“Lyfe” and Breath

Name: Joy (Kathryn) Lanzerotte, MA, LPC
Location: Prescott/Phoenix, Arizona, USA
Occupation: Licensed Integrative Counseling Psychologist, Yoga Teacher, Public Speaker

Joy anjaneasanaTo breathe prana, life force energy, is all you have to do. For me this was apparent when I embarked on my yogic path 23 years ago. Movement follows breath. I ended every yoga class with “all you have to do is breathe.”

Then my breath was taken from me.

Despite being a healthy vegetarian, avid yogi, and holistic health aficionado, I gasped for breath through a persistent cough. It was July, in Phoenix, Arizona- everyone coughs and gasps, right? Under the care of a naturopathic physician, I had a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia.

Upon receiving the results of my x-ray, my doctor advised me, “You have a collapsed lung, a pneumothorax. Go straight to the ER.”

I was told to be prepared to spend the night. I was in danger and was not to drive. What? I was trying to comprehend that my breath was hazardous to my health. I entered the ER and waited. The attending doctor, a surgeon, confirmed that my lung was collapsed and had been for at least two and a half months. There was a jelly covering it and my trachea had shifted. He showed me the x-ray.

“How have you survived gasping for air, coughing, and the pain?” he asked, bewildered.

The pain of a collapsed lung was nothing compared to the pain I endured during the insertion of a chest tube. There was not enough morphine, prayer, or meditation that could allow me to escape the invasion of this foreign object into my body. I kept asking, “How can this be? I am not a smoker. I know how to breathe.”

I was admitted to the hospital, to the surgical floor.

Day 2

The doctor informed me that a black spot was discovered on my lung. I became faint. The doctor grabbed a cold cloth for my head.

I have a collapsed lung with a black spot?!!”

The doctor told me that my body would react with sensitivity to all medical attempts to restore my breath. He also said, “One thing IS certain: you know how to breathe. No one walks around with a collapsed lung for two months.”

A second chest x-ray confirmed the black spot. I required surgery. People live with one lung. But apparently not people like me, as I would always live a compromised life. I was given the following options: 1. Go home with a mini chest tube, 2. Go home, take some time, and return to have a chest tube reinserted, or 3. Have surgery to remove the jelly, and hope the lung inflates.

Day 3

Surgery, a flat lung, no breath, chest tube, dry cough. What is the message? It was my first surgery, a major organ, and I was frightened. Surgery was delayed, increasing my anxiety, which worsened as I gasped for breath.

Day 4

The doctor arrived as he did every day. Then he informed me, “You have Valley Fever. You have had it for some time. It invades your immune system, but your knowing how to breathe has prevented you from facing an unbelievably life-threatening illness. Valley Fever can kill.”

The doctor was right, my entire being reacted negatively to the surgery. If things were not grim enough, my body was swollen like a huge Macy’s balloon. I was enormous. My skin was stretched in every direction and when touched, made the sound of Rice Krispies. The medical staff came to view my body, touching my skin to hear it snap, crackle, and pop.  Guided imagery, chanting, meditation… nothing distracted my mind from the sights, sounds, and pain of this horrific disease.

Day 5

The pulmonary specialist, also amazed at the sight of the flattened lung with the jelly, shared the treatment for my illness. It was similar to chemo drug therapy. It would make me sick, disrupting my digestive system. I wanted to heal naturally. My surgeon encouraged me to try a low dose of morphine to allow my body to rest. He said I was fighting for my life with little, if any, reserve.

The days passed but nothing changed. One nurse took her breaks to visit me, to chant and offer me guided imagery. There were more blood tests and x-rays, but nothing changed.

Day 10

My partner contacted a high priestess/minister, seeking guidance. He saw I was giving up, letting go. Unbeknownst to me, they contacted friends, colleagues, and my global email contacts, to partake in a healing ceremony, which was scheduled in two days.

Day 12

Friday, the day of the ceremony, people gathered in my room. They came in silence, leaving items on my bed and flowers- lots of flowers. Before the one o’clock hour, the high priestess leaned into my space and whispered, “Is there anything you want to say, some thing or someone with whom you want to make amends? Anything you wish you had accomplished or completed in this life?” 

“No,” I responded, “if I were meant to finish my book or dissertation I would have.”

Then she asked, “If you live, what do you want?”

“I want to go to Italy to eat and drink as much as I want.”

At the 13th hour, for 13 minutes, the high priestess asked everyone to assist with breathing the breath of life into my lungs, to be held in the Goddess vessel. She asked them to pray, chant, meditate, or give hands on healing to source their higher power. I sat cross-legged in the center of a bed with handrails, supported by tubes, and the breath and prayers of all gathered in spirit.

Silence embraced the room. I was ready to go, to face death. The light was bright and freeing, I felt seven, innocent. My “lyfework” here on earth was complete. The ceremony ended and I was alone.

Day 13

The next morning, another chest x-ray was ordered. Hope waned, the hospital wanted the bed, and my partner was losing patience. We waited. My surgeon arrived to remove the chest tube. He smiled and said, “You are going home, your lung is re-inflated enough to remove this tube.”

Was it a miracle? Did I die? Was I going to breathe without a device?

YES! At four that afternoon, we left the hospital, my home for 12 days. I was not to drive for two months nor fly for three more.

In October of 2006, a pulmonary specialist discharged me from treatment. He said, “Go and live! Go to Italy, fly a plane, do inversions, handstands, regain your life. You have endured the most serious Valley Fever trauma.”

Joy Lanzerotte by treeNOW

I’ve waited almost 13 years to the day to share this story. I have not wanted to relive any part of it nor the challenges. I continue to teach and practice yoga, emphasizing breath, not just asana. I maintain a life-long commitment to holistic health and wellness and never accepted any medication other than herbs and acupuncture.

I have total respect and deep felt love for my naturopath, my cousin, and surgeon who came to my room every day. I am eternally grateful to my goddess high priestess/minister and to all those who gathered around my bed and universally to breathe life into my body, mind, and soul.

Joy Lanzerotte bioJoy is a licensed counseling psychologist, a former university professor and a yoga teacher for over 2 decades, with 4200 hours of training. She has taught throughout the United States, at numerous health spas, and has been one of the teacher trainers at Avalon Yoga and Art in Palo Alto, CA. She was selected by the Arizona Yoga Association as the featured teacher, 2010. Currently she teaches yoga in Phoenix and Prescott, Arizona and nationally. Find Joy on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/LyfeworksByLanzerotte. The business name LYFEWORKS™ was inspired by Joy’s father. Growing up he’d teach her, “Life is work if you live it, but life works if you live it.”  Joy changed the “I” to “Y” because the “Y” represents that YOU are responsible for your choices. 

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The Accidental Yogi

Name: Michael A. Stusser
Location: Seattle, Washington, USA
Occupation: Free-lance Writer, Playwright & Game Inventor

Photo by Flickr user chooyutshing.

Photo by Flickr user chooyutshing.

There was a time—and not so long ago—when I thought yoga was a bizarre circus routine where sinewy, limber Indian contortionists in need of a shower bent themselves into pretzels to the beat of Sitar music. Not that there’s anything wrong with being sinewy, from India, or a contortionist, mind you, it’s just that these misconceptions almost caused me to miss out on one life’s more sublime experiences.

My entire yogic experience to date has been in an Intro class at the 8 Limbs Yoga Studio in Seattle. I’ve been a beginner for several years now, and have no intention of moving on to intermediate or advanced classes (where they actually do twist folks into pretzel-like positions). You see, I’m perfectly happy where I am—in the moment—a difficult lesson to learn in this age of multi-tasking, and one of the basic tenants of yoga. Continue reading

Held by the Whole

Name: Maiga Milbourne
Location: Southern New Jersey, USA
Occupation: Yoga Instructor

Photo by Flickr user GO INTERACTIVE WELLNESS.

Yoga created me.

My Mom had three children and was a stay-at-home care-giver at age 38. She had begun practicing yoga and offering classes for others informally. She’d even begun eating vegetarian, as well as juicing, at various points in the month. Her body was cleansed, causing alarm bells to ring when she suddenly began craving cheesesteaks. She delivered me when she was 39 and my Dad was 48.

I remember being little, maybe four years old, and watching her teach uddiyana bandha (a breath technique to hollow out the abdominal cavity) to my then 12-year-old brother. When I was 16 she took me to a class at the local gym. I remember that the class was offered by candle-light, that thread-the-needle pose soothed my sore neck and shoulders, and that child’s pose felt like a refuge.

During those teenage years I suffered from a profound depression. Emotionally, I was responding to significant amounts of imbalance and abuse. I was hospitalized twice while in high school, and remained on pretty significant anti-anxiety and anti-depression medications until my senior year. I remember searching through my Mom’s bookshelf to find books on yoga. I went to my room and practiced asana. When my feet reached over my head in halasana, or plow pose, I truly felt hopeful. My body cooperated – I hoped that maybe one day I could find the same sync in my emotional world.

I then came across a book of meditations. I have no idea of the source, but I vividly recall a visualization of myself in the Tantric web of the universe. The book suggested that you watch yourself glow with an inner rose light. As the light shines brighter, the Tantric web around you becomes clearer. The meditation allowed me to feel held in all life, and to feel connected to it. My depression caused me to feel so alienated and worthless. This meditation offered me a stark contrast – that I was an integral part of all life. No better, no worse. Intrinsic. Valuable.

I began to once again see the world as vast, and the possibilities for life within it, as enticing and exciting. I went to college in Massachussetts at age 18. Living in New England, a few states away from my birthplace of the Philadelphia ‘burbs, and off of the mood stabilizing medication, I began to see my own depression and abuse as lessons in compassion. I had suffered, but I knew that others in the world suffered far worse. I began to study history, politics, and sociology with the goal of understanding others’ experiences more intimately. The first year after college I interned at a Union for Legal Aid Attorneys in New York City, where I catalogued instances of police brutality.

My own experiences began motivating me to align towards healthy communities, policies, and practices. I studied abroad in Buenos Aires, Argentina, studying Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo and Argentina’s relationship with the IMF and World Bank. The following semester I studied abroad in La Habana, Cuba, learning profound lessons about the human cost of embargoes and living under a punitive foreign policy.

I became a human rights activist. During this time I continued to practice yogic breath work, or pranayama, but wasn’t able to sustain a regular physical asana practice. I began to realize that I would burn out from this demanding work if I didn’t exercise self-care. I came back to the mat, slowly and steadily. I found a studio that immediately stoked my curiosity towards the physical possibilities of the practice. In these classes I encountered poses I’d never previously imagined! I joined other adults in losing ourselves in sweat, fantastic music, and smart, skilled instruction.

I wanted to be a part of that community, but I still felt odd. I felt that lingering sense of alienation that had built itself into my personality as a depressed adolescent. As a young adult, my activism work still lead me to feel on the fringe. I hadn’t figured out how to belong within my own skin, let alone within a larger network.

I saw that my favorite studio offered a teacher training program. That sounded like heaven. As a full-time activist I felt fulfilled and purposeful but also consistently time-starved with no savings. It seemed a pipe-dream that I would be able to afford a teacher training program.

The following year my grandmother became fatally ill. She was the only member of my family of origin with whom I was still close. I was named after her and visited her as often as I was able. I spent that Christmas by her bedside in intensive care. Shortly afterwards, she passed on.

It was a huge blow to again feel so untethered. I continued practicing yoga and engaging in social justice work. One day I received an unexpected phone call from my Mother – she was dividing my grandmother’s inheritance among her children and I would receive some money. I was dumb-struck. I was grateful for the money but also unsure about how to use it in a way that honored my grandmother. I certainly had debt to pay off, but I wanted this money to build something in her memory. I realized I could use some of the money to pay for teacher training. In this way, every time I moved onto the mat, or offered a class, it would be in gratitude for her.

Photo by Flickr user Nikhil Kirsh.

As I began the teacher training program, so many pieces of my life coalesced. I began to allow myself to embrace the community at my yoga studio, and to be enriched by these beautiful people. I was able to dedicate my teaching practice to my grandmother, and in this way find a healthy tie to a fractious family history. I also was able to offer yoga to other activists and advocates so that they too could benefit from the sustaining presence of this practice. In my first year of teaching I went on-site to area organizations and offered seva classes. I currently build community with other instructors who are activists, organizers, and advocates so that we can support one another, as well as our collective work.

Yoga has always been the piece that created me, healed me, made me whole. My Mom practiced yoga while I was in her womb. Her practice illuminated my presence early on. As a teenager, when trauma and depression nearly destroyed me, yoga showed me that glow of hope within. As an activist, yoga reminds me that if I believe in healthy communities for all people, I need to keep my own life sound. And yoga gives me the tools to do just that.

Passionate about healthy bodies, relationships, and communities, Maiga Milbourne E-RYT teaches vinyasa yoga to groups and individuals. Yoga offers so much to each student: physical health, mental well-being, ease, and community. In reflection of the broad benefits of yoga, Maiga has created a range of services to provide to her clients, all seeking to help each one realize their fullest potential. Learn more at maigamilbourne.com.


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Peace Through Strength

Name: Kumari de Silva
Location: Southern Californa, USA
Occuptation: Yoga Teacher, Studio Owner

Photo by Flickr user Alan Cleaver.

In 2007 I discovered that my beloved husband had returned to heavy drug use after an alleged 15-year stint with sobriety. How did I find out? He passed out, high on prescription painkillers, while driving. He hit a telephone pole at 60 miles per hour. Via helicopter, he was airlifted to the closest emergency room, over fifty miles away. The car was totaled.

In the emergency room the doctor asked to speak with me. “Your husband is a drug addict,” she told me.

“No he’s an electrician!” I blurted out in protest.

“He’s a drug addict,” she repeated gently. She asked me if I was a victim of domestic violence.

“From whom,” I wondered. I was completely confused. What I didn’t know could fill a book.

Yes I was a victim, probably always had been one. I just had no idea. For ten days I lived in crazy land while my husband’s cover was fully blown.The emergency room morphine, mixed with the pharmacy already in his blood stream, appeared to have caused permanent changes to his brain function. My former husband is permanently irrational.

Ultimately he walked out on me. Left to cover his debt and unable to get him to sign divorce papers, I was forced to work 70 hours per week. I had one day off every 15 days, occasionally. I wasn’t eating much. Food seemed like such an easy thing to trim from the budget. The culmination of events: i.e. stress, confusion, heartbreak, huge debt, the physical component of my work, plus my age, caused a hairline fracture in my hip. I lost the ability to completely externally rotate my femur on one side and suffered nerve damage in my leg and foot.

Photo by Flickr user Macxbebe.

I had no health insurance. Now I couldn’t get it. Due to my disability I was given fewer and fewer hours at my hourly job, until I could no longer support myself. Well, who could blame them? I couldn’t perform the job. I rented my house and left the state looking for employment, still riddled with chronic pain. Along the road my dog died.

My friend base, all fundamentalist Christians, believed my ex and mostly thought that I was being “mean” when I referred to him as a using addict. The ones who accepted his addiction issues believed that if he prayed to Jesus he would be healed. They continued, albeit inadvertently, to support his addiction. They were not supportive to me. One could say everything was gone: health, savings, friends, dog, home, and job.

I moved into a room in a house with two roommates who did yoga. One had a very strong meditative practice. I learned pranayama before I did asana. The other loved the physical practice. A third friend reminded me of the few poses I had learned growing up. He encouraged me to do them again to strengthen my hip and increase my range of motion. I felt discouraged as he patiently adjusted my alignment. Thank you Shawn for your patience.

When my roommate “J” found out that I was messing around with trikonasana, he drove me to a class with his favorite teacher. I still felt neither here nor there about asana. The class seemed like a “cool kids’ club”. With my injury, I felt like a factory reject. Undaunted, J looked for other yoga classes and took me to the next community, over a 15-mile drive away. I am forever grateful to him for his persistence.

Here I met my first real teacher. “M” was a blend of encouraging, upbeat, authentic and funny. She had a deep understanding of anatomy. She had also had some experience with addicts. She soothed my beat down soul. Every class was small and mixed level. M had a gift, I have rarely seen since, for modifying both up and down to suit all of the people in the room. From the first class I continued to go several times a week, sometimes more than one class in a day. Three months after I met her she suggested that I go to a teacher training at one of the larger studios 50 miles away.

“You could start a whole new career!” She said with an impish smile.

“Who would hire me?” I replied with my tired sense of discouragement. “At my age? How long would be I be able to do it?”

“For the rest of your life,” she assured me. What she said in a quiet and firm voice touched me.

Five months after meeting M I took my first 200-hour training. The same day I signed up, M disappeared! In an uncharacteristic manner she let personal issues overwhelm her. I did not hear from her again for two years. Another shock, another loss. The only thing I knew for sure was that my hip was starting to feel better. In savasana, encouraged to set an intention, I would think to myself “I just want to feel better, please let this pain go away!” I taught myself yoga as I was learning to teach. I was at the studio seven days a week, three hours a day. I built a strong practice that supports me.

My practice includes pranayama, meditation and asana. My students are often coming off of injuries, both physical and mental. They relate to me. I found myself re-entering and yet not re-entering society. Today, I eat well, meditate and practice yoga daily. Yoga is my passion. I learned the hard way that nothing is more valuable than feeling comfortable in your body.

For those of you who would say everything happens for “a reason,” I beg to differ. There is no reason I can understand to choose death and drug addiction. If you are a using addict, I implore you to reconsider. The pain it causes you will end at your death, the pain it causes your loved ones will never end.

Peace through Strength

Namaste!

Kumari de Silva is a mild-mannered yogi and poet who lives in the Los Padres National Forest. She received a BA from the University of Hawaii, Manoa, and a 200-hour teacher training from YogaWorks. Kumari’s work reflects a perspective of re-discovering familiar. “Teach what you know” is good guidance, but even more powerful is to “teach what you know well” and this will allow the heart  to reveal a unique peace infused with universal experiences. Once the peace of yoga creates insight, the body savors recognition. The grace of this delicious mind/body connection transcends time, space, and even culture.

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The Yoga of Change

Name: Ina Sahaja
Location: Boulder, Colorado, USA
Occupation: Yoga Teacher

Photo by Flickr User mailumes.

One of the most beautiful and practice-affirming experiences I’ve had with modern yoga is through the healing process. Once you’ve been practicing for a number of years, you’re bound to go through your fair share of life phenomenon. The unexpected happens and you find yourself in transition. Be it a job change, a physical change (like pregnancy) or an injury, change is the only constant. It’s just natural. And, thankfully, modern yoga is diverse enough that it can accommodate all of these shifts in our life rhythms.

I will be the first to admit, I used to be a die-hard asana junkie. In my teens, it was all about the physical practice. Yoga was primarily a great way to stay fit, while sustaining my inner inkling for spirituality with little nuggets of wisdom. Yoga asana was my life-crutch. Heavy asana practice was always there for me, waiting for me just around the corner, in the next Ashtanga class.

At 21-years-old, I went out on a limb and moved to a ski resort in Utah. My native-Texas bones and skin dried right up, and less than a week into my new stint, I broke my arm snowboarding.

I was devastated – Absolutely devastated. Moving my arm felt like shaking a coin purse. Clink Clink. It felt like I would never do a down dog again, let alone a handstand or peacock pose.

All I could do for weeks was lie on my back and breathe.

Photo by Flickr user shawnzrossi.

I had studied pranayama before, but had yet to truly integrate the subtler forms of breath ratio and intent into my personal practice. Around week three, post-injury, I decided to go for it. Even if I never rocked a big, peak pose again, I knew I had to start somewhere. And what better place to begin than right where I was?

I dove into Gary Kraftsow’s book, Yoga for Transformation, and let the lineage stream of integrated yoga therapy guide my practice. Through his words and guidance, I discovered new methods for practicing asana and uncovered deep contentment with my situation.

Although, at the time, I was a total amateur of therapeutic yoga, starting with my own practice eventually gave me the confidence to work with my other mountain-dweller friends. Many of them were in pain from mountain sport injuries, too: ACL-s, necks, wrists, knees… the whole kit and caboodle. From their enthusiasm (and from my own!), the way I perceived the whole paradigm of impermanence began to shift.

Just because your practice needs to change, it doesn’t mean you’re no longer practicing. It simply means it’s different. From my personal experience, I now see that the evolution of our sadhana, our ongoing yoga practice, is far more satisfying, healing and empowering than all of the arm balancing poses in the world. The more we find freedom in the evolution of our own yoga practice, the closer we come to embodying the ultimate freedom that yoga itself represents.

Finding the courage to let my perception mature, along with the evolution of my practice, gave me the depth and strength to offer the healing power of yoga to others. And for this gift of being able to serve from a place grounded in experience, I am eternally grateful… Even if I never again rock a killer handstand.

Ina Sahaja is a committed yoga student, teacher and friend along the path. Along with teaching weekly classes in Boulder, Colorado, she travels to lead workshops and retreats. She is the founder of Yoga for You!, a phone-led beginners’ series for rural communities, and Embodied Sanskrit, her signature course for yoga teachers and practitioners; de-mystifying the ancient language of yoga through a unique somatic learning experience. She is a passionate kirtan artist and is writing her first book based on her thesis, about embodied ritual in modern yoga. She blogs regularly on her website, www.yogawithina.com. You can also connect with her at www.facebook.com/ina.sahaja and https://twitter.com/inasahajaa.

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True Knowledge is Miraculous

Name: Om Prakash Singh
Location:
New Delhi, India
Occupation:
Project Sales Manger

Durga Puja- Photo by Flickr User Matthias Rosenkranz.

My name is Om Prakash Singh. At the young age of four I was sent to live with my maternal grandparents for my studies. I would return home to my birthplace once a year to visit my parents. Even as a child I had a strong inclination towards worship and prayers. Being Indian, Durga Puja was celebrated with great enthusiasm at my grandparents’ house. My grandfather was a high profile person in administration and my grandmother was a generous householder with a strong sense of spirituality. Though she was not educated, she was the one that taught me my morning prayers. 

I enjoyed my life living with my grandparents and I acquired a solid education. I graduated from St. Paul’s School in Begusarai, Bihar, India with good grades and I then moved from Begusarai to Patna to further my education. I passed my Intermediate exams and went on to graduate from Magadh University in Patna. At a very early age I married a beautiful lady named Vandana, but as I had no earnings, it became difficult to support my small family. To earn money, I began teaching English and science to the students. But in the midst of all of this, bad relations began to develop with my maternal uncles and it completely altered my way of thinking.

ISKCON Temple Delhi- Photo by Flickr user wieland7.

Seeking answers to my personal struggles, one day I went to Delhi and I visited the ISKCON Temple. There I listened to a lecture given by the Chief Editor from The Telegraph. After listening to him and the way he answered questions, I was motivated to learn his way of living. But, I had fallen into a bad drinking habit of whiskey and wine on a daily basis. At this time I had a business working with architectural glass, but that began to fall apart with my lack of awareness and my increased indulgence in alcohol. After coming into dire financial hardship, I began to move from place to place in search of money, but my drinking habit continued.

After struggling for a very long time, I finally retreated back to ISKCON Temple and started listening to the lectures given each week by different saints. I started chanting the Mahamantra. In the beginning that was very difficult. I put all my work on hold for three months and dedicated myself to practicing chanting and reading spiritual books on a regular basis. Gradually, I began to enjoy the chanting and I learned to practice chanting by myself and did so day and night for several months.

Mantra chanting became my habit and I continued this for a long time, getting deeper into the practice. To complement my chanting practice, I began practicing pranayama, specifically Anulom Vilom, at night. While everyone else was asleep, I would practice my pranayama from midnight until 3:00 in the morning. My intuition became powerful and I began to see visions. My thoughts began to reveal truth and my knowledge of spiritual Indian scriptures became stronger and stronger. I began to understand Karma Yoga and Dhyana Yoga. My practice and my faith became stronger and stronger and my body and mind began to purify. I could see the burning candle of my soul.

One day, at the age of 31, I was in my village of Raillie with my parents. At this point my mind was fully submerged with thoughts of the Almighty. Everything seemed beautiful. I could find no wrong. Everything was right. I could see that everything was created by my Lord, the Almighty. I began to love all living entities and worried of even treading on the ants beneath my feet. In search of the divine, I went to the ancient village temple and I prayed for my soul to be revealed to me. 

Photo by Flickr User exper.

That night when I came back to my house I went to sleep on the top floor, beneath the open sky. I started chanting on beads and gradually began to practice pranayama. All of a sudden I was lost in great meditation. Someone came near me and pulled my hand. I felt the touch and my eyes opened. I saw that I was standing in front of my body. I was afraid and wanted to shout for help to my mother but my whole body was like a log, lying there and watching the incident. As I tried to move, I suddenly disappeared and my body became normal again. I quickly got up; I felt fresh, rejuvenated and young. I was so excited with this out of body experience that my practice grew even more intense.

Then one day I was traveling by train from Patna to Delhi. That day the train was delayed for six hours at the station at Mughal sarai. It was night time and there were many passengers in sleeper class. My body began to heat up and I developed a fever. The faith was so strong within me that I started chanting mantra on my beads and just after one hour my body temperature was normal.

From that point on, I began practicing this healing method on myself. Now I never get ill and I am able to feel the functioning of my whole body organ. If any pain arises, I can feel the organ where the pain resides. I concentrate on that organ for some time for it to be healed with vital forces and become healthy again. And I can feel the results.

This is all the power of mind. So, pay careful attention to your mind and try to discard all negative thoughts, and instead infuse your mind with the knowledge and wisdom of the Vedas.  You will start loving this world as it is.

Born in Begusarai, Bihar, India, Om Prakash Singh was nourished physically and mentally by his maternal grandparents. Wanting to lead an independent life guided by his feelings, his grandparents helped him to understand the laws of nature and how they apply to human behavior. He ultimately decided that the mind has the power to create the future person. Om Prakash Singh is a graduate from business administration and is currently working as a project sales manager in the architectural glass industry. His ambition is to seek peace for all mankind.

Edited by Jeannie Page.


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