She lay on an unrecognizable rectangular block, a searing pain went through her like a lightening bolt. I felt it through my whole body almost pulling me out of myself. "See, fast and quick," she said referring to her passing.
We switched places and I was next laying on the slab, feeling that surge once again, strongly holding onto me without letting me pass on. My soul lingered instead of moving on quickly like hers had. I complained to her, like a toddler, "My death was more painful than yours. I could not move on as quickly as you did."
The next moment, a ceramic statue of her lay where her body was. Five tiny sparks of fire ignited one by one above her head. Each one, a miracle performed by her each day after her death, she reflected. "They didn't think the fifth one happened. They were wrong. They counted the days wrong," she said about those who knew of the miracles after she passed.
As I merged from sleep to the wake state, I heard her say to me, "Not Ann Seton. Elizabeth Ann Seton." I searched for her on Google and proceeded to message my friend. I was just visited by "Mother Seton," as she was called. A fellow New Yorker, who cared for the poor, hungry, taught children, and eventually formed the beginning of convents in the U.S.
On Sartuday, I had planned to teach my morning gentle yoga class, followed by a Karuna Reiki certification workshop. The day was to conclude with a kirtan with international duo Prema Hara. I went to the side porch of the yoga studio to see the bright faces of my teacher and fellow student, who I had come to know and love over the past few years.
Karuna Reiki is the energy of compassionate action. In Hinduism and Buddhism, Karuna, can be translated to be a means of reducing the suffering of others. Over the course of almost five hours we proceeded through learning about this form of reiki, receiving the attunement (the giving of the energy to someone who wants to be able to give to others), giving the attunement (learning to be the vessel and teaching it), and giving reiki to each other. Each form of reiki comes with its own set of symbols, that are kept in confidence by reiki practitioners. These symbols carry a meaning, a purpose with them. In the case of Karuna, one example of a symbol would be its use in healing childhood trauma.
As I received my attunement, I started with my hands in gasho (prayer position) as I sat in an armless chair. After a few moments, my teacher guided my hands to the crown of my head, opening my palms. Intense heat flared from them with my only relief coming from my instructors cold finger tips.
When my hands were moved back into gasho, I had a vision of a man, a guide, in a canoe. We were on a body of fresh water, the edges almost looking like marshes with trees and plants growing up on the edges.
"Would you like to go for a ride?" my guide asked.
"Where are we going?" I replied.
"On a journey." And with that, he took my hand and paddled the canoe away from the shore.
A hawk flew overhead hanging around the leafless trees at the edge of the water to my right side. A whale that shouldn't be there swam under the canoe, proceeding forward. Everything faded to purple, then pink, and finally to white light.
I saw a modern city (like the horizon of N.Y.C.), its image flipped and fuzzy, as if staring at it through a heat wave. As my eyes regained focus, there was a long empty road leading up to the city. The long stretch reminded me of author, Tony Hillerman's, description of roads through Arizona in his fictional Native American mystery novels - wide open space, no trees, the earth reflecting a red-orange glow.
My eyes were suddenly adjusted as if I was wearing goggles. I realized that an eagle head was placed over me, like a mask. Everything started to look clearer as I looked out of the eyes of an eagle. "You will see things differently now," I was told by a faceless voice. The attunement was over.
As I started my practice attunement on my classmate, she laughed saying to me, "I feel that!" indicating that my ability to provide this attunement was there and surged through her. We continued on practicing the process. I focused on each step of this sacred process, both giving and receiving.
When it was time to receive, I happily hopped onto the massage table, closed my eyes, and let go. My classmate was instructed to give the energy of the eight symbols of Karuna Reiki, one by one, two minutes for each symbol. Each symbol had a different meaning, a different flavor to it. The first one made me anxious. If I did not hold my body in place, I was sure my legs were going to lash out. The second one brought the color purple with it, my crown chakra being pulled open, and my throat chakra, which opened during the first symbol, stayed wide open.
A little while later, I heard a vehicle pull up. It was early evening by now and we were in a guided meditation. Prema Hara had arrived. Onto the next adventure for the day.
I was greeted by a hug from Kamaniya and greetings from Keshavacharya Das. The next hour was spent with her setting up wares and where they would sit while he hooked up wires, speakers and prepped the technical aspect of the evening's event. We were greeted first by the man, who neither of us met before, who made the evening possible by connecting us both. He greeted everyone with a big warm smile, his friendly daughter in tow.
While our group was small, Kamaniya and Keshavacharya chanted mantras, while she played the harmonium and he played a drum. Our tentative group warmed up with call and response, clapping at various points, and finding a comfort in our soul as we sat on chairs and meditation cushions on the floor. A video above their heads provided us with the mantras for easy following, decorated with Indian art of Hindu gods and goddesses. For many parts, I closed my eyes, and let my soul move my body from side to side or hands clapping, allowing the sounds of the words and music to penetrate the deepest part of me. As the evening drew to a close, Kamaniya and Keshavacharya spent some time with me in a philosophical discussion of people's search for God and Hinduism. They spoke of their Jewish-American teacher turned Gaudiya Vaishnava guru. Radhanath Swami's book, The Journey Home, was the evening's reading inbetween mantras. I purchased the book from them, feeling drawn to reading more of this man, who when only 19, set out on a spiritual quest through Europe, the Middle East, and Asia. Through bouts of hunger, cold and feeling alone, he carried on to find his path.
And for the first time, I felt myself let go of an ocean of sadness for not having experiences like Radhanath Swami or my husband, who have traveled around the world. I have never had a conventional life, or the most predictable path. Life presented moments to me, where I was. I never had to search for it. I never had to travel for it. It sought me out. It found me.
Once again this weekend, I found myself on a journey that perfectly unfolded before me, not so far from home. A vision of a saint known for her compassion and devotion. A reiki whose name means compassion. And a kirtan of loving devotion. The world spared no expense to bend time and space to bring happiness, kindness, compassion, and devotion, to my doorstep.
My bhakti path continues to bloom.
