|Offerings all over the streets in Bali|
This is a big one for me so hold on to your seats. I had received wonderful news in the beginning of December, I am going to be ordained!!! I had been planning to go to Akashavana to get ordained and hoped that would happen in 2013. A week after my happy news I received the worst news so far of my life. My private preceptor and dear friend Suvarnaprabha has a faster growing cancer than we previously had thought. Nothing really seemed to matter anymore other than being with her, being with friends who care for her and us sharing this new reality. I want to be alive with her while she is alive and not to dwell in my grief. This is what is happening now and it is so important to stay present and open to whatever may arise.
Please keep us in your thoughts. I will need it while I am taking this big step. If you can come to the public ceremony I would love to see you. Soon after the ordination I will be going on the women's western regional O/M retreat happen- ing Feb 15th-19th. I hope to see some of you there and we can celebrate as my new self, no longer Dawn.
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Here's the message that went out a few days ago to the Order email list:
If you would like to stay up to date with how she is doing, please visit her blog, where there is medical information as well as wonderful reflections on her life: http://crapivegotcancer.blogspot.com/
Please keep Suvarnaprabha in your meditations. She will be conducting her first private ordination at our retreat center land outside San Francisco in early February.
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Ratnadevi sent me a link to Julia Darling's website. She was a writer who died of cancer. Here is a great poem from her blog:
Eventually, I was placed on a bed like a boat
in an empty room with sky filled windows,
with azure blue pillows, the leopard-like quilt.
It was English tea time, with the kind of light
that electrifies the ordinary. It had just stopped raining.
Beads of water on glass glittered like secrets.
In another room they were baking, mulling wine.
I was warm with cloves, melting butter, demerara,
and wearing your pyjamas. My felt slippers
waited on the floor. Then the door opened
soundlessly, and I climbed out of bed.
It was like slipping onto the back of a horse,
and the room folded in, like a pop up story
then the house, and the Vale. Even the songs
and prayers tidied themselves into grooves
and the impossible hospital lay down its chimneys
its sluices, tired doctors, and waiting room chairs.
And I came here. It was easy to leave.