Kundalini Splendor

(Note: The first picture above is of a fellow in Manitou Springs, Colorado, playing this single stringed instrument on the sidewalk. It is a drone, made in Brazil. The second picture is the waterfall we climbed to. Then there is the musician again. Last is our "gang" in Colorado. Wendy, Rose, me, and Gail.)


I went to Colorado, high up in the Rockies above Colorado Springs. The location was a church-owned retreat center, but the only folks there were me and my friends (two former students from twenty years ago and two teenage girls plus a couple of friends who dropped by from time to time.)







First, it was a time of deep reunion with two wonderful women whom I had known when they were "returning women," come to complete their undergraduate and graduate degrees. At that time, I was the co-ordinator for Women's Studies, and they each worked in the W. S. office, so we got to know each other well. They have turned out to be beautiful women, now in their fifties--one a school counselor and the other a grandmother with five grandchildren, but someone who still retains the poet in her soul. (She completed her master's in the creative writing program.) It was one of those occasions when it seemed that "no time at all has passed." We picked up where we left off, and I for one felt a bit of nostalgia for that earlier period in our lives--a time when everything was new and exciting (women's liberation, civil rights movement, gay liberation, and the New Consciousness.) In fact, Rose remarked that she had been listening to Eckhardt Tolle on Oprah, and realized that we had been discussing many of the same ideas in class twenty years before. (I believe in Huxley's notion of the "Perenial Philosophy" according to which certain fundamental spiritual ideas surface again and again in various religions and eras--each time they come to light they seem fresh again.)







We explored the area nearby, hiked up to a lovely mountain waterfall, and even went river rafting (I decided to mark the last one permanently off my list--it was a bit much for me.) We read and listened to poetry and music, shared many stories of the past.







For me, one of the most interesting parts of the trip was hearing the stories of some friends of Gail who came over to share dinner once or twice. (I always love these personal accounts of unusual experiences.) We were all seated around the kitchen table after dinner, when we each shared some of our inner life.







Wendy mentioned that she had early on been a Tarot reader, with such success that it was even a bit frightening. I mentioned kundalini. And Jim, Wendy's friend, then described his near death experience when he almost drowned (after being thrown from his raft). He went out of his body, observed from above what was happening, but with no alarm, only curiosity. Then, suddenly he was thrown to the surface and found himself lying on a rock, safe from the rapids.







Then Wendy told of her own experience of near drowning. She was surfing in the ocean, when she fell from her board, then lost the board completely. She was about an eighth of a mile from shore at the time, but the current was carrying her farther and farther out to sea. Then she went under, and thought to herself, "So this is how I am going to die." But--at that moment--a giant hand appeared behind her and she was swept to shore in about three seconds. How? She did not know.







Now, the sequel to this story is that she subsequently heard from a woman in England who had had a near identical experience. She too had been drowning, but was saved by a giant hand. The angels seem to be near us when we most need them.







Then there were the butterflies--lots of them. Gail felt that the yellow ones were the returning spirit of an older woman who used to live in the retreat much of the year, someone who had inspired and nourished Gail for many years. These yellows often flew near Gail. As for Rose, she was certain that the other butterflies (quite large, white center with dark rim around the edges) were her mother come to say hello. It seemed that everywhere we went, one of these would come near Rose--but none seemed to come when Rose was not present. One even flew in front of Rose's face when we were on the river raft.







One morning I had gone alone down to the little creek which flowed nearby and it was there I had my own butterfly experience. I noted several feeding on a plant just a few feet from where I was standing, and was pleased when one of the yellows flew past my face. I thought to my- self that maybe that was Gail's old friend, just saying "hi." There was another, larger, white and black butterfly still feeding on the plant, but I realized I dare not approach closer lest I frighten it away. But, I thought to myself, maybe I can commune with it here from this distance. At the very instant this thought came into my head, the butterfly flew over to me, circled before my face, and then returned to feed again on the plant. It did indeed feel like I had somehow communicated with this delicate creature who had realized I was a friend of Rose.







And then there was what happened just the other night soon after I got home. I was looking through some photos on my computer and was wondering if I could e-mail one to the subject (a special friend). I enlarged it and was contemplating it further when the phone rang--guess who it was? Yes, the very person in the picture, who had not called for several days.







We are indeed all one, connected in ways we cannot fathom.