The Visible and Invisible Shifts

It has been about a month since I returned from India. Progress has been slow. Slower than I expected. Slower than I wanted.

There have been painful flare-ups and days when I thought I was getting better — only to find myself pulled back down. Back into rest. Back into a body that is not performing in the ways I have grown to expect of it.

My life has shifted in ways both visible and invisible. What once brought me joy — weekly hikes, long effortless walks, endless movement — it's all gone for now. In its place: hours of physical therapy, short cautious walks, and one very clear boundary. Absolutely no stairs.

I met this downshift with intention. I brought everything I know — meditation, mindfulness, affirmations, connection. And people showed up with so much love. Food, phone calls, presence. I thought I was being very intentional about my healing until the night I landed in the emergency room.

Old symptoms had resurfaced. Other people's stories, their worries, their fears, began to filter in. I started feeling a throbbing pain in my temples. By day four, I checked my blood pressure. I have had high BP only once in my life — 35 years ago. But there it was, flashing in the red danger zone.

I tried breathing techniques for an hour. Both numbers kept going up. A few hours later, I was in the emergency room and came home with a low-dose medication and a diagnosis: stress-induced high blood pressure.

But I hadn't been ignoring my healing. I was doing everything I could. Yet something was still off.

That's when I reached back out to my teachers. My yoga and pranayama teacher, Ms. Rao — whom I have studied with for 25 years — invited me back into her classes. Not as a teacher. But as a student. That transition was humbling. Yet it brought me peace.

My Ayurveda mentor, Dr. Shetty, guided me differently. He reminded me of the practice of close observation. Not analysis. Not judgment. Just observation of everything I was taking in through my senses. What I watch. What I read. Who I surround myself with. And how I respond to it.

Through that practice, something revealed itself: Prajñāparādha.

Often translated as "the mistake of the intellect," that translation isn't quite right. Prajñāparādha is about knowing better — and overriding it anyway.

When I look honestly at this health journey, it didn't begin with my knee injury. Or my spinal cyst. It began earlier. Much earlier.

I flew to Everest Base Camp with a hip that was already injured. My physical therapist was showing my husband pressure-point techniques the morning I boarded the plane — so he could help manage my pain on the trail. I knew exactly what I was bringing into that trek.

And I made a conscious choice to go anyway.

Eighty-six miles. 18,000 feet of elevation gain. Eleven days. And a hip that was throbbing from day one. I adjusted my gait. I gritted my teeth. I smiled through the screaming pain and ignored everything that didn't fit my goal.

I don't regret going. Everest was a meaningful choice. There are moments in life that call us toward something larger than ourselves. And sometimes we say yes.

But I can also see now what I couldn't then. My injuries didn't happen in a single dramatic moment. They were a slow accumulation of small encroachments. Repeated overrides. Normalized self-denial.

Ayurveda names three ways Prajñāparādha happens. Dhi — when our understanding becomes distorted and we misjudge what is good for us. Dhriti — when we know what's right but lack the will to act on it. Smriti — when we forget past consequences and repeat the same patterns again.

Sound familiar?

Healing, I'm learning, is not just about health modalities. It is also about what you consume — and who you allow into your energy field.

Through observation, I began to notice how my body responded to certain conversations, certain energy, and certain dynamics. My chest would tighten. My gut would contract. My body was not just healing from injury. It was responding to everything I was taking in.

That awareness led to a choice: to prioritize my well-being. To step away when I need to. To trust my body's signals once more.

Prajñāparādha cannot be fixed overnight. But awareness is where realignment begins.

This journey is not just about my hip, my knee or even my spine. It is about the injuries beneath the injuries.