 A Tale Of Many Lives  |
A Tale Of Many Lives
S.S. Sangeet Kaur Khalsa
Phoenix AZ, U.S.A.
We have just returned from a yatra (spiritual pilgrimage) to India, and we were among 400 Sikhs from across the United States, Canada and several countries in Europe to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the founding of the Khalsa.
We met at the site where the Khalsa was first "born" and dedicated to those who committed to fight for spiritual and political freedom in a land torn by invasions and subjugation. The place is called Anandpur Sahib, which means "place of bliss" - a small farming village with beautiful Gurdwaras (temples) set on the plains of the Punjab.
Many of us knew we had been there before, 300 years or so ago. Some of us knew we were going on this journey to release the guilt, the failure, pain and grief of that past life. We had been among the thousands who had served with Guru Gobind Singh 300 years ago, but had fled when He put out the call for us "to pledge our heads." Now, 300 years later, of those 275 brave souls who came on this trip, only a few knew the exact details of what they had done 300 years before. I was one of those who knew.
I went to stand up this time, to stand up as Khalsa, to answer the call. All the things I had done in this lifetime, using meditation and other spiritual practices, had released the pain of many previous lifetimes. But it had not yet released this grief. Now I had been given the opportunity to release it for all time. This is my story.
My first awareness of my connection to Anandpur Sahib dates back to 1979 when I first heard Anandpur Sahib mentioned in a song. At the time I had no idea what it was or why I was so moved to tears. Over the years, the tears came up each time the song was played again.
It wasn't until the first time I went to India, in 1995, that I was able to briefly visit the town of Anandpur Sahib. I knew the extreme sorrow and guilt I had lived with for 300 years. I had no idea how to correct it or let it go. What had I done? On our bus in Anandpur Sahib, I was overcome by tears and a sudden fever-like flush. I started to see images and hear voices. Hari Nam Singh turned on the tape recorder as words started to come out of me.
We are on top of a hill in a large clearing. There are soldiers all about and ordinary people dressed in festive clothes. Guru Gobind Singh is speaking to all of us, his arm raised brandishing a sword as he asks "Who will give his head for his Guru?"
There is confusion, voices asking each other "What does he mean?" I do not know either. He asks again. One man stands up and walks up to him. They walk together to a tent and step inside. We hear the sound of a sword hitting flesh, and then a thud of something hitting the ground. The Guru emerges alone, his sword dripping blood.
He shouts out, calling for another head. "He's gone mad!" someone says nervously beside me. I see another man stand up and walk together with the Guru to the tent. Another thud. The Guru emerges alone and calls for another head. My brain goes numb. Panic sets in. I feel myself scrambling out of the crowd, others leaving quickly with me. I run as hard and as fast as I can until there is almost no breath left.
The next thing I know I am in an earthen cave. My younger brother is with me. We are arguing. He wants to go back to the Guru. I tell him No! He is younger, he has no fear. Eventually he leaves. Hours later I leave the cave and go back up that hill.
It is almost dark and nearly everyone has left. The few who remain are still talking about the events of the day. About how the Guru had beheaded five Sikh men and then brought the men out, their heads on each other's bodies. And then he had created holy water and called it nectar and baptized the five of them and had them baptize him. In this way he had created a new order he called Khalsa, the pure-ones, and spoke of them as soldier-saints.
Hearing all this, I felt such pain inside me. I had failed him. I had fled. I was not Khalsa.
When the last piece of the vision finished, I looked at the face of Hari Nam Singh beside me and I recognized the soul that had been my younger brother. And now here we were again in Anandpur Sahib. The pain of remembering the past was almost unbearable. I was ill for two days after that. Only when we got to the Golden Temple in Amritsar and I dipped in its healing pool did the pain fade and the sickness leave.
Our second journey to India, in November 1996, gave me more time at the Golden Temple for reflection, including a dip in the pool that left me with sudden abdominal pain that I understood was reliving and releasing a past life death by sword. My visit to Anandpur Sahib that year was sweet and peaceful, sitting in the Gurdwara as our American singers led the singing of the sacred hymns. Nothing of that past lifetime came up.
So what was left to do? Had the "big cleanup" of my past lives' karma been largely accomplished? Hah! No sooner did I dare to think that than I was presented with the next step-the 300th anniversary celebration in Anandpur Sahib in April 1999. I had to be there!
When we finally arrived in Anandpur Sahib in April 1999 I found myself wondering what are we doing here? We are setting a strong energy field, for others, and ourselves throughout the town. Siri Singh Sahib Yogi Bhajan spoke with us one evening before we left on a march to one of the main Gurdwaras. We are here to spread hope, to touch the hearts of Sikhs here and around the world and raise the spirit of Khalsa here where it was first born.
It sounded sweet and easy. March to the temple and return. March in formation we are told, led by the strength of our children who attend school in Amritsar. We will march into town to the main Gurdwara and fill it with our presence, the presence of Khalsa.
The victory was real. The victory belonged to God. The Siri Singh Sahib had told us we were there to bring hope, to bring the spirit of Khalsa home. He told us we made history. Yes, and history also made us. For me, it was the ending of the past and the start of the best future.
The final gift came when I was meditating on the roof of the Golden Temple just before sunrise. I stood up as the main prayer was spoken, then sat as scripture was read in a deep toned voice. This time something was vastly different. I found myself moving swiftly through the stars, universe beyond universe. And flowing through those universes were waves of brilliant colors streaming from a point beyond but also streaming out through me -- colors I had never seen before. These were luminescent, rich beyond comparison.
Then the reality of this vision spoke to me. I was in the flow of God touching everything with beauty and grace, throbbing as the Great Heart throbs unfailingly for us all. As the voice chanting the ancient words of scripture continued, the colors got only deeper. Nowhere was there a place without the flow of God.
And then the reading ended, and the thousands present chanted a response. Instantly, the universes clouded over with a film of white. Through it, I could see the colors still flowing, but with each chanted response from us the white grew stronger. And then I understood what was being shown to me. We cannot reproduce these colors. When we try, and live in the world of "our colors," we fall far short. But when we respond in the same language we reflect back all frequencies - just as white is all colors even those we cannot know. Our highest response is white - the safest, purest, most all-inclusive.
As I watched our response grow, suddenly inside my head the whole scene changed to a pure gold. But not the usual gold. Not even the glowing gold of the temple domes only a few feet from me. It was a luminescent orange-gold, shimmering in my head and all around me. There was no "inside" or "outside," only this luminescent gold. And I knew my soul, for that brief time and space, had gone beyond time and space. I opened my eyes and I saw the world still there through my ordinary eyes. Then I closed them and the radiance was still there, in me and around me.
I sat there a long time in awe of what I had been shown - the love of God flowing as luminescence everywhere, flowing also from me and through me. I saw how we are blessed beyond our limitations and how we can never be alone. Only in thinking ourselves separate do we create difference. But in reflecting all one light we become at peace with the Source. This sounds like esoteric stuff, but it was a far greater gift than I could have asked for. It was a gift that leaving the past behind had made possible.