At first we were sisters in the struggle to end violence against women. Unaware of the causal intersection that would bring us together in the profound experience of P'howa, our relationship was casual and friendly.
Separately, we had become aware of Tara; I in pedestrian fashion through literature, Bonnie directly and swiftly when Tara appeared before her as she was about to receive her first chemotherapy treatment for cancer. While I struggled and lurched along in my practice, signs accumulated rapidly for Bonnie. Together, we received empowerment from Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche and, with the temporary subsiding of the cancer, her practice moved smoothly. Even though we were not grounded in the Buddhist tradition, we became close and connected through our Red Tara practice.
In December the cancer returned. Conventional treatment was applied, creating more suffering. We discovered there would be instruction on P'howa, transfer of consciousness, at Rigdzin Ling in March. Arriving weak and anxious, we were welcomed into the compassionate and loving sangha. For five days we rested, received empowerment and instruction, and learned how to transfer the consciousness at the time of death.
These precious seeds planted, we returned to Minnesota, pondering this powerful experience that reached beyond any concepts we could fathom with our ordinary minds. Conventional thought prevailed with friends who prepared to witness and assist in a painful and drawn out death. In contradiction to the medical time frame for the disease, Bonnie became confident, calm, and exuded a contagious, joyful energy. Though we never spoke of it in the context of conversation and everyday planning, there was a quality of stillness, an awareness of the consciousness resting, a shimmering radiance, in the eight-petalled lotus of the heart. Dialogue in ordinary English was inadequate to describe the increasing power of the approaching transition.
There came a Sunday in May at Bonnie's house. She seemed to float into the room, thin, body translucent, wrapped in a white towel, new grown hair capping her head like the down on a young chick, her eyes compassionate and loving. There was a moment of breathless recognition. What needed to be healed had been healed; not in this impermanent, mirageous body, but in her mind.
In dualistic happenstance, her consciousness was travelling with spiritual mastery towards its destination, her temporal form becoming ephemeral as the luminous qualities of mind manifested. We made arrangements to return to California. Laughing together, we secured the plane tickets, calling it the "Fly or Die Plan." We would leave on June 20. On May 30, the call came from Minneapolis. Bonnie had reached her destination, not in California, but in the pure land of Dewa Chen.
I pray to the Buddha Amitabha
for the blessing to be born in Dewa Chen.
Shirley Oberg
At first we were sisters in the struggle to end violence against women. Unaware of the causal intersection that would bring us together in the profound experience of P'howa, our relationship was casual and friendly.
Separately, we had become aware of Tara; I in pedestrian fashion through literature, Bonnie directly and swiftly when Tara appeared before her as she was about to receive her first chemotherapy treatment for cancer. While I struggled and lurched along in my practice, signs accumulated rapidly for Bonnie. Together, we received empowerment from Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche and, with the temporary subsiding of the cancer, her practice moved smoothly. Even though we were not grounded in the Buddhist tradition, we became close and connected through our Red Tara practice.
In December the cancer returned. Conventional treatment was applied, creating more suffering. We discovered there would be instruction on P'howa, transfer of consciousness, at Rigdzin Ling in March. Arriving weak and anxious, we were welcomed into the compassionate and loving sangha. For five days we rested, received empowerment and instruction, and learned how to transfer the consciousness at the time of death.
These precious seeds planted, we returned to Minnesota, pondering this powerful experience that reached beyond any concepts we could fathom with our ordinary minds. Conventional thought prevailed with friends who prepared to witness and assist in a painful and drawn out death. In contradiction to the medical time frame for the disease, Bonnie became confident, calm, and exuded a contagious, joyful energy. Though we never spoke of it in the context of conversation and everyday planning, there was a quality of stillness, an awareness of the consciousness resting, a shimmering radiance, in the eight-petalled lotus of the heart. Dialogue in ordinary English was inadequate to describe the increasing power of the approaching transition.
There came a Sunday in May at Bonnie's house. She seemed to float into the room, thin, body translucent, wrapped in a white towel, new grown hair capping her head like the down on a young chick, her eyes compassionate and loving. There was a moment of breathless recognition. What needed to be healed had been healed; not in this impermanent, mirageous body, but in her mind.
In dualistic happenstance, her consciousness was travelling with spiritual mastery towards its destination, her temporal form becoming ephemeral as the luminous qualities of mind manifested. We made arrangements to return to California. Laughing together, we secured the plane tickets, calling it the "Fly or Die Plan." We would leave on June 20. On May 30, the call came from Minneapolis. Bonnie had reached her destination, not in California, but in the pure land of Dewa Chen.
I pray to the Buddha Amitabha
for the blessing to be born in Dewa Chen.
Shirley Oberg
At first we were sisters in the struggle to end violence against women. Unaware of the causal intersection that would bring us together in the profound experience of P'howa, our relationship was casual and friendly.
Separately, we had become aware of Tara; I in pedestrian fashion through literature, Bonnie directly and swiftly when Tara appeared before her as she was about to receive her first chemotherapy treatment for cancer. While I struggled and lurched along in my practice, signs accumulated rapidly for Bonnie. Together, we received empowerment from Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche and, with the temporary subsiding of the cancer, her practice moved smoothly. Even though we were not grounded in the Buddhist tradition, we became close and connected through our Red Tara practice.
In December the cancer returned. Conventional treatment was applied, creating more suffering. We discovered there would be instruction on P'howa, transfer of consciousness, at Rigdzin Ling in March. Arriving weak and anxious, we were welcomed into the compassionate and loving sangha. For five days we rested, received empowerment and instruction, and learned how to transfer the consciousness at the time of death.
These precious seeds planted, we returned to Minnesota, pondering this powerful experience that reached beyond any concepts we could fathom with our ordinary minds. Conventional thought prevailed with friends who prepared to witness and assist in a painful and drawn out death. In contradiction to the medical time frame for the disease, Bonnie became confident, calm, and exuded a contagious, joyful energy. Though we never spoke of it in the context of conversation and everyday planning, there was a quality of stillness, an awareness of the consciousness resting, a shimmering radiance, in the eight-petalled lotus of the heart. Dialogue in ordinary English was inadequate to describe the increasing power of the approaching transition.
There came a Sunday in May at Bonnie's house. She seemed to float into the room, thin, body translucent, wrapped in a white towel, new grown hair capping her head like the down on a young chick, her eyes compassionate and loving. There was a moment of breathless recognition. What needed to be healed had been healed; not in this impermanent, mirageous body, but in her mind.
In dualistic happenstance, her consciousness was travelling with spiritual mastery towards its destination, her temporal form becoming ephemeral as the luminous qualities of mind manifested. We made arrangements to return to California. Laughing together, we secured the plane tickets, calling it the "Fly or Die Plan." We would leave on June 20. On May 30, the call came from Minneapolis. Bonnie had reached her destination, not in California, but in the pure land of Dewa Chen.
I pray to the Buddha Amitabha
for the blessing to be born in Dewa Chen.
Shirley Oberg
At first we were sisters in the struggle to end violence against women. Unaware of the causal intersection that would bring us together in the profound experience of P'howa, our relationship was casual and friendly.
Separately, we had become aware of Tara; I in pedestrian fashion through literature, Bonnie directly and swiftly when Tara appeared before her as she was about to receive her first chemotherapy treatment for cancer. While I struggled and lurched along in my practice, signs accumulated rapidly for Bonnie. Together, we received empowerment from Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche and, with the temporary subsiding of the cancer, her practice moved smoothly. Even though we were not grounded in the Buddhist tradition, we became close and connected through our Red Tara practice.
In December the cancer returned. Conventional treatment was applied, creating more suffering. We discovered there would be instruction on P'howa, transfer of consciousness, at Rigdzin Ling in March. Arriving weak and anxious, we were welcomed into the compassionate and loving sangha. For five days we rested, received empowerment and instruction, and learned how to transfer the consciousness at the time of death.
These precious seeds planted, we returned to Minnesota, pondering this powerful experience that reached beyond any concepts we could fathom with our ordinary minds. Conventional thought prevailed with friends who prepared to witness and assist in a painful and drawn out death. In contradiction to the medical time frame for the disease, Bonnie became confident, calm, and exuded a contagious, joyful energy. Though we never spoke of it in the context of conversation and everyday planning, there was a quality of stillness, an awareness of the consciousness resting, a shimmering radiance, in the eight-petalled lotus of the heart. Dialogue in ordinary English was inadequate to describe the increasing power of the approaching transition.
There came a Sunday in May at Bonnie's house. She seemed to float into the room, thin, body translucent, wrapped in a white towel, new grown hair capping her head like the down on a young chick, her eyes compassionate and loving. There was a moment of breathless recognition. What needed to be healed had been healed; not in this impermanent, mirageous body, but in her mind.
In dualistic happenstance, her consciousness was travelling with spiritual mastery towards its destination, her temporal form becoming ephemeral as the luminous qualities of mind manifested. We made arrangements to return to California. Laughing together, we secured the plane tickets, calling it the "Fly or Die Plan." We would leave on June 20. On May 30, the call came from Minneapolis. Bonnie had reached her destination, not in California, but in the pure land of Dewa Chen.
I pray to the Buddha Amitabha
for the blessing to be born in Dewa Chen.
Shirley Oberg
At first we were sisters in the struggle to end violence against women. Unaware of the causal intersection that would bring us together in the profound experience of P'howa, our relationship was casual and friendly.
Separately, we had become aware of Tara; I in pedestrian fashion through literature, Bonnie directly and swiftly when Tara appeared before her as she was about to receive her first chemotherapy treatment for cancer. While I struggled and lurched along in my practice, signs accumulated rapidly for Bonnie. Together, we received empowerment from Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche and, with the temporary subsiding of the cancer, her practice moved smoothly. Even though we were not grounded in the Buddhist tradition, we became close and connected through our Red Tara practice.
In December the cancer returned. Conventional treatment was applied, creating more suffering. We discovered there would be instruction on P'howa, transfer of consciousness, at Rigdzin Ling in March. Arriving weak and anxious, we were welcomed into the compassionate and loving sangha. For five days we rested, received empowerment and instruction, and learned how to transfer the consciousness at the time of death.
These precious seeds planted, we returned to Minnesota, pondering this powerful experience that reached beyond any concepts we could fathom with our ordinary minds. Conventional thought prevailed with friends who prepared to witness and assist in a painful and drawn out death. In contradiction to the medical time frame for the disease, Bonnie became confident, calm, and exuded a contagious, joyful energy. Though we never spoke of it in the context of conversation and everyday planning, there was a quality of stillness, an awareness of the consciousness resting, a shimmering radiance, in the eight-petalled lotus of the heart. Dialogue in ordinary English was inadequate to describe the increasing power of the approaching transition.
There came a Sunday in May at Bonnie's house. She seemed to float into the room, thin, body translucent, wrapped in a white towel, new grown hair capping her head like the down on a young chick, her eyes compassionate and loving. There was a moment of breathless recognition. What needed to be healed had been healed; not in this impermanent, mirageous body, but in her mind.
In dualistic happenstance, her consciousness was travelling with spiritual mastery towards its destination, her temporal form becoming ephemeral as the luminous qualities of mind manifested. We made arrangements to return to California. Laughing together, we secured the plane tickets, calling it the "Fly or Die Plan." We would leave on June 20. On May 30, the call came from Minneapolis. Bonnie had reached her destination, not in California, but in the pure land of Dewa Chen.
I pray to the Buddha Amitabha
for the blessing to be born in Dewa Chen.
Shirley Oberg
