April 1, 2025

Dear reader,

Have you been on the train lately? On a plane? How about the bus? A taxi? In your own car? Or are you one of those people who believes in walking everywhere? Are you trying to get out and hike as much as possible?

Perhaps you have been thinking about traveling—somewhere warm, somewhere cool, somewhere far-flung and picturesque. Or maybe you prefer something closer to home. Are you someone who likes to spend time under a tree?

I ask these questions because each activity, each mode of transport, has its own velocity associated with it. In that way, it is similar to time. Depending on what we are doing and how we are doing it, we perceive time as moving slowly or quickly. So, how has time been moving for you recently? Has it been passing by very fast? Has it just been plodding along? Or is it moving at exactly the pace you had envisioned?

Somewhere on this planet, it is dawn. Then it is midmorning, it is noon, it is the languorous hours of the afternoon. It is mystical twilight. It is evening. It is the blue-black night. The hands of time continue their cyclical march around our lives. Or is it the other way around?

Amidst this unending rotation of day and night, a curious phenomenon occurs. We run out of time. We run out of time to fulfill our intentions, to achieve our goals, to realize our dreams. We run out of time to do what we had planned to do. We are unable to make the most of our time.

So what’s going on? What are we to do? What are we not to do? On the one hand, we have to learn to better navigate time; on the other hand, we’ve got to surrender. We have to manage our time—and we have to let go. We have to move; we have to be still. We have to be vocal; we have to be quiet. We’ve got to lead; we’ve got to contribute. We’re impelled to serve; we’re obliged to let the chips fall where they may. We have to do this, we have to do that, and all the while, the question grows louder in our minds: how? How—do—we—do—it—all? We are always at risk of running out of time.

As I was mulling over what I wanted to convey to you in this letter, I kept hearing Gurumayi’s voice in my head, singing this bhajan by the poet-saint Surdas: aba na banī to phira na banegī, nara tana bāra bāra nahīn milatā. “If it is not achieved now, when will it ever be done? A human body is not acquired again and again.” Time may be infinite in the cosmic sense, but the time allocated to each one of us is most certainly finite. As we’ve grown up hearing from our parents and our mentors, we must use time wisely or else we lose it forever.

Now, there’s an innate sense of urgency that accompanies this truth—but it does not follow that it has to feel daunting. On the Siddha Yoga path, we have learned from our Gurus the importance of starting each day as a new day, with a refreshed attitude and a beginner’s mind. Each morning, we can look forward to putting forth our best effort and letting grace unfold—and then putting forth effort once again. As one of you shared so eloquently on the Siddha Yoga path website:

I received Gurumayi’s Message for 2025 as an invitation to reclaim my own ability to mold each day in the shape I wish. It is my time, and making it “worth my time” is a choice I always have.

I resonate with what this Siddha Yogi has shared, especially their point about reclaiming our ability. So often when we are confronted by people or situations that are challenging, we give up easily. We relinquish our agency, resign ourselves to our “fate,” as though it were something predetermined. But that’s not really true, is it? As this person reminds us, we always have a choice.

Here we are, then, in the month of April. All around us in Shree Muktananda Ashram, we are observing how nature is reclaiming some essential part of her character. She is renewing herself, knowing intuitively what and who she should be. It is as though she is saying to us, “Yes. It is my time now. I am going to don the cloak of spring. I am going to embody the ‘spring bhav.’” And so, the weather warms. The daffodils bloom. Given their cheery white and yellow appearance, it is hardly a surprise to learn that in Western traditions daffodils are associated with rebirth and new beginnings. In Eastern cultures, they are linked to good fortune and prosperity.

This year, Easter is on April 20. When I think of Easter, I tend to think of children. They love to be in nature, and this is when they get to go on Easter egg hunts outside. If you’ve ever had the chance to be around children when they are hunting for Easter eggs, then you’ll know how animating it is to even just watch them. It’s enough to reawaken your own childlike enthusiasm.

Toward the end of the month, on April 29, we will celebrate Akshaya Tritiya. This is one of the three-and-a-half most auspicious days of the year in the Indian calendar, and it too is associated with themes of abundance and new beginnings. It is considered an especially fortuitous time to embark on something new.

It’s invigorating to have all of these opportunities to experience newness, isn’t it? It’s refreshing—is it not?—to cultivate the outlook of newness.

A few days back, at the time of the spring equinox, Gurumayi was outside with one of the children who was visiting the Ashram with their family. The air was feeling so light, so sweet, so wonderful that Gurumayi swiveled her arms before her in a ribbon-like motion and plucked an unseen something from the atmosphere. Gurumayi then mimed eating this “something.” The child looked up at her in wonder and said, “What are you doing, Gurumayi?”

Gurumayi replied, “This air feels so refreshing—so I’m having some!”

The child laughed and immediately started to do the same. Like this, Gurumayi and the child spent several moments enjoying the air together.

Wherever you are in the world—and whatever the season is—I hope you too get a chance to breathe in the newness and freshness of the air. I hope you take it as a reminder that in each moment, you can become new. If I may ask, have you taken time this year to recognize that you are not, in fact, at the mercy of time? That you are not simply a victim of whatever parade of events that time brings?

I have written before about how Gurumayi uses the phrase “your time” in her Message for 2025—the “your” as clear an indication as any that our power here is not insignificant. To borrow imagery from the Siddha Yogi I quoted earlier, we are like sculptors in that we have the ability to carve out time for the activities we deem to be important. We can create something beautiful, something of value, out of the time that we have.

So we’ve got this power, right? And that’s a good thing. As you know, though, having power also means having responsibility. It is incumbent upon each of us to consider: What are the principles according to which we mold our time? What are the criteria?

Anyone who tries to shape time solely to their own whims disregards their moral obligation to support the good of all. Everyone has the right to exist on this planet. Being here is a gift bestowed on all of us equally. As human beings, we are meant to respect one another. This means acknowledging and accepting other people’s ways of life. This means respecting their time as much as we do our own. This means making the effort to learn the rhythms of time. Each moment in life presents us with a choice—for how we want to think, act, and react—and it is the accumulation of those decisions, as much as anything, that will usher in a new way of being.

Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Ushering in a new way of being. Let’s do it!

Sincerely,

Eesha Sardesai