Welcome to Dalando's Review of Varuni's Kyoto Energy Workshop 2002
Varuni's Kyoto Energy Workout
For me, Dalando, the movements started days before Varuni's workshop, as the Goose guests arrived from Germany. Instantaneously Vandan and Baratha welded tight, merged into a spontaneous bonding, our own energy field of kindred kinder. Connecting in urgent relevancy, we shared our manly take on relationships and our mutual passion for the path.
By the time Varuni arrived we were already high kites, a pack of giggling teens flirting our way through the narrow lanes of an invigorated Nihon. The distance from life on the roller coaster of Euro dollars was now contrasting and assimilating the speed lanes of fresh perspectives. We were in 'beginner's mind' floating above the mundane and just below where Varuni would take us.
The goose community of Kyoto was established in the early 90's by Deepen, and now Varuni drew us together again...hungry flies to her infamous honey. Old wisen souls, single parents exhausted from life's tests, freshly flowering seniors, and young frail hearts over-crusted with crystallized social assumptions, we came. One by one and in clusters of vibrating organs we rose to the occasion, like wild geese flying blind with entrusted endurance.
The music was right. The light sparkled through the massive garden stones and the late summer foliage. The tatami matting below our feet gave gently to the wild pounding of our liberated legs and the thump of our falling forms. Our bodies crashed down into Mother Nippon as our deadening trauma memory escaped, like gas from an unplugged orafice.
Varuni immediately took me down. A chain of blackened toxin erupted through my mouth. First my wife's suicidal sadness was drawn out, linked to a long sausage length of chakra debris, reaching below my testicles into the deadly darkness of former lives. Violently my body pushed and puked out this oral birthing, while a tender yet strong battalion of friends stroked my skin and clenched my flagellating limbs.
Now my dear fellows speckled the floor, like fallen comrades, lost in their own healing. The pain I had witnessed in their faces, for years, was lifted away. Farrowed foreheads and taut skowls softened into euphoric grin. A sensual rose pink highlighted ears, neck, and cheeks. An all consuming happiness brought roars of laughter and glittering tears.
Finally there was a haven from the stomach-wrenching sea storm. At last a reprise from the front line of 'getting by.' My home, which willingly and happily hosted this happening of hearts, now glowed from this bliss-rich transfusion. Friends floated out the door and down our mountain to quickly post e-mail 'Thank-you!' letters of rapture.
My daughter Kai, nearby and listening but not old enough to participate, had afterwards an eruption of tears and a gentle flowering. Complex dreams unleashed soft innocent questions about her lost mother. Finally my departed wife Reiko's spirit was present as guardian and angel, no longer the darkened void of a missing body part. Our house was miraculously whole, singing in a pulsating peace. Sinkholes filled with forgiveness. The cheer of my happy children stirred clear the dusty corners.
In the days that followed, I'd meet the participants of Varuni's miracle weekend in the stuffy haunts of our universities where we work. We were immediately filled with the chatter of unleashed energy, the deep tiredness of a job well done, and a shared silence, soft and sacred. We had been to the mountain together... and it was good.
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Robert L. Seltman
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