Devotion

I saw a reel the other day that said, "Travel messes you up. It makes home feel too small. It makes routine feel loud. It makes comfort uncomfortable. You visit your old life, but it doesn't quite fit like it used to. Because travel doesn't just show you new places, it shows you new versions of yourself. And the hardest part? Going back to the place you outgrew, pretending it still feels like home. But maybe that's the point. Maybe getting messed up is how you find the life that finally makes sense." I'm holding onto this notion positively. I have to trust that everything about my month in India and Thailand makes sense to the life I want to live, though I don't know what that is yet.

I've been home for 5 days now. My sleeping schedule is returning to normal, but somehow I am not. Lindsey returned to work today, which means I have the next four days alone, and usually I would love that (I'm never bored). But here I am, Friday night, halfway through a panic attack that I can barely regulate.

On July 2, 2025 I walked the corridors of Srirangam Temple. There are so many stories etched into these stones, it was hard to know where to begin at times. I remember the warm sand on my feet and the stories of Lakshmi. I was fortunate to be surrounded by so many people who are Hindu and speak Tamil; I got to ask a lot of questions. I was told Lakshmi is the consort of Vishnu. Godess Ranganayaki is a form of Lakshmi and is a focal point of worship for devotees at Srirangam. Devotee... I think the last time I thought about this word as deeply as now was watching Eat, Pray, Love when I was 13 years old. I'm fascinated by the word itself, moreover, the concept of devotion. Since I am not Hindu, I was not allowed to go into the inner sanctum where the deity is located, but some people in the group who were Hindu did go. I wondered what this experience was like for them. Do they realize their devotion? What makes someone a devotee? Is this form of devotion subject to dogma like other forms? Does being devoted add or detract from their life experience? I have so many questions.

I'm captivated by the word devotion; Sing along to Justin Bieber's new song about it, or simply convalesce from my travels through writing and mental meandering.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/4e7320_24ff62fc645c4359a59a766faec98375/720p/mp4/file.mp4

Bring back that miracle feeling.

Sweet devotion I’ve been searching for.

Where nothing else matters,

A daily return to that of affection.

Bring back Sunday devotionals.

Not because our lives depend on them,

But because devotion takes that kind of time.

It steeps like hot tea for 52 Sundays a year.

Devotion—

The cause doesn’t matter, 

Only that you spend the time on it.

Sweet devotion. 

Steadfast devotion. 

I want to cry in devotion. 

I want to scream in devotion. 

I want to laugh in devotion, too.

I want the stringent clarity that makes everything feel so undeniably true.

India taught me devotee—a temple sweeper up at dawn.

She tirelessly preserves the beauty for generations to come. 

I’m jealous of her effort, applaud her imperfection.

Jealous that some people see it all through in sweet and endless succession.

Lately, I notice I’m the first to run,

But that hasn’t always been the case.

I once was a devoted daughter, 

A devoted lover, 

A devoted Christian, sometimes.

I’m not really sure when I got off that trajectory

only that those things no longer feel true.

I’m not even sure that if I could change them, I’d want to.

I’m not much of a daughter—

That title I only own through birth.

I’ve loved and lost and left 7 times— 

Not much retention but it could be worse.

I don’t know that I believe in god—

or if I do, which one is unerring. 

But I know that I miss devotion.

In every context, I miss “seeing it through”.

So bring me back Sunday devotionals,

Wise words written in text.

And bring me back commitment in new terms.

Like hope, a mantra, or something cement. 

Or bring new terms, as in the trees I’ve placed my hand upon—

to listen in soft remembrance to their wisdom songs.

Something like belief in the cannonball flower, a soft ritual of return.

Bring back that miracle feeling.

Sweet devotion I’ve been searching for. 

Where nothing else matters, 

and spirit unwaveringly bows to something more.

I celebrated my 34th birthday in Darapuram with the Narikuravar community and some fellow University of Texas students. It was such a mixed bag of emotions, I felt everything on June 30th! I will say that I'm so lucky for students who made it a point to care, to celebrate, and I'll never forget that kind of selflessness amid their own stress of project implementation (I cried a lot). To the community that hugged me and recited "wish you happy birthday" over and over, I'll play that on loop for every subsequent birthday that follows. My sweet partner sent me a video from back home with all the people I love wishing me happiness and joy that day and the coming year, virtually, and again, I cried. I love crying these days, I love being vulnerable. I am the most authentic version of myself when I don't think too hard and instead lead with my heart.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/4e7320_040bb81138a04c75a7237aedad88b9b6/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

I cannot believe it's taken me two months to hit the publish button on this post, and there will likely be more to follow, but for now, this feels complete.

Deeply devoted,

Mandeebeth