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Archive for the ‘My teacher Ioanna Salajan’ Category

My Teacher Ioanna Salajan

Ioanna at a cafe in Alaró, Mallorca (Spain) during our final visit together in March 2009. Photo by Luisa Kolker

Ioanna at a cafe in Alaró, Mallorca (Spain) during our final visit together in March 2009. Photo by Luisa Kolker

   Ioanna died in her sleep two years ago today at a hospital in Palma de Mallorca. She’d been in the hospital earlier that year with the H1N1 flu. I’d emailed her to arrange one of our Skype calls around that time and she emailed me back just a few words, saying she was very ill, couldn’t speak and to please “enjoy your youth.”  My heart hurt at the abruptness of the message, but more so at the finality of the message.

Thank God, I went to spend time with her in Mallorca four years ago. We cleared the air about some past hurts and misunderstandings, and from there the sweetness of our connection, our mutual in-love-ness blossomed into total magic. It was a gift from God, that visit.

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A Visit to Amsterdam: The Sweetness of Spiritual Lineage, Continuity & Community

A few weeks ago, I enjoyed a trip back to Amsterdam. I had been there once in the 1980s with my beloved friend and teacher Ioanna Salajan, with whom I was formally apprenticing at the time. She was teaching one of her hugely popular workshops on psychic development at de Kosmos Centre and she’d asked me to come along as her helper.

This time, the trip was a gift from my brother Adam. He had to be in Amsterdam for business and, knowing vaguely that I had some connection with the city, and wanting for us to have one-on-one time together for the first time in years, he gifted me with a frequent flier ticket.

I had three days on my own, just before and after Adam arrived. He encouraged me to do that. And in that time, I met with four wonderful women–Sita, Gusta, Ellen and Neeltje–all of whom, like me, had been students and close friends of Ioanna for decades. We’d all heard about each other through the years, scattered as we were between Spain, Holland, the United States, etc., but, except for a ten-minute brush-by with Sita, we’d never met. Just the prospect of seeing these women was, in itself, cause for joyful anticipation. After all, we had all had the great, good fortune to know Ioanna. But what I hadn’t clearly recognized was that after nearly two years, Ioanna’s death would finally be a palpable reality for me.

Ioanna Salajan at her house in Alaró, Mallorca, March 2009.  Photo by Luisa Kolker

Ioanna Salajan at her house in Alaró, Mallorca, March 2009.
Photo by Luisa Kolker

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