We move rooms. Again. Back to number 108. The circle comes around.
Varkala beach is truly a special place, with soft eyes one can see the powerful energy lines that dance from the sea. Orbs of light jump in the ether. As I lay on the sand I find myself flying through the dimensions, leaving my body as I did in Abadiania Brazil after the current meditations. There is no accident we ended up at this particular location.
The main beach in Varkala is named Papanasam, translated as “destroyer of sins”, and is apparently a popular pilgrimage site for Hindus. I ask for healing and rectification of all my evils (no sharing needed). There are natural springs on the banks of the beach where one can drink the water, a luxury here in India where your tap water simply used to brush your teeth can land you in the hospital ICU.
Thank you water, I love you.
Harmonistically we are meeting so many remarkable women, women who are healers, spiritual leaders, warriors of light…women who have left their traditional lives, lost their stereotypical jobs, and simply feel the call to travel as they are guided, spreading their wings and sharing their hearts. We are linking humanity it seems, embracing one another with open arms and no judgments, uniting all with Mother Gaia.
It is in these high vibrational locations on the Earth that we are convening, sites where we can re-boost our own fields, link up with our sisters, and hence head to places where more light and love is needed. In due time, groups of women may be traveling in herds together, completing this sacred work. I hope!
At breakfast we connect with an elegant goddess from western Canada, a well-traveled woman with more tribulations than any other I have encountered….cancer(s), heart-attacks, car accident that caused her to be deaf (she reads mouths perfectly), husband terminally ill, the list continues. And here she sat, relishing in Southern India after traveling for many weeks in the North, with no fear and no self-pity, eager to continue her journey with unconditional compassion. She emits inspiration…and many shamanic totems. We laugh as she deems her beaver spirit guide as one unsexy.
Jackie and I head to meet with an old lady found on another sign post advertising healing arts, a wrinkly expat from Switzerland. Her house is a magical garden filled with bamboo, coconut groves, Tibetan prayer flags, homemade bells and whistles. Pieces of mosaic art and paintings line the grounds. I am surprised she doesn’t have cats. She is a witch, reiki healer, very psychic. I can feel her reading my thoughts.
Properly in European fashion, she chain smokes as we chat, sharing her journey to Varkala India. Osho was one of her many teachers. She is in limbo a bit, ostensibly working through some of her own shadows as many of us are now, taking a break from actively healing others. The visit feels like a gracious call to one’s grandmother’s house, we were fed sweets and offered tea, and our witch friend a bit melancholy as our rickshaw arrived to pick us up. We send her love.
Afternoon soaking up sun at the pool and beach. My body is brown and my bum so white. (Imagination is plenty here.)
As we dine at the hotel restaurant we are gifted the reuniting of another soul sister, a lean and feline-esque yoga instructor from London. She is leading a retreat of 8 woman and has been doing so for 15 years. We are so blessed.
I call my father and my man friend in the evening, the first phone calls I have made since beginning this part of the journey, and both are more than eager and happy for my communication. Don’t worry boys. I love you all unconditionally, equally as the ladies. We are all one.