by Neelam Nanwani | Nov 27, 2025 | Soul Words
Ahmedabad has recently been declared the centre for hosting the Commonwealth Games in 2030.
For many, this announcement is a symbol of progress, opportunity and global recognition.
But for me, it has stirred a very different set of thoughts.
We call it development. But is it really development if a city cannot even provide fresh air to breathe?
I call it durgati, collapse.
Because with every so-called milestone of progress, I see:
- More and more trees being cut
- More heat rising from the expanding concrete jungle
- Less fresh air, more respiratory and lung issues
- Increasing allergies and stress
- More illness, more noise, more smoke
- More traffic and more chaos
If this is the price of progress, then what exactly are we progressing towards?
A city struggling to offer clean air is not progressing. It is silently suffocating.
And like always, if the imbalance becomes too much, nature will find its own way of restoring equilibrium. We saw it during Covid: a forced pause that allowed the earth to breathe again. But once life resumed, we found ourselves rushing back to the same destructive patterns. How long can this cycle continue?
The Earth has its own intelligence. It has lived for billions of years – died, reborn, evolved, transformed. It will continue to do so.
It is not the Earth that is at risk of extinction. It is us, the human race, that is walking steadily toward its own downfall.
We often believe that more money, more construction, and more capitalism equals progress. But in reality, this blind race for “growth” is creating deeper imbalance and paving the way for our own destruction.
Shamanism: A Forgotten Way of Relating to the Earth
Shamanism, on the other hand, teaches us an entirely different way of living – a relationship of reciprocity with the Earth.
It reminds us that the Earth is not a commodity to be used and exploited, but a sentient being that is alive, conscious and responsive. A mother who nurtures us, and whom we must also nourish. A partner with whom we must maintain a healthy, respectful exchange.
Shamanic teachings compel us to pause and ask:
- What am I doing to my own home?
- What am I doing to my own mother?
- How am I contributing to the Earth’s wellbeing and therefore my own survival?
Instead of indulging in mindless growth and capitalist pursuits, Shamanism invites us to walk a path of awareness, balance, and responsibility.
In Shamanism, we explore these deeper issues – our role, our responsibility, and our sacred relationship with the Earth. It becomes a journey of introspection, healing, and reconnection – not just with nature, but with ourselves.
Maybe it’s time to redefine what development truly means. Maybe it’s time to choose sustainability over spectacle, reciprocity over exploitation, and conscious living over endless consumption.
Because without clean air, clean water, shade, silence, and sanity a city is not progressing. It is simply accelerating its own suffering.
And only when we return to a respectful partnership with the Earth can we truly thrive.
Basic Shamanism Workshop returns in January 2026, stay tuned for more details.
Header Image by freepik
by Neelam Nanwani | Nov 10, 2025 | Soul Words
I am beginning to realize that death affects me deeply — not only when it touches someone I love, but even when it grazes the periphery of my world. The passing of an acquaintance, a neighbour, or even the fruit vendor who stood outside my home — each of these deaths stirs something profound within me.
It is not attachment to loss that moves me, but reverence for life itself. With every death, I feel exposed to the tender, aching awareness of what could have been — the potential unlived, the soul journey left incomplete, the lessons unlearned, the gifts unexpressed. Each extinguished life feels like a river that dried before it could reach the sea, unable to nourish itself or others along its course.
We often speak of grief only in the context of losing those closest to us — parents, partners, friends, the figures who shaped our beginnings. Yet grief has many faces. We grieve the death of relationships, the collapse of dreams, the loss of health or wealth. Each loss, in its own way, is a small death — a reminder of impermanence, a quiet echo of the inevitable.
But perhaps the greatest loss, the most invisible and pervasive death, is the death of one’s own Self while still alive — the fading of our essence beneath the weight of routine, expectation, and conformity. Many of us move through life as though already gone — unaware of who we truly are, why we are here, or what we are meant to become.
We follow the inherited map without question: we are born, we are educated, we marry, we earn, we raise children, and then we die. Somewhere along this prescribed path, our authentic self — vibrant, curious, and awake — begins to dissolve.
Yet, some among us feel the stirring of something different — a subtle disquiet that refuses to be silenced. We begin to seek differently, feel differently, and dare to live differently. But as we do, the old self resists — clinging, mocking, throwing tantrums — unwilling to release its grip. Meanwhile, the true Self waits patiently, calling out to be seen, felt, and embraced.
And still, so often, we remain caught in the noise of the herd, in the busyness of survival. Until, one day, without warning — we are gone.
Questions for reflection
As we sit with the awareness of death — not merely as an end, but as a mirror to life — we are invited to turn inward and listen. To ask, quietly and courageously:
- What parts of me have quietly died while I was busy surviving?
- In what ways have I mistaken routine for purpose, or comfort for aliveness?
- What would it mean for me to live so fully that death no longer feels like a thief, but a gentle completion?
- Who might I become if I allowed the truest version of myself to breathe — unmasked, unafraid, and unrestrained?
- What do I need to release so that something new — more authentic, more alive — can be born within me?
- When I encounter death — in others or within myself — do I resist it, or can I see in it an invitation to live more deeply?
Perhaps, then, death ceases to be only an end, and becomes a quiet teacher — reminding us, again and again, how precious it is to truly be alive.
Header Photo by Alex wolf mx
by Neelam Nanwani | Sep 16, 2025 | Soul Words
To feel lonely, or to fear being alone, is a natural and often inevitable by-product of deep spiritual growth.
As we awaken and evolve, our perception sharpens, our frequency shifts, and we begin to outgrow old patterns, old relationships, and even parts of our identity. The deeper we go, the more we realize that not everyone around us is meant to continue walking beside us. We begin to feel a quiet, aching distance — not out of judgment, but simply because resonance has changed.
This growing sense of disconnection often reactivates a deeper wound many of us carry: the wound of belonging.
We long to belong — to our families, our communities, our cultures, our Earth. And yet, we often feel like strangers in our own homes, misunderstood in our relationships, and foreign in a world that seems to value conformity over authenticity.
For some, this feeling is even more profound. Those who identify as starseeds or old souls often carry the pain of separation more intensely — a sense of homesickness for a place they can’t quite name. A feeling of not being “from here,” and not knowing where “home” truly is.
But herein lies a powerful spiritual initiation:
- We are not here to fit in — we are here to remember who we are.
- We are not here to seek belonging externally — we are here to belong to ourselves.
- To become whole within.
- To alchemize loneliness into sacred solitude.
- To transform the ache of separation into the peace of inner union.
This is not an easy path. It is not romantic. It is raw, confronting, and often bittersweet.
But it is real.
The real ones — those who are truly walking the path of truth, healing, and soul embodiment — rarely walk in herds. They walk solo, not out of arrogance, but out of necessity. Their walk is different. Their path and inner rhythm is different.
And yet, in this solitude, a deeper connection emerges — to the Self within.
This is the paradox of the spiritual journey: the more alone you feel, the closer you are to your truth. You are not broken. You are not lost. You are simply remembering.
And the ones who are meant for you — those who speak the same soul-language — will find you when you no longer need to be found.
Until then, keep walking. Alone, if you must.
But never forget — the path of solitude is also the path of soul.
Invitation to Journal
1. Loneliness as a Teacher
- What feelings arise when I’m alone? How do I usually respond?
- If loneliness were a gift, how might it show up as nourishment?
- What important truths has loneliness revealed about me?
2. Transforming Loneliness into Solitude & Self-Connection
- Name three things I truly enjoy about my own presence.
- What would a perfect, gentle solo day look like from sunrise to bedtime?
- In which moments alone do I feel entirely at peace—and why?
3. Belonging to Yourself
- When and where do I feel most authentically me?
- What does “belonging” mean when I define it on my own terms?
4. Self-Discovery
- Who am I beyond all roles and titles? At my core, who lives here?
- What practices (meditation, nature walk, rituals) might help me feel grounded and connected?
- In what moments does solitude feel non threatening and sacred rather than empty—leading me home to myself?
5. Healing Wounds Around Belonging
- What childhood experiences shaped my feeling of being ‘out of place’?
- What beliefs about belonging do I still carry—and how might I softly release them?
6. Forgiveness, Integration & Inner Union
- Are there parts of me I’ve hidden out of fear, shame, or to fit in?
- What would forgiveness look like toward myself, or others, to create more freedom inside me?
- How can I call back those lost or hidden parts of me gently back into my everyday life?
Set aside 10–15 minutes per prompt.
Let your pen move; let your thoughts flow—no judgment, no censoring, no editing.
You may revisit these prompts—especially during moments of triggers or when you feel out of place or stuck.
These prompts are a gentle invocation…of you meeting you.
Unlock the key and enter.
What if loneliness was really a gift?
Header Photo by cottonbro studio
by Neelam Nanwani | Jan 13, 2025 | Soul Words
When the ocean is in chaos, when the ocean is stormy, we do not judge the ocean. We do not blame it for not being calm. We do not criticize it for not being still.
We worship it. We pray to it. We surrender to it and try to understand and accept its undercurrents.
We are embodiment of nature. Why do we then become judgemental to ourselves when we experience chaos?
Why do we become critical of others when they experience chaos? Why do we consider ourselves or them as less healed?
How would it be if we could bow down to this person as we bow down to the sea or the ocean?
How would it be if we could honour this chaos as Sacred?
How would it be if we could consider chaos as an important unfolding in our journey?
How would it be if we could honour the person for not suppressing the chaos and allowing this person to be vulnerable in expressing it?
Chaos can teach us many things. If we suppress chaos, we disallow clarity. We bypass creative expression.
If we dishonour chaos, we disown the treasure that it’s going to churn up, eventually.
Chaos, often, is the precursor to the stillness that we aspire for or unconsciously desire and chase.
Let’s not get afraid of our chaos. Let’s allow it. Let’s give it permission to engulf us or weave its magic.
Let’s not get drowned in it. Let’s experience it by witnessing it fully.
Header Photo by Bella White
by Neelam Nanwani | Oct 10, 2024 | Soul Words
I was a mischievous kid in my growing up school years. And yet I was a loner and a rebel.
Even in those years when kids have fun, I was over accountable, over impeccable, over committed and over idealistic.
Top it with being emotional, intense, a deep feeler and a thinker, it made me quite a package.
Sprinkle it with vulnerability and naivity, having clarity of what I wanted to do and BE and yet be befuddled when it came to external maps and roads; be a recluse and yet a leader, one might feel, it’s quite a dichotomy filled combination.
When I was with my twin flame Paul in my 40s, he often called me a person filled with dichotomy. I would often wonder, “I am such a simple person, I am the same inside out, every one can literally read my face, so where is the dichotomy?”
Having gone through so much after he passed and doing a life review, I can clearly see and perhaps now understand what he meant.
I do not know whether being a dichotomy filled person is a problem or a gift. But this is who I was and perhaps am.
After he passed, I knew that I only wanted to live for my purpose, clear all my baggage of lifetimes together so that I didn’t have to come back again on this earth to deal with it.
And yet as days, weeks, months and years went by, I didn’t know who I was. I started losing a sense of self and that was immensely rattling to the ego. The ego needs identity and here something was happening in my field that was shaking the ground beneath my feet.
I struggled to hold tightly to the identity that I held so closely to my chest, for, who was I without it and what was I if not for that?
The ground beneath my feet was so shaken that in practical life and living I had a difficulty for such small matters as fetching an auto rickshaw and going to the market for mundane chores.
Nothing felt certain. I didn’t understand what was happening to me or rather inside of me.
All I knew that there was breakdown of identity and no sense of SELF.
My self assuredness was gone. All I was left with was grief for Paul’s passing, abandonment and rejection (for not having anyone by my side as I was grieving), shame because I was not feeling any more inner strength and a feeling of being an utter total failure.
It brought forth a huge existential crisis and a death urge. The despair was humongous and my body just couldn’t contain it.
The declaration that I wish to FINISH it all in this life time brought upon its own share of initiations and challenges.
Illness struck one after the other. The emotional ruckus brought more illness and illness brought more grief.
I got entangled in this loop of healing, healing and healing.
There was no LIVING.
As I am beginning to say goodbye to perhaps the most difficult 4 years of my life, I am making a vow to myself to LOVE and LIVE again.
It doesn’t feel easy. My life has never been easy. From a girl child whose mother beat herself up just because a girl was born, harbouring the feeling of being awkward, rejected and a loner all life long, to having lost my studies, career and mother to her menopausal depression and suicide to having lost Paul and falling prey to menopausal depression myself, life feels like having come to a full circle.
A part of me feels so detached from my purpose and yet another part of me feels so elated after I have completed a teaching session. Am I done with what I have come here on this planet earth to do?
Is it time to say goodbye? Perhaps not. What feels true is that it’s time to live the life unlived.
It’s time to drop the need to do something or become something but it’s time to live truly the ordinary and not just live it but truly explore and enjoy it…to not just live from a sense of duty and purpose alone but truly with a sense of dancing with this life with wild abandon.
The human existence is as special and extra ordinary as our spiritual quest which often becomes another layer and level of entanglement with the ego.
It’s time to become still…it’s time to flow…it’s time to LIVE again.
Header Photo by Pitt Rom
