In commemoration of the 21st anniversary of the enthronement of Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo on September 24, we are presenting testimonials from Jetsunma’s students about her impact on their lives. This story is from Ani Sangye Drolma.

On June 14, 2006,  I was living in Flagstaff, Arizona when Jetsunma’s prayers literally saved the city. 

At the time, I was almost completely disabled by a mystery illness— severe pain for 8 months,  unable to walk more than 5 feet without gasping for breath,  dangerously anemic.  I was laying down in the afternoon when I noticed that the sunlight on the floor looked orange.  It was too early for sunset.  After a couple minutes, I decided to look outside.  It was excruciating to move. 

To my horror, I saw a huge pillar of flames rising several hundred feet about ½ mile from my house.  I made my way outside and met up with a neighbor.  The winds were very high, blowing straight towards us.  Flagstaff was in the middle of a 10-year drought. The forest was like a tinderbox.  We decided to begin evacuating our homes without waiting for the fire officials to come.  I didn’t know how I was going to do it.  I could barely walk the 30 feet back to my door. I began reciting 7-Line Prayer under my breath and taking Refuge over and over. 

To go in my house meant climbing two steps. This was sheer agony.  I begged Guru Rinpoche and Jetsunma to protect me and my animals,  and to hold back the flames so that our entire neighborhood could get out safely.  I was breathing as if through a drinking straw. I got my bird and two dogs safely into the car and got it running with the air vents closed.  The neighborhood was filling with smoke.  I packed my robes and as much Dharma as I could.  At times I crawled on my hands and knees to move around the house.  Though I wanted to just give up and lay down, I prayed for the strength to get out alive, so my babies wouldn’t be left alone with no one to drive them out of there.

By the time I got everything packed in my car,  my next door neighbor was just arriving home.  She was hysterical.  I told her to get her cat and bird first.  She was frozen.  She said she’d leave the windows open so her cat could escape.  I knew this would mean certain death for her bird,  as the smoke was already filling our homes.  I pleaded with Jetsunma to be with me as I climbed the small fence between our homes and helped her catch her cat.  The bird cage wouldn’t fit in her car and she kept wanting to just leave the bird.  I worried about my animals, still sitting in the car.  How could I save my own animals and leave hers?  We finally found a container for the bird and got him in her car. 

I looked around.  Our quiet little neighborhood in the woods now looked like a war zone. I could barely see across the street due to smoke. Fire engines and police cars filled the streets.  Air tankers were flying in and out, dropping red fire retardant all over the houses and trees. Firefighters were going door to door with mandatory evacuation orders.  There was fear in their eyes.  They said the fire was across a two-lane highway, and if it jumped the highway the fire could not be contained. 

I decided to head to my office downtown and figure out where to go from there.  I was sure I would be homeless.  As I drove I listened to the local news.  It was hopeless.  The fire was about to jump the highway.  The combination of high winds and unlimited fuel would certainly wipe out the subdivision.  Their greater concern now was stopping the fire before it swept over Mars Hill and into downtown.  They evacuated more neighborhoods. They predicted the fire would form a horseshoe and encircle the city.  As soon as I reached a phone I called Jetsunma’s attendant and asked Jetsunma to please pray for Flagstaff.  She gave the message to Jetsunma immediately. 

Less than 10 minutes later,  the news reported there had been a major change in the fire.  For no apparent reason,  with high winds at its back and with ample fuel, the fire had jumped the highway and just stopped advancing.  The fire chief stuttered as he gave the update, saying he’d never seen anything like it.  Though it took a few days to completely extinguish the fire, we were allowed back home late the following day. 

 A few days after the fire, I drove out to see where it had happened.  I saw the path of the fire, burned right across the highway and a few yards onto the dry grass. And there,  abruptly, was where it had stopped.  I couldn’t contain my tears of gratitude to Jetsunma for having witnessed such a miracle. 

 And as if all that weren’t enough, I experienced another miracle as a result :  The evacuation so weakened me that my doctors quickly ordered tests they weren’t considering.  This led to a faster diagnosis of the rare disease that was rapidly killing me.  Two weeks after the fire, I began life-saving treatment. 

In commemoration of the 21st anniversary of the enthronement of Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo on September 24, we are presenting testimonials from Jetsunma’s students about her impact on their lives.

I had been searching for some time. Ever since my father-in-law died very young, and my Grandmother, who had taught me to pray, passed away, I had been searching,  I wanted to know where they went.  It didn’t seem to me that this life was the end.  I had been taught that when you’re dead, you’re dead.  But that didn’t bring any comfort at the loss of dearly loved ones.

I had done some volunteer work with Native Americans, and a Native American woman I worked with suggested that I learn to meditate.  She gave me the name and number of a woman who was a student of Jetsunma’s.  I learned that Jetsunma was teaching in Arlington, Virginia where I lived.   I went with my friend Tracey from work to hear Jetsunma speak, and we were both very moved.  I felt a connection to Jetsunma and knew when she invited the audience to her Center in Kensington, Maryland that Tracey and I would go there.

When I entered Jetsunma’s rec. room that evening in Kensington, I felt the most incredible love that I had ever felt in my life.  Needless-to-say I kept going back.  That was 25 years ago.

The blessing of having Jetsunma with her incredible loving kindness and compassion hook me onto the Path has changed my life.  I know that when Jetsunma speaks to us, and we each hear and receive what we need at that time.  There is something that happens, and I can feel something shift inside.  Something changes, and it has been that way ever since I had the blessing of hearing Jetsunma at that very first teaching in Arlington.

I didn’t grow up with a sense of cause and effect, other than to know if I’d been bad I’d be punished.  Through the grace of my Precious Lama’s Teachings, including some very direct instructions and teachings, I have had the blessing of being totally opened up to see what was going on and what I needed to work hard to change.  I know that Jetsunma can see what is happening to each of us, and has the great compassion to tell us what it is we need to change.

 I can’t imagine not being here with my Root Guru’s Sangha, all of us working together in Jetsunma’s Mandala. I am grateful in my heart beyond words to be here with my Precious Root Guru Jetsunma and this Precious Sangha.  This Precious Teacher and this incredible Path have given and continue to give me the foundation of my life, so that I can be of benefit to beings.

Love,

Amita Rene

In commemoration of the 21st anniversary of the enthronement of Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo on September 24, we are presenting testimonials from Jetsunma’s students about her impact on their lives.

My mother said that when I was very young, I was compassionate. It seems to me now that perhaps this was, in part, the saving grace that led me to Jetsunma, despite the fact that my childhood was less than ideal (as it is for many people). At around four years old, I was (so a photograph shows), happy, cheerful and confident. The next photo, around five, shows bewilderment. By six or seven, this had evolved into sullenness. And so it went, as I evolved from painfully shy and unhappy to resentful, bitter and angry. I liked no one, and especially not myself.

I first encountered the Dharma in 1963 at the age of 16. I remember the incident, so fleeting, as though it were yesterday. I was on a long weekend home stay with a friend from a Catholic boarding school  I soon discovered that her father was totally disrespected in his own home, apparently for being meek and mild and, horror of horrors, a Buddhist (whatever that was!). He was almost totally ostracised from family life and sat in a corner, reading a small book. I can see him now, calmly and peacefully abiding whilst all around him chaos and criticism reigned. It seems there was still a small vestige of compassion in me. It was this (and embarrassment at the father’s situation) that moved me to approach him at an opportune time and ask what he was reading. He smiled, pleased with my interruption and curiosity, and wordlessly passed the book to me. I do not remember what I read, but I do remember recognising the unmistakeable truth of what I read on the very first page. Mr. F. noted with a knowing smile my reaction and offered to lend me the book. Unfortunately my karma at that time was not such that I could accept what I now realise was the Dharma, and I backed off.  I am now 62 and  although I remember very little else about that weekend, this incident has stayed with me ever since.

Sometime around 1995 I became aware of and intrigued by the Dalai Lama, and started to acquire and read books on Buddhism by His Holiness and other teachers. By 1999 I considered myself to be a Buddhist in heart and mind. Around 2001 I came across The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying and, as for so many others, this became my “bible”.  I decided to try and develop devotion to Guru Rinpoche, figuring that I had nothing to lose and possibly a lot to gain. Every day I prayed Guru Rinpoche, Precious One. You are the embodiment of the compassion and blessing of all the Buddhas …  I decided I should become a student of Sogyal Rinpoche. I made contact with a group in Brisbane but my efforts to get to meetings met with obstacles. I let things be and continued with my own evolving practice. My habitual tendencies were not diminishing. If anything, they were growing worse. I was the man in “Groundhog Day”!

So I prayed to Guru Rinpoche to help me find a teacher, but really only in a lukewarm way because I have never liked being part of a group. Nevertheless, before long I attended a teaching by someone I greatly admire, Ani Tenzin Palmo. It was March or April 2008 and there I met and connected with Ani Tenzin Wangmo. I shall always be grateful that Ani La led me to Jetsunma. I jumped in pretty quickly after that, realising that Jetsunma was the remarkable Tulku I had read about some years earlier in Reborn in the West, but never dreaming that one day I would become her student.

Although I quickly recognised that Jetsunma is a remarkably gifted teacher of Dharma, devotion had to be manufactured, just as I had previously developed fledgling devotion to Guru Rinpoche on a nothing-to-lose basis. This time, though, the basis was do or die. I knew that I had come to an important crossroad in my life and now that I think about it, this is the only time I have ever actually recognised a crossroad at the time of arriving at it.

True devotion eluded me. I knew I had to develop devotion in order to proceed swiftly on the path and I longed to develop it. I wondered why it was not happening for me. When I listened to Jetsunma’s teachings, which I regularly did, I was enthralled and motivated whilst becoming more and more aware and truly regretful of my negative habits and unskilful actions. I recognised with utter clarity that I was walking on a tightrope above a deep and terrifying abyss. But still I persisted in the grip of the five poisons and lack of mindfulness; over and over my negative thoughts and actions played themselves out although slowly, slowly, there was minuscule movement of the scales. My thoughts were becoming less neurotic and judgemental, my heart more kind and open.

I continued to reflect on why I had not yet developed true devotion to Jetsunma and then, very recently, I read Michelle Grissom’s confession, and it seemed that virtually in an instant a veil was lifted from my mind and heart. I recognised Michelle’s poisons as my own (at least in part) and I also realised that the comments I had read on the Internet about the Buddha from Brooklyn had poisoned my mind even though I told myself at the time that I did not believe the negative things I was reading. I knew Jetsunma was the real deal. I knew she had deliberately taken rebirth to help all sentient beings. I knew my Lama was good and true and virtuous. And yet, a seed of doubt had been sewn that I had refused to acknowledge and deal with. And then Michelle’s confession miraculously set me free. Now, finally, I am on the cusp of true devotion.

How do I know?

I know because when I think of Jetsunma, love born of gratitude swells in my heart the way it does when I think of my dear mother who died in 2005, one day short of her 90^th birthday. I have felt this kind of love for no one else. This realisation is very recent, very precious. I once read that the last thought a dying person has is of their mother. That may be so. However, I know that my mother of this life cannot ferry me to Dewachen; only Jetsunma, my root guru and my teacher, can do this. Therefore when the Lord of Death gives me my final illness, I hope and pray (and in fact truly expect) that it is Jetsunma, inseparable as she is from Guru Rinpoche, Kuntuzangpo and Buddha Amitabha, to whom I will turn in my hour of need.

Sherida

Brisbane, Australia

23/9/09

In commemoration of the 21st anniversary of the enthronement of Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo on September 24, we are presenting testimonials from Jetsunma’s students about her impact on their lives.

We rarely get to see how Jetsunma makes karmic connections for us. We’re told that she orchestrates karma, but we don’t see the scale and scope and complexity of her efforts. But sometimes we get a glimpse.

I returned to KPC after having left Jetsunma for thirteen years. I stepped into the community room. Up around the border near the ceiling circling the room are golden lotuses. I squinted at them, because they looked familiar.

“Those are my lotuses,” I said, blinking. “I drew that.”

My mother explained that Jetsunma had told her to put 109 golden lotuses around the room. The design she had on hand was the logo I did for her business, Lotus Unlimited.

Now this was a design Jetsunma was quite familiar with, since it was on all mom’s business cards, her letterhead — not to mention on both sides of mom’s car for years.

Staggered, I asked mom when Jetsunma had her do this. “Was it in 2001?” I asked, pretty sure that it had to be.

She had to look it up, but yes, 2001. Why?

In spring 2001 I went into a five-day retreat at Kunzang Dechen Osel Ling, a three year retreat center in Salt Springs, B.C. After leaving KPC in ‘96, I’d barely been able to practice. I’d cry when I went to teachings and temples. Yet when I set foot at Dechen Ling, the caretaker met me at the gate, surprised that I’d had no obstacles on the way there. “You must have a lot of merit,” he said. 

During that retreat, things changed. For the first time I began to understand that my relationship with Jetsunma was dependent on my view, not her. I knew I could come back.

I met Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche right afterward, and Kilung Rinpoche, and received from Khenpo Tsultrim Gyatso many of the teachings I rely on now to deal with the thick delusions of my mind. After Khenpo Tsultrim Gyatso’s teachings, I had a dream of rainbows in all directions, so many, I didn’t know which way to go. Those rainbows were all the teachers that I met on my way back to Jetsunma.

And she did this for a former student who’d been nothing but destructive.

My mom was puzzled about 109 lotuses. Why not the traditional 108? Jetsunma had been very specific about the number.

Oh, I never mentioned this but clearly Jetsunma knew. Doing prostrations, I would do a mala’s worth … and then make myself do one more. Since I’d done one more, well, I’d make it even five. Five was close to ten, so I’d do ten. That wasn’t far from twenty-five, so, okay, twenty-five. Twenty-five was only halfway to fifty. Little by little, I’d keep going, sometimes more than doubling what I’d planned.

There’s a teaching on that wall. Keep going, she says. Keep going.

Now my mother and I are finishing the community room, adding even more lotuses. Maybe there will be 125 … 130 … or 150 … or….

Michelle Grissom

In commemoration of the 21st anniversary of the enthronement of Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo on September 24, we are presenting testimonials from Jetsunma’s students about her impact on their lives.

On December 4, 2006, I was driving home on US 70. It was night time, 9:30-ish. There was a merge lane coming up on the right and a large semi was signaling and pulling in front of me. It seemed to me that he was cutting me off, and I panicked. Instead of braking and overriding the cruise control, I turned the wheel to the left to move over into the other lane. The car was moving at 65, 66 mph. Needless to say, I lost control. I can still see the squiggly line of light as the car moved back and forth across the highway. Then there was a great noise of shattering and thumping as the car rolled over and stopped at the side of the highway.

The first thing I did was brush the little bits of glass and clumps of dirt off my head. The inside of the car was filled with dirt from the roll and the windows on the driver’s side were shattered. I tried to get out of the car, but my door wouldn’t open. I put on my flashers, hoping someone would stop, climbed over to the passenger’s side and got out of the car, which was in pretty bad shape. The best car I ever had junkyard ready. A truck stopped and the driver called the police. A man stopped and offered me the back seat of his car to sit in and stay warm until the police came.

The police came quickly, called a tow truck, asked me a lot of questions, and let me use a cell phone to call home for someone to pick me up. The tow truck driver dropped me off at the nearest exit to wait for my ride (after he practically had to dig the car out of the dirt) and I was home safely by 11:00 that night.

While the car was careening back and forth across the road, there was no traffic. It was as if traffic had stopped so I could ripen this karma as safely as possible. I walked away, only scratched and bruised, leaving a totaled car. No one else was hurt, no other damage done.

There is no doubt in my mind that it was Jetsunma’s blessing that saved my life. I survived with my body and my faculties intact, my mind slightly concussed, but otherwise unharmed, and my faith deepened. This was not the first time she saved my life, but that’s another story.

 Ani Rinchen

In commemoration of the 21st anniversary of the enthronement of Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo on September 24, we are presenting testimonials from Jetsunma’s students about her impact on their lives. 

For 27 years I have had the blessings and good fortune to have Jetsunma as my teacher.  I have witnessed so many miracles; lives saved, misfortune reversed – a student brought from the brink of suicide into a life filled with joy; another, a physician, dying from AIDS is healed and 18 years later is strong and healthy.  How many times have I seen doctors bewildered because a second x-ray no longer displays the cancer, or infection, or arthritis diagnosed and confirmed on the original x-ray or lab test?  Many.

I grew up in an alcoholic home where fighting and abuse was a daily ritual.  When I first met Jetsunma, she held my hands, looked me in the eyes and said, “I too grew up in an abusive household.  I can look at you and see you feel unworthy.  You believe that, as a woman, you can’t accomplish your spiritual path.  But, I want you to know that you CAN achieve realization…. HERE, NOW, JUST AS YOU ARE!

For the first time in my life, I finally had hope, and as I realized later, unconditional love.  She taught me what it means to lead an ethical life.  She walked me through some very difficult purification that I could not have survived on my own.  She showed me through her actions and her achievements, what compassion truly means.

But, like most of her first students, we had no idea just how incredible this meeting with our teacher was or what it actually meant.  It wasn’t until a number of years later, when we were visited by so many of the most eminent of Tibetan and Bhutanese Lamas, that we heard the true stories of her amazing lifetimes.  What a great Bodhisattva she was, is, and will always be.  Let me give a brief quote from a teaching given by His Holiness Kusum Lingpa Rinpoche.  Rinpoche begins his teaching by speaking of Jetsunma’s lifetime when she and Kunzang Sherab began the Palyul Lineage.  “

Her name was Ahkon Chang Chub Lhamo.  She was a true Dakini, she was a great practitioner and she had scores of tens of thousands of disciples.  She was able to spread forth the doctrine in an amazing way.  Previously, she was Mandarava, Lamchen Mandarava, who was the Indian consort of Guru Padmasambhava.  Mandarava was well known of the 21 Taras to be the emanation of White Tara and Drolma Karmo.

And so, now she has once again arisen from the sphere of the three kayas and the name that I have mentioned before for her is also her name in this present lifetime, as well as, Lhamo Metog Dron, the name that is present throughout this prayer (referring to a Long life prayer for Jetsunma that was given by Guru Rinpoche and is a terma revealed by Kusum Lingpa).  She has come to you as a true guide and object of your devotion to lead you to the path of liberation.  So you should always have strong faith and devotion in her and receive her spiritual instructions.”

September 24^th, is the anniversary of the enthronement of Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo.  It is another opportunity for me to thank her for all that she has done for me, all that she has meant in my life.  I can only wish that everyone could find such a pure and perfect teacher.  One who can and will lead them out of suffering. 

Finally, and at last, I know I have come home.

Ani Thupten Palmo  

How Jetsunma Ended a Nightmare When No One Else Could

In commemoration of the 21st anniversary of the enthronement of Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo on September 24, we are presenting testimonials from Jetsunma’s students about her impact on their lives.  This story is from Eleanor.

“You’re definitely not possessed,” said the solemn Jesuit priest sitting across from me in a small room at Georgetown University.  He was reputed to be an expert on exorcism.

Within me, relief struggled with disappointment.  “How then can I get these horrors to stop?” I pleaded.       

To an outside observer, my life in 1980 would have seemed almost idyllic: a great marriage, two fabulous sons, a Ph.D. from N.Y.U., a published scholarly book, and a stimulating teaching job at the George Washington University in Washington, D.C.

We lived in a large house in Chevy Chase, with a ballroom on the third floor.  Yet I was having some strange experiences.  At first, they were benign, even exhilarating: knowing who was on the phone before picking up the receiver (long before caller-I.D.), knowing exactly on what rack at Saks I could find the perfect green dress.  Most exciting was accurately predicting to a presidential candidate which primaries he would win.

Gradually weird became disturbing.  I was alone in our bedroom when a hanger flew out of my hand and across the room. But when the bed started shaking, my sensible professor husband was lying awake next to me, both of us not moving.  Often there were strange smells, and a heavy, uncomfortable feeling in our house.

The worst development was a terrible pain at the base of my spine. Doctors could find nothing wrong. The only way I could fall asleep was with a hot water bottle.  Many nights I spent hours lying in a fetal position on the blue rug in our bathroom, praying, overcome with sadness.  Several times I felt death was near, and my depression was so deep that death would have been not unwelcome.  My only regret was for those I would leave behind.  This went on for a long time, and I was desperate for relief.

As I told all this to the Jesuit priest, he listened carefully.  Then he said, “I have a suggestion: try playing a recording of Gregorian Chant in your house continually, day and night.  I think it will help.”

It did. The first night was peaceful and pain-free.  But gradually, despite the chant, the weirdness and pain returned.  “There must be someone,” I thought, “who can tell me what is going on.  Someone with spiritual insight who can put a stop to this.”

I sought out every reputedly powerful spiritual authority in the area.  Often they could sense that something was wrong, and tried to help.  While they did a prayer, ritual, or simply held my hand, I felt relief.  But at home, there was no change.

I scanned the newspapers for visiting spiritual leaders.  I attended lectures and workshops, approaching the speakers afterwards.  An eminent spiritual healer looked at me closely, then backed away, sadly shaking her head.  A turbaned Sikh stared at me, then said: “Your aura is worse than a dog’s!”  A guru from California told me he couldn’t help, though he sensed the vibration of a Hindu guru around me.

I felt a shudder of recognition:  Yes, I had studied with a powerful Hindu guru for several years, until he died a sudden, violent death.  I made arrangements to go to the New York retreat to be given by my former guru’s guru, Swami Muktananda.

Meanwhile, at one spiritual gathering, a kind-looking woman approached me and said, “I feel guided to give you this.”  She placed in my hand a small plastic baggie containing what looked like ashes. “This is a sacred substance from my guru, Sai Baba.  I sense that you need it.”

At home, I sprinkled the grey powder around our bed, thinking, “”This is ridiculous!”  That night, to my joy and relief, all was peaceful.  But during the next few days the torment returned.

I was feeling totally discouraged when my friend Lilias, the famous Yoga teacher, handed me some cassette tapes of lectures by Jim Goure, a New Age teacher. “You’ll find these interesting,” she said.

As I listened, his teachings impacted me strongly. “He seems to have real spiritual insight,” I thought.  The only address on the tapes was Black Mountain, North Carolina.  Information had the telephone number of a Jim Goure, and I reached him at home.

“I was moved by your teachings,” I told him.  Then I described my ordeal and added: “I think you can help me.  If we pay for your air travel, will you come for a weekend visit to Washington?”

A long silence, then “Yes.”

After our first dinner together, Jim took me aside, and held my hand for a long, thoughtful moment.  “Yes, he said, your problems come from your former guru.”

“But why?”  He couldn’t give me a satisfactory answer, but while he stayed with us, the nights were blessedly normal.

Gradually the horrors returned.  Then I remembered Hilda, a spiritual teacher my former guru had praised.  I learned that she gave talks at a cathedral in New York City. I took the Metroliner.

Making my way through a huge throng, I approached her and explained the issue.  She listened kindly, patiently, and said: “I can’t help you, but I know someone who can.”

She sent me to Orestes, a shaman in New Jersey.  His exotic rituals seemed to bring some relief.  Later, I was dismayed to learn that a chicken had been sacrificed as part of the ceremony.

It was too late to return to Washington, so I spent the night on his living room couch.  I felt surrounded by strange though not unfriendly spirits.  Right above me was a huge picture of the Virgin Mary.  I prayed, then slept soundly.

Nights at home unfortunately did not change.  With a dollop of hope, I left for Swami Muktananda’s ashram in New York State.  My request for a private consultation with the Swami had been granted.

The Swami listened thoughtfully to my story.  He said he could end the problem, and gave me a hug that left me speechless with bliss. In his presence I felt wonderful.

There were about a thousand of us at his Darshan.  At the end of a talk entitled “You are your own friend, your own enemy,” Muktananda walked along the rows of devotees, blessing each one on the head with a feather duster. It seemed as if at least a quarter of the people thus blessed moaned in bliss.

But even then, during the ceremony, the pain at the base of my spine returned.  When I was lying in obvious discomfort on my bunk bed in the women’s dorm, one of my roommates said she knew exactly what I needed––a stool softener.

No, that did not help.  After I got home, a group of orange-clad swamis, as Muktananda had promised, came to do a blessing ceremony at our house.  The relief lasted a few hours.

One day each week, Jim Goure’s friend Elizabeth Nichols came to our house to do his Light Prayer with me.  We sat in a corner of the ballroom and visualized light filling everything, starting with our bodies, and gradually spreading to the whole planet, affirming only wholeness and peace.  She knew about my suffering.  One day she said, “I know just the person who can help you.”  She named the fiancée of someone I knew.

I laughed.  “All the great spiritual masters I’ve asked were unable to help.  How could she possibly …”

“Well, come for lunch,” she said.

Into Elizabeth’s apartment walked a beautiful woman in a white wool designer suit, with glorious black hair and sparking, joyful eyes that seemed to look right through me.  Never had I heard such fascinating stories as she told at the table, about Ancient Egyptian mystery schools and other-dimensional realities.  I longed to connect with her but somehow could say nothing.  After lunch she walked up to me and said, “We need to talk.”  I invited her to my house.

Eyes closed, she sat across from me in my little study. For once, I felt no need to explain my nightmare.  After a quiet minute, she said, “You’re fighting for your life, aren’t you?”

Deep relief washed over me.  Finally, someone understood!  Someone could see what was happening! “Let me look some more,” she said. 

“A Hindu guru is involved here,” she said––though I had given her no background information.  “Most people don’t know,” she added, “that some of these Eastern gurus wrap themselves around your chakras.  They control you that way.  Let me work on this a while.”

She sat with me quietly for about an hour, her eyes closed.  Then, while I stood next to her, she did some hands-on-healing on my stomach, right through my clothes.

“This can be done only a little at a time,” she said.  We made plans for further sessions.  I reached for my purse to pay her.  She stopped me, saying, “I never take money for spiritual work.”  She added that she had worked a long time gratis at Jim Goure’s center.  “He gave me all his difficult cases.”

I told her I could not accept her help without paying something.  What followed was my first completely pain-free night.  The ugly haunting had been going on for more than five years!

After each subsequent session I felt even better, more free.  During perhaps the tenth one, I suddenly felt as if something heavy and dark was lifted from me.  “What did you do?” I exclaimed, “What happened!?”

“He’s gone,” she said.  “And he won’t come back.”  She was right: he never did.

I asked how she had done this.  She simply said, “I showed him the heart of God.”

This was a few years before any of us were Buddhists, before H.H. Penor Rinpoche announced that she was the incarnation of a great Tibetan saint.

When Jetsunma started teaching, I became her student.  Once, I asked her about the bliss that Muktananda bestowed.  “It’s easy to give bliss,” she said.  “What’s difficult is getting people enlightened.”