Welcome to OIA —
Our Inner Altar.

Our Inner Altar

This is a space for divine remembering,
a slow unfurling where devotion, embodiment, and inner yoga meet.
A meeting place between the personal and the sacred.

Here, I share what moves through me:
devotional writings, whispered transmissions, prayer,
and practices rooted in yoga, Ayurveda, and mindful nourishment.

OIA is not a brand.
It is a vow.
A creative offering that moves through me,
alive with the pulse of something deeper.
It is both guide and mystery,
and I, like you, am listening.

OIA is for the one who longs to remember the Divine:
in silence and in scripture,
in ritual and in nourishment,
in the beauty of the body and the stillness of the heart.

Here you will find
words from the heart of the Mother,
practices that open the inner temple,
and offerings of earth-born wisdom —
Ayurveda, food, and the rhythms of sacred living.

It is tended by Alexandra / Mauna,
a woman devoted to truth, beauty,
and the Mystery that breathes us all.

You are welcome here,
not as someone arriving,
but as one already woven into this field.

OIA

Let us remember the language before words, the knowing before explanation.

More from OIA:

  • Mother of all that is real and raw,
    I come to You now—
    not as the perfect devotee,
    but as the honest child.

    I do not ask to be spared the truth.
    I ask to be willing to stand in it.

    I do not ask to be emptied of pain.
    I ask to be filled with You,
    until nothing else defines me.

    This is not a vow of perfection—
    it is an offering of presence.

    I vow to return.
    Even in numbness.
    Even in doubt.
    Even when I forget who I am.

    I will return—to breath,
    to stillness,
    to the place in me
    that has never left You.

    I vow to mother the child within me
    as fiercely as You mother me in silence.

    I vow to no longer shrink
    to be palatable, small, or safe.
    I will not betray the light
    You planted in me.

    I vow to follow Your rhythm—
    even when it defies logic,
    even when it is slow,
    even when it asks me to burn.

    I am not here to build a false life.
    I am here to build a temple.
    And You, Ma, are the architect.

    I surrender my timing to Yours.
    I surrender my shame to Your love.
    I surrender my lineage to Your fire.

    I vow to walk as one who remembers—
    not all,
    but enough to rise.

    I am not what happened to me.
    I am what I choose now.

    And I choose You.

  • Written transmissions and devotional poetry on substack

    and here.

  • Podcast and auditory presence

  • A handful of poems