Everything is Possible in India: The power of mantra

Many cultures have unique expressions that capture their essence. In Costa Rica, “Pura Vida” (Pure Life) is both a greeting and a philosophy. In Thailand, “Mai pen rai” means “Don’t worry about it,” “It’s okay,” or “No problem.” And in India, a phrase often heard is “Sab Kuch Milega,” meaning “Everything is possible.”

At first, I barely noticed these words. But after hearing them repeatedly, they began to stand out, prompting me to reflect on their meaning. Could it be true that e-v-e-r-y thing is possible? The question forced me to confront my inner pessimist—the voice of that nagging, half-empty cup lurking in the corners of my mind. But optimism is far more enjoyable than negativity, so I decided to try it on. As another Indian saying goes: “Why not?”

 

 

After six turbulent months in India, full of challenges and unexpected lessons, I began to see the world differently. I realized that everything does, in fact, start with thought, belief, and what we choose to entertain in our minds.

 

 

Attention is Precious

Growing up in California during the New Age movement of the ’80s and early ’90s, the concept of ‘positive thinking’ is not new to me. I’ve observed the way thoughts, when strongly identified with, can shape reality. For this reason, I avoid complaints and strive to avoid negative thinking.

My natural inclinations lie in empathy, intuition, communication, and healing. For years, I studied the world’s injustices, hoping to understand and bring balance. But what I ultimately learned was that dwelling on darkness only feeds it. Where we place our attention matters. Negativity grows when given energy, making us weaker in the process.

I don’t turn away from world suffering, but I also don’t pause there for long. Negativity gets way too much air time. My life is more productive and happy when I focus on goodness. I’m on Team Light!

 

 

But India can be challenging—a stark mirror reflecting the unconscious negativity I still carried while also serving as an invitation to awaken and consciously shift my focus.

 

 

Pay Attention

On a friend’s last day in India, we met for breakfast and reflected on our time in Rishikesh. I marveled at how I had managed to stay healthy despite the many horror stories of Delhi Belly, parasites, and dysentery.

After breakfast, we walked to the Ashram where we’d been attending Satsang (a meeting with spiritual teacher and community). We sat in a familiar spot just behind a young couple and their gentle baby. Day after day this baby slept or sat quietly through the entire 2-3 hour Satsang.

 

 

After we settled into our spot, I leaned over to my friend and said “I’m surprised we’ve not heard a peep out of that baby.” He nodded and smiled.

Catching myself, I added, “I hope I didn’t just jinx us.” To which he laughed.

During Satsang, the teacher relayed a fable about a man visiting a “magic land” where thoughts manifested instantly. Delighted by his newfound abilities, the man proceeded to think of all the good things he ever wanted, and they all appeared instantly for him and his family. Everyone was happy.

One day, the man considered the danger of this magic: “I should be very careful”  he thought. “What would happen if I thought about monsters for example?” Immediately two monsters appeared and ate the man.

We all laughed.

But the story was making a point, and a short while later the baby began crying inconsolably. The mother had to leave Satsang. My friend and I looked at each other with wide eyes and began laughing at this ‘coincidence.’

By the end of the day, I was doubled over with dysentery so painful that I couldn’t stand up and didn’t move from bed for 48 hours straight, completely missing my friends going away dinner. Is it a coincidence that I had just that morning been doubting my own health?

 

Breaking Negative Patterns

Being sick alone in India is no easy experience. In the dark hours of the night, self-pity and panic set in. I felt my suffering deepen the more I fixated on it. It was a downward spiral, and I didn’t know how to stop.

 

 

Reflecting on the day, I realized how I had unconsciously reinforced limiting beliefs—that a crying baby was more normal than a peaceful one, that falling ill in India was more expected than staying healthy. My thoughts had given them life.

“Perhaps Rishikesh is a bubble of instantly manifested thought forms “  I mused.

 

 

 

 

Determined to shift my energy, I turned to an old practice: chanting the Mahamrityunjaya healing mantra, a sacred Sanskrit prayer I had learned decades earlier from Baba Hari Das.

Sanskrit, with its vibrational potency, is said to influence both consciousness and physical reality. The sounds of the Sanskrit alphabet (48 audible and 3 inaudible) were revealed to ancient sages through meditation. The 51 sounds are linked to the 51 energy pathways (nadis) and chakras of the body. The Sanskrit language is unlike any other in that it gives verbal expression to states of consciousness.

A mantra is a word or sound repeated to enhance focus during meditation. It not only diverts distracting thought patterns and guides the mind in a positive direction but also activates the chakras, allowing you to embody the state of consciousness that the mantra represents. The Mahamrityunjaya healing mantra for the benefit of mental, emotional, and physical health and longevity.

 

 

Through the night, I chanted, holding onto that mantra like a light in the darkness.

 

 

By dawn, something had shifted. The suffering had transformed into understanding. I had alchemized negativity into something beneficial.

India has not been an easy place for me, but its hardships have had a purifying effect. I couldn’t stand to be upset about everything and grew tired of my own complaints, so I just stopped. It’s called surrender.

In ceasing to entertain my miserable thoughts, I began to react less and give India my best regardless.

 

 

 

This Moment

A few weeks later I traveled to McLeod Ganj where the Tibetans live in exile at 6,831 feet on the steep slopes of the Himalayan Dhauladar Range. It had recently snowed and I was cold.

I don’t like being cold.

I was milling around a general store picking up supplies for breakfast when I noticed a bright young Indian man walk in with bare feet. My jaw must’ve dropped.

“Aren’t you cold with those bare feet?” I asked, incredulous.

“My girlfriend and I are traveling the world with no shoes.” He replied with a smile.

“Good for you,” I said. “But seriously—aren’t your feet freezing?”

“No,” He said simply. “It’s all about living in the moment.”

I laughed. “But I’m wearing all these layers, and I’m still freezing!”

“If you stop telling yourself that and live in the moment, there’s no problem.” He said.

Busted.

“Yes,” I affirmed, appreciative of the reminder. “Thank you,”  I said. “I need to work on that.”

“Oh no,” He said with a smile. “You don’t have to work on it. Just live in the moment.”

Busted again.

I laughed at how quickly I ran back to my suffering, and with relief to free myself of it.

“Yes! Thank You.”  I said as I walked out of the store.

“Have a nice moment!”   He called after me.