(Stavros wrote:)
I went to the pagoda for a memorial ritual for teacher, Son. We do this every 7 days for 49 days. The first time we were the only family. The following week there was another family. This week there were 4 families. During the ritual the monk will call out the names of the beloved. He really slaughters my last name. It doesn’t bother me. Most Americans cannot pronounce my last name correctly.
I had developed a very bad back ache that I attributed to tension, since the last time I had such a back ache was when my son died in Vietnam. At that time my friend, Co Mai, took me to a doctor who gave me massage and acupuncture. It was so bad that I went for massages twice a day at a nearby hotel, but only received minimal relief.
At this memorial ritual I sat in back of the pagoda where they have chairs for us older people. It was still difficult, but I managed. After the service, as I sat on a bench in the courtyard, an old man sat next to me. Imagine me calling someone else an old Vietnamese man. He told me that he could see that I was I pain. He reached behind me and touched my lower back pressing at certain spots. I have been called magic hands but I have never experienced magic hands on me until this time. I could feel the spiritual energy flowing from him as he massaged my back. Most of the pain left me and by the following morning my back was totally healed. As he massaged my back he apologized that he did not have much energy (Spiritual), because he had just had a liver transplant. He was so happy saying that Medicare paid for the whole operation.
Later he joined us at a meal in the pagoda that was prepared by the 4 families for the memorial. He told me that he was in Son’s medication group and that he just found out about his death so he came to the memorial ritual.
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we all need magic hands, Stavros!
In Freedom,
Frank Moore
