The Master
Kamala Nellen
How can I tell you all that I experienced during the seven years in his presence? I want so much for you to know it. Where do I begin? With stories. I can only convey with stories and hope you see without your eyes, listen without your ears, touch without your hands. Rather receive from the center of your being because that’s how it was for me the day I first saw the Master. I was struck by lightning as he strode past me, and then—I was in love—not with him—it was pervasive without any object, for weeks, for years. Unbearable at times as my inner being was stretched larger and larger to hold it—at times, I begged for mercy in my prayers—let is stop. I cannot hold your love—then he said, dive in. I’m still swimming.
He could be like a hawk who had a belly full, aware and ever watchful yet calm, unperturbed—like the time someone shouted there was a fire in the building, right in the middle of a program. There were hundreds of people present. Everyone got up and started running helter-skelter for any exit. I was in awe of his silent, peaceful unmoving. Then I knew there was no danger.
He was like a giant rock sometimes—like the time I climbed Cathedral Rock and coming down the back there stood a tremendous grey rock—terrifying with the hum of giant generator—giant energy coming up and out… I ran down that mountain. Sometimes I felt that way in his presence.
One day I was working and he was suddenly, silently standing next to me. May I return to dance, to my career? He stood on my foot. A sharp pain as if the bone broke again… but more to say, You are safe here. Stay in the shade of the one who will remove all your sorrows. And he did. I owe him my life. All distance has vanished, the waters of my emotions are stilled. Only love remains.
I woke with a start the night he left this plane, knocked the clock off the bedside table. I said, Get up!—to my husband, and we were wide awake. The pounding of hammers resounded in the courtyard below and all the lights were on illuminating it as if it were daytime. The meditation room, where he had stayed for decades at his Master’s command—torn up, a large pit exposed in the center of the floor. I was confounded. So I went to the temple and a fellow musician and I took down the instruments and we started to chant. We chanted round the clock for 30 days, in shifts. He had said we would have a month-long chant. But like this?! As the days passed, thousands came from all over the globe to pay their respects. It was like a dream… The chant carried me into peace and I never felt his loss.
Only 30 years later walking in a forest of tall pines in the Northwest did I break down. The wall broke. Sobs of grief in waves. He was truly gone. I will always long for the umbrella he sheltered me under. But when I look in the photo I always carry, I know there is no distance love cannot cross. Indeed love has no boundaries. But I miss the form of the Master.
He could be like a hawk who had a belly full, aware and ever watchful yet calm, unperturbed—like the time someone shouted there was a fire in the building, right in the middle of a program. There were hundreds of people present. Everyone got up and started running helter-skelter for any exit. I was in awe of his silent, peaceful unmoving. Then I knew there was no danger.
He was like a giant rock sometimes—like the time I climbed Cathedral Rock and coming down the back there stood a tremendous grey rock—terrifying with the hum of giant generator—giant energy coming up and out… I ran down that mountain. Sometimes I felt that way in his presence.
One day I was working and he was suddenly, silently standing next to me. May I return to dance, to my career? He stood on my foot. A sharp pain as if the bone broke again… but more to say, You are safe here. Stay in the shade of the one who will remove all your sorrows. And he did. I owe him my life. All distance has vanished, the waters of my emotions are stilled. Only love remains.
I woke with a start the night he left this plane, knocked the clock off the bedside table. I said, Get up!—to my husband, and we were wide awake. The pounding of hammers resounded in the courtyard below and all the lights were on illuminating it as if it were daytime. The meditation room, where he had stayed for decades at his Master’s command—torn up, a large pit exposed in the center of the floor. I was confounded. So I went to the temple and a fellow musician and I took down the instruments and we started to chant. We chanted round the clock for 30 days, in shifts. He had said we would have a month-long chant. But like this?! As the days passed, thousands came from all over the globe to pay their respects. It was like a dream… The chant carried me into peace and I never felt his loss.
Only 30 years later walking in a forest of tall pines in the Northwest did I break down. The wall broke. Sobs of grief in waves. He was truly gone. I will always long for the umbrella he sheltered me under. But when I look in the photo I always carry, I know there is no distance love cannot cross. Indeed love has no boundaries. But I miss the form of the Master.
|
Kamala Nellen lives in Ojai, California. Her first foray into creative writing was in 2022, when she signed on for Clive Matson's writing group: 2-Busy-2-Write. Kamala was a professional dancer and then embarked on the spiritual path after breaking her foot, spending 18 years with a yoga foundation, traveling the world with her teachers, and subsequently teaching what she has learned. Kamala enjoys writing poetry and prose as a stream of consciousness. Other than writing as a creative expression of her inner muse, she has a nonfiction book on Amazon and has written articles for two esoteric publications.
|
