"When you are committed to your own inevitable process, this releases an inner energy that might take you places you’d have never dreamed." ~ Ram Butler, Living in the Truth of the Present Moment
This describes what has happened to me over the last few months. The "inevitable process" is the same... it's my commitment that has changed. I have dropped everything but. Nothing is more important to me than my own inevitable process.
A huge in-rushing bounty of grace whooshed into my being! I realize now what is different is grace. And what a difference!
Being "committed to my own inevitable process" sounds selfish. Good. I have renounced anything that isn't required to support myself in this world. I am a renunciant, but I wear no saffron robes. I am solitary, but I still interact with the people I encounter in my day.
I am not married (I'm separated). I have no children, something I knew all my life I would never have. I am in my mid-fifties. I have had careers as a therapist, and in IT. Now I have no career. I am semi-retired. When I work, I have an easy job that I love, with a minimum of social interaction, which is outside, at night. Perfect.
I am free to follow my own inevitable process. Which for me is to return to God, to return to my own true Self.
When I say that I am now a sadhini, I don't mean that I haven't been a dedicated devotee and yogini for thirteen years. Or that somehow my attainment is so stellar that I've earned a medal, or a proclamation, my sadhini certification.
To me it means that I am sustained by guru's grace. This is more than essential. It is what is so in all ways. It describes everything I am and do. The only thing that fluctuates is my understanding of this, my consciousness of it. And my commitment to how this unfolds as my own inevitable process.
Now, more than ever before, I am focused on guru's grace, and whatever will call it forth. I am like Shiva. No one can see my jata (matted locks), sacred ash, wild animal skin clothes and rug, rudraksha bead malas, constant japa (repetition of the mantra) and meditation. No one can see how the sacred moon upon my brow must cool my body to balance out the heat of my tapas (the purifying fire of spiritual practices).
That's good because I am solitary. I am here in the world, not living at an ashram. It is good that my ascetic life looks "normal" to others I encounter.
(I have yet to reach the attainment of the supreme sadhu, Shiva, who can arrange venomous snakes as adornments and they do not bite or slither away).
It's all the revealing aspect of Paramashiva. The grace bestowing power of God embodied as my guru. I never see her and that is perfect. She turned away when I had darshan (then she whacked me over and over and over with her peacock feathers... thank you thank you thank you guruji).
I am a sadhini.