Back to Him: When Divine Paths Converge
cbr (iPhone) 2025 - Between Two Points Feat. Swan, Glitch Mob - Eyes on Fire, Zeds Dead Remix - Blue Foundation, Zeds Dead
[This photograph captures the sacred space where yesterday, after nearly a year of absence, I returned to my practice. The sunlight filtered through windows much like my spirit—hesitant yet hopeful.]*
The physical structure of a yoga studio is merely wood and stone, yet within its walls, we build temples of the spirit. For years, I found sanctuary in the studios I believed would forever be my spiritual home. Two sacred spaces where my breath synchronized with the collective consciousness of fellow seekers, where my body learned to speak the ancient language of asana. These were not merely places—they were promises.
When these sanctuaries closed their doors to me, the devastation echoed through chambers of my heart I had only just discovered through practice. How curious that spaces designed for non-attachment became sources of such profound grief. The separation felt like cosmic betrayal, as though the universe had invited me to a feast only to withdraw the table as I reached for nourishment.
In my solitude, confusion became my unwelcome companion. The jadedness that followed threatened to calcify around my spirit. The mat remained rolled in the corner, gathering dust like abandoned prayers. For months that stretched into seasons, I wandered the wilderness of disconnection.
Yogananda teaches us that "The season of failure is the best time for sowing the seeds of success." Though I could not see it then, this fallow period was necessary preparation. The divine wisdom of yoga—patience, surrender, presence—continued its silent work within me, even as I turned away.
Yesterday, I unrolled my mat in a new space. After nearly a year of absence, the familiar scent of sandalwood and the quiet rustling of practitioners settling into themselves awakened something ancient within me. My body remembered what my mind had struggled to comprehend: that the practice transcends any physical location.
The principles of yoga—ahimsa (non-violence), satya (truthfulness), aparigraha (non-attachment)—speak the same universal truth that Christ embodied. When Jesus taught us to "love thy neighbor as thyself," was this not ahimsa manifested? His commitment to truth mirrors satya. His surrender in Gethsemane—"not my will, but thine be done"—embodies ishvara pranidhana, surrender to the Divine.
The bridge between these traditions is not one I must construct—it has always existed in the realm of universal truth. Christ's teachings of compassion, service, and divine connection resonate with the yogic path toward Self-realization. The breath that sustains my asana practice is the same breath that carries my prayers heavenward.
My Christian faith remains the cornerstone of my spiritual identity, yet through yoga, I have developed profound respect for the Hindu tradition from which these practices emerge. The reverence for the divine, the understanding of our interconnectedness, the recognition of the sacred within the ordinary—these are truths that transcend theological boundaries.
Hinduism's rich tapestry of devotion has taught me that the divine speaks in many languages. My admiration for this ancient wisdom does not diminish my Christian faith but rather illuminates it from a different angle, revealing new facets of the same eternal light.
As I moved through my practice yesterday, muscles remembering ancient patterns, I realized that my heartbreak had been a necessary initiation. The studios I loved were never meant to be permanent dwellings but waypoints on a longer journey. The attachment itself was the lesson I needed to learn.
Now I stand at the threshold of a new chapter, humbled by loss, strengthened by absence. The practice continues, as it always has, flowing like a river beneath the changing landscapes of our lives. And I am learning, breath by breath, to move with that current rather than cling to its shores.
The divine calls us not to comfort but to growth, not to certainty but to faith. Whether through the teachings of Christ or the wisdom of yoga, we are beckoned toward the same eternal truth: that love is the beginning and end of all spiritual practice.
And so I begin again, with gratitude for what was lost and what remains. The heart, once broken, now beats with a deeper rhythm—one that encompasses both the wisdom of the East and the faith of the West, united in the sacred space of presence.
-Mitchell Royel