Blog Entry 20 * 5-22-22
I arrived in Reno and then headed straight to Lake Tahoe, driving slowly around the lake and taking in the crisp mountain air. Reno itself seems like a cool place, though I couldn’t help but notice there’s definitely a lot of “sticky maya mojo” here. It’s hard to describe, but the material energy hangs in the air, almost like a subtle perfume that both attracts and entangles.
It struck me how there’s almost an edge of acceptance that comes with the presence of maya—like it’s “normal” to just give in to it. I think that comes from being conditioned by the material world from birth. Our minds are made of the same substance, so it makes sense they feel at home in it. Still, I could feel the pull: the flashing lights, the endless entertainment, the promise of ease and indulgence. Yet underneath, there’s that deeper question I keep circling back to: Is this what we’re really looking for?
At this point in my journey, I began to wonder more seriously if loving acceptance and a sense of true spiritual family could really be part of the path. Where’s the party of the soul? Not the party of casinos, bars, and distractions, but the gathering of hearts centered on God. There’s so much I don’t yet understand, and I found myself writing long passages in my journal—sometimes questions, sometimes prayers, sometimes just fragments of longing that I didn’t have words for.
One bright light in Reno was my visit to a small Hindu temple tucked away in an unassuming neighborhood. It wasn’t grand or flashy, but it radiated something that all the neon lights in the city couldn’t touch: devotion. The congregation that founded it had worked tirelessly to buy the land and establish the first Hindu temple in the area. Walking inside, I was struck by how much love and sacrifice was built into every corner. The people welcomed me warmly, their smiles carrying that quiet joy that comes from serving something higher.
Standing before the deities, I felt a different kind of energy—clear, uplifting, and grounding at the same time. It reminded me that spiritual life is not about escaping the world, but about choosing which energy we align with. Maya is always there, offering its glittering promises, but the temple reminded me that divine presence is also always there—inviting, waiting, ready to embrace us if we only turn toward it.
Driving away later, I felt grateful for the contrast. Reno showed me both sides: the pull of maya and the shelter of devotion. Maybe that’s the point—learning to recognize the difference and to keep choosing, again and again, where I want to place my heart.