There are days when everything feels a little too much. Your phone keeps buzzing, your mind won’t slow down, and even the idea of taking a break feels like one more thing to add to your to-do list.
But deep down, you know you need a moment. Just a small pause. A breath. A space where your heart can feel light again.
That’s what Lakshmi Pooja can be. Not a formal ritual with complicated steps, but a gentle check-in with yourself and the energy around you. It’s not about doing it “the right way.” It’s about finding a quiet corner of your day—and your heart—where peace can gently settle in.
Most of us have grown up hearing that Lakshmi is the goddess of wealth. And she is—but not just in the way we often think.
She’s the one who brings warmth into your home. The one who helps your relationships feel lighter. The one whose presence makes you feel… steady. Safe. Balanced.
Her blessings are in things we often forget to count: The feeling of a calm mind. A clean space. A full meal. A peaceful night’s sleep. That’s all her too.
Let’s be honest. Sometimes we skip pooja because we think we’re not “prepared.” We don’t have the right things, or the right space, or we’re not sure we’ll do it correctly. But here’s the truth: you already have what you need.
You have your time. Your attention. Your intention. That’s more powerful than any silver thali. If you want to gather a few simple items, here’s what you can use:
This isn’t a checklist. It’s an invitation. Think of each step as a conversation with the divine, one quiet moment at a time.
Find a spot that feels a little separate from the rest of your day. Clean it if you’d like. Light your diya or candle. Let yourself land. Let your mind slow down.
Speak in your own words. There’s no script you have to follow.
You could say, “Lakshmi Maa, please come into this space. Into my home. Into my heart. Help me find peace again.”
Or just whisper “Thank you” if that’s all you can manage today. That’s enough too.
Place your flower, your sweet, your fruit—whatever you brought. The offering isn’t for show. It’s a gesture. A little moment of giving. A way of saying: I want to connect.
You can say: “Om Shreem Mahalakshmiyei Namah.”
Repeat it slowly. Let the words fall gently, like a lullaby for your thoughts.
Or don’t chant at all. Just sit. Let the candle flicker. Let the quiet speak.
Close your eyes. Rest your hands on your lap or over your heart. Let your shoulders drop. Let go of trying to feel anything specific. Just be still.
Even if it’s only for two minutes. That stillness is the offering.
When you feel ready, say thank you. To Lakshmi. To the universe. And to yourself.
For pausing. For showing up. For giving your mind and soul a little space.
Eat the sweet you offered. That’s prasad. A reminder that what we offer with love always comes back, often in the softest, sweetest ways.
It’s so easy to think that spiritual practices are about doing things right. But really, it’s about feeling something real.
Each part of this pooja is a mirror. The diya reflects your inner light. The chant softens your thoughts. The stillness reminds you that peace doesn’t need to be earned—it just needs to be allowed.
And over time, these small rituals become little anchors. On heavy days, they remind you where your calm lives. On joyful days, they help you hold that joy with gratitude.
Then you sit again tomorrow. Or next week. Or whenever you feel like trying again.
This isn’t a test. You’re not being judged. Some days, the peace arrives right away. Other days, it shows up weeks later in ways you don’t even expect—like a more peaceful morning, or a moment where you didn’t lose your patience.
It builds. Quietly. Kindly.
You don’t need a reason. You don’t need a festival.
You don’t need to know everything.
You just need a few minutes. A diya. A little silence. And a part of you that wants to feel whole again.
Because Lakshmi doesn’t only live in temples or scriptures. She lives in your everyday. She lives in your effort. In the way you wash your space before sitting. In the way you show up, even tired, even unsure, just wanting to feel better. That’s devotion too. And she sees it.
So light your diya. Take a breath. Let the world slow down—just for a little while.
And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the peace you were hoping for was already there, waiting inside you.