Beings of Light

In Hindi, Usha means the first light of the day, the predawn, the preferred time of meditation and puja.  In Hindi, Kiran means the ray of light, as that which emanates from the Usha of the early morning.

Usha is also the name of my beloved teacher and friend, my guide on this path of Reiki and Light.  She thought once to name her daughter Kiran, that which is an extension of her, only to understand as her daughter grew that she is someone else, someone following a different path.

But for four years, Usha has called me Kiran.  She doesn’t accept the name Karin as mine, looking a bit befuddled when she hears it.  And for four years, she has been a steadfast guide and mentor, as well as a precious friend.

Four years ago I came to Dharamsala in my journey through India.  The first day, I walked down the little dirt road of Bhagsu, meeting teachers and inquiring about classes with my rational mind, whilst listening intently to the responses of my heart.  I walked toward Usha, then sitting on her little porch in the morning sun.  She smiled and said, “Yes, and what can I do for you?”  My heart sprang forward and replied, “I want to study my Level II Reiki with you.”

The course is a number of days.  I remained in Bhagsu, and with Usha, for 2 ½ months.  Every morning I remained in silence, with attention and dedication to my practices.  Each day I wrote my questions that arose in my practice, and journeyed down the hillside into the village to meet with Usha, and over a cup of chai she would begin, “Yes, so tell me.”  And the next lesson would begin.

Over the years, I have received other Reiki initiations, including my Master’s initiation so I could share the teachings with others, and initiation into Karuna-ki, which is an additional form of Reiki.  Each brought its benefits, and from each teacher and friend playing with Light I’ve learned.  And yet, there has been one constant:  In my meditations, in healings to myself and in healings to others, whenever I have sought guidance or sought support, and called upon the masters, it is Usha and the lineage behind her that has been there, an unwavering, constant presence.  In time I came to understand this, to accept that this is my true lineage.

And so, I have returned. 

I arrived to Dharamsala seven weeks ago, and walked from the tea shop above Dharamkot, along the winding path in and out of the valleys overlooking my beloved Bhagsu.  I smiled to the warm sunshine (after the longest winter on record), rejoiced with the dancing butterflies, and deeply breathed in the crisp mountain air.  In time, I arrived to my family home, the Bhajandas family, for joyful reunion with this family I’d stayed for so long.  Our reunion was bittersweet; as we laughed and embraced, Barki shared with me the tragic news that Bhajandas fell to his death less than two years ago. 

Bhajandas…the noble gentleman who proudly walked with his baby son on the veranda each morning, with whom I enjoyed an unspoken understanding about the majestic beauty of silence in the early morning, and we would cordially nod to one another as I climbed to the roof each morning for my practice.  Bhajandas…the kind and perceptive father of four Indian mountain village girls and two sons, whose home was always filled with joyfulness and love.

In tearful embrace with Barki, I wept to learn of this loss. 

So, life has changed, but always we must carry on.  Home life now is more intimate, more sisterly.  Each night I ascend the mountain and join the girls for dinner around the fire.  Laughter still fills the home, and yet no one is afraid to cry when the agony of loss arises.  My family is part of a mountain village, closely connected with many sisters and brothers, uncles and cousins.  They are not alone.  The night Harsh thought it funny to hide in the chicken house from everybody when we didn’t know the game, and in rising frenzy the girls shrieked his name into the growing darkness as we searched for the little boy, women appeared out of the darkness from every direction.  Within ten minutes, we had twenty or thirty women searching for the little boy (wow, did he get punished for that one).

And so, Bhajandas is dearly missed, but the girls are not alone.  The strength of community perseveres.

And then I descend…down from my home and into the village, to the Buddha Hall and into the jubilant embrace of my Usha-ji.  When I arrived, I felt a bit of conflict in what I was hearing and what I was experiencing; “I know these feelings, I have been attuned as a Master for three years.”  In time, the lotus of awareness emerged.  With Usha I have come to understand the embodiment Master Consciousness, the essence behind the words, the responsibilities to self and others that come with this commitment.  I have come to experience an enhanced connection with my practice, with my masters, with my Higher Self. 

In participating in many of Usha’s classes, I have joyfully discovered the volumes which she has learned in her own work, even in these past four years.  As she speaks, her voice tinkles like chimes, glowing with wisdom and grace, sharing with her students an understanding of the work, of the practice, of the symbols, that is pure poetry.  In my own courses with her, I have learned healing techniques that reach beyond the parameters of a simple treatment, that exemplify the work of a true master healer, and as usual, this work begins within.  As I furiously scribbled my notes my heart sang in excitement with the understanding of the depths of healing these techniques empower.

Yesterday Ahlima and I received our Karuna initiations.  How to express this to you?  Beyond Ultimate Joy.  A gasp as I felt the profound depths of a compassion so blissful…I sway and gasp again as I sit here and recall…we haven’t a word for this…a compassion so complete that there is no forgiveness, because there is only love.  There is no right or wrong, because there is only love.  There is nothing, absolutely nothing, beyond Divine Love. 

breathing…… .

In these past weeks, I have come to realize that I want now to nudge my roots in a little, to nestle down, make a home, know the plants all around me, love the people all around me.  It’s been on my mind for a while, actually, but the where has always been a question.  And so, tomorrow I take a train to Delhi, and thus begins my journey home…

A brief foray to New Hampshire to walk in the forests of my mother’s home, to plant flowers along her pathways, to watch Little League baseball games, to drink a beer on Michael's deck and tea on Anne’s porch.  And maybe Carolyn will make some cookies.  Of course she will.

And then in a couple of weeks’ time, the journey continues west, first to New Mexico for Rainbow Nationals, and then to Northern California, to Rose’s sacred union celebration, to reunite with treasured friends, to come to know even more.  And it is here I will peek about, in the forests of NoCal and Oregon, and listen to my heart once again, to where she would like to plant her roots and nourish for a while…

Since the beginning, Usha and I have talked of collaborating, of working together, teaching together, writing together.  She is thinking to come to Northern California this winter, to join me in my home and offer classes together.  She wants also for us to travel to her sister’s home in Toronto and offer classes there, which means she also finally meets my cherished Erin, the Light Sister of my life.  As we talk about ideas, about teaching and writing, about Northern California and also both teaching here in Bhagsu, I laugh to recall the many times that I have answered, to the perplexed question of many, “But where will you make your home?”  And I have said, “My goal is to have seven places around the world I call home.  Even if I spend a month or a year, that it will still be a home.” 

So, let’s see.