Exactly two years ago, my sister gave birth to twins in the middle of the night. They arrived a couple of weeks early. When I got to the ICU ward in the hospital, my sister’s vital signs were high and she asked me to lead a meditation to help her calm down. I stood in corner of the tiny space, partitioned by a curtain, and gave my brother-in-law the only chair while my sister lay in bed. Five minutes into the meditation, I suggested rising above the hospital and imagining looking down to give all the souls in the hospital who are suffering the light of peace. That’s the last thing I remember standing. The next scene was a lot of doctors surrounding me, checking to see if my neck was broken. I was put on a stretcher and the cut eyelid was stitched up in the emergency room. I had a broken sternum, which the doctor could not much about expect recommending rest till it healed. Apparently I fainted and fell upright, like a tree chopped from the bottom, with the chest landing on the floor and my head on the bottom of the IV stand. My brother-in-law, bless his heart, was now running between the newborns in the nursery, the ICU and the emergency room.
