The word Prakruti comes from two Sanskrit root words: “pra,” meaning original or beginning, and “kruti,” meaning creation.

As a concept, it reflects our genetic, physiological, chemical, and psychological makeup; a blueprint, if you will, of what makes you, you. It is often referred to as our constitution and, in Ayurveda, it is believed to be created at the moment of conception.

There are as many prakruti as there are human beings, and each prakruti is indicative of that being’s most balanced and optimized state of existence.

From a spiritual perspective, this “blueprint” not only shapes one’s physical and psychological traits — often influenced by parental genetics — but also holds within your prakruti dormant passions, talents, and abilities, waiting to be discovered, explored, or, if you choose to believe, revisited from past lifetimes.

When we consider embracing our prakruti, it’s important to remember that every detail of our being is a divine choice. This divine choice is aligned with our highest potential and one’s personal path. It could be our 5’ 5” stature, dark straight hair, and our proficiency at math, our eye for color, sensitivity to others’ emotions, or our innate drive to be in the healthcare industry.

But every intrinsic, intuitive characteristic we experience is setting us up for the authentic journey that is ours and only ours to fully undergo.

To embrace our prakruti, we must love ourselves wholeheartedly and unconditionally. We must not only accept but strive to celebrate our unique nature.

To reveal these inborn qualities and make the distinction between conditioned, false narratives we collect through our lives, it’s often helpful to go back to our childhood.

A Contemplative Exercise

Consider your childhood, particularly your pre-teen years. What were you passionate about?

How did you interact with your peers?

Do you remember moments, experiences, or places, when you felt you were being fully yourself?

When you felt free, joyful, uninhibited?

Take yourself back there.

If you grew up in an environment where it was difficult or felt impossible to be fully expressive, what activity or expression (verbal or otherwise) felt stifled?

As an adult, were you able to connect or re-connect with, or discover a behavior, activity, or a desire that nourished you?

Made you feel warm-hearted, and satiated?

Or perhaps created a feeling of being “seen”?

How did those desires, interests, and abilities inform your life today or perhaps your career path?

Contemplate one or more activities you feel (or felt) adept at. What paved the way for you to feel accomplished performing that task?

Was it intuitive?

Was it innately there?

If not, what ability or innate behavior assisted in the learning process?

Don’t get lost in grand ideas such as playing Mozart at the age of 4. Perhaps that is part of your experience. Great! But scour what might even be considered mundane or a quality about yourself you may not have even considered “special” because it’s what you’ve always known about yourself.

Feeling stuck? This is not an exhaustive list by any means, but some examples to get you started.

Are you...

• Highly skilled at spatial awareness?

• An amazing orator?

• An organizer?

• A phenomenal listener?

• Athletic?

• Charismatic?

• A logical thinker?

• Someone who thinks outside the box?

• Crafty?

• Musically inclined?

• Proficient at picking up different languages quickly?

This innate network of affiliations our body, mind, and soul possess will most likely include interests we aren’t proficient at or, perhaps, don’t even demand proficiency. However, these desires are just as important to acknowledge.

Do you have...

• A desire to play an instrument?

• A lust for adventure?

• A fascination with history?

• A joy for creating art?

• A love for singing or performing?

• The drive to circumnavigate a mountain?

• A thrill when visiting a particular part of the world?

Being Seen

Being “seen” often refers to someone from the outside, particularly someone we consider a significant person in our life, recognizing our worth.

Embracing our prakruti is taking the opportunity to be “seen” by ourselves — internally acknowledging our own value and significance.

I’d love to hear about any discoveries you make along the way.

No matter where she was in the world, whether waking up next to her or knowing she was on the other side of the world waking up next to someone else — my feelings for her have only deepened, she’s become a more integral part of my joy and mental well-being with every year that’s passed.

No matter if I were building a life with another or traveling around the world solo, has she left my heart.

I have never for a moment doubted her love for me, never once thought, if I asked her to help me, be by my side, or comfort me, that she wouldn’t stop what she was doing and be there for me.

I can’t imagine an obstacle that’d keep me from being there for her.

No matter the time passed between talking — years, months, or days — has my love for this person wavered.

Nor has the time between seeing her made me miss her less.

Over the years, I have only wanted to spend more time with and hold her more, have wanted to protect her and comfort her more, have wanted to laugh with and sit in silence with more.

This is the love I seek to experience as a human this time around on earth.

Thank you for agreeing to meet me here.

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Ayurveda as a timeless framework for health and well-being, emphasizing its relevance over thousands of years. Ayurveda recognizes the human body as a microcosm of the universe, composed of five elements: ether, space, air, fire, water, and earth. It encourages strengthening our connection with nature and acknowledges the unique blueprint of each individual. Ayurvedic principles are applied with consideration for personal physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual needs. Even basic principles applied consistently and intentionally can lead to significant health improvements. My teacher, Dr. Vasant Lad, stressed the importance of tailoring Ayurvedic approaches to the individual, suggesting that general approaches can still be effective.

She just stopped eating and drinking…for weeks. That was it. She decided. And with wishes firmly stated in her health advocacy plan that no feeding tube was to be administered, under any circumstances, I knew she knew what she was doing. She had been planning this for a while, whether consciously or subconsciously.

Her spirit had been planning to leave this earth. Ghostly aberrations she would tell me about, showing up; my father, her best friend, those she loved who were no longer with her on this plane. She wasn’t scared. Confused, but not scared. I didn’t want to tell her. I didn’t want to admit it to myself. She kept saying “I had a great life, Jim”. Not have. She was lonely and desperately wanted to reunite with my father. The belief system she so lovingly devoted her heart to assured her of that. Who was I to argue? She was content, having accomplished all she had set out to do, raise a family.

I’d ask her, “what were your aspirations before getting pregnant?”. In 1959, at the age of 16 and growing up in a working-class household, I didn’t expect to hear ambitious goals, but she had a spunk about her. A side of her not many people got to witness. I thought there must have been something other than the life she seemed cornered into needling away at her all these years. But it was clear even at that age. She wanted a family. And she did everything in her power to manifest just that. Perhaps beyond her comprehension. Not only due to the size of the family, which went well beyond the six children she gave birth to, but because of the palpable benevolence she instilled within it.

Even with all the tribulations, the difficult choices she had to make to keep us together, the struggles, sadness, depression, anxiety, and fear of losing even a sliver of it, she wouldn’t have changed a thing. She may have had some regrets, sorrow, missed opportunities along the way, but she knew all would be forgiven. Those were between her and God.

As I look over at my now orphaned siblings, I recognize the characteristics each of them behold of my mother..and I get shaky. I thought about how much we had all changed over the years, how much we all stayed the same, and how well my mother knew each and every one of us, in ways we didn’t even know ourselves or one another.

I didn’t want to be there…standing at that podium…with everyone looking at me, waiting for me to say the next thing. I just wanted to kneel next to my mother and weep in solitude. The way I nestled next to her when I found her alone, head hanging down, crying. I couldn’t have been more than 4 years old. I asked her what was wrong. She told me to go upstairs. I didn’t say anything after that. I just crawled up next to her and laid my head on her lap until she stopped crying. And now it was my turn to cry and I couldn’t do it.

I thought of my one brother, oceans away, and how I wished he was there. I glanced down at one of my father’s handkerchiefs, which he’d always have in his back pocket. I looked out at my chosen family who had flown, drove, and traveled just to be there for me. I brushed my thumb over a black and white photo my Ma’s friend gave me that day, one of the only long-time friends still alive. It was of my mother sitting on a stoop. Stamped in the margin, APR 1955. She was 13. She appeared pensive, as she always did, long before I even knew what the word pensive meant.

It was January 14, my birthday. My sisters were hesitant to have the funeral today, as it might overshadow future celebrations of my own life I suppose. But I couldn’t find any day more fitting to release my mother’s spirit from this realm than on the day she ushered mine in. Another ingredient to her master plan. Another agreement her and I confirmed in the ether. We had many.

I look down at the pinky ring I had fashioned from my mother’s engagement ring. One she stopped wearing years after my father passed. The only jewelry she wore now was her silver wedding band and the gold cross necklace my father and I picked out for her for Christmas one year. I remembered my father and his only dying wish: “take care of your mother”. Twenty years later, I hoped he was proud of us. I hoped my mother was indeed with him now.