The Miracle of Hope
A Different Kind of Healing
In January, my word was Joy.
I thought I knew what that meant.
But by the end of the month, I was forced to redefine it entirely.
This month, my focus word is Miracle.
Not the audacious kind that saints are born from, but the kind that asks:
What if healing can happen in more ways than just one?
A Different Kind of Healing
In early 2026, an MRI revealed a cyst attached to my spinal cord. That sentence sometimes still feels alien when I write it. Like it’s happening to someone else.
So, now I am under medical supervision. I’ve met with doctors and some of the best spinal surgeons in India. We are monitoring my health carefully.
After canceling the yoga retreat, I earnestly began a different routine.
Almost daily, I lie on a hard, wooden table while two Ayurvedic therapists work with warm oils, gentle pressure, and careful, intuitive attention on my body.
Sometimes the session begins with them building a barrier of flour and water that surrounds my eyes. Next, they pour warm, medicated ghee into the pool.
The feeling of warm, silky ghee pooling over your eyes so they can no longer open can feel unnerving at first, but once you surrender to the experience, you begin to relax.
The eyes are considered the seat of fire in Ayurveda. Cooling them helps calm the nervous system. Calming the nervous system reduces anxiety and agitation. A calmer body is a more receptive body.
Alongside the Ayurvedic treatments, I am working with a team of physiotherapists using Interferential therapy to calm the irritated nerves and receiving ultrasounds to reduce inflammation deep within my tissues. I also undergo myofascial release to help soften the protective, knotty armor my body has built up over time. These sessions are clinical, structured, and methodical.
They are completely different in tone from the warm oils and ghee, yet equally intentional. Healing, I am learning, can speak in many languages.
The Energy of Hope
My therapists, Tanu and Sreelakshmi, are absolutely convinced the cyst will be reduced with their treatments.
They say it with enthusiasm. With absolute certainty. With their whole hearts.
Of course, they are not surgeons. Not even doctors. And there is no guarantee.
But, they are giving me hope. And that might be the most important thing of all.
The freedom to hope creates space for me to receive their healing touch differently. To be open to possibilities.
Miracle of Possibility
I am still doing the work.
Daily therapy.
Medical consultations.
Rest. Reflection.
Ongoing monitoring.
The possibility of a miracle does not replace personal responsibility. They coexist.
For me, miracle is a willingness to remain open to outcomes I cannot yet see. It is the decision not to dwell on worst-case scenarios and negative outcomes. It is choosing to be a conduit for healing.
Several weeks in, I feel better. Anecdotally, my body feels stronger. Less inflamed. Less reactive. Doctors have observed improvement.
Will the cyst disappear? I don’t know.
Will surgery still be required? Maybe.
But something already feels miraculous.
My nervous system is calmer.
I am less anxious.
I feel supported.
Miracle is about expanding possibilities. It is about receiving care on multiple levels - physically, spiritually, and energetically.
In January, I learned that joy could exist in ways I had not designed.
In February, I am learning that a miracle might not be a one-time incident but rather a state of possibility.