There are many days when devotion feels effortless. The heart is open, the mind is quiet, and practice flows naturally. And then there are other days—days when devotion feels distant, mechanical, or even absent. It is on those days that I return to practice the most deliberately.
Bhakti sadhana is not sustained by emotion alone. Feelings rise and fall, but practice is what remains. I have learned that devotion is not something I wait for; it is something I cultivate through consistent spiritual discipline. Showing up to practice, even without inspiration, is itself an act of devotion.
On days when the heart feels dry, I sit anyway. I chant anyway. I offer my attention, however distracted it may be. This is not a performance of spirituality, but a quiet declaration: I am here. In these moments, practice becomes an offering rather than an experience.
Returning to spiritual practice during periods of resistance teaches humility. It strips away the desire for special states and replaces it with sincerity. Bhakti yoga is not about maintaining a constant feeling of love—it is about choosing connection, again and again, regardless of mood.
Over time, I have seen that devotion deepens not during the highs, but during these ordinary, imperfect moments. The discipline of daily sadhana creates a steady inner rhythm that carries me when inspiration fades. It builds trust—trust in the practice, and trust in the path.
I return to bhakti practice even when I don’t feel devotional because that is when it matters most. Devotion, I have learned, is not always a feeling. Often, it is simply the willingness to show up.
