Section 1: Transcendental Yogi Tales Introduction
The tale of the Yogi
Is transcendental
In a dream of himself or herself
And always divine
In its outcome
As the love of the truth
Is fostered
Within each and all
In the grace and enchantment
Of what is possible
In the care of the whole
Of the ashram and people
Of his or her heart
Master Ananda shares from his heart transcendental stories of Yogis of the feminine, masculine and sometimes both through time. Each story aligns a blessing from the divine grace of the spirits that love humanity when a Yogi is present in your midst. The love of the two and the care of the ashram prevails in a divine sequencing of dream that only a master of truth can foster for others through time. May each story warm your heart and allow you to dream in Yogi parables of a fate divine ahead.
In the love of the love within,
Asur’Ana and Per
Tao
The love of the sway
Departs a rhythm
Of a soar into heaven
Like two birds of ourselves
Into the moonlit sky
In your arms I am forever
In the forever of the truth
Of the love of who I am
In a transcendental journey
Of a Yogi system
In which the nonphysical is real
And all else is not
And the love of spirit
Is sublime
The Truth of Ourselves
The flight path with the Yogi is divine. I soar and sail with Rareitish every other week in his recitals of music with his divine consort who dances under the starry night skies of his ashram “Suhana”. Suhana translates into “beautiful” in our language and indeed the land and lodging is beautiful indeed in Ashram Suhana. The lake is picturesque and can be bathed within in three regions; one for men and one for women and the other for partnerships. The love is high at noon and dinner is sublime at seven and the evenings often flow with amazing music from around the countryside as musician after musician arrives to add to the orchestra of the ashram. I too am a dancer at age eighteen known as Swarza. Swarza is the Yogi’s name for me that was offered at age fourteen as I motioned to remain in his care due to the truth that the Yogi is my father.
My mother caressed Rareitish only twice and conceived immediately. Rareitish has a gift of conception and many women come to him to foster a spiritual child of their own. There are three others that are siblings of sorts of various mothers also living in the ashram. All mothers also remain but mine did not. I really never knew why my mother did not remain except that she had another lover in the village. My mother passed one ill night of a plague in the region; and I took to the highlands walking a long way to return to the ashram many days after. I was grateful to be received; and the Yogi finally adorned me and recognized the truth of my birth inheritance as his child. I was welcome to remain thereafter.
I love my father infinitely as he soars with me as spirit into matter. Sometimes we are owls and other times herons and occasionally eagles soaring to the mid heavens and touching upon the moon, stars, sun, clouds or nighttime sky. In the midst of my hallucination is always a message for my wellbeing or something to focus upon directed from my father, the bird of the season and my Yogi.
I call him The Grand Bird Yogi. Indeed, often he wears silk attire with feathers or birds painted upon them. Generally, he adorns his long braided blond hair with feathers of all colors to match his assemble. Often, he dances as a bird soaring with his arms in gloves made of beautiful feathers in his rituals and ceremonies for the clan. My father claims he fosters bird healing and many aspire to be near him to soar into the skies of themselves to heal of some emotional charge that afflicts them.
For myself as Swarza I adored my mother greatly. I grieved her loss for three years and finally came clean in my heart space due to all the soaring healing with my father. Sometimes there were personal treatments in his darshan ceremonies held every other week. Sometimes it was just a mesmerizing healing in the lake as I floated amongst the femme of the ashram under the moon hallucinating in our shared soar path. Sometimes it was a heartfelt sharing with the mother of one of my half-sisters that helped.
Whatever it was, my heart finally re-opened and I felt as though I could live again by age eighteen. My father did acknowledge this one afternoon in the lake where he was nude bathing. I did not recognize him at first and he took me in his arms as a beloved. I was unclear about this at first until he whispered “Swarza, you are healed now. Please find the right mate for yourself ahead.” I thanked him and blessed him as he swam away to caress another also nude bathing in his ashram lake.
The Suhana region is filled with green valleys and waterfalls with lakes and wildflowers and trees that bloom and scent the air. The rain showers and the clouds float by until the sun fills the sky again. In the far distance is the town of my heart now along an ocean side port. The view of the ocean is dramatic from Ashram Suhana. I revel in it some and hope my beloved will find his way to the port and up the valley to the ashram one day to be with me. My father knows that I am skilled at horsemanship due to my upbringing in the village. He is gifted two mares that are pure white. I ride them endlessly all over the valley and canyons nearby. A white wolf dog that is the ashram pet always follows to protect me and make sure I return back safely. I feel it is my father in the wolf dog. The mares are my mates and I love them dearly in this time period.
Nossi and Nessi are the mares’ names; and I tame them with care with sugar cubes sometimes in hand. They graze in the valleys but always come to my beckoning. Nossi and Nessi allow the saddle of a blanket to be added in gentleness. They allow me to swing high upon their backs with my long legs wrapping themselves tightly around their bellies as we gallop away for the day. My father is surprised and chooses to use the mares in a wedding. I must gather them and adorn them with flowers. In parallel I am adorned in a white sari with flowers also in my hair. I rise early in the morning to flower my mare children. They are steady with me as I tie them to the post so that they will not depart. I gift them edible flowers in two baskets to enjoy and indeed they do remain without complaint.
The wedding is in the afternoon and I have had time to bathe and adorn my hair and don the beautiful white sari that is as gift of my father and also matches my mares. Nossi is disgruntled but Nessi quiet and nurturing before the wedding. I am unclear what to do but release Nossi to the wind and allow her to return if desired.
Nessi accompanies me to the wedding space and is well greeted by all the attendees as an honorable person to be present for the two to be wed. They are to ride away upon the mares; but I know that they must share one horse and not two. I am unclear about this except in a symbolic sense that they need to be as one and not as two any longer. In the end, the bride Eden rides upon Nessi’s back while her new spouse Mackie walks the horse along the trail to their honeymoon cabin. The cabin is gifted to them for three months to get to better know one another as a pair that is now husband and wife.
My father is pleased but wonders where the other mare went. I say what I see and that the two needed to be as one and Nossi was simply too uncomfortable to stay. Rareitish agrees and wishes me to attend the ball instead of trying to find Nossi as I look beautiful unto him, and so I do. The ball is grand in the largest room of the ashram. The ceilings are high and laced with golden arche and chandeliers. The walls have white and gold clouds painted upon a backdrop of peach. They resound buoyantly in this room and there are four troupes to perform over the courses of the night in celebration. There is room to dance and I love this of course as I have learned many ashram folk dances through time. I rise to dance along with some others in the traditional ashram music composed for the land of Suhana.
I am the lead dancer and this is fun for me as I feel like the goddess of the clan in such moments. I sway and I swirl and I use my arms and hands as wings of a bird with feathers. My father witnesses me in all the glory of the feminine perhaps for the first time since I arrived to live again in the ashram flow of himself. I love him always and foster an amazing light wave dance just for him that motions in the love of the clan. He claps and stands up dancing alongside me as an exact duplicate of motion; and we sway in front of the audience in the deepest of grace in delight unto the pair of newlyweds. They stand up and wish to dance with us too; and suddenly we are a quarter requesting of the musicians to repeat the ashram anthem one more time.
The love is high and the beauty is gracious and the four of us dressed all in white are a mesmerizing quartet of self to bless the land and the clan in a flavor of deep care in preparation for the autumn harvest and winter slumber which is a time of deep introspection of the path of those devoted to spiritual development of self. A glimmering set of eyes that are silver blue in the back of the room catch my eye as I depart the dance floor. I go to rest beside my father on a pillow in front of his knees. A gorgeous blond hunk of a stallion of my heart stands beside me asking for my hand for a common pair dance song of most ashrams. I arise and Atono wraps his arms around me in a particular notion that is generally reserved for beloved. Somehow, I really do not mind.
The evening carries on and Atono and I dance and sway to all songs thereafter; and I blush as a new bride. My father laughs some knowing the young man well who had studied with the ashram many years ago now; and knows he is the brother of the bride. We share some wine and then champagne and then stroll out on to the deck that is adorned with flowers I had handpicked laced with candles glowing in the nighttime sky. We speak of similar positions about life in the ashram community although I have only experienced one since birth. He knows I am the daughter of the Yogi and is intrigued with me somehow. Alas Atono must return to his position in a neighboring ashram but requests that I visit soon and stay for a time learning more about partnership with another Yogi.
I pack my bags the next day and tell my father that I wish to depart and why. He winks and nods but warns me that Atono is quite a ladies’ man and may have a lineup of others that he prefers. I recognize in the heart of me I am quite I. I decide I will flirt with all of the men and be okay. My father laughs and states that perhaps I am the only Swarza (means big flirt and delight) he has ever known and he named me so knowing who I was as I was born. I blush some and rush out the ashram door as it is about a three day’s hike to arrive at Ashram Latika.
The road is gentle and the late summer flowers are still in bloom. The Yogi known as Velviti is female and perhaps I need this now for instructions on partnership from the feminine. I take my best costumes and hope to trade none as they are blessed by my father to meet the beloved of my heart he says. A beautiful pearl necklace is laced around my neck just before I walk out the ashram door as a souvenir from his heart and also an anthem that I will return again by spring to share of my adventures in Ashram Latika.
I arrive by dusk the third day having stopped at two inns taking my time to wine and dine with those who foster the hotels nearby. I know three that serve in this manner and we do have a wonderful caress of the feminine sharing our heart’s desires to find the mate of our lifetime. I know my father the Yogi never marries. One friend Kirtan claims that perhaps I will be the same and have many like him through time. I ponder this. She thinks I am too much like Rareitish in my bloodline for anything less. I am not sure I share as I think one beloved may be enough. Sister Kirtan laughs so hard she falls off her chair by the fireplace. I look at her sternly and she says that the bustier I am gifted by my father translates into femme of the ball and not the lifetime.
Ashram Latika is stunningly feminine in all of its silken fabric drunken in all the colors of the sunset adorning the pillows, walls and ceilings. The carpets are woven tapestries of wild flowers that grace the hills and trees nearby. I adore the Yogi already although it is four days before I can receive darshan with her. The dining hall is glitzy and I have adorned myself in my pink costume with my father’s pearls wrapped around my neck; and braided my hair up high adorning them with white feathers.
Atono does stop by caressing my bare shoulders and kisses me on the cheek but motions on to another table of four other women. I am not surprised and decide to do what I do, and so I do. Three men sit with me too; one who is dark haired and romantic named Quaisar; another who is blond and shy named Pomi, and the last who is white haired and much older and very handsome but obviously wise named Truseau.
I am delighted and chat about my father’s ashram some and why I have come. I ask for direction about the schedule of the ashram. There are musical productions most nights in the sway club. There is dinner always at seven and breakfast at nine. There are workshops taught by the Yogi or other teachers always in other spaces upstairs designed for such a purpose. The next workshop is to be taught by Truseau and is on tantric puja. I do not say anything but know I have done little of this type of tantric work as of yet. I tell him I’d like to attend and he smiles and says why yes looking down at the cleavage of my bosom. I laugh and twinkle and sparkled under his attention and do not know why.
I am tall and blond with blue eyes like my father. I carry myself proud and adorn myself grandly. I love to flirt and I adore the feminine friendships too. The Yogi Velviti is the exact opposite of myself. She is short and tiny with black hair piled up high; high cheekbones and dark skin and sparkling black eyes. She is adorned in a black sari cascaded with diamonds that sparkle as are her ears, nose, fingers and toes. I love her already and she appears to take a second glance at me as the darshan begins in a room of about thirty. She chooses me last much to my amazement.
She asks me in a husky voice with a deep accent who are you? I tell her that my father is Yogi Rareitish. She smiles and says I look just like a feminine version of himself; and she laughs heartily thereafter filling the room with her smile. I ponder this but later discover that the pair of Yogis were consorts for many years in between their other unions; and four of his produced children one of which is me.
The blessing Is sacred from the Yogi. Velviti warns me that I will be the highlight of each party; but make sure not to have sex as I could conceive and perhaps this is not wise. This may be what occurred for my mother. I blush some but choose never to have sex, only tantra, and tell her so. She claims men can be persuasive and sometimes a little pushy; but most will back off if you tell them that you do not wish to conceive; as most do not either. Velviti blesses my head and my bosom too; and then my hands and my toes and motions me to join the others for afternoon tea downstairs. On darshan days there is always a tea served along with delicacies of her personal chef to anchor the blessings into the body, mind and spirit.
I enter the tea room and it is filled with almost all in the ashram. The last chair open is next to the Yogi herself who smiles and says please sit here. I listen to Velviti’s exotic talk of her recent travels to three other ashrams and the Yogis she blessed and studied with also. She held classes for their clan and loved the land but was grateful to return home. Those at the table bless her and toast her opening a bottle of handmade cherry wine. I share in the blessings and feel an instant knowing that I will not remain here forever; but the lessons will be grand for the coming few months.
Truseau’s workshop is divine. He chooses me as his partner to demonstrate the tantric rush positions to all the couples sitting on top of one another on tantric pillows. I orgasm upon his lap in the last position demonstrated and feel a bit embarrassed; but everyone else claps. I am not sure if the clapping is for me or his demonstration or for Truseau; but he stands up holding his hand for me to also arise. We just so happen to match in orange saris that sparkle with gold fabric; and all think this is a divine sign of a romance to follow. Truseau pursues me like I have never known before. The experience is another level of something that I am unclear about but think is really beautiful.
Roses find their way up in my bedroom each night in a glass vase upon my table. Tonight, there is also a note to meet Truseau in the lake at midnight for a moon lit swim. I wrap myself in a pink cape and make my way down the path to the shimmering lake. I toss my wrap to the side and enter the water which is actually quite warm. Truseau shows up a little later. I am enjoying my moonlit swim without him anyway. He dives off a deck I did not know existed; and swims towards me in the moonlit skies of ourselves. We caress and nibble at one another’s lips and necks; and he tells me I am the woman of his heart. The love is as high as the full moon and I know in my heart I enjoy the journey of ourselves very much.
There is a lovely party planned with special musicians arriving; and he wishes me to dine at his table alone. I adorn myself with my best costume from the wedding of my heart. My cheeks sparkle in the love of ourselves. We hold hands through the evening and nibble at little dishes of delectable morsels lovingly prepared by the ashram chef for the occasion. Several bottles of champagne come and go and I laugh and giggle and share of stories of my heart as does Truseau.
Truseau is older with much experience about tantra. He requests that I have a personal session with him one afternoon soon. The Yogi smiles later when I am alone and says Truseau is very honoring of the feminine; and will not press for sex; so, enjoy what you learn in his arms. He is also not the marrying kind; but you are probably not either. So, it is a good match, Velviti states, for the coming few months. I smile and thank her always.
The private puja sessions with Truseau are amazing. I discover that his gentleness and tenderness is absolutely amazing. I open my heart and sway and sizzle with him. Often, I orgasm into a full body motion of pure joy. We always dine in his private quarters thereafter. There is wine and dessert and a romantic swoon; and sometimes I lie in his arms all night long. The kisses grow more intense and I know my body raptures next to his. He adores me and asks that I remain longer as he would like to get to know me better. I am unsure how to take his request, but choose to remain in the ashram, as I cannot really long for anything else anyway.
The months come and go and the romance blooms and sways and we are often witnessed as a pair romancing in the ashram care space. Truseau adorns me with saris that match his own. For his classes, I am his partner to demonstrate each puja for about three months. I ponder when the romance will end and feel it coming somehow in him and maybe not me. I do not cry as of yet but think I might. Much to my surprise, Truseau tells me one night that he never met a partner he thought could be with him for life outside of me. I cry against his shoulders having worried for about three weeks that he needed his space to be with another. He asks me why I am crying and I tell him the truth feeling the need to; as the Yogi had shared, he was not the kind to be with anyone long term.
Truseau shares that he adores Yogi Velviti always. They are not tantric partners but she chooses her own. I have had many partners here and there; but no one like you ever. I desire to marry in the spring and have you remain here as my wife. I accept and a tiny ring that had been gifted to Truseau by his first Yogi Puja partner fits only pinkie finger. He laughs and I do too as I have large hands and feet that match my tall stature just like my father. An announcement is made at the following autumn festival ball about our engagement. All applaud having witnessed our romance in the corridors of the ashram. Some ponder if I am pregnant and ask me privately. I state no as I do not wish to have a child, I think.
I decide to broach the subject with Truseau, as I am unsure, I desire the role of parenting. He assures me that this is the last thing on his mind. What he desires most is to take his tantric studies and approach for divine orgasms to all the ashrams of the land with me as his wife and teaching partner. I adore this idea and soon we make plans as to where to go following our wedding day. I ask if the pair of us can visit my father to make an announcement of our wedding plans in Ashram Suhana. We pack out bags in the wintertime when the teaching subsides making room for rest and introspection of the teachers. Soon we arrive in my homeland. We wine and dine two nights at the inns upon the path; oddly enough none of my friends are hosting them any longer.
We arrive only to discover that my father is in a retreat with his new partner. He may not appear again for another month. Truseau laughs and says oh my, maybe there will be another child. It turns out Truseau had been a favored young student long ago as Yogi Rareitish first took over the ashram. He adores Rareitish always as another Yogi of his heart. We are gifted a honeymoon suite due to our engagement. We make a loving announcement at the first music festival of the winter.
The ashram appears beautiful as I always recall it. Many are intrigued with Truseau. Soon he volunteers to teach tantric puja for those interested. The next thing I know is that we have twelve classes scheduled. I adore teaching and generally orgasm at the end of the day on top of his lap. All clap and learn much about tantric orgasms that are nonsexual in nature but refreshing for each in the partnership. This is a good way to offset sex. All in the ashram know why we are together thereafter.
Somehow the private cook of my father announces our arrival ahead of time. My father comes out of retreat only to join our class with his new beloved now sitting on his lap. I finally turn around to witness them together and laugh so hard everyone looks. My father in a puja just didn’t make sense to my senses as he is my dad of course; but it was lovely to see him with such a beautiful partner.
Rareitish and Rashna are each Yogi’s I learn later. They are together for spiritual focus but thought they would join the class as it sounded fun. Truseau and I are invited to dine privately with the pair of Yogis later that night. We have a shimmering sharing about many things about ourselves and our love of one another. My father sparkles and winks and thinks this is just perfect of course. His beautiful Swarza found a beloved for her life after all; and this he wished for her mother and each who bore his children.
For some the dream of a lifetime partner was fulfilled upon that bore his children; for others, not. Perhaps the dream that Rareitish meant for my mother rolled upon me to be fostered in my life when it could not in hers. I cry in this sharing as I loved my mother so very much and it hurt so to lose her in my life. I wish she could be present for my wedding day too. My father invites us to consider hosting the wedding in Ashram Suhana as the ball room is grander; and also, the knoll and gazebo for the wedding a pretty setting at sunset for a large crowd. We all agree that this will be so in the spring.
The wedding is sublime and the sunset magnificent. Flowers grace the path that someone else picked this time. My white sari sparkles with pink pearls. A pink organza cape is wrapped around my bare shoulders. Truseau is all in pink with a white organza scarf to match my attire. We exchange vows with Yogi Rareitish and Yogi Velviti present. Both ashrams attend along with a few other guests who know Truseau through time. The party to follow is perhaps the grandest of occasions of both ashrams. The food is delightful and the cake dazzling in its fruit glaze. Four music troupes play throughout the night. The ashram celebrates the first wedding of Yogi Rareitish’s four children.
My step brothers and sisters are present. I love them too and they honor me also for my new found work as a tantric priestess destined to teach with my beloved partner. Following our honeymoon retreat in the back of the property, which lasts three months, we pack our belongings and altar wisely to travel to twelve other ashrams to teach in the coming three years. We will not see anyone most likely of our own ashrams for a long time. I am excited about all the travel and change ahead in my life as I kiss my father goodbye under the morning sky. We depart for the first of twelve ashrams which is about a seven-day hike and boat ride across a lake.
I am mesmerized by the lake as it shimmers at sunset in golden and pink hues as the ferry takes us across to the ashram. Ashram Farzeen is a stunning pink marble structure. There are marble paths and marble floors everywhere. Our suite is also of marble including a grand bed made big for the two of us to share. I adore our quarters and look forward to our events ahead. Yogi Chakradhar is a handsome male of a youthful stature. His following is smaller in number but more are finding their way to his particular focus now. The three of us dine privately and I discover that Chakradhar is a master of trance. In a trance, Chakradhar channels information no other may know from spirit.
We are blessed with a few workshops channeled by Chakradhar. The focus of spirit in their communications was the need to build heart space. Somehow heart space is diminishing upon the planet. The loss of heart space can lead to war in human civilization that is secular. In building heart space again in the air stream of the planet, wars of the coming thirty years may be offset. Spirit blesses the two of us for adventuring to teach in the ashram another manner of increasing heart space in a puja of deep care.
I am fascinated with the beauty and grace of Yogi Chakradhar. The workshops come and go and soon it is time for us to adventure on to another Ashram yet further away. Yogi Chakradhar blesses us in a private dinner on our last eve. I feel the love and gifts from spirit grander than I have ever. Truseau and I snuggle all night in a bed of love before our departure.
Ashram Jhalak is a two-week trip on a train and then upon another ferry across to a port along the seaside. The land is beautiful and speaks to the joy of the sea in the sway of the palm trees. The weather is tropical, something I have never experienced before, although Truseau has. This is the ashram of his heart, he tells me. He remained at Ashram Jhalak for seven years before motioning on and missed it terribly. Somehow, he never returned until now. I ponder if we will remain here for life as a result, but in the end we do not. Yogi Meher is an amazingly gracious female as tall as I but with long black hair, dark skin and golden eyes. I adore her already; but Truseau is disappointed as apparently the Yogi that he loved dearly has long departed Ashram Jhalak.
The classes come and go and Yogi Meher is very appreciative. Truseau takes her into his quarters for a private session in our last week at the ashram. I feel very uncomfortable about this at first. Truseau explains later that he had to release Yogi Meher from her own need of a beloved as she had entered our private space of self and disturbed it. In fostering a private puja, he could diffuse her from our union and we will be better for it ahead. I learn something then about the need of the feminine and how it can invade our love of the two as this we had not experienced with any other elsewhere. Truseau had witnessed such patterning in other couples and knew what to do to assure our union is superlative in its grace always. I love my husband and all his wisdom and years of understanding of tantra; and learn much over time.
We depart Jhalak a month early and depart for Ashram Zaha, another rather long journey by train. We arrive in a beautiful coach that is gifted us in first class on the part of a wealthy businessman who shared time with us some in an inn we stay at. Joshua has a horse farm and invites us to visit after our time at the ashram. Since we are early in our arrival, we choose to visit the horse farm first. The white mansion is spectacular and decorated in horse statues, horse fabric, and horse everything, even at the dining table. Joshua is delightful and his wife Nanna gracious. I desire to ride again and explain my experience. As it turns out, my mares were a gift of Joshua to my father’s ashram many years ago now.
I take to the hills one morning on a white mare that reminds me of my beloved pair of horses back home. I enjoy the velvet hills that caress the sky in their green carpet of self. Truseau spends the day coaching Joshua and his wife about partnership. They appreciate this and I am very happy as I return by dusk. I shower and change attire and join the three for dinner. The romance of the experience with the white mare Dolsan was really beautiful and magical to me, I share. We remain at the ranch only a week and bless the caretakers of the horses of the region forever. The love of ourselves causes the most amazing dreams to arrange themselves for Truseau and I to experience; and the time at the horse farm was an example of this to each of us.
We arrive at Ashram Zaha, which stands tall upon the mountainside. We ride a tram to the top and feel lucky we need not walk this part as the journey is quite steep. The ashram stands tall in its wooden structure and is painted dark green just like the forest with white windowpanes. The interior is white with white marble floors and decorated in dark green furnishings with white pillows. The ashram smells like pine and I learn later that they produce pine incense and pine candles that are shared all over the region. Yogi Aarush is most handsome in his long grey hair and twinkling blue eyes. He is mature and stands tall next to his gorgeous buxom bride Adafay who is round but has the most glorious laugh. The pair just seem to twinkle together as we work with them first in many puja systems that will allow their union to grow.
The classes are many as the ashram is larger than normal. We choose to remain many additional months due to the need to work with so many and this really pleases the Yogi and his wife. The love grows the longer we remain. Clusters of new couples form and some propose to one another. They request that we remain to foster the ceremonies of the new husbands and wives if we wish to. This causes us to remain another three months to continue to teach more classes about wedded life. Truseau and I also attend classes of the many adept teachers of many spiritual principles of truth along with the Yogi himself. I am amazed at how much I grow in my understanding of the spiritual path; and feel that I am finally beginning to match Truseau in another newfound level of maturity as his bride.
The weddings are arranged one week apart and there are three. Each is unique in their design of costume and where the ceremony shall be performed and the sacred vows exchanged. One desires the ceremony overlooking the veranda with the backdrop of the mountainside behind them. The other desires the ceremony to take place in the vineyard in a gazebo of their hearts. The last prefers the ceremony along the creek in the back and under the pine trees. All three weddings are amazing and beautiful for us to share within and minister unto as a couple that cares deeply for all others. The parties to follow are delightful and often Truseau and I dance into the night to celebrate our union and theirs too.
Our time finally concludes in Ashram Zaha. Aarush and Adafay arise early to see us off to our next journey. They gift us a holiday at an inn of their hearts at the base of the mountain. We stay at Inn Hush for one week and lavish in the rest. The inn’s keepers are kind and provide glorious meals twice per day. We are gifted the honeymoon suite which is very beautiful. I bathe in a large tub each night and lavish in the bubbles of a pine soap produced in the Ashram above. Truseau somehow manages to crawl in and join me splashing the water to the floor. We laugh and rekindle our union.
Ashram Binita is next and a very unique experience for me. The journey across the sea to a foreign land is most amazing. We live on board the boat for four weeks with private quarters of our own. The food is grand, the music divine, and the time also useful to our rest and recuperation. The Captain takes to our table many a night pondering what we do as divine compliments teaching tantra in ashrams nearby. He too has spent time in ashrams in his youth but took to the sea for the freedom needed in his heart and mind at another time of his life. He is to journey to the ashram later in the year that we are headed and is interested in taking a workshop with us too.
We arrive at beautiful Binita which is called this as the trees whistle and the birds sing a melody all their own by day; and the frogs chirp and the winds blow creating another melody by night. The land is a lush tropical forest filled with unique trees, flora and fauna. The river winds up stream and we board a boat to arrive at the gate of the ashram by nightfall. The scenery was so gorgeous both I and Truseau are mesmerized the entire journey. The Yogi greets us at the gate. There is a problem of a flood that has hit the living quarters and teaching rooms. Yogi Ishani advises us to arrange another adventure at another ashram.
The next ashram is not far away and known as Song of the Gods we are told. Yogi Songsun is not expecting us but invites us to remain. The ashram is not geared towards teaching couples but singles fostering deep spiritual awareness through introspection and trance. The devotees are beautiful and we are to remain only seven weeks. Truseau suddenly falls ill and dies. I am devastated beyond belief. I do not know where to go to carry on with my life. Yogi Songsun is very handsome and gracious with me. He carries me to my room and holds me every night to soothe my heart and mend my mind. Somehow, I grow through my grief in the coming few months in his tender care. Somehow the two of us fall in love and soon Songsun proposes that I become his wife.
We marry in a short time in a private ceremony with a few of my new husband’s close friends. He desires me to teach my puja information with him now. I share all of what I know and we soothe one another in deep grace, beauty and care. I am the true beloved of his life. Soon a new direction of the ashram takes flight and couples are invited to learn tantra with us. The news carries far and wide and within eight months the ashram is booming with new students devoted to partnership study. I am amazed but somehow some of the couples we have known in other ashrams including our homeland also arrive along with river of our hearts.
I love my second husband as much as my first. One day out of deep surprise to myself, my father arrives with a new wife for our workshop. Rareitish has heard of the death of Truseau who never told me he was ninety three years old. Songsun is much younger but aspires to have children. I am not sure about this yet but will think about it I say. My father suggests I forget the children concept and stick with teaching tantra as we are so gracious in ourselves as we share of our love of the puja to heal couples in their heart space. So, this grows to be our choice forevermore.
In the love of ourselves,
Master Ananda
The love of the sway
Departs a rhythm
Of a soar into heaven
Like two birds of ourselves
Into the moonlit sky
In your arms I am forever
In the forever of the truth
Of the love of who I am
In a transcendental journey
Of a Yogi system
In which the nonphysical is real
And all else is not
And the love of spirit
Is sublime
Helpful Link to Support Transfusion
Light Wave Art & Glossary
Dedication
To all Beings in discovering the Love of the Love within themselves. May you walk in Love and Beauty on Earth.
Copyright
Creational © 2021, Asur’Ana, Aligning With Earth
This book has Creational Copyright. This information is offered for Theoretical Exploration only. Please accept only information that you resonate with and that are useful to your spiritual evolution, and let go of the rest.
The Ascension Insights series and related books offer information on consensus ascension. This type of ascension involves rising up the dimensions with Earth and as she ascends. These books disseminate information on having a complete ascension with the potential of taking the body with you.
The Light Wave series offer information on another type of ascension known as transfusion. Transfusion is an inward focused process where the Consciousness returns Home to the Source, All That Is, or the Tao, through one’s hologram, and the body is left behind in ascension.
Disclaimer
Asur’Ana does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for physical, emotional, mental and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, Aligning With Earth assumes no responsibility for your actions.
Source
Asur’Ana. Light Wave 5: Yogi Tales of the Divine. Aligning With Earth, 2021. Digital.