“Come to video Satsang, it might cheer you up,” my friend said.
“What’s Satsang?”
“Not sure but a local woman is holding space for people to come along. She told me we meditate then watch the video.”
“Sounds odd, what’s the video about?”
“A woman called Gangaji is speaking.”
“Indian?”
“No, American.”
Why do people change their names, I wondered.
I was in a bad place and grieving a lost relationship.
“Ok, I’ll try anything.”
My friend met me as I got out of my car, hugged me, and said gently, “Come on, we can leave early if it’s awful.”
The door opened and we joined a group of women in a cosy room. Ok so far, I thought.
“Gangaji asks that we sit silently repeating the words who am I for twenty minutes. Then we watch the video,” the facilitator said. “Are there any questions?”
I moved uncomfortably in my seat and wondered what I had come to. Who am I? What sort of question was that? I sat silently and thought about what I had to do at work the next day.
The video began. The woman in it was a white middle-aged woman, wavy blond hair framed her face, her pale blue clothing draped her slim frame elegantly, she was almost angelic. Her magnetism and grace jumped out of the screen towards me. Her eyes were tranquil pools of peace. I wanted what she had.
Instantly converted, I meditated on the question ‘Who am I’ day and night. I examined my thoughts and prayed this would lead me to the peace I craved. Desperate to stop the pain and despair that filled my every moment I decided to devote my life to being a seeker. I joined a beautiful bunch of disparate people who embodied hope and possibility. Their language of positivity embraced me, nothing was impossible to them, energy buzzed wildly around them, we were on a mission.
Hanging out with them lead me to seeing the deep unexpressed sparks of ancient knowledge that floated into my consciousness. My body answered the invitation that my soul sent silently seeping into my mind. I could not refuse. I would do anything to embrace this arising wisdom. I felt held by a mystical presence that kindly and consistently turned me towards enlightenment. I followed where it took me.
I sat and listened to another teacher, same teachings, different personality. Isaac was a jovial South African Jewish man from Byron Bay. I positioned myself in a chair at the end of a row in the middle of the room. My mind was unable to grasp most of what he said, yet I resonated with it. Everything I believed in was turned upside down and inside out.
“There is no such thing as time. It’s a construct of the ego. There is only this moment and then the next,” he said.
I looked at my watch, how can that be true? My mind paused in confusion. I looked up and saw a picture of an old, sweetly smiling bearded man on the wall of the room. I became fixated on him. His face was kind and love emanated directly towards me from his soft, open, loving eyes, the photograph of him vibrated with aliveness. Tears streamed down my face. What was happening to me?
“Maggie are you OK? What is happening?” Isaac said softly.
“Who is that man?’ I asked.
“His name is Ramana, he was my Guru’s Guru.”
Isaac’s brown eyes held mine, he nodded and smiled. The tears continued, my heart melted, I had no explanation. My mind was still, there were no words. The room settled silently, the people present were quiet, many had their eyes closed. My soul knew this man called Ramana was present.
I wanted more, I booked into a Silent Retreat with Isaac in the hinterland not far from Byron Bay. The events that happened following the retreat changed my life for ever. I had an experience of awakening, of being love, of knowing who I really was. All thoughts left me for six hours; it was bliss, the next day my thoughts returned.
I came home with a new name, no longer Maggie, I embraced my spiritual name of Kali. My sons noticed the change, they liked it. I went back to work but could not take anything seriously, I laughed at all the wrong times. I asked to have a break from my counselling role. My boss agreed, but thought I was weird.
Life continued to unravel and reorganise itself. I was forever changed. A tent is never the same after an elephant walks through it.