You need not do anything.
Remain sitting at your table and listen.
You need not even listen, just wait.
You need not even wait, just learn to be quiet, still and solitary.
And the world will freely offer itself to you unmasked.
It has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.
– Franz Kafka
My Teacher once said that after you've read 1,000 pulses you're ready to call yourself a beginner.
I read my first three this week. Actually I wasn't "reading" as much as listening to three stories being told. Nadi Parkisha is a deep meditation in addition to being a powerful diagnostic tool and seems to dovetail very naturally with learning to read Sanskrit (which, fascinatingly enough, can also be used as diagnostic tool). We sit silently in pairs for five minutes at a time, reading the pulse in both wrists at once as my Teacher does, attempting to drop through the 7 levels to the constitutional pulse. This deep pulse reveals the psycho-physiological makeup our client came into this world with at the time of conception, a unique blend of ether, air, fire, water and earth as well as a particular amalgamation of the qualities associated with each - 20 major qualities in all.
Sarvani dravyani panchabhauticani: All organic and inorganic substances are created from five basic elements.
During these first few days of practice I've made an interesting discovery - as soon as someone begins to read my pulse my lungs begin to struggle for air, as if an elephant is sitting on my chest. I experienced this same predicament during Reiki treatments last summer and during my interview with a psychic the year before. However, when roles are reversed and I'm the practitioner's seat reading a pulse (or giving Reiki) I regain my ability to breathe freely.
When I meet with him in January I'll ask my Teacher about the breathlessness. Right now despite the discomfort it's just another sensation to be observed, like the rush and lift of a pulse beneath unaccustomed fingers.
The things we really need come to us only as gifts, and in order to receive them as gifts, we have to be open. In order to be open we have to renounce ourselves, in a sense we have to die to our image of ourselves, our autonomy, our fixation upon our self-willed destiny. We have to be able to relax the psychic and spiritual cramp which knots us in the painful, vulnerable, helpless “I” that is all we know of ourselves.
– Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander