I grew up in an ashram. I realize how unusual that is but, in the seventies, the world was all counter-culture and living outside of the mainstream. For the first seven years of my life, my mother and I lived in a quiet haven smack dab in the middle of a US city.

Growing up in an environment where everyone is focused on meditation would seemingly have given me an advantage. However, I think it did the opposite. My mother would tell me just to sit and breathe. That if I could follow my breath, it would take me inside to that place where the world falls away, and all is quiet — a direct line to inner peace.

I honestly tried. I would sit with my young, nimble legs folded into lotus, my hands on my knees, and my eyes closed trying hard to concentrate on the air flowing through my tiny nostrils. Inevitably I would fall asleep, waking up unceremoniously slumped against her shoulder or neatly tucked beneath a blanket.

As an adult, I struggled with meditating while being a working spouse and parent. I would hunker down in my bedroom, a walk-in closet, a bathroom, anywhere that was dark. My mind would explode with grocery lists, unfinished homework, after-school activities, and work projects. Meanwhile, my kids would be screaming, a television would blare, and I was never able to sink in. I had been trained since birth to meditate, how come I was failing?

I eventually stopped trying.

I’m in my mid-forties now, and a few years ago, the idea of meditating became imperative. I was divorced and had become a grandmother. I was stressed out, overworked, and short-tempered. I’d been on my career path for over fifteen years, and once the grey hairs started popping up, I knew I had to make changes. The thing is, I knew what I should be doing. Even though I wasn’t able to do so myself, I was constantly advising others to meditate.

When I was guided to the practice of Kundalini Yoga, I made an important discovery. What had been missing for me was the preparation of the body for meditation. In my house growing up, yoga was present, but it was only for the physical body, while meditation was a separate experience for the mind. When I would try to sit cross-legged on the floor, sensations would pop up all over and distract me. Itchy skin, hurting knees, cramping legs, you name it.

In Kundalini Yoga I have found what works for me as a daily practice. One that invigorates the body allowing for a ‘settling in,’ giving my mind space to relax. Thoughts still parade through in HD, my knees still hurt and something is always itchy, but now I am less distracted by them.

The world is full of varying styles and techniques. There are different schools of thought on practice and execution. The one universal understanding is that meditation is absolutely necessary for a healthy mind. It has taken time, and I have discovered that place my mother talked about, that place where the world falls away, and all is quiet.

Thanks to Kundalini Yoga I’ve glimpsed my inner peace.