Life unfolds in layers, each holding a sacred bond. There’s the love of family, a love born in shared blood and memories, woven in the tiny, mundane rituals of everyday life. There’s the love of a significant other, a deeper resonance, a profound tethering of souls that feels both ordinary and extraordinary. And then, there’s a calling—a pull so ancient and unyielding that it whispers to you in the quiet moments of solitude, when the world around you recedes and something greater begins to bloom.
For me, life is a careful dance between these loves: the people who anchor me to this world and the longing to connect with God, who calls me to a life beyond it.
My mornings begin with the hum of routine. There’s the scent of tea brewing in the kitchen and the shuffle of family members preparing for the day. These moments are small but sacred. Conversations with my family flow in and out, sometimes hurried, sometimes profound. There’s the comfort of my partner’s presence, a love that feels like home. The simple things—shared meals, small smiles, the weight of their hand in mine—remind me of why I chose this life.
In their eyes, I see my own reflection. They ground me, hold me accountable, and remind me of the humanity we all share. My love for them is not perfect, but it is real. It is a kind of worship in its own way, a reminder of the divine nature of connection.
And yet, even as I live in these moments, I feel the pull toward something else.
It comes softly at first, like a faint echo in the distance, growing louder in the stillness of the night. It’s a longing I cannot ignore—a yearning to step outside the roles I play in this world and immerse myself in the divine. Sometimes, it feels like I am trying to straddle two worlds: the earthly realm of relationships and the transcendent realm of God.
There are moments when the pull becomes so strong that I question everything. Is this life enough? Am I fulfilling my purpose? Or am I simply clinging to the comforts of this world, afraid to let go?
It is here that I find myself drawn lately to the words and life of Cat Stevens, now Yusuf Islam. His journey from fame and earthly success to complete surrender is both humbling and inspiring. He walked away from the life he knew, answering a call he could no longer ignore. But what struck me most is how his transformation didn’t deny love—it deepened it. He found a way to balance the divine and the worldly, carrying both with grace.
I wonder if that balance is the key. The love I have for my family, and my friends—they are not obstacles to my connection with God. They are reflections of it. Every act of kindness, every moment of patience, every sacrifice I make for them is a step closer to God.
And yet, I feel there’s more. The longing for solitude, prayer, and communion with the divine is not a rejection of this life but a fulfillment of it. I imagine myself one day retreating, not to abandon those I love but to bring back something greater for them—a deeper peace, a stronger sense of purpose, a clearer understanding of love.
The path toward God is not one of either-or; it is one of both-and. To love the people in my life and to love God is not a contradiction but a harmony I am learning to compose. I see God in their faces, in their laughter, and even in their frustrations. And when I kneel in prayer or sit in silence, I carry them with me.
Perhaps the greatest challenge is not in answering the call but in learning to live with it daily. It is a yearning that never truly fades, a reminder that while we are deeply human, we are also divine.
And so, I walk this path—a life divided yet whole, torn yet complete. One foot firmly planted in the world of love and relationships, the other stepping ever closer to the infinite.
Hari Om Tat Sat
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