Adultery The Ashram: The Desire for the Sacred Angels

[shailu4ever]

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“We spend our lives building selves, names, desires, identities, preferences. Here, we practice setting them down. Not destroying them. Simply setting them down, the way you might set down a heavy bag after a long journey.” She paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.
 
Ahalya’s breath hitched. She hadn’t expected that.
 
“Setting them down?” What did that mean? Could she do that? How could she just... let go of who she was?
 
Ahalya felt something tighten in her chest.
 
"If I set myself down… what’s left?"
 
Meera gestured for them to sit, and the Sevakis moved with practiced ease, the shift of their bodies barely noticeable, as if they were all part of a single fluid motion. Ahalya, however, felt the awkwardness of her own movements.
 
She lowered herself to the mat slowly, conscious of her legs folding beneath her, the weight of her body pressing into the hard floor. The simple act of sitting felt unfamiliar here, too raw, too real.
 
She closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind, but the questions came back, crowding her thoughts. When do we eat? What are the rules here? What happens if I don’t let go?
 
“Close your eyes. Find your breath,” Meera’s voice called, gentle, like the soft pull of the tide. “And with each exhale, release one thing you believe you need to be.”
 
Ahalya tried to find her breath, to draw it in deep and steady, but her mind raced, thoughts flickering by too quickly.
 
“What should I let go of?”
“What am I supposed to release?”
“Who am I supposed to be here?”
"What happens after this?"
"When do we eat?"
"What are the rules?"
"Am I doing this right?"
 
She could feel her chest tightening, the weight of her own breath against the pressure in her lungs. Her breath felt shallow, uneven. She tried to slow it, to focus, but the thoughts returned, circling like insects.
 
"Why can’t I be still?"
 
“Do not fight the thoughts,” Meera’s voice broke into her internal storm, soft but knowing.
 
“Simply watch them pass.”
“You are not your thoughts.”
“You are the sky they move through.”
 
Ahalya’s pulse quickened, and she held her breath, but the weight of Meera’s words sank deep. “The sky...” It was such a simple image, yet it felt profound.
 
“I am the sky...”
“I am not my thoughts.”
“I am not my fears or my name.”
“I am... the sky.”