Being with Jacqueline Michelle
a devotional woman of life and song
The first time I received the divine gift of witnessing Jacqueline Michelle sing was at a local Kirtan in Santa Monica, CA. I remember sitting there, completely awestruck, as her voice opened the room with such purity, vulnerability, and power. It wasn’t just her vocal beauty—it was the way her voice carried something beyond words. It felt like a direct transmission of devotion, one that stirred something ancient and sacred within me.
My dear friend Christy had told me about Jacqueline and her husband, Govind Das, almost a year earlier, speaking of them with such deep respect and love. As soon as I experienced Jacqueline for myself, I knew I wanted to invite them to Riverbank to share their heart-opening Kirtan with our community.
Since then, Jacqueline has become more than a voice I admire—she is a living embodiment of love, presence, and grace. Her devotion is not just expressed in music, but in the way she moves through the world—with humility, depth, and radiant spirit. She carries the vibration of someone deeply attuned to the divine, while remaining utterly grounded in her humanity.
Jacqueline and her family lost their home in the Palisades fire in January. They are now traveling and offer their gift of chanting and service in many countries. It’s a true honor to be in her energetic orbit and to share this interview with you. I hope her words touch you the way her presence has touched me.
How are you and the family moving into flow since the tragic loss of your home to the fires?
It’s been a deep and humbling process. Losing our home and town was/is devastating—it stripped away our sense of safety and everything familiar. Since we were renting, we’re not rebuilding; we’re uncertain about where our next chapter will be. But instead of focusing on that, we’ve embraced the journey of traveling the world with our kids for the next several months sharing music and yoga. It’s helping us expand our minds, experience new cultures, and stay connected as a family. Our kids are open to these new experiences, but it’s not without its challenges. Grief still comes in waves, and even though we’re experiencing & seeing incredible things, I still grieve the loss of our home and town every day. It’s a mix of beauty, growth, and pain, and I try to honor it all as we move forward.
What about this grief is asking you to expand and what is the challenge of that?
This grief is asking me to expand by softening—by letting go of control and trusting something larger than my plans. It’s asking me to open my heart wider, even when it’s cracked, and to stay present in discomfort rather than rushing to fix or relocate. The challenge is that expansion hurts. It requires sitting in uncertainty, parenting through it, and continuing to show up with love when everything feels fragile. But within that stretch, there’s growth I wouldn’t have found any other way.
Tell me about your relationship to chanting and singing as divine practice.
Chanting and singing have always been more than music for me—they’re a direct line to the divine. When I sing something shifts. The mind quiets, the heart opens, and I feel connected to something timeless and bigger than myself. It’s a way of praying without words, of aligning my breath and voice with spirit. A musical meditation. Especially in times of grief or joy, it becomes a kind of medicine—an offering, a release, and a return home.
What does spirituality mean to you, and how has that definition evolved over time?
Spirituality, for me, used to be about seeking—trying to find something outside myself that could give me answers or peace. But over time, especially through loss, motherhood, and travel, it’s become more about being—being fully present, fully human, and fully connected. Now I see spirituality as a daily relationship with the sacred in all things: in nature, in music, in my children’s and husbands laughter, even in heartbreak. It’s less about escaping the messiness of life and more about finding grace within it.
In moments of crisis or uncertainty, what rooted beliefs or practices ground you?
In moments of crisis or uncertainty, I return to the belief that everything is part of a larger unfolding—that even pain has purpose, even if I can’t see it yet. What grounds me most are the simple, steady practices: breathing deeply, singing, moving my body through yoga and exercise, meditation, being present with my kids & husband, and connecting to nature. These bring me back into my body and remind me that I’m held. I also lean into gratitude—not to bypass the hard stuff, but to anchor myself in what’s still beautiful and true.
What are some common misconceptions about spiritual chanting/kirtan that you believe need to be addressed?
One common misconception is that chanting or kirtan is only for a specific religion or that you have to ‘know what you’re doing’ to participate. But really, it’s for everyone. It’s not about performance—it’s about presence. Another myth is that it has to be serious or solemn. In truth, kirtan can be joyful, raw, playful, even messy. It’s a heart practice, not a head practice. You don’t need to understand the language or get the melody perfect—the power is in the intention and the shared vibration.
Who are three teachers that inspire you the most?
Ram Dass is definitely one of my greatest teachers. His ability to blend deep spiritual wisdom with humor and raw honesty has shaped so much of how I approach life and practice. He taught me that it’s okay to be fully human on the spiritual path—that our messiness is part of our awakening.
My children are also powerful teachers. They remind me daily to slow down, stay curious, and be present. Watching them navigate loss with such emotional honesty has taught me that healing doesn’t always look like strength—it looks like feeling everything fully. Their wonder, their questions, their ability to find joy in the smallest things—all of it anchors me.
And my husband his steadiness, his open heart, and the way he holds space for all of us continually teaches me what partnership truly means. In the midst of uncertainty, he shows me how to meet each moment with love, patience, and grace.
And the third is nature specifically the ocean. Being in it—swimming, surfing, letting myself be held—teaches me about trust and surrender. The ocean doesn’t let you control it; it asks you to move with it, to breathe with it. It’s humbling and healing. Its rhythm reminds me I’m part of something vast and alive.
Thank you so much, Jacqueline. You have brought me to tears and opened my heart with your words. For my readers, learn more about Jacqueline and her family on her Instagram.