Gulfisha's Chair

My daughter's school hosted something called Literary Night a couple of months ago. Students were encouraged to dress as a character from one of their favorite books. The school's art room was set up for kids to make decorative book marks. A book swap table was brimming with paperback and hardbound books that people were more than happy to give away in exchange for something new. Different classrooms were set up with reading areas or other activities related to books.

I didn't even know these types of things happened. Since I was not a parent for the first five decades of my life, I never really gave much thought to what happened at elementary schools beyond classes, a few games of dodgeball and an occasional parent teacher conference. Overall I am a very involved dad and I don't want to miss any of the kindergarten experiences, but I considered skipping Literary Night in exchange for a chance to stay a bit later at the office for a change. I even took my bike to the office that morning so that my wife would have the car to take Emma to Literary Night by herself in case I did decide to work late. About halfway through the day though, something inside nudged me to head home in time to meet up with the girls and join them. Little did I know at that point that it was a 100 year old chair that was calling me to the school that night. Are you curious to hear more? Well then, here's the rest of the story.

Evening activities can be a challenge for our family. Staying on point with keeping everyone's blood sugar levels at an optimal level is a tall order even when we are home, much less in a school cafeteria that is likely to have nothing that my daughter wants to eat or anything that my wife or I can eat on our specific eating protocols. Emma also tends to get overwhelmed in high sensory situations, so activities like Literary Night have the possibility of delivering us to a point of hunger, over stimulation and fatigue, or as I like to call it, a Parent's Triple Witching Hour of Chaos.

Be that as it may, we went out to Literary Night with hope that things would go well and also with a sense of knowing that if things didn't go well, we would only be five minutes from home. About thirty minutes into the event things were looking a bit dicey, until my daughter found a dimly lit room upstairs in the school which was set up with tents, books and flashlights for the kids to read stories. Emma is a rather advanced reader for a kindergartner, so a quiet dark space with flashlights and a variety of books to read is pretty close to her version of Shangri-La; frankly, it's pretty close to my wife's version of paradise as well. 

There was something about this particular room that radiated calm. At first I thought it was exclusively because of the dim lighting and because of the fact that the room was much quieter than the rest of the school had been up to that point. The longer I stayed in the room though, the more the room captivated me. After about ten minutes I started to feel like I wanted to sit or lie down. Just as I formed that thought, I saw another dad who was sitting in the corner of the room rise to his feet, unveiling what looked to be a vintage, burgundy colored armchair that was made out of a soft, velvety fabric. I immediately bolted towards the corner of the room so I could grab the chair before somebody else beat me to it. 

It's always nice to sit in a situation where there is a tendency to have to stand, but it is whole new level of relief to have a big comfy chair engulf you when you are feeling the need to relax. The longer I sat in the chair in the corner, the less I wanted to ever stand up again and the really strange thing was that the chair wasn't lulling me to a sleepy state as much as it was invigorating my senses. The colors in the room seemed more vivid than they otherwise would have been in the dark. The teacher who the room belonged to had set up a continuous loop of the Eiffel Tower at night on the big screen TV. The image and the energy of the video loop and its background music carried me back to memories of Paris on a spring night as if I was actually in the 7th Arrondissement. In many ways I felt like the chair was the exact elixir I needed after a long and somewhat stressful day. 

I probably sat in the vintage, burgundy armchair chair for about ten minutes while my wife and daughter read stories by the light of handheld flashlights. Eventually my inner critic started to chirp at me and tell me things like, "You should be more engaged with your family" or "You're hogging the chair, you should let somebody else sit down." While my body wanted to sit and enjoy the pleasant energy of the chair, my inner critic won the internal debate, so I stood up and made space for another dad. 

I made a pass through to room to find out what Emma and Christiana were up to and to see if they wanted to move on to another room. My default state is to keep things moving pretty much all the time which serves the dual purpose of making me highly productive and driving my family nuts. In this case though, when I found out that my wife and daughter were going to stay and read another story or two, I drifted back over the chair and said to the man who took my place, "Nice chair, huh?" I wasn't intentionally trying to chase him away, but for whatever reason, my question caused him to get up and offer the chair back to me, which I gratefully accepted. 

The chair continued to have a hypnotic energy about it that I could only think to describe as healing. A few weeks back while I was on one of my men's weekends, a man who I consider very grounded and highly spiritually aware used the phrase Grandmother Energy to describe the feeling in the room during one of the processes we were involved in. As I look back on Literary Night now, that room with the vintage burgundy chair had a similar energy; cherishing, nurturing, loving and supportive. The whole experience was beautiful and a bit surreal at the same time. 

When I did finally get up out of the chair for the second time to leave the room, I went over the to teacher and complimented her on the nice environment she had set up for the event. I mentioned how much I enjoyed the chair in the corner in particular, to which she responded, "It belonged to my Grandmother." That little voice inside me quietly whispered to myself, "Of course it did!"

I followed up and asked the teacher for her Grandmother's name. Names are very important to me. A name has a special energetic signature and speaking a name has to power to bring forth Spirit's energy. At first I had a hard time understanding the name she shared with me, but she added that her Grandmother's name translated to sweet or rosy, so I did a little Googling after I stepped out into the hallway and found the Hindu/Urdu name Gulfisha. 

A few minutes later I went back into the room and asked if I had the name correct, to which the teacher confirmed that I indeed did have it correct. On a whim, I then asked her if her Grandmother was a healer of some sort. She tilted her head in surprise and said, "Sort of. My grandmother practiced Ayurveda." She seemed curious as to why I might have had that inclination, but the room was busy so our conversation went no further and I didn't get a chance to elaborate. 

With that new piece of information, the alluring power of the chair made perfect sense to me. I have no doubt that Gulfisha was indeed a healer and a powerful one at that. My sense is that Grandma Gulfisha quietly played the role of wise woman and healer in her community for many years and the imprint of her sagely archetype had left its energetic signature on the chair which was now placed in the corner of an elementary school room.

As humans, we sometimes like to hang onto items that come from our ancestors who have left their bodies as a symbol of our connection to the person who we hold in our hearts. Maybe you have one of your father's old sweatshirts of a necklace that your mother used to wear? These sacred objects have the possibility of becoming a sort of talisman, which can contain spirit energy or even "magical" powers. I have the stole that my late friend Richard wore at my wedding to Christiana and I feel uniquely safe and empowered when I drape it over my shoulders.

At that same men's weekend I mentioned above, participants are asked to bring old family photos of people who played a significant role in their life story. The moment when a man goes through and shares his photos is always one of the most powerful processes of the weekend. Whether it's an old sweatshirt, a necklace, a photo or even a chair, I believe that there is information and energy stored inside these objects and that information is available to access, as long as we are open to receiving. 

Psychometry is the ability to unveil information about an event or a person by touching inanimate objects that are associated with them. Psychic mediums, spiritual advisors and oracles have used Pyschometry for millennia to access information and connect with Sprit Energy. Every single one of us has an unlimited capacity to access our own senses of inner knowing. Frequently our chances to connect with spirit through inanimate objects come in situations where we directly knew the person who left their imprint on that object. In the case of Gulfisha's Chair, I was reminded that the healing energy of a great healer is powerful enough to cross over and make an impact even for those who never walked the path with them in human form. 

I continue to be influenced by the energy Gulfisha's Chair. I originally intended to write a piece about the experience in the days that followed Literary Night, but each time I sat down at the computer nothing really came out. This week I was in the school on Tuesday morning to watch Emma do the morning announcements and Pledge of Allegiance for the whole school and I felt the Grandmother Energy and its vibrational frequency throughout my whole body. In an extraordinary coincidence, Tuesday was also the exact 10-year anniversary of Richard's crossing over.

The image of a Wise Woman sitting in a burgundy armchair with my friend Richard standing beside her wearing his stole is now forever imprinted in my heart. Like all good stories, this one finally came to full ripeness and was ready to be told. Which sacred objects in your life connect you to the essence of a departed loved one? I invite you to take a moment to put your hands on them and feel into them in the days ahead. As always, I'd love to hear your stories too. Reach out anytime. I am more than happy to read or listen. 

Well that's all for this time. As always, thanks for reading. Please feel free to share this with anyone who you think might enjoy and invite them to sign up to follow my work on a regular basis by filling out the contact form at the bottom of any of the blogs posted on my website.

Peace and blessings for a wonderful week,