Maintaining a Spiritual Practice on the Road: My Journey
This afternoon, I ran into the ocean like a child. The sky was painted with pink, orange, and blue hues from the sunset. I not only recognised the natural beauty, but I felt it deeply. I felt it in my hands gliding over the water, the ocean breaking against my skin. I felt the vast beauty in my heart, and in my body immersed in the cold surf. Alone, I laughed, alive with joy. In that moment, I felt my spirit fully present.
This is spiritual practice.
Feeling yourself here and now—that is spiritual practice. Sometimes, spontaneous experiences that make you feel deeply alive are spiritual practice. Sometimes they serve you more than meditation, yoga, or prayer. You don’t have to know ancient Sanskrit, do a headstand, or worship any specific deity to be spiritual. You are inherently a spiritual being.
I value my spirit guides and rituals. I look forward to my place of stillness, my meditation, the feeling of chanting every day. But I know these things are just tools for us to feel the spirit within. They are not necessary for us to connect to our essential nature.
I once read that “God can only be felt in the present moment.” This is what chanting, meditation, and breath work do for us at the most basic level.
They bring us to the here and now—into THIS second. It’s a place where we rarely spend time, always living in the future or the past. But there are so many other ways to bring you into the present moment.
Hiking does this for me. The feeling of presence evoked from walking for hours and hours, for days without technology or external distraction, is beyond description. Nature brings you into stillness and the physical exertion, the cold and the heat, and the simplicity, all burst beyond your mind and into the now.
I feel nature penetrate my core ever so slightly in those moments on the beach. It’s like a bubble deep inside me has been pricked open, and some small essence of the most wonderful feeling on Earth has poured in. This feeling is what I’m chasing with spirituality. It’s a feeling of indescribable magnitude, of love, beauty, and aliveness. Of existence and joy. I know there is a much deeper version of this feeling to be experienced—the same, but all-encompassing. That’s what I’m chasing through spiritual practice.
Spirituality is Everywhere, Not Just in Rituals
My point here is that it’s important to remember that spirituality is everyday, and not solely in our spiritual rituals. This is something I remind myself of, especially after transitioning my spiritual practice from house to car. These routines are still deeply important to me, but life on the road means the routine is a little less rigorous, and must always be open to adaption and flexibility.
Before car life I had built a strong spiritual practice that was truly transforming my life. I felt calmer, deeply in tune with myself, and was experiencing spiritual growth and connection daily. It felt like I was in flow with the universe. But when we set off on our journey living on the road, I worried. I worried about losing this connection, about "Maya"—the illusion that distracts us from the divine. I feared that the unpredictability of van life would pull me away from the spiritual path I had worked so hard to cultivate.
But I was wrong. My rituals didn’t disappear—they evolved. Though my routines changed, nature herself stepped in as my guide. Mother Earth began healing me in ways I didn’t even realise I needed. I found a different kind of connection, one that felt just as sacred. I marvelled at the beauty around me, felt the hum of the earth beneath my bare feet, and everyday submerged myself in the embrace of natural waters. I have never felt so one with the earth.
Nature has a way of helping you remember what you’ve always known. The water heals you, the trees whisper the secrets of life, and the wind carries the wisdom of the universe. What I learned is that spirituality isn’t tied to ritual—it’s found in every moment, in every breath, in the stillness and the wildness of the world around you.
Adapting Spirituality to Life on the Road
Before I moved into my car, my spiritual routine was rigorous and predictable. I’d wake up at 4:30 a.m. for asanas, chanting, and pranayama. But car life? That changes everything. At first, I tried to maintain the same routine, but when your bed, kitchen, and lounge are squeezed into a space smaller than a twin bed, which you share with someone else, it’s impossible to do things the same way.
Living in a car brings its own set of challenges when it comes to maintaining a spiritual practice, but it also opens the door to creativity and deeper connection. Sometimes, just as you're ready to unroll your yoga mat, it starts raining. Or you settle in for meditation only to realise it's 30 degrees inside, with a nearby construction site making all the noise you didn’t expect. With life on the road, the environment constantly shifts—and your practice must shift with it.
Space in an SUV isn’t exactly ideal for a spiritual practice—it’s certainly no yoga studio. Ames and I have had to adapt in creative ways, making room for each other’s routines. We chant silently so as not to disturb one another, and meditating with our limbs practically touching in the cramped back of the car or one of us cross-legged in the front seat has become our new normal. But we’ve grown through these tight spaces, finding humour and resilience along the way. We even manage to practice asanas inside, attempting downward dog in the car (yes, really!) and squeezing in small stretches side by side. Yet, in the same breath, this lifestyle also gifts me moments of pure awe. I’ve meditated by serene lakes, in mountain valleys, and among rainforests alive with the symphony of native sounds. Every day I open the door to a different landscape, and while the space may be small, the world outside expands my practice in ways I never imagined.
Letting Go of Self-Consciousness
One of the unexpected blessings of living on the road is letting go of self-consciousness. We do nearly everything outside—cooking, changing, meditating. In the beginning, I was hesitant to chant Vedic mantras in public parks, but I leaned into the discomfort. The more I did it, the more it felt like a way of sealing my devotion, of offering myself fully. I grew comfortable with being seen, and in the process, I let go of unnecessary barriers. I now care much less about what others think, and that freedom has been deeply
empowering.
Shifting Priorities
When we first hit the road, Ames and I were diligent about unrolling our yoga mats and starting the day with morning flows. But over time, priorities shifted. Our mats are often buried under piles of clothes and gear, and we don’t stress about it as much. Sometimes, the pace of travel takes precedence over a perfectly disciplined routine. And that’s okay. Living in a car teaches you to be fluid—stretching takes a backseat when there are mountains to climb, rivers to swim in, and roads to explore.
What I’ve Learned About Spirituality on the Road
You can’t replicate house life in a car—and that’s the beauty of it. Spiritual practice on the road demands devotion and flexibility. I’ve meditated with my head touching the roof of the car, on noisy roads and campgrounds. I’ve done asanas in BBQ areas in the rain. It’s not about where or how you practice, but the resilience and creativity it calls forth.
Grounding Through Practice
Meditation has been my constant, no matter where we are. When the world outside is shifting, this practice brings me back to myself. Whether in the stillness of a forest or the buzz of a city, my time in meditation deepens the beauty of each moment, brings me back to myself and reminds me of what truly matters.
Habits vs. Awareness
I once heard Sadhguru say that habits can lead to unconsciousness. Routines, while comforting, can dull your awareness. In this way, the unpredictability of life on the road has been a blessing. It keeps me present, reminding me that spirituality isn’t about ticking boxes—it’s about cultivating a deeper awareness of being.
What I’ve learned is the importance of balancing flexibility with commitment. It’s easy to let go of routine when life is constantly in motion, but the practices that truly matter anchor you, even in chaos. Daily meditation has kept me connected to my essence, grounding me through every twist and turn of this journey.
The Heart of the Experience
Living a spiritual practice on the road calls for flexibility, devotion, and a deep trust in the flow of the unknown. It’s no longer about how long I meditate or how often I unroll my yoga mat, but rather about the depth of my connection—to myself, to the divine, and to the world around me. Every challenge we face, from cramped spaces to unpredictable weather, becomes an opportunity to deepen that connection, making each practice more meaningful. Some days, my energy is spent elsewhere, and that's part of the beauty of the journey—less yoga or meditation isn't a failure, but a reminder that spirituality isn’t rigid. Living on the road brings me closer to the essence of all things: the tree becomes my breath, the river my blood, and the soil my body. In this way, life in nature reveals the sacred truth of interconnectedness, teaching me that every moment, no matter how unpredictable, holds the potential for profound spiritual growth.
