My longtime teacher, mentor and friend Sister Sarita just passed over into spirit. Most people call her Mother Sarita and she definitely was filled with the energy of the divine mother, but when I studied with her she was always referred to as Sister. She was truly an angel in human form. Her smile would light up a room and fill your heart with laughter and joy.
I had the privilege to study with her while don Miguel Ruiz was still a student. He was her youngest son and she would often scold him as only a mother can. Every time she saw me she would welcome me with such a beautiful smile. She taught classes in Spanish and although I still don’t speak Spanish I learned so much from her. I think the fact that I couldn’t speak the language allowed me to absorb the information at a profound level because so much of the knowledge is beyond the capacity of language anyway.
Ironically word of her passing arrived on the same day as my author’s copies of my angel book. I am sure there is no mistake there!
Death is part of life. When I learned of her passing I was sad for a moment and then in the next I could feel her love and her presence. Sarita I am so grateful you shared your love and knowledge with me. I will always do as you told me, to go and teach in my own way.
My first book Dance of Power is all about my studies with Sister Sarita and Miguel. What an incredible journey and a gift that has been. Here is a short excerpt from Dance of Power that describes our meeting.
from Dance of Power:
The blue eye inside the large pyramid stared out at me as I nervously approached the building. I was outside the temple of Sister Sarita, a Mexican healer who performed psychic surgery and was well known for her miraculous cures.
I paced back and forth, struck by the contrast between the pyramid on one side of the door and the large, colorful fruits painted on the other side. The building, a converted laundromat, was in the barrio of a southern California city.
I felt out of place, like I was in a separate reality, having just moved to California from rural Vermont. The large, extremely colorful paintings of Aztec warriors and Mexican laborers on the huge freeway columns at the entrance to the barrio had already made me realize that I was about to enter a world that was totally unfamiliar to me.
Even though I felt excited, my fear would have driven me away except for the fact that I totally trusted Mary, the woman I was waiting for. I had only met her a few weeks before when I had accidentally attended the “wrong” spiritualist church.
. . . I began to notice the rest of the temple. At the front of the room stood an altar, framed by dusty and faded gold velvet curtains. Behind the altar was a painting of a pyramid with a blue eye in the clouds. Shafts of light streamed outward from the pyramid, and a shadow of a cross loomed over the clouds. On the altar was a variety of old glass jars filled with fading gladiolus and wilted mums.
In a corner, by the altar, sat a short, round woman with a radiant smile. People congregated around her as she lovingly reached out and held each person’s hand. She seemed to be blessing them. I realized this must be Sister Sarita.
Mary came back to my seat and led me over to Sister Sarita, who stood up and gave me a big hug. I again felt very welcomed. She spoke to me rapidly in Spanish. Even though I didn’t understand a word I intuitively knew I had some sort of a profound connection with this woman.
Sarita I love you and thank you from the bottom of my heart for your presence in my life. May my life be a reflection of the love and light you so freely shared with me and everyone you met.
With love and a fond farewell,