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• India's Holy Men Sadhus are known to take spirituality to extremes, as Prediction’s Deputy Editor Gemma Birss finds out… L
• Atlantis “Almost everyone on Earth has had an incarnation in Atlantis, where great spiritual and technological knowle
• African Magic It’s cool and dark in the witch doctor’s thatched hut in the heart of Zimbabwe’s touristy Victoria Falls
• Stillness Retreat I think it was the name that drew me to Mellulah Retreats. Just the undulating sound of it is enough to relax

• 

  INDIA’S HOLY MEN

  Sadhus are known to take spirituality to extremes, as Prediction’s Deputy Editor Gemma Birss finds out…

  Like our team here at Prediction, you may have galloped through Gregory David Roberts’ fast-paced adventure novel Shantaram (and if you haven’t, do!), in which there is frequent mention of the standing babas. This troupe of holy men spend a whopping 12 years of their lives standing up, without the merest hint of putting their feet up. They practice with such determination that the effects of time and gravity gradually disfigure their legs so they start to resemble tree trunks, gnarled and swollen. If you’ve ventured beyond the pages of Shantaram and into India itself, you’ll know that the standing babas are far from fictional, and they are joined by hundreds of other individuals with equally bizarre ideas of how to be holy.

  For Hindus, spiritual enlightenment or liberation from the trappings of human suffering, is the ultimate goal in life. It’s the one thing that gives our existence meaning and it’s the only way to sidestep the endless cycle of Karma and rebirth. This state of blissful freedom is attainable by everybody, regardless of class or caste. Whether you reach enlightenment in this lifetime depends on your Karma. In other words, how you choose to live your life will dictate the level of spiritual attainment that you can reach.

  A fast track to enlightenment is to become a sadhu, or holy man, whose existence is solely dedicated to meditation and the contemplation of Brahman, or God. A sadhu is a mystic, yogi or wandering monk. For thousands of years, certain spiritually diligent individuals in India have renounced their daily lives to follow the path of a sadhu, skirting the edge of society to live without family, home or possessions. There are around four to five million sadhus in India, organised into various sects with increasingly strange ideas on how to slough off their Karma and ascend into higher states of consciousness. Their lives are absolutely dedicated to achieving the fourth and final Hindu goal of life, which is moksha, or liberation.

  Not all sadhus are enlightened, but they are all considered by the general populace to be holy, mainly because of their radical commitment to the eradication of their Karma. No matter what caste the sadhu belonged to before they opted for the ascetic life, they are now revered. Some sadhus perform magic rituals, others practice impressively pretzelish yoga while yet others adhere to prescribed meditation techniques to increase their siddhis, or superhuman powers (including a command over the elements which allows them to call in rain on a whim). Some of the more sinister saddhus are feared for their curses, however more often they are highly appreciated by the village communities. The sadhus’ austere practices not only singe off their own Karmic retribution, but also tackle the Karma of the community at large. Needless to say, sadhus are well looked after. Public transport is free and food is donated freely, so sadhus can focus on the all important task of being holy. Of course, there are some charlatans who jump on the sadhu bandwagon and masquerade as holy men. It’s an easy way to acquire a relatively comfy life and is certainly an easy (or not!) way to sidestep the rigourous Hindu caste system and shrug off responsibilities. There is not one single route to God. The paths to holiness are infinite, and the kaleidoscope of different sadhu sects across India accentuates this. While each sect has its own specific austerities and guidelines, they all fall into two main categories, the Vaishnavas and the Shaivas. Vaishnavas devote themselves to the Hindu god Vishnu who is the preserver, while the Shaivas are devoted to the destroyer god, Shiva.

  Holy smoke

  Although defined by these two categories, and an infinite number of sects, one thing that most sadhus have in common, is that they smoke cannabis (or charras) with religious dedication from rustic clay pipes called chillums (see front cover). Just as tribes in South America drink hallucinogenic plant medicines, or Rastafarians smoke spliffs, sadhus use the marijuana plant resin to journey to a higher plane of consciousness. While the Vaishnavas aren’t shy of indulging in a puff or two, it’s the Shaivas who really have an excuse. Being Shiva’s devotees, they smoke to assimilate their lord, who is also the god of charras and is permanently stoned. As well as their penchant for hash, generally all sadhus follow a strictly vegetarian diet. Others live on milk alone. Being a product of the sacred cow, milk is a sacred substance that offers more than mere physical sustenance and is the nectar of the gods. A famous sadhu, Narayana Das, followed a fast of only two glasses of milk a day for 40 years. Some sadhus still hold fast to the idea that it’s possible to live on water alone, and in more extreme cases, on air.

  By signing up for a life of sadhudom, they’re also expected to take an oath of celibacy. In yogic traditions, the fire of sexual energy is a potent force that can be used as a springboard to access higher levels of consciousness. In order to help them conquer their earthly desires, some sadhus wear a physical restraint to prevent any mishaps. This is in the form of a chastity belt made from either wood or metal, which must be worn for a minimum of 12 years.

  Some sadhus twist their penis around a stick, demonstrating their commitment to their cause as well as their superhuman power over nature (although this could well be construed by the cynic as a means of impressing onlookers and, therefore, attracting more donations!). Venturing one step further, the tanga-tora is a ritual to actually ‘break’ the penis. In this initiation, a sadhu pulls the penis of the initiate with such force that it breaks the muscles, blood vessels and nerves required for an erection, making it permanently limp. They then stretch it to lengthen it, sometimes hanging heavy rocks on it and then tie it into a knot or wrap it around a pole. The standing babas mentioned in Shantaram are the Khareshwari sadhus who have taken a vow not to sit or lie down for 12 years. They may walk about, but generally they choose to stand while resting on a swing that they can hang from a tree branch wherever they want to stop. Their only only respite is to rest one leg in the sling under the swing. They identify most with the tree posture in yoga, as their swollen, ulcerated legs begin to look as if they are rooted to the floor.

  Some sadhus practice parikrama, which means circumnambulating around a sacred object or space, like a temple or holy mountain. This is a normal practice for Hindus as it represents a connection with the sacred. However, the sadhus take it a step further. The sadhu stretches out face down on the ground, placing a stone in front of his head. He then stands up, takes a few paces to reach the stone, picks it up and repeats the procedure, progressing in caterpillar movements around the sacred place. A further development of this is to stay on one spot and practice the routine 108 times and then move one body-length. At the end of the day, when he has progressed around 20 body lengths, the sadhu will mark the spot and continue the next day.

  Hairy deal

  As well as chuffing on their chillums, Shaiva sadhus grow their hair into extremely long, thick, dreadlocks in an effort to emulate their beloved lord Shiva who was also known to have dreadlocks. This is perhaps one of the less extreme lengths that a Shaiva will go to resemble the Hindu god of destruction. Aghori sadhus are perhaps the most extreme of the Shaivas. They emulate Shiva as conqueror of death by living among the dead in the cremation grounds. One of their only possessions is a human skull which they have harvested from a corpse for use as a drinking bowl.

  The Aghoris transgress all social and religious codes and taboos, convinced that by reversing these values, they will speed up the process of enlightenment. While sadhus are generally vegetarian, celibate and abstain from alcohol, Aghoris eat meat and drink booze. They have a reputation for eating excrement as well as the putrid fl esh of corpses. They are said to drink urine, meditate while seated on a corpse and engage in sexual intercourse with menstruating prostitutes in the cremation grounds.

  They may not be the most popular, but the majority of sadhus steer clear of such practices. We may well balk at the lengths India’s holy men will go to, but their commitment carves a path for all of us to reach the ultimate goal of moksha.

  Holy ladies

  Around 10 per cent of sadhus are women, or sadhvis, who have chosen the ascetic way of life following the death of their husband. Choosing a holy life as a sadhvi is the only respectable way of escaping the living death of widowhood. Although most sadhvis come from widowhood, some have chosen it as their destiny. Many sadhu sects reject women as they may well corrupt the intentions of those striving for celibacy. Back in the day, sadhvis walked around naked, covered only by their long tresses

   

• 

  ATLANTIS: THE LOST WORLD

  “Almost everyone on Earth has had an incarnation in Atlantis, where great spiritual and technological knowledge was amassed beyond anything we can currently comprehend. It is now time for the ancient wisdom to be brought forward so another Golden Age can develop,” is teacher and author Diana Cooper’s take on why Atlantis is an important spiritual focus.

  The Ancient Greek philosopher Plato was the first to acknowledge Atlantis. In Timaeus, written around 360 BC, Plato writes, “On this island of Atlantis there was a great and wonderful empire which had rule over the whole island and several others.” Plato goes on to say that Atlantis came to a catastrophic end around 9,500 BC when a tsunami flooded through its cities and wiped out its people. After recent natural disasters, this may sound frighteningly familiar…

  Atlantean revival

  Atlantis was all-but forgotten until the Russian mystic and founder of the Theosophy movement, Madame Helena Petrova Blavatsky revived interest in the island by mentioning it in her first book Isis Unveiled, published in 1877, continuing her explorations of it in her major work The Secret Doctrine in 1888. Around the same time, US congressman Ignatius L Donnelly published Atlantis: the Antediluvian World. In his book, he seeks to provide evidence that all ancient civilisations owed their knowledge, culture and technologies to an Atlantean past. He even speculated that some crops, like bananas, were first cultivated in Atlantis and selective breeding by Atlantean scientists or farmers developed the seedless form we know today.

  Edgar Cayce (1877–1945), a popular psychic known as the ‘Sleeping Prophet’ who was famous for making predictions and diagnosing illnesses while in trance, was a major source of speculation on Atlantis and predicted that it would rise again.
  In his conception, Atlantis suffered three major destructions, one of which was the deluge. It was the Atlantean’s sophisticated technology that ultimately resulted in their demise. He said that they used crystals (otherwise known as ‘firestones’) to capture and transform energy, including sunlight, starlight and psychic energy. While these crystals were used to power their forms of transport and other systems, it’s also from these ‘firestones’ that ‘death rays’ were formed. According to Cayce, ‘death rays’ and other weapons were able to cause catastrophic damage on a continental scale, and played
  a part in the downfall of this civilisation. This was construed after Cayce’s death as an obvious warning about the perils of nuclear weapons that we face today. Like Diana Cooper, Cayce maintained that most people are reincarnations of Atlantean souls who must now face similar temptations and tests as in their past lives.

  Physical evidence

  Cayce predicted that evidence of Atlantis would be found in 1968 off Bimini, a chain of islands in the Bahamas, and in that year underwater explorer David Zink, aware of what Cayce had predicted, set sail and located a sunken wall off the coast of Bimini, along with some other artefacts. Debunkers claim that the divisions in the underwater rock formation he found were natural and not man-made, but Cayce’s supporters believe otherwise.
  Some authors, such as professor of nuclear physics at the Federal University of Minas Gerais in Brazil, Arysio Nunes dos Santos, suggests that India was an Atlantean colony, as was ancient Egypt. He has come up with a new location for Atlantis, placing it under what is now the South China Sea, maintaining that the Indonesian islands are all that is left. Professor dos Santos is keen to debunk all the other suggested sites for Atlantis, such as the Mediterranean, the Caribbean, Antarctica and the North Sea, but he points out that the Atlanteans had colonies worldwide. He argues that people have misunderstood the location that Plato gave because the ancients had different meanings for the names of the oceans than the ones we use today.
  We can go on and on speculating about Atlantis, but as visionary Drunvalo Melchizedek says, “They have never found any scientific evidence.” However, he does go on to say that “This was a time in our history when we had developed consciously to a level of awareness beyond anything that we assume is even possible for humankind.” It is that level of consciousness that interests us. As we carve our evolutionary path, we look to the past, of what might have gone before, to springboard us into the future.

  Check out Diana Cooper and Shaaron Hutton’s Discover Atlantis (Hodder, £8.99) for a deeper insight into reclaiming Atlantean wisdom
  
  
  

• 

  AFRICAN MAGIC

  Prediction’s Deputy Editor Gemma Birss, who was raised in Zimbabwe, unmasks the myths about African healers…

  It’s cool and dark in the witch doctor’s thatched hut in the heart of Zimbabwe’s touristy Victoria Falls. As my eyes adjust to the gloom, I can just about make him out; a rotund man with a leopard skin strewn across his shoulders, heavy necklaces of beads and bones hung around his neck and an ample belly bulging over his animal skin loincloth. He invites me to sit across from him on a worn cowhide laid across the earth. Scattering a handful of small animal bones on the ground between us, he stares at them; his eyes misty and full of portent. He then tells me earnestly that I will have a good life with many children. Sounds fi ne to me! But then a greedy gleam flickers in his eyes and he adds, “But life will only be good if you pay me to secure your fortune.”

  African ‘witch doctors’ have become something of a tourist fascination and, in response to growing interest, a number of opportunist charlatans have sprung up sporting traditional medicine man garb and offering luck to trusting holiday-makers in return for an exorbitant fee, much like the one I encountered. These masqueraders increasingly damage the reputation of this ancient system of healing. Tourism aside, on the other side of the coin, many in the Western world regard traditional African healing techniques with suspicion. At best, they’re considered to be based on a primitive system of superstitious beliefs and, at worst, they are associated with the dark rituals synonymous with Hollywood’s version of voodoo.

  Muti killings

  This reputation has taken an even deeper dive due to the small amount of ritual ‘muti killings’ or ‘medicine murders’ that have emerged in the news over the past decade. A minority of healers in southern Africa believe that the addition of human body parts to their medicine boosts its potency, particularly for matters concerning political power or the success of a new business venture. Body parts including eyes, genitals, limbs, intestines and hearts are taken from live victims as this is said to enhance the medicine’s efficacy. The abandoned victims are later discovered, most often dead from loss of blood.

  Muti killings are shrouded in mystery. Witnesses fear the power and wrath of the healer’s revenge and, therefore, choose not to come forward with information. However, over the past 10 years or so, more reports have emerged and arrests have been made, with consequent media interest. Unfortunately, it is these horrific reports that hit the headlines as opposed to those that celebrate traditional African healing as a legitimate alternative to Western medicine.

  The authentic traditional healer is still very much an important part of African rural life, with the sangoma (diviner or spiritual healer) and nganga (herbalist) holding highly respected positions in communities across southern Africa. The ability to diagnose and treat an illness is a skill ordained by the gods and ancestors, and so the weighty infl uence of this role is nothing to be sniffed at. If the sangoma or nganga is not born into their profession, they are usually drawn into it by an initiation illness in the form of a psychosis, headache, stomach pain or back issue, which they must heal themselves. Often when an individual complains of prolonged health problems, it is assumed by the other villagers that they have been chosen by the powers that be to become a healer.

  Becoming a sangoma involves an extended, rigorous period of training that has been handed down from sangoma to sangoma through ancient traditions and rituals. The initiate learns how to communicate appropriately with the ancestors, purify themselves with steam and the blood of sacrifi ced animals and mix muti, or medicines, with spiritual signifi cance. At the end of the training period, a goat is sacrificed, the gall bladder of which is then worn in the sangoma’s hair for the duration of their career.

  The nganga undergoes a similar training period, devoting years to acquiring knowledge of herbal lore and plant healing techniques, also passed down through generations of ngangas, to deal with the ailments that affect both humans and livestock. It is said that while the sangoma relates to the dead (ancestors), the nganga deals with the living (plants). However, these healers’ methods are compatible and can be used simultaneously or on their own. There are no written records of the magic rites and muti, which are closely guarded secrets and are only passed on to chosen ones who have undergone initiations, strict training and cultural traditions as old as time.

  A system of beliefs

  Traditional African medicine holds the belief that disease – whether mental, physical or psychic – and misfortune are rooted in spiritual or social imbalance. Every single mishap or illness, whether it’s a poor crop yield or a simple toothache, arises because of an ancestral upset or, in some cases, witchcraft. Bewitchment is usually suspected when there is a personal family crisis, loverelated issue or fi nancial problem, while a physical sickness may result from a sense of guilt – the punishment for committing an action that has displeased the ancestors. These spiritual imbalances must be isolated and addressed by the sangoma or nganga before the treatment is administered. The sangoma divines the nucleus of the disease or misfortune by asking the ancestors. These sacred spirits are invoked through burning the sedative Imphepho plant, dancing, chanting and drumming.

  The sangoma channels information in a number of ways. Sometimes the ancestor is invited to possess the sangoma. In this instance, the sangoma incants songs and rattles out diatribes in strange languages while gyrating and dancing with heightened levels of energy and fl exibility. The sangoma may also throw a selection of bones, stones, seeds and shells, watching how they fall. Each object represents a different aspect of the client’s life – for example, a hyena bone is known to symbolise thievery – and a deeper understanding of a situation can be divined from the pattern created by the scattered objects. The sangoma also interprets dreams to get to the heart of a matter. As a herbalist, the nganga will be guided by the ancestral spirits to prescribe a plant remedy. The nature of the imbalance determines the prescribed remedy, which is valued as much for its symbolic and spiritual signifi cance as for its medicinal effects. Lion fat is given to promote courage, while the taboo rhino horn muti is said to enhance virility. Muti can be drunk, smoked, used for bathing, smeared on the skin or rubbed into an incision or wound. The method of application is defi ned by the ancestors. If more powerful medicine is needed, numerous magic rites can be performed according to rituals handed down through the generations. However, in some cases, a simple word of guidance will suffice.

  African versus Western techniques

  Though the techniques employed to gauge the nature of an imbalance may appear nonsensical to the Western mind, the foundations upon which they are based are sound. Traditional African medicine displays a sensitive understanding of natural laws and biological principles that govern the human body in its affi nity to plants and other life forms, both physically and spiritually. While many in the West have become somewhat divorced from this notion, traditional African people have an instinctive knowledge that they are intrinsically linked with Mother Earth and are governed by her laws. It is expressly because of this knowledge that the traditional healer is such a respected fi gure in the community. Even today, hospitals and modern medicines are the last resort for many in rural villages – the healer is consulted first. This is largely due to the cost of Western medicine being too steep for many to consider, but also because of deeply held traditional values and beliefs.

  During colonial times, traditional African healers were outlawed, their practices compared with witchcraft. In Mozambique, re-education camps were built to assimilate their ‘heathen’ methods into the scientifi c, medicinal ways of the West. However, these attempts were largely unsuccessful. The healer remains a respected pillar of the rural African community and their diagnoses are held true over any Western prescriptions. In fact, we could go so far as to say that the tables have turned, with African herbs now being employed in Western medicine. One such African cure comes from the pygeum tree. Sold in Europe since the 70s, this plant is widely used to relieve prostate problems. Furthermore, American researchers have expressed interest in using garcinia kola, which is a common African tree whose seed extracts can be used to treat the Ebola virus. However, many traditional African mutis have been adapted to Western tastes by adding scents, oils or additives.

  Throughout the world, there is a more positive response to herbalism, whether traditional African, Chinese medicine or Western homeopathic, as an acceptable alternative to allopathic medicine. As Africa becomes more metropolitan, the understanding of African medicine and its similarities to the Western holistic techniques have become more widely known and understood. Evidence of this can be seen in the first ‘offi cial’ African healing hospital, which has opened its doors in South Africa, combining traditional African methods with homeopathy and iridology. The sangoma or nganga, like their Western or Eastern spiritual counterparts, is a channel for the in-fl ow of universal energy, the source of which is interpreted by each individual according to their own belief system. The African healer is accountable both to the natural and supernatural realms and, ultimately, to the pattern of the entire Universe. They are aware that they should never use their powerful techniques to attain ordinary human objectives. Rather, they strive to be ethical in everything they do. They attribute their healing powers to the supreme being, Unkulunkulu, and firmly believe that he brings healing skills and magic herbs to them.

  African superstitions

  Hyenas and owls are bad omens, said to be used by witches as transport. The only good snake is a dead snake. Snakes are supposedly sent by malicious people who have a score to settle. The snakes cannot be killed until they have completed their mission.

  It is common to raise beds from the floor with bricks to stay out of reach of Tokoloshes – zombie creatures who serve the wizards.

  The wizard gouges out the eyes, cuts out the tongue and drives a red-hot poker through the skull of a corpse. It then shrinks to the size of a young child. The wizard blows magic dust into its mouth and it comes to life to fulfil the wizard’s nefarious wishes.

  If lightning kills any person, they will neither be mourned nor buried as lightning is considered to be an ill wish directed from a belligerent spirit.

  When travelling on foot, it is considered good luck to pick up a stone with your left foot, transfer it to your right hand and spit on it before placing it back on the ground. Other travellers will add to this pile.

  Papaya power

  On holiday in Mombasa in Kenya, I was walking along the reef. While negotiating the rock pools, I slipped and stood on a sea urchin. One of its spines lodged itself into the sole of my foot – ouch, to say the least!

  The urchin spine crumbled under a fi rm grip, so any attempt to pull it out made it dissolve and embed itself even deeper into my foot. I hobbled off to the Aga Khan hospital to see the surgeon. Once he had examined the wound for possible infection, the surgeon said that the problem could be easily resolved without resorting to Western techniques. He told me all I had to do was immerse my foot in green papaya, highlighting that the juice was the most important ingredient, until the urchin spine had disappeared. Although I thought a simple papaya was a pretty eccentric solution to my problem, the surgeon seemed highly confi dent. I slept with a sock full of mashed up papaya and kept the wound dosed up with Dettol. After two messy nights’ sleep, I pulled off the sock to fi nd that the sea urchin spine had dissolved and my foot was healed. Unripe papaya contains the enzyme papain, which breaks down proteins, and can be used as a meat tenderiser, as well as to break down proteins in the toxins of bee, wasp and jellyfish stings. Here’s to papaya!

  Call of the wild

  Some Westerners have been called to the path of the sangoma. James Hall, an American author, now practises as a sangoma in Manzini, Swaziland. Nicky Arden, who was born in South Africa and left for the USA because of apartheid, had a spiritual awakening some 22 years later, which called her back to her mother country. She went back to Africa, where she trained to be a sangoma. Melisande (her sangoma name) divides her time between California and South Africa, practising traditional African healing.

  The most famous sangoma, however, is Vusamazulu Credo Mutwa, a shaman and spiritual healer for millions of Africans. The author of South African classic Indaba: My Children, he also wrote Song of the Stars which is highly recommended for anyone interested in the mythology of the African people and their healing methods. Mutwa resides in South Africa, in a community he built himself and dedicated to the practice and preservation of Zulu and other African religious, healing and artistic traditions. Through individuals like Mutwa, the indigenous African healing and cultural traditions are being preserved for future generations, and the dignity of these sacred techniques is maintained.

• 

  Stillness retreat

  Our Deputy Editor Gemma Birss gets back to nature with yoga, meditation and healing at a Mellulah Stillness Retreat in Dorset

  I think it was the name that drew me to Mellulah Retreats. Just the undulating sound of it is enough to relax the most clenched of jaws. When I looked closer, I was further convinced. Mellulah’s weekend Stillness Retreats offer a nurturing picnic of yoga, meditation, healing, organic food, a swimming pool, sauna and 
a gong bath, all nestled cosily in the rolling hills of Dorset. I signed up.

  Captain of the Mellulah ship is wonderfully warm mother of three Saira Francis who is an aromatherapist, reflexologist and angel healer. She practices her holistic treatments from the quaint little cottage on Luccombe farm, where the retreat is based. Although it’s a working farm with sheep-scattered fields, ducks, alpacas, donkeys and piglets, there’s none of the mess or muck that comes with farm life. Luccombe sweetly combines cosiness with luxury. My home for the weekend was the gorgeous old converted granary, while the other seven members on the retreat were comfortably installed in the stables and stalls cottages.

  A meditation and healing session kickstarted the retreat at 6:30 on Friday evening. In the candle-lit meditation room, we introduced ourselves, most of us nervously proclaiming that we struggled with keeping our monkey minds still enough to meditate. As Saira guided us into a state of relaxation, suggesting the theme of the evening’s meditation be letting go, I found myself surrendering to the stillness of the sinking evening. Breath by breath, I felt London start to loosen its tense grip on my shoulders. This was helped by Saira who came around the group and gave us each a five-minute angel healing. An hour flew by, and before I knew it, we were serenely meandering down the path towards the cottage where our hearty organic dinner awaited courtesy of our caterer, the lovely Marcia Hannam. We may be on a retreat, but deprivation is certainly not on the agenda. Mellulah’s dinners include gluten, wheat and dairy-free fare – we had a cashew nut roulade with a smörgåsbord of superfood salads, wine, dessert (think orange and polenta cake and the best chocolate brownies I’ve ever had), and all rounded up with our group’s excellent banter.

  At 7am the next morning, we filed up to the meditation room and did some Kundalini shaking to wake up, followed by a humming meditation to activate our brains. Then we each dropped into a deep silence woven through with the tinkling of bird song outside. We were all more than ready for our muesli and croissants at breakfast an hour later, which would fuel us through our mid-morning yoga class.

  The lovely Jodi Sanders of purbeckyoga.co.uk fame was our yoga teacher for the weekend. Combining different yogic flavours, her sessions were a beautiful collage of mantra, mudra, breathing and postures. Our group was a mixture of beginners and more experienced, and we were all inspired by Jodi’s wisdom and particularly her musical shruti box.

  There was a basket of organic bread, butter, cheese, salad ingredients and a cheeky box of chocolates left in each cottage to provide us all with lunch. As the accommodation allows for self-catering, you can fill up with tea and cheese on toast to your heart’s content.

  I was looking forward to Preet Kaur’s (see page 11) sound healing workshop at 2pm. Gong baths have always blown my socks off with their intensity, and Preet’s two-hour session was no different as the gong’s vibrations washed the tension from my body. We ended with a gentle healing, heart-opening mantra.

  I booked in for a holistic massage with Saira after the sound healing. Having experienced such energetic release through the sound healing, and then an incredibly physical release through the wonderful massage, I was practically levitating by the time the evening meditation session came around.

  The theme this time was acceptance. With the help of spirit quartz, Saira called in Archangel Rosiel for the evening’s healing. I experienced a profound shift and felt light and overcome with peace. It was bliss.

  A delicious dinner of vegetable curry with cumin rice, bhajis and sambals awaited after meditation, topped off 
with a white chocolate dessert.

  By Sunday, I felt as if I had been away from London for centuries. After all the healing, yoga, massage and meditation, I was tension free. However, I signed up for Marcia’s Ayurvedic facial just to get rid of any last stubborn knots. I’m so glad I did. Marcia eased the last remnants of tension from my back and face. I wish I could take Marcia back to the city with me!

  I floated alongside everyone as we trekked off for a country walk. We headed for a beautiful chapel in Milton Abbess. The sweet little chapel had a profoundly sacred energy. Saira prepared it for our healing circle, lighting the candles and arranging the wooden chairs into a circle. We held hands and meditated, feeling the healing pass between us all. We then shared some delicious home made cake and angel cookies made by Saira’s mum and continued our walk with light spirits.

  The meditation and healing that concluded our Sunday evening had us all glowing with love and relaxation. Most of us commented on how amazing it is that you can feel so blissed out in such a short amount of time. Saira is the queen bee when it comes to creating a relaxing, healing environment, and I am counting the days until I go back.

   

  How to book…

  Weekends cost from £230. Visit mellulahtherapy.co.uk or call 01258 880505 to book. You can also attend 
for a single days – just as relaxing!