Kundalini Splendor

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Monday, March 07, 2016

Losing a Friend 

She was my friend.  We met many years ago at a Kundalini conference and took a liking to each other immediately.  We began to hang out together during the conference, so much so that others began to tease us that we were a couple.

After the conference, we kept in touch via telephone and occasional e-mail in a friendship that lasted many, many years.  We only saw each other once after the initial meeting, but our connection was extremely deep.

She was someone I could share my deepest thoughts and experiences with.  We often talked about our "strange" experiences related to our respective Kundalini awakenings.  These were things one does not ordinarily share with others, only with those we trust and who will understand.  She told me that once all the clocks in her house had stopped at the same time.  Another time she had awakened during the night and had seen the "map of the universe" on her husband's back.  And when the cat walked by, she perceived an egg shaped aura around its body.

I told her about my experiences of ecstasy and pain.  We were spiritual buddies, going through a challenging transformation together.

She was a poet (quite good) and an artist, a painter and a creator of a high order.  When the land that she and her husband then lived on caught fire, she subsequently decorated the blackened trees with necklaces of glass beads strung from their scorched limbs––she had crushed the glass and made these strings herself, thus creating an art installation on her own property.

I think that in our lives we meet (if we are lucky) a handful of people who become our true friends.  We may have many acquaintances, but this select circle are our trusted companions on the daunting journey we are each making.

I will never discover another being with whom I can share so very much.  She left suddenly, and I hope she is happy wherever she is now.

(An inner voice says "I am right here––I never left."  Could this be true?)

"What is a life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset."

-Last words of Chief Crowfoot

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