A dear yoga teacher of mine was recently diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She requested that her yoga family show up the night before her surgery and chant, pray and bless her in this journey.

I arrived amongst a room packed with yoginis. The energy was thick and everyone was prepared to share, to give, to bless our dear Guru. She arrived bringing light and eyes brimmed with tears. She cracked jokes about how she has to be so dramatic to get everyone to show up for class, then settles in as the harpist begins to strum the first chant.

I barely made it through that opening, connecting prayer. I thought to myself, “she looks so healthy”, “she looks so beautiful”, “she looks so scared.” It was that last one that struck me and made me feel overwhelmed with questions. The reality that someone so in-tune with God, a “wholly” person as she would be referred to in Kundalini Yoga – and she looked scared to death. And she talks about it. She says, she doesn't feel very courageous right now, but understands that this is part of her journey.

My Guru brought up some very important things that I thought I should share – woman to woman. She told us of her symptoms. Initially, she thought she had a bad case of what she called, “fat old lady” - she was bloated in her mid-section and it wouldn't go away. Nothing she did helped. She worked with her nurse practitioner to no avail (my Guru is also in medicine). One night it got to be so uncomfortable she ended up not being able to sleep, so she went to the emergency room, where her abdomen was drained of fluids and she felt so much better, she thought that was it and her pain would be over. It was not a matter of just being bloated and full of gas. The hospital wanted to do further tests. Blood work maximus and uber-radiation by every thing that could take a picture of her insides – thus giving her the big “c” diagnosis.

And there she was at her healing ceremony, beautiful, light, surrounded by love, serenaded by a harpist, two guitars, a flutist, a gong and dozens of voices. The sounds vibrated, brought tears to my eyes and she smiled the whole time. One meditation was led by the deceased, Yogi Bhajan, in a recording. For 11 minutes we chanted, “Love is Love” with him. Haunting, yet so perfect.

When the ceremony was over, one woman stood up and offered to tie a white string around everyone's wrist (ala the blessed red strings from the Dalai Lama) as a remembrance and continued blessing to our Guru. There was a collection of money to be taken to India to feed people at the Temple (all Sikh temples in India offer food to anyone who wants it – so no one has to go hungry), also in honor of our Guru. All ceremony, all kind, all giving.

I came home afterward and had difficulty sleeping. What does it all mean, I thought? Here is a healthy-living, eating, active woman, not immune from one of our deadliest modern maladies. And we assemble in unison to bless and heal her, as it's the most and best we can do as non-professionals. But does it help? I felt the vibration. I pray every day, yet I still questioned.

What? I thought to myself. An enlightened person scared? Is this what happens when the priest is the one who needs prayers? When the doctor is the one who needs healing? Did I forget that each one of is God's child and there are no favorites? Do I need to be more accepting that everyone has a journey and just because one is “wholly” doesn't mean that your journey is going to be without it's lessons, in fact, just like the rest of us, it will be a lifetime of lessons... obviously I had forgotten all of this and more. My lesson felt harsh, but at the same time brought to me in a very gentle manner. I needed to accept my Guru's journey, my childrens journeys, my husbands journey, my friends journeys and even my own, with love and acceptance. A lot easier said than done on some days, and most of the time it feels like a work in progress.

A February, 1, 2011 article in Discovery Health, titled, “Can Prayer Heal People?” asks these very questions, and comes up with no answers. It's too difficult to define the power of prayer and how it affects us medically.

All this said, the loudest voice in me still believes. I was raised to believe in the power of our minds and our connection to the Universe. Even if that little voice in me wonders and questions, still deep down – I believe.

Ana Lewis
Founder of WomenontheVerge.net