Dreaming of Love...

After a long day, starting with Bound Lotus, and the vegetable chopping in the kitchen, I took my bowl again, like Oliver Twist, up to get lunch. When I sat down to eat in the Tantric shelter, a man named Patrick came to sit with me and we talked about music, and his working in the producing room with Michael Jackson and Jimmy Page. Something about the conversation lifted something in me to the surface...

When he left, I found myself beginning to cry deeply. I sat gazing out over the landscape and the white tent tops, feeling like a Bedouin, and the tears kept coming. The blue topaz clear sky merging with the dusty, red ground and green scrub of Georgia O'Keefe's landscapes was so beautiful. But then, I felt very, very alone, even with everyone there. I felt like a ghost. I felt dead. Then I began to laugh, and a young girl walked by looking at me very funny. I thought, forget her, this needs to come out. So I laughed, and then I cried again, and then I laughed and cried both at the same time. Just then I looked up to see a very small boy, maybe 4, right in front of me at eye level. He gazed into my eyes with this mischievous, conspiratorial sort of look. I paused. He went away. I cried again.

He came back with his sister, and they both gazed at me. They smiled. I smiled back. Then I saw their mother, who smiled and waved. Their job done, they ran back to their mom. It was then I realized the music had triggered the grief. It was Snatam Kaur's "Poota Maata Ke Asees", which translates as: Oh, my child this is your mother's blessing. It can be sung by mothers for their children, but also by a child for a mother. I felt as if my mother were sending her blessings~

I decided that I needed a heart-to-heart, and so went to hospitality to sign up, but despaired of waiting. Very tired, I went back to my tent, and saw the lady who, with her son, had been talking way late into the night. I asked if they could stop talking after 10, or just whisper, and she got really mad. I held my composure until she left, and then sat down and cried. Lo and behold, an angel appeared in the form of Guru Simran Singh Khalsa, who asked if I was okay, and then listened to me cry, and held my hand.

He understood my need to sleep, and why earplugs don't work, after years of growing up with a mother who tried to keep me from sleeping deeply...with her timer rigged to the light switch, stereo and radio. He asked me what I was doing to protect my energy from people like the lady and her son, and I said I couldn't do the Wiccan Banishings there, or the Rose Cross. He mentioned something about having once practiced Santeria, and then told me how to do a kriya called Chee Kriya. He also said I should work to build my aura and electromagnetic field as well... He really helped me, and then asked to do White Tantric with me on the 3rd day.

I slept easily as the woman and her son stopped talking at 10. She heard me. And I heard my mother.