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From Kumari
Dearest Beloveds,
I have wanted to write to you about Samadhi's passing and the journey
we all shared with her.
Last Tuesday, a perfect winter day with clear skies, warm sunshine and
a sparkle in the air, a couple of friends took Samadhi out, to the lighthouse
to see whales....Unfortunately whales weren't sighted, but Samadhi sat
in the sun, drank in the ocean, the sound of the waves, and soaked up
the sun. They had a picnic of fish and champagne, and Samadhi just loved
every moment.
The next day Samadhi had very obviously deteriorated, on an energy level,
and also the mental confusion that already had showed itself, was very
apparent. Samadhi could no longer manage to get herself out of bed to
the commode, and over the next days gradually slipped into a deeper
level of unconsciousness. On the Friday I put a line under her skin
to be able to give her morphine, and the last 4 nights I stayed with
her. At times she was aware of who was around her, and increasingly
over the weekend she slipped further away. We all sat with her, sometimes
stroking her, telling her we loved her, that it was just fine to let
go, all was well.
On the Monday I had an interview for a job at Byron Hospital which I
really wanted. I came back from the interview just a minute after Samadhi
had breathed her last breath. Saroja was with her, and about 10 minutes
before, Samadhi's breathing had changed to short rapid breaths, then
she let out a deep sigh and stopped breathing. It was a very ecstatic
energy as we sat, chanted and rejoiced. As people heard the news, they
gathered and we all sat in a profound tangible energy.
Some hours later Arupa and I laid out her body, brushing the tangles
from her hair, washing her with peach and lavender soap, dressing her
in a maroon robe, a beautiful piece of cloth, with her white prayer
scarf from the Dalai Lama. We covered her with a prayer shawl, and placed
flowers all around her. Saroja turned the room into a temple, and her
body remained there for a couple of nights. It was beautiful to go and
sit with her, watching her body texture and colour change to an ashen
grey marble. She so obviously was transformed by death.
So then one morning, Arupa, Saroja and I arranged her body in to the
coffin. One of her carers had made the coffin. I painted OM NAMAH SIVAYA
,and some big elaborate OM signs on the lid. It was lined with purple
velvet and again we filled it with flowers, along with photos of her
masters, tulsi leaves, and a little bit of siva prasaad........one never
knows.....
So we took her in convey, 3 white cars, and her in the back of a van
draped with prayer flags. Raman, Arupa, myself and Sat, a dear friend
who was Samadhi's closest confidant these last months, were in the lead
car. At the crematorium we played music, some of Gopika singing her
love songs, Rama singing "Saying goodbye"..........then we
closed the coffin and Sat pressed the button. We all were crying. The
guy organizing the crematorium was obviously moved.
We watched the coffin go into the furnace, and then he invited us all
to look through a little window in the back of the furnace, which was
really like a big brick oven. We all wanted to look, and then he opened
the back of the furnace so we could all just sit and watch the coffin
burn. After a while the pigment in the paint glowed yellow, so a bright
OM glowed against the blackening wood. Once the coffin collapsed we
could see her skull - .all the hair was gone and it was beginning to
blacken. It was the most far out thing I have ever witnessed. Samadhi's
last gift..... So we stayed a while then "bas" (enough).
So the next day Raman, myself and another friend Sarvo, cooked up an
Indian feast for about 50 people. I made kidgeree and subje....matter
paneer. It was very good. Sarvo made the dhal and we had pickles and
curd. Anjali's son Subhadra has just opened an Indian restaurant in
Byron and dessert came from there.....gulab jamans and halva.
Late afternoon everyone gathered on Tyagarah Beach, some walked and
danced from Gondwana, singing Hare Krishna. There were about 40 of us
gathered. We made a fire, and I gave everyone a handful of her ashes,
someone else gave out the flower petals. It was the perfect time of
day, a big surf sending white throthy waves rolling into shore. Low
sunlight receding to a perfect sunset. Big pink clouds and an aura of
gold glinting off the ocean. We put the ashes into the waves, celebrating
all the way. Then a small puja, and enjoying the awesome scenes of firelight,
sunset fading ,and the full moon rising out the ocean. Guru Purnima
- what perfect timing.
Samadhi requested that we celebrated with French champagne, so we did
back at Gondwana, followed by dinner. It was really so sweet. Samadhi
gave us all such a profound joy to be part of her final journey - the
ultimate let go. And I miss her. She has been a significant part of
my life these last months. So that is that. I hope that this can give
a picture for you all who were so much here also.
Love to you all,
Kumari
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From Niti (Printed in the Byron publication "Here and Now")
About three month ago, the phone rang and Samadhi was on the other
end totally cheerful. "I have some news for you. Come and visit!"
My fellow traveller friend Samadhi, who I lived with in America 15
years ago, and shared life with again in the Buddhafields of Osho and
Papaji in India, is visiting Australia for the second time. She has
suffered from cancer for many years and still travels round the world,
in dedication to the truth. Arriving at Gondwana Sanctuary, seeing the
lush greenery and the little houses, I am reminded of Koregaon Park
in India where Samadhi had lived with her little dogs. And of how much
India, Mother India, was home for her.
"Niti, I have some great news: You see, I realised I can't go
on travelling to France and to Canada. I have got quite weak lately,
and imagine what happened. Sat, in the name of Gondwana, invited me
to stay and die here. My greatest dream is coming true! And I want you
to be in my caring circle, because of the beautiful laughs we always
have together." Samadhi radiated with joy. She said, here near
the ocean with her dear friends around, is her dream place to die. I
was delighted and was so happy to be chosen to go on this journey with
her. I started to see her regularly and to meet with her other chosen
caretakers. Something very beautiful started to happen for all of us.
Being invited meant a lot to her. She felt loved, and not as being
a burden. She always wanted friends to come to her because they wanted
to, not out of obligation. I mostly visited Samadhi on Sunday afternoons
- we chatted and shared. I cooked our evening dinner under her French
supervision and made her ready for the night. She told me she was having
the best time of her life.
Everything was coming to her - everything was taken care of. She had
a beautiful room, looking out onto nature. Sat, besides being a close
friend, took care of the outside world - shopping, financial and immigration
matters. Beloved Kumari, a nurse by profession, was overseeing all the
health and pain control issues, and would became the Pujarin for Samadhi's
final celebration. Kusum was the morning tea person, Susan the house
carer, Avikal built the coffin, Saroja, Arupa, Bodha...Everything that
was needed, arrived in time and made her life more beautiful - from
the offer of a living space, CD player and computer, to the photos,
tapes, flowers, incense and candles which transformed her room into
a temple. Above all she loved food - food prepared with love. After
a lifetime of cooking fabulous meals for others, she loved friends to
drop by with food, or to cook for her in her kitchen.
Such a flow without lots of organisation. Samadhi was always full of
gratitude and kept shining. We all loved seeing her and serving her.
It just came right back.
We had two Bhajan evenings together with her, singing our hearts out.
The highlight was Avikal bringing in the coffin with OM NAMAH SIVAYA
and some big elaborate OM's painted on it by Kumari. If Samadhi had
been a little stronger, she would have got right out of bed and tried
it out! There was no taboo, nothing we could not talk about. Samadhi
was ready for her great adventure.
She told me that now she can be really creative. Particularly late
at night when all her visitors have left, drawings, letters, poems,
just flow from her. Everything is happening NOW. That's how I always
felt entering her room. Somehow time slowed down. It felt more and more
like entering a temple of love, full of flowers and incense, and shrines
to her masters.
Her creativity showed also in planning: She knew what she wanted, and
gave us instructions how she wished to be treated when she could not
communicate with us anymore. She designed her death celebration and
planned the menu for the feast afterwards.
Whenever her body allowed it, she worked on a journal about her life
as a restless gipsy, and especially of her experience of this last process:
"When I feel good it is hard to imagine I am going. Only when the
body is falling into a new level of pain or incapacity, and I am restabilising
myself in a state of acceptance, that I can see the let go. I have to
do it again and again."
Samadhi was for me a master in facing the process of dying. She lived
the words of her Masters, of totally letting go, and radiantly trusting
in existence. John de Ruiter's last message to her, of okayness, of
being fully alive while befriending dying, was finally lived out.
With love in our hearts, we celebrated her passing:
"When the time is right, beloveds, you go to the beach, before
sunset, each one of you will take a handful of ashes mixed with flowers,
walk in the ocean, the final farewell and throw the ashes to the infinite,
of love and freedom. A big Indian feast will be waiting for you. A
big feast at the Gondwana Main House. Everyone is invited, and put
a little plate for me, I'll be right with you."
Beloved Samadhi, thank you for showing us the Beauty in Death.
Niti
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