I'm not a spiritual person. In fact, other than thinking we're all connected in some esoteric, cosmic way... like through star dust, I haven't really thought about spirituality in a long time. There was a time when it's all I thought about. What does it all mean? Why are we here? Who put us here? What happens after we die? These questions used to take up a lot of my writing. Ultimately I decided that life was too short and I should just enjoy the time I had left.
Then I met B. We never had overly in-depth spiritual conversations or anything like that. But when she did talk about her Sikhism, I was always fascinated. For her, it seems steeped in tradition and the way she was raised rather than an outward practice of the faith. I knew very little, and really, still do. She used to share with me what I thought were just songs at the time. They were beautiful - comforting, hypnotic, warm, and full of love. Something I wasn't used to in most of the music I listened to. I couldn't understand the lyrics because they were in Punjabi, at least I think, but I knew I loved it. So, I saved them to my library and went about my day.
Back in January, things shifted. I went through a stretch of really bad anxiety. The kind that doesn’t announce itself clearly, just sits in your chest and makes everything feel heavier than it should. Nights were the worst. My thoughts wouldn’t slow down, and silence somehow made everything louder.
That’s when I rediscovered a playlist B had called Paath. She probably explained to me what they were but by this time it would have been so long since we talked about any of this. Anyway I started listening to it, not because I was searching for anything spiritual, but because it was the only thing that seemed to quiet things down even a little. It gave me something steady to hold onto when everything else felt off.
At first, it was just a coping mechanism. Background noise to interrupt the spiral. But over time, I found myself actually listening. Not just hearing it, but sitting with it.
That’s when I learned, likely relearned, it was paath. Not just music, but something sacred. Words that have been repeated for generations. Words meant to center you, to remind you, to pull you back to something bigger than yourself. I started Googling English translations for the few songs that she had. Some I could find and some I couldn't. But I swear the voice of Annie Ahluwalia saved my life some of those nights.
I still don’t understand most of it. Not in a literal sense. But somehow that doesn’t seem to matter.
There’s something strange about finding meaning in something you can’t translate. It forces you to feel instead of analyze. To sit with something instead of trying to solve it. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe meaning isn’t always something you figure out. Maybe sometimes it’s just something you recognize when your body gets quiet enough to notice it.
Now it’s part of my routine. Almost every night, I put on the playlist. What started as a way to get through anxiety has turned into something else entirely. Something quieter. More intentional.
It’s not that I’ve suddenly become spiritual. I’m still me. Still skeptical. Still unsure about most of the big questions. But there’s something about this… about paath, about the music… The recitation...that feels honest. Not forced. Not something I’m trying to believe in. Just something I’ve started to experience.
And maybe that’s enough.
Somewhere along the way, without really noticing, I stopped trying to fight the noise in my head. Not because it disappeared completely, but because I finally found something that could sit with me in it, unencumbered by guilt. I didn't have to ask, it was just there. And it still is.
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