I
n the late 1980s in Salem, I arise in the dark and grope my way down the twists of our stairs, cross the dining room, switch on the lights in the downstairs bathroom and groom myself for sadhana (morning spiritual practice). Then I enter my meditation room and seat myself cross-legged on a large sheepskin.
I pick up my Nit Nem and begin reading/reciting Japji Sahib, the Sikh morning prayer, which includes the line, “The gems, the jewels, the rubies, are in the mind.”
Following that, I work my way through a physical Kundalini Yoga set, relaxing briefly on my back afterward. Then I select a tape, switch on my boombox and begin chanting.
Within minutes an emerald and diamond necklace appears on the screen of my mind. The jewels are so large and beautiful a billionairess might wear the necklace to the opera or charity ball. You won’t find anything like it in your average department store.
My mind begins the debate that’s been ongoing since that necklace first appeared during meditation more than a month ago. It goes like this:
“You’re supposed to be meditating on God. What’s with the necklace?”
“I’m getting this image for a reason. Maybe someone’s going to give me an emerald necklace.”
“Not one like that! Where would you wear it? You rarely go anywhere anyway. Think about security! Think about the danger! What would you want with a necklace like that?”
“Who knows? But I’m getting this image for a reason.”
“You’re supposed to be meditating on God!”
During the day, I sometimes wonder why that necklace keeps cropping up every time I meditate. I know there must be some reason.
So, when I hike from our house into downtown Salem, I’ve taken to shortcutting through Meier & Frank and examining the emerald jewelry as I pass by the jewelry counter. None of it is anything like my morning meditation necklace, of course — just little pins and necklaces, the sort of thing a lovesick swain might buy for his sweetheart.
Then one day a few months after my first morning vision of the necklace, I walk downtown. As usual, I slow my steps as I pass the jewelry counter and peer down at the little emerald frog pin and the little emerald heart pendant ...
... And my consciousness suddenly overflows with emerald green and prismatic white light. I’m wearing a necklace, a necklace larger than any billionairess has ever worn, a necklace of emerald green and diamond white light.
I walk out of Meier & Frank into a typical Oregon overcast day wearing that necklace without going into debt or raising a hue and cry or attracting the interest of thieves.
The sole cost? Chanting nearly every day for about five years.
The visions disappear from my sadhana. I don’t have to ask why.
Make it emeralds and I can vouch that “The gems, the jewels, the rubies, are in the mind” indeed.
Siri Kirpal Kaur Khalsa is a Sikh author living in Eugene.
