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Archive for the 'True Tales Writers' Category

I am assigned to a team with two other women. I don’t know them, they’re grown-ups.  We are to get over an eleven-foot wall, the three of us, with no ladders, no ropes, and no footholds – just the three of us, using our “shakti power.”

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I step out the front door to take a walk, my second one of the day. I never walk twice but something tells me to get out and drink in the last bit of daylight. I notice how happy I feel just breathing deep and swinging my arms. The winter light fades quickly and soon […]

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“There it is! There it is!”  Excited voices surround me. I look out the window of the plane and there below, shimmering gold reflecting in crystal clear blue waters, is the most exquisite jewel in the world – the Golden Temple of Amritsar. My eyes fill with tears.

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I wrote this on October 30, 2004 in Bologna, Italy the day before I facilitated White Tantric Yoga for the first time after the Siri Singh Sahib left his physical body. It might have seemed that we didn’t see each other often, but actually as I went about visiting our communities throughout the world I […]

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The bracelet was made of American Indian turquoise and other semi-precious stones, set on a silver band. Har Pal Singh and Har Pal Kaur bought it at the after-Solstice Bazaar in Espanola in 1988 as a gift for my wedding. I still have it, even though I don’t wear it that often, as it is […]

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I take my place, an arm’s length distance from each lady on both sides of me. We are to line up by height and I think I should be before Prem Siri Kaur but her turban is such a smokestack it makes her about an inch taller than me. I am twelve years old. “Eyes, […]

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Tales from Yogiji’s first "student" When I finished my breakfast shift as a waitress at the Beverly Hilton I changed out of my multi colored striped uniform (red, blue, orange, yellow, violet) and rushed home to make a big salad for the yogi. He was living in Mr. Thrapp’s apartment building on Ninth Street, across […]

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A KWTC Veteran Reminisces about Marching (mid 1970s) “Who are those people and why do you have pictures of them?” Those people being women dressed in army fatigues with complete camouflage make up. This always makes me laugh because I know those people; those women are my friends. I was part of this wild and […]

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Fire

Loches in the late ‘70’s – hot, humid, French August when the sun goes to sleep at 9:30 PM. There are about one hundred people from at least seven different countries sharing a hippy/3HO camp at the Yoga Festival. It is 10 PM and finally we can see the first stars in the precious darkness. […]

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June, 1984 It’s Sunday morning gurudwara at the Anchorage Ashram. I’m playing kirtan with GuruMeher, the man I am to marry in exactly six weeks. We bargained with Yogi Ji last night for extra time. I have just turned eighteen and returned from school in India. I’ve only been back in America for a week. […]

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