February 23rd, 2025

A Test of Bhakti: Cultivating Love and Compassion in Challenging Moments

What does it mean to love unconditionally? How do we cultivate compassion even in the face of difficulty? Bhakti Yoga teaches that love is not just an emotion but a state of being—a way of seeing the divine in all.

I had just begun leading a series of Bhakti Yoga talks with my students—twelve amazing individuals who gathered early each morning to explore the depths of devotion, love, and surrender. My heart was overflowing with gratitude, and I felt an immense sense of joy in sharing these teachings. Each session was a reminder of the beauty of Bhakti: opening the heart, cultivating loving-kindness, and seeing the Divine in all.

And then, something unexpected happened.

On two consecutive days, while out in the world running errands, enjoying the sunshine and blue skies, I was met with hostility from complete strangers. Two different women, in two different locations, on two separate days, unleashed their frustration and quite literally their fury onto me with harsh words and aggressive energy. I had done nothing to provoke them, yet I found myself at the receiving end of their anger. I seemed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe it was the right place and the right time.

The first incident occurred at the market. A woman, clearly upset about something beyond me, but it manifested as me being in her way, lashed out, her words sharp and biting. It startled me, but I remained calm and moved away from the situation quickly. The second encounter, however, was far more intense. At my credit union the following day, another woman directed her fury at me, her words dripping with venom.

At first, I responded with kindness, hoping to ease the tension. But my friendliness only seemed to enrage her further. That’s when I realized—I needed to step back. This wasn’t a situation to mend or fix; it was one to witness and release. Others around me noticed what was happening and stepped in to help create distance.

I left shaken. My nervous system felt the impact of these interactions, and my mind clung to the question: Why did this happen? I had been in such a loving space, immersed in Bhakti, sharing these teachings with my students. And yet, out in the world, I had encountered the complete opposite energy.

As I drove back to the studio, trying to make sense of it all, I said, I know there is something in Yoga that can help me to get free of this. That is when Sutra 1.33 from the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali came to mind:

“By cultivating attitudes of friendliness toward the happy, compassion for the unhappy, delight in the virtuous, and equanimity toward the non-virtuous, the mind-stuff retains its undisturbed calmness.”

I realized these encounters were not separate from my Bhakti practice—they were part of it. The Divine was not merely present in my morning gatherings with my students; the Divine was also present in those difficult interactions. It was as if the Universe was asking: Can you hold the same love and compassion here, in the face of hostility? Can you embody Bhakti even when it’s not easy? Even when they are not loving you?

I sat down to meditate before my next clients came in. As I settled the word forgiveness arose. Not just as an idea, but as a feeling. Forgiveness for these women who were clearly struggling, and a heartfelt prayer for their peace and well-being. The tension in my body softened. Forgiveness for myself also arose—for the fear I went into, for the fight-or-flight response that was triggered. In that moment, my instinct was to help the woman find peace, to ease her suffering, but I realized that was a trauma response, an automatic reaction rather than a conscious choice. My meditation continued — a complete breath, a pause, and I allowed myself to extend compassion inward as well. More softening, settling, releasing.

To help fully release it, I turned to movement--cat rolls and child’s pose—allowing my nervous system to let go of the imprint of the experience. The flowing movements of TriYoga helped restore my sense of peace.

As I reflect further, I couldn’t help but see these encounters as a microcosm of the greater suffering in the world. Right now, there is so much pain, conflict, and hardship—more than I have ever known in my lifetime. The hostility I faced in those moments was just a small reflection of the deeper unrest that exists on a global scale.

Bhakti Yoga teaches us that love is not selective—it is meant to extend to all beings, even those who are caught in their own suffering and unable to offer love in return. If I truly believe in devotion as a way of life, then the real question is not whether I can feel love in the comfort of my sacred spaces, but whether I can bring that same love into a world that is hurting.

Perhaps, then, the Divine was not merely offering me a test, but a reminder—that every moment, every encounter, no matter how challenging, is an opportunity to practice love in action.

These experiences became a deeper lesson in Bhakti. Loving devotion is not only cultivated in sacred spaces, surrounded by those who share our joy—it must also be extended into the world, even when met with resistance. True Bhakti means loving not only when it is easy, but also when it is hard.

And so, I returned to my students the next morning, not only with a heart full of love, but with a lived experience of what it means to practice Bhakti Yoga in all situations.
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The Divine is always offering opportunities to grow in love. The only question is: "How will we meet them?