Ah,
I felt your return before I heard your steps.
Welcome back to the deep-rooted garden.
This place remembers you and so do I.
Come,
Let us open the book of rooted wisdom and see what wishes to meet you today.
Mm-hmm,
This is a good one.
Oh,
Yes.
Thank you,
Anarimeida.
This one reminds me of a story about a little girl named Nartana,
One whose name meant she who makes others dance.
As soon as she could walk,
Her body found rhythm.
Her feet moved before words came easily and music just seemed to live in her soul.
Her parents noticed it right away,
So they nurtured her gift with the best teachers,
The right schools,
And of course,
Endless encouragement.
So by the time Nartana was 18,
She was already one of the most sought-after dancers of her generation.
Then came the call.
She was sitting on a living room floor,
Phone in hand,
Waiting,
Expecting to hear from one of the dance companies she had been in touch with.
Instead,
She heard a stranger's voice.
Hello,
Is this Nartana?
Ma'am,
I'm afraid I have some bad news.
Just like that,
Her parents were gone.
After that,
Time blurred.
The world lost its color.
Music felt distant.
Her body,
Once alive with movement,
Went still.
She stopped leaving the house.
In most days,
She sat and stared,
Unable to cry,
Unable to move.
In her journal,
She wrote,
I miss dancing,
But it reminds me of my parents.
One afternoon,
She drifted into a sleep.
She dreamt she was back in the kitchen with her mother,
The warm light,
The familiar sound of the spoon touching the cup as the honey is stirred in.
Her mom hands her a cup of tea in her favorite mug,
The one that reads,
Dance is me.
She took a sip.
What is this?
She asked,
Smiling softly.
It might be my new favorite.
Before her mother could answer,
There was a knock at the door.
Nartana woke up a bit disoriented,
Still sitting on the living room floor.
She slowly stood up,
Walked over,
And opened the door.
No one was there.
Only a small box of tea wrapped carefully with a note written on lavender-colored paper.
She unfolded it slowly and read,
You're not stuck.
You're afraid.
Clarity comes through.
Choice is made.
Her hands trembled as she read the rest.
This is Tulsi.
It does not push you forward.
It invites you to return.
Deep,
Unrestrained tears started to flow.
And just as suddenly,
They passed.
In their place was a quiet peace.
In the days that followed,
Nartana returned to the studio.
At first,
She only stood there.
Then she breathed.
Then she moved.
When she danced again,
It was different.
This time,
She carried her parents with her,
Not as pain,
But as presence.
Her movements were deeper,
More embodied,
And truer.
In the months that followed,
She performed again.
Lights shone,
Heart full,
And those who watched felt it too.
Her dance was no longer about performing.
It was about being.
Perhaps there's something in your life you stepped away from.
Not because it no longer mattered,
But because it hurt too much.
Tulsi reminds us how important it is to honor what feels true,
And that it's okay to return.
Returning is not failure.
It's courage.
It's self-acceptance.
You don't have to explain where you've been.
You don't have to make up for lost time.
And when you are ready,
You're not starting over.
You're returning.
And that is enough.
Let's head back to the garden.
You are always welcome here in the deep-rooted garden.
Until next visit,
May the roots beneath you stay strong,
And may the wisdom you found today continue to grow.
Yes,
And may the wisdom of the deep-rooted garden guide you until we meet again.
