements. I honor Her with my every thought, breath, and action, knowing that this connection will sustain me for the rest of my days on this planet.
As I reflect and write about these experiences, I find myself in a unique position. While my words may not always resonate with every reader, the act of documenting my spiritual journey brings me profound personal satisfaction. Each time I record these thoughts in my digital library, I feel a sense of completion and purpose. This writing has become a form of meditation, a way to honor my evolution from traditional temple worship to finding divinity in nature. The joy I derive from this personal documentation far outweighs any concern about external validation or approval. It serves as both a testament to my journey and a personal archive of my spiritual transformation.
