The call to write this came from nearly a decade of living with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD), diagnosed at just 27 — a chapter that reshaped everything I once knew about life, vitality, and the soul’s resilience.

Since then, I’ve lived through one too many hospital admissions and experienced the quiet unravelling of life as I knew it — career, relationships, travel, freedom, and even the most basic routines.
In 2024, things took a sudden and severe turn: I became malnourished, reliant on oxygen 24/7, and was placed on a waiting list for a double lung transplant.
That year became a reckoning.
But through it all, I discovered something deeper than survival: a calling to live with intention, grace, and radical self-compassion.
This space was born not just from illness, but from insight — from spiritual teachings, poetry, emotional honesty, and the slow wisdom of pacing.
Through the teachings of Buddhism, the science of the nervous system, the comfort of language, and the rituals of presence, I’ve found new ways to heal — not to “fix” myself, but to befriend myself.
Here, I write about what it means to move through life with a chronic, life-limiting condition and still find beauty, stillness, joy, and meaning.
I explore the sacred ways in slowness, the power of compassionate self-talk, the medicine of language, and the role of technology and routine in managing our energy when health is unpredictable.
One quote I return to often is from Pema Chödrön:
“You are the sky. Everything else – it’s just the weather.”
There is no gloss here, no toxic positivity — only truth, depth, and grounded hope. Healing, after all, isn’t always about getting better. Sometimes, it’s about learning to hold yourself tenderly in the storm.
One of my favourite prayers:
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Serenity Prayer
If you’re here, maybe you’re navigating something of your own. Whether it’s illness, grief, or simply exhaustion — you’re not alone. And you never have to be.
K
xXx
