SAAMAKSHI MEDIUM

Luck. We talk about it like it’s a lottery ticket. Like some people are born with it, and the rest of us are left watching them win while we’re stuck in traffic, spilling chai on our white shirt. But here’s a wild idea: Maybe being lucky has nothing to do with the situation at all. Maybe it has  everything  to do with how you look at it. Because when life throws something unexpected your way, you always have two choices: You can say “Oh no.” Or you can say “Thank God.” That tiny moment is the real turning point. That’s where luck begins. Not in what happens, but in what you  believe about what happens. Let me explain. Ever missed a flight and later found out there was a delay that would’ve ruined your next connection anyway? Ever gotten rejected from a job, only to stumble into something better a few weeks later? That moment when you say,  “Wow, that actually worked out for me” that’s not random. That’s grace. That’s a hint from life that you’re being guided, even wh...

There is no Shiva without Shakti. And there is no Shakti without Shiva. One is stillness, the other movement. One is the canvas, the other the paint. Together, they do not just coexist, they co-create. This is not mythology. This is the blueprint of life. Shiva is pure consciousness - unmoving, infinite, unmanifest. Shakti is pure energy - dynamic, expressive, the force that moves and brings form. One holds the potential, the other becomes the potential. They are not opposites. They are complements — two aspects of the same eternal truth. In the ancient understanding, they are known as  Purusha  and  Prakriti . Purusha is the silent witness, the masculine principle that observes without interference. Prakriti is nature itself, the feminine force that acts, responds, shapes. Together, they are the origin of all experience. Without Purusha, Prakriti is blind energy. Without Prakriti, Purusha is empty awareness. Look closely, and this dance exists within you. In your body, y...

  The Mind Thinks It Knows. The Soul Just Is. We live most of our lives thinking we are choosing. That we are behaving, deciding, reacting out of fresh free will. But beneath the surface, something quieter is at work — something older. The subconscious, which has watched every move, every disappointment, every praise, every survival tactic. It’s built a map. A blueprint. A formula it believes keeps you safe. And it runs the show. You believe you're making new choices, but more often, you're repeating the same ones — just dressed in different names. Different jobs. Different people. Different clothes, same pattern. You want to feel free, but your steps are already rehearsed. You’ve walked them so many times that they now feel like home. But are they? What we call safety is often just predictability. We’ve convinced ourselves that familiar discomfort is better than unknown possibility. We follow routines, replay conversations, assume outcomes — not because they serve us, but beca...

Have you ever noticed how some people seem to move through life effortlessly? Their plans work out, they get what they aim for, and things just seem to align for them. They’re not always deeply spiritual or endlessly self-reflective. They’re not constantly reading books about healing or manifesting under the full moon. And yet, somehow, they seem to get it right. It’s tempting to think they’re lucky or that their stars are better aligned. But really, what they have is clarity. And more than that, they trust themselves. They don’t sit for weeks doubting what they already know. They don’t need to collect twenty signs before taking one small step. They aren’t at war with their own intuition. They hear what their inner voice is saying and they listen. That trust becomes a frequency they move in. And life responds, not because they’re doing something magical, but because they’re in alignment with themselves. We often forget how energetic life is. Everything around us responds to how we trea...

What offends you, what moves you, what you tolerate and what you don’t—these are not flaws or preferences. They are the fingerprints of your story. Humour to one is hostility to another. What you find disrespectful, someone else may find familiar. There is no universal scale for pain or dignity. That is the great myth. We’ve tried to grade boundaries like exams, forgetting that our boundaries were born from different childhoods, different wounds, different silences. So what we call “too sensitive,” or “too harsh,” or “too soft” are often just people living at the edge of their own survival. In a job, one person might say “yes sir” out of generational humility, his father, his grandfather, all men who bowed before they spoke. Another might challenge every order, not out of ego, but because silence once cost them their self-worth. Neither is wrong. Both are boundary stories, lived in different dialects. In families, what one calls duty, another sees as control. What feels like respect to...

I don’t know where it started, really. Maybe in the middle of a podcast, or while half-asleep reading some book on consciousness. Or maybe it was just silence, the kind that hums behind your thoughts when you're tired of chasing clarity. But there it was—this simple, almost stupid realisation: All I’m doing is collecting information. Not wisdom. Not enlightenment. Not truth with a capital T. Just... data. Facts. Patterns. Perspectives. Even the most moving quote or profound philosophy—still just information. And here's the thing. We dress it up, don’t we? Call it intelligence. Say someone has sharp memory, analytical mind, high EQ, spiritual insight. But isn’t it all just information rearranged and re-accessed in different ways to get through life? Like a pen drive, really. A pen drive filled with folders labelled “childhood,” “beliefs,” “traumas,” “desires,” “books read,” “teachers followed,” “Instagram quotes,” “late-night journal entries.” All of it stored. All of it running...

It begins quietly. Not with ceremony, not with structure, not even with certainty. It begins in a moment when your breath catches - just slightly - and you find yourself pausing, not because someone told you to, but because something inside you finally asked for stillness. Meditation is not a skill to master; it is not a badge to wear or a routine to perfect. It is the earliest sign that you are listening. It is the invitation to meet your own presence without judgment. And that moment, that first flicker of awareness is the beginning of everything. We often dress spirituality in layers : disciplines, rules, practices, rights and wrongs. But the true spiritual path is not about doing; it is about noticing. It is not built on the bones of rituals but on the softness of your own seeing. It has nothing to do with impressing society or improving your wellness score; it has everything to do with remembering how to be in awe. Awe does not need a script. It arrives in the middle of a mundane ...

Every now and then, someone will tell me, “I’m tired of thinking positive. It feels fake, like I’m lying to myself.” And I always pause before I respond, because I remember exactly what that feels like. I remember when I first started my journey with affirmations. I plastered sticky notes all over my mirror :  I am enough, I am worthy, I am loved.  I wanted to believe them so badly. But some mornings, I’d look into my own eyes and feel nothing. Or worse, resistance. That quiet voice inside would whisper,  stop bullshitting yourself.  And that voice… that was the real block. Not the lack of affirmations. But the presence of disbelief. Because if deep within you, there’s still a knot of old stories -  I’m not lovable. I’m not capable. Good things don’t happen to people like me,  then no matter how many times you repeat a beautiful sentence, it won’t land. It’s like pouring water over concrete, hoping something will grow. That’s when I learned: positive though...

Are we addicted to chaos? The sacred stillness we keep avoiding. You can motivate. You can inspire. You can hold space. But you cannot make the change. That moment must be born from within - not coerced, not explained into existence. Transformation is not a transaction. It is an awakening. And like all awakenings, it arrives in its own time, when the soul is ready to remember. We live in a world obsessed with control - of outcomes, of people, of ourselves. But control is not power. It is the illusion of safety. Real power begins the moment we surrender the need to direct everything and instead, listen. This is where healing begins - not with effort, but with acceptance. Acceptance not as resignation, but as recognition: this is what is, now. In that still point, transformation begins. We have become so used to noise. So used to rushing, explaining, fixing. We are addicted to chaos, not because we love suffering, but because it’s familiar. Stillness, on the other hand, feels dangerous. ...

There’s something both tragic and beautiful about how seriously we take ourselves. Every high, every heartbreak, every tiny win on a Tuesday — we hold them close like precious proof that we’re truly living. We celebrate, sulk, spiral, perform. We move through joy and despair as though they define us. And for a moment, they do. But what if it’s all just a play? Not to dismiss the beauty or the ache. Both are real in their own time. But what if pride, sorrow, laughter, longing — all of it — were just the costumes of being human? Experiences to pass through, not homes to live in. The truth is no matter what role you’re playing today, you’re also the one watching it unfold. And that watcher — still, aware, unchanging — is where freedom begins. Freedom is not in avoiding emotion. It’s in knowing it’s not you. It’s in being able to laugh gently at your own emotional weather without letting it storm inside you. We often think choice is grand. Choosing careers, partners, new cities....

If I asked you,  “Tell me about yourself,”  what would you say? You might smile politely and begin listing the usual things: your name, your job, where you live, maybe what you like to do on weekends. And I’d nod, of course. But what if I gently asked again: No titles No roles No labels No timelines No definitions Now, tell me about yourself. It’s not such an easy question anymore, is it? We spend so much of our lives being introduced to ourselves through the eyes of the world. We are told who we are, how to be, what to become. We build ourselves around labels like stones: daughter, manager, Hindu, artist, overachiever, dreamer. We begin to think these bricks are the house. But they’re just the outer walls. The deeper truth of who you are is not in your bio or résumé or in the roles you juggle with grace each day. It's not in what you do or what you believe. It's not even in the stories you’ve told yourself to make sense of your life. So, who are you underneath? What remains w...

We live in a time that rewards output but forgets to value balance. We applaud hustle, not harmony. And somewhere along the way, many of us forgot how to take care of the whole human we are. We measure success by how much we produce, not how we feel. We glorify the sleepless nights, the packed calendars, the constant motion,  proof that we’re “doing something.” But in all that doing, we often stop being. Being rested. Being present. Being at peace with ourselves. We’re taught that burnout is a badge. That pushing through discomfort is noble. That if you’re not constantly achieving, you’re somehow falling behind. But no one tells us what we’re actually chasing. Or what happens when we finally “make it” and still feel empty. What about the parts of us that don’t show up on performance reviews? The tenderness in our relationships. The calm in our breath. The joy of spending a day not optimizing for anything. These are markers of a life that’s working. But we’ve learned to ignore them,...

We are taught early to seek fairness, as if the world runs on equal measure. Do good, and good will return. Offer kindness, and it will be returned in kind. We chase this invisible symmetry like a rhythm we’re meant to dance in, and when the beat slips, when something feels off, we call it unfair. We blame the world, or power, or systems. But sometimes the imbalance isn’t out there. It’s in what we hold back. We think fairness lives in rules, in being right, in keeping peace. But much of what we call peace is just unspoken tension. Quiet avoidance. We soften our words to be palatable. We laugh when something stings. We lower our voice when it should rise. Not because we don’t see the wrong, but because we fear what happens if we name it. We hold ourselves back. Not for their sake, but because deep down, we don’t yet trust that our truth will be met with love. When we do not trust ourselves, we look at others through that same lens. Every silence feels loaded. Every misstep, betrayal. W...

Have you ever had that quiet thought in the middle of a busy day:  “Is this really it?” Maybe you're successful by most standards. You’ve got the job, the responsibilities, the lifestyle. You’re independent, driven, and grateful for all you’ve achieved. But beneath all that, there’s a flicker of something else. A deeper longing. A curiosity for meaning. A craving for stillness. Maybe you’ve even heard it whisper to you during long commutes or quiet nights, calling you toward something spiritual, something real. But then life takes over again. Emails. Deadlines. Meetings. Expectations. That little voice fades into the background. For so many people, especially those in high-performing roles, the path of spirituality often feels out of reach. Not because they aren’t drawn to it, but because they’re trapped in a structure that doesn’t allow for stillness. They know meditation works. They’ve felt the power of silence. But the pull of productivity and the never-ending list of tasks alwa...