LIGHTTRAVEL.ORG
A principle in life to remember is to travel light.
You are traveling all the time.
Travel light, live light, spread the light, be the light.
– Yogi Bhajan
Encapsulating Vastness
by Gurutej Kaur
Why is it so difficult to write about this journey?
On the earth it was only the distance from Los Angeles to Espanola In the ether it was the journey to release my teacher. To send him into the arms of his beloved teacher Guru Ram Das so he can do, as he would say his "real work". The journey there was really sweet. I was scooped up and taken from the airport to our land by a dear friend. It was effortless. Taken to exactly to the right place to deposit my luggage then to find my place. I was at the ranch, the home of my teacher and immediate staff. I had to entertain myself till my friend was ready to take me home. To her home then to where I was staying. I went inside to hug and connect with Bibi Ji, Yogi Bhajan's wife and the children. She breaking down and crying in disbelief. They were all going to view his cast off body but that was not calling me. I wanted to walk the land still resonating with his energy. I wanted to sit in his Gurudwara and let my prayers carry him into this newfound peace. No longer bound down by this body broken by unlimited demands. I traveled the paths between places he had lived and walked.
Places that I have memories of sitting with him of laughing with him of being leveled by "the look" or arms heavy on my shoulders being enticed or pushed to do something my whole being rebelled at the thought of. Here I had touched his gorgeous feet. Here I had massaged his strong feet even as they started to fill with fluids. Here I had watched him eat with delicacy and grace befitting the Prince of Peace that he was. I saw the orchard he had us create. That summer we each bought a tree and planted it plums, apples, pears with the names and in the names of our children so we could feed the land and the land would feed our children. His fore thought of each project and inspiring each person to participate was miraculous. We used to weed these lands. Most recently we had contributed to his gardens that would allow many to sit in shaded solitude to contemplate and inhale this land this man this legacy. His property turning a lowly trailer into a scrumptious home filled with screeching peacocks, drumming emus, and bottom heavy ostriches all in parade just outside the windows. As I strolled back up the path now paved I was grabbed verbally by someone I knew inquiring, " Do you do laundry?" What a funny question to ask someone wearing white. I playing with her said, "Never" she was not put off and commandeered me to strip beds, gather used towels and sheets and carry them off to be transposed into new again in her very own laundry facility with 6 washers and dryers that took care of all the guests. Then came the real communication. She asked me, " Are you really happy in your life?" I was arrested nothing like a penetratingly vast question to remove all pretenses of formalities. I stood in front of a top-loading washer in contemplation. I felt at peace at this moment. I felt greatful to be here doing anything in the aura of my teacher but she was asking about before this moment and after it. I had to say that this had been an intense year, an intense lifetime. I told her I was looking forward to creating a much vaster arena to teach from soon. She burst into tears stating, "He,( Yogi Bhajan the SSS Ji as we lovingly call him) was my life and I have no idea what I will do with out that focus. He was my sadhana. He was my every thought. What now?" I asked her if she really thought this magnitude of devotion would just be cast aside into the rubbish heap. I said, "Just listen he will let you know what you are to do next. He has not forsake you." I held her as I spoke feeling how her entire purpose of life had just vanished. All except those in the throws of being blown apart tout transformation as really great. I moved back into dealing with the mountains of laundry facing us. Earth and ether once more mixing. I moved out into the sunlight and stretched letting it penetrate me unresisting. Then my friend of 33 years, Gurufatha Kaur was ready to have lunch. I wanted to hear of her journey. She had just moved here two months before and was at this moment of intense upheaval moving houses again caught between two places. She now had a new and very demanding job but she loved demands and structure it kept her grounded and gave her purpose. We ate at Joann's letting everyone there who missed the Yogi Bhajan's frequent visits know they were invited to his Cremation Ceremony. After our green chilies we were off to her current home so she could rest for a few minutes. We just lay down and spoke as women can of lives and the love of this life style that had brought so many of us together. Bound by the love of these teachings. This way of living, loving and serving. Soon we were off to retrieve some of her jewelry and my cell phone rang. It was someone I had been dear friends with but a year ago we had crossed swords about how something should have been done. Two Warrioress both holding stances, we had the right way. I had tried to pry open the door last summer but with little success. I was saddened to loose this dear friend but I let it go. Different view masters. Here now in the light of our teacher she called and asked that I stay with her. I walked through the door greatful it had swung open. We spent the rest of the weekend together and she was the perfect person to go through this journey with. As we chanted outside his dome that nite the air became colder and I realized that I was deeply underdressed for this occasion. I borrowed a jacket from Sat Kaur and then Taran Taran Kaur motioned me to come sit in front of her by the heater. I leapt at the chance not only for the heat but also for the gift of awareness and friendship. The chanting started with all the first chants we had ever done in the early 70's Ek Ong Kar's Laya Yoga style. The mantras, the really fun ones that came from our hippy ecstasy combined with our love of these sounds. Then the Indian Ragi's came and did beautiful Kirtan in a pitch no one could join in with but we could appreciate it. Finally Dhan Dhan Ram Das our anthem to miracles in the family burst forth we dove in tongues first heart and soul following. Sitting at the feet of our teachers dome being his toes we chanted these words that were embedded in our entire beings for Guru Ram Das was our connection straight through the heart.
Sitting here together it felt like India where he had wanted to be as he cast aside his bodily robe. The numbers of people grew as more and more people arrived. Feeling the swoosh of souls swooping in to rock our beloved teacher was all I knew. Then it was time to feed the body, lungar and greet all those dear friends who had just arrived. We wrapped each other in kind and knowing embraces that had no words, no time or space just lives and love shared.
Home to ready our bodies with a little nap before we awakened for the birthday
chanting of Guru Ram Das's birthday.
2:30 am we were up and ready for diving into 2 ? hours of the prayer for miracles in the family.
Our families, all the world families, and families of the world miracles to all.
Each group who played built on the next and by the final group I ascended body intact into the arms of Guru Ram Das the holder of miracles. I walked home with the star encrust sky enfolding my journey for a brief nap before meeting everyone for breakfast of black chole and peoples offerings of a wish and dish. Eating was not my priority but touching heart to soul was. The sweetness was truly a gift. We are known for our strength, our perseverance but here heart was apparent and being applied lavishly. Seeing people who had been touched for only a moment by this man our teacher and those who had committed their lives to helping fulfill his mission. Each precious, each here out of a soul calling to honor and help release this soul know to us as the Siri Singh Sahib Haribhajan Singh Khalsa Yogi Ji. All wanting to share the story of why they were compelled to be here. Great connecting for walls had fallen and everyone longed for deep soul talk.
No preambles necessary. We spoke of the music he had inspired, the teachings, our very lives, marriages and how we had raised our children. As we parted company we readied our minds for seeing the physical form of our teacher and releasing our bonds to that. It became a Yatra (Spiritual journey) for us. Due to roadwork a drive that is usually 20 minutes became Almost 1 1/2hr. We arrived in time to become part of the viewing processing. The longest walk in my life. I knew he would not be there but I had to release all the things I would miss about watching that majestic being move through that regally beautiful body. I had not cried much before this my eyes had taken their own trip of being pink and swollen since two days before his death. I couldn't see much outside. It was a third eye time. A calling into my depth. This journey I cried for my loss I knew seeing his inert body would hit like a thud of finality that no more calls or letters or hugs. No tongues sticking out at me, no smiles no hearing the teasing voice getting someone to do the impossible, no more laughter or words that could transcend our fears and place us embedded in our hearts. I wept for these losses. Then seeing his face. I had seen him asleep often but this was not that. This face was less than a painting. Paintings had more of his energy. This was an imposter. I let tears roll glad for all I had, sad for the open wound of what was not to be. He had been sick for years now but would always bounce back. I had known this summer that it was very near this angel of death but he had pleaded a job not quite done before. Even in the knowing I did not believe he would ever go. I sat with friends then moved closer as we recited prayers and listened to people from his staff, his family his vaster family of man speak of him. Him, who touched them in so many ways. The difficult taskmaster, the loving heart, the humorous dancer, the relentless pusher, the constant inspiration. Then the time came to take the body and ready it for cremation. Something pushed me to follow that body. To stand with the staff and family and await the small procession towards the funeral pyre, we call a crematorium. We followed him as we always had done and chanted Boleh Soni Hall answering with Sat Sir Akal till the body slid into the awaiting fire. In silence I found my self reaching for the hand of Guru Kirn Kaur. The one I had been speaking with when I heard of his death, fitting we should be holding this space as he was freed. Then falling back in to become part of this deep chant, interlacing sounds of Hari Nam Tat Sat Tat Sat Hari so deeply focused on releasing his soul and yet so vast. Voices from all over the world weaving the fabric, which surrounded and gave flight to this vast soul. So powerful was this that no one could speak afterwards. We hugged; we wandered out into the sunlight still present, making way to cars hoping they knew the way back on their own. Discovering our physical hunger, which descended upon us as we left this magnetic field. Where could we go to eat when we couldn't speak? So we wandered Wild Oats eating who knows what trying to get back into these things called bodies. We had left with him but we were called back for our work was not done.
The next morning we took our time. We gave ourselves the grace of doing our own Sadhana. I read poems to Taran Taran Kaur till she said, "No more." We spoke softly then walked the dusty paths of hills he had so loved behind her house. We picked greens from her garden and eat brunch on her patio. Three women speaking of love and being with him then in an instant we knew it was time to get dressed and show up at Gurudwara. The timing was perfect for Bibi Ji, his wife was just beginning to tell of his death. She spoke, "He was not speaking but his eyes were telling what his desires were. They brought papaya sliced and started to feed him. He ate it all and then I said there are lots more in the kitchen, would you like another because it was small. His eyes said "Yes" so he was again fed another papaya then with his daughter, Kamaljit Kaur on one side and Hari Nam Kaur I sat at his feet reading this Shabd (prayer) someone had told would create healing. Reading it over and over to magnify the effect. Then he started making noises. Kamaljit asked, What do you want? He looked at me so I went to sit by him. He took my hand and squeezed it with such force I was wondering how I could get it out. I have arthritis in both hands. The squeezing continued. I jumped up with such force that I pulled my hand free and went up asking, "No what is really happening?" In that moment he left his body." Bibi Ji had to break the bond to release him. She was so kind to share this intimate story with us all for she knew that we too wanted to know. How had he left? Was it hard? He who was never to die had to cast this garment aside telling his wife that she was his anchor. What a blessings to have her share this with us all. I felt blessed. Now the journey home or at least back to L.A.
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