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“This is our home,” my mother tells me between sips of her morning chai. “No matter where you live in the world, this will always be your home.” Home. Homeland. I resist the urge to roll my eyes as a familiar discomfort wells up and catches in my throat, like the Punjabi words I stutter through for a week before I find conversational rhythm again. I see the village through stories told by my grandfather and father — of a place that now only exists in memories. I see it throug

In the mornings, prayers permeate from the speakers at the temple through the rest of the village. Intermingling with the fog at dawn, the vibrations filter through homes and into the minds of all. The farmers live simple lives. Their thoughts revolve around their livelihood, the work they pour themselves into: farming. With wheat prices set by the government, they are at the mercy of weather and water, which is sanctioned as well. The land is inherited, passed down generatio

In a world that moves fast, it’s easy to feel unmoored, adrift in the chaos of the present, disconnected from the wisdom of the past. But...

Some places hold energy; others are energy. Sedona is one of the few places on Earth where the veil between worlds feels thinner, where...