A Visit from Mungasulwa

-->Today Mungasulwa visited me. I was sitting on a bench next to Master Li, at the Sheng Zhen Gong Teacher Training here in Croatia. Jing was up on stage leading the class through the Union of Three Hearts meditation. Within less than a minute of shutting my eyes, Mungasulwa approached from behind and came around to my side. I smiled. I even almost laughed, because of course Mungasulwa laughed. Nobody else could hear it. But I could. And I love that laugh of his, the way it fills a room, the way it fills people's hearts. Thank God there's a video of Mungasulwa laughing! 

It's been a bit more than 5 months since I heard of his passing. Someone I barely knew passed away and I wrote about it within just a week. It's taken me many months now to write about Mungasulwa, someone who was so close, so important in a very present and active way in my life. I get teary eyed writing that but then have to laugh again, because every time I start to cry over Mungasulwa, I see his face, a twinkle in his eyes, a sweet smile, and he says to me in his Malawian accent that I love so much, "What are you crying for, my friend?"

And immediately I understand. Instead of crying, I smile. Sometimes even laugh. And that makes me want to cry again. And we go in this circle a few times until finally I'm ready for him to fade away again while still knowing he's always with me. Whenever I need him. And this is actually sort of how it was when he was alive as well.

I’ve referred to him as a friend, a confidant, a teacher, a healer, and even as a father figure. My relationship with my own father is good, but there are some things I wouldn’t discuss with my dad, or if I did we’d certainly not be on the same page about it. But Mungasulwa and I, we spoke the same language. So much so that it got to a point where I didn’t need to call him to hear his voice; I could hear it, and I knew or could pretty much guess what he’d say. That’s how simple and pure he was. That’s how connected I felt to him. And I still do feel that connection. And here he is again appearing as I write that of course, because of the tears coming. I want to say, “Will you just let me cry over you?! They can be tears of joy, you know?” To which he replies, “Of course.” But it’s impossible to cry in his presence. He’s like some super-charged healing crystal and an angel all in one.

In a sense, I was well prepared for his passing, in terms of no longer being able to talk to him on the phone or in person. I was used to these imaginary, or telepathic, conversations and meetings. But I was so sad that he hadn’t told me that he was dying. It really hurt me to find out not only that he was gone but that there was time to say goodbye. And yet the last time he’d left a message for me, I didn’t return the call. I thought about returning it, and then thought that just thinking of him was enough. I missed my chance. It was only a couple of weeks later that he was gone. The last time I’d spoken with him, other than in my head, had been months ago. I’d just left messages a few times that he hadn’t returned. I was even a bit concerned. And then he finally calls me back and I don’t return the call? Now I can cry. I can cry over that.

I can also forgive myself for it. “What does it matter anyway?” he asks me now. “Here we are.”

It’s true. Whenever I want to talk to him or see him, he’s here. And yesterday I didn’t even have to intend it or request it. He just showed up. It was a pleasant and welcome surprise.

Thank you, Mungasulwa.  Thank you for so many gifts. Your generosity when we first started to get to know each other at the Nevada City Sheng Zhen Teacher Training, meeting with me all those mornings to work with my subconscious to help me feel more at ease in an uncomfortable situation, gifting me those healing sessions and that meditation cd that I used regularly for so long and still return to. Your wise words. Your laughter. Your hugs. You and your wife welcoming me into your home and helping me figure out how to pitch a tent before I continued on my way. All the times you listened to the same old stories with patience and compassion and love and great advice, never judging, so accepting. 

  Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’d say I miss you and wish I could see you, but you’re right here. Thank you for that as well, my friend. I love you and am so very grateful that you came into my life. It’s forever changed for the better because of you.

 

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.