Moments ago, I learned that Mataji passed away. It's amazing this initial response, to want to find out what happened. To want to know why and how and where and when. All of these questions, as if the answers will bring some sort of sense to the occurrence of passing on. I found myself pausing amidst going for the phone, scouring webpages, trying to find answers and wanting to talk to someone. To tell someone what happened.
I paused and I breathed and I let go of that frantic energy so that I could embody the true spirit of Mataji.
In this stillness, I feel profoundly and utterly grateful. Once I stopped whirling and really sat in the news, I realised that instead of sadness I feel so glad to have known her.
I feel boundlessly blessed for the time I spent at Santosh Puri Ashram in December of last year. I feel so grateful that I sat and drank chai in Mataji's presence, that I basked in her love and devotion; that she told me about the importance of planting love in pure, tended soil.
I first met Mataji in Berlin during a yoga festival. She happened to be back in Europe, not a regular event since landing in Haridwar many decades ago. With a dash of synchronicity and cosmic connection, I ended up at her ashram on a day trip from studying at Anand Prakash during my first ever visit to India. When I saw her I was so surprised and delighted to be returned to her presence.
After spending a mystical few days at Santosh Puri I hoped to return to Mataji's side again this year. I left that transformative adventure on a full moon on the 17th of December and was so fortunate on the morning of my departure to partake in a special fire puja celebrating Babaji, her husband and guru's life and transition.
What an auspisiucious time for me. I left India and Mataji to return to Australia where I was greeted at the airport with a marriage proposal, so much love and possibility. I look down at my finger and see the ring from my beloved. I look over at my right wrist and see the red string; the one tied on during my last hours in India to symbolise the coming of the spring. The time when all that had been planted would begin to grow.
I feel the warm tears stinging my eyes and so many emotions ignite my corporeal and spiritual existence. I had been feeling less connected to pure consciousness since leaving India. Yesterday I experienced a string of synchronicities and remembered that I am always connected. This morning I taught a class about connection and felt compelled to sing to Shiva. I thought of sitting at the river's edge at Mataji's ashram.
Minutes later, I fired up my computer and saw the words "rest in peace Mataji," written by one of my teachers. Could it truly be? I felt that pang, like I needed confirmation which I gathered pretty quickly after finding similar messages posted from other students and teachers.
This death though, it is not the end. It is a transition and Mataji would be the first to smile and offer that wisdom. To be in the presence of divinity is to at once see yourself clearly, feel the gift that is this life and to love all others with a pure heart. Mataji showed me this divine love, without any conditions or reasons. This is the love I hope to shine out into the world. For her life and energy, I am eternally grateful.