Ellen Korman Mains

The news of Michael's death went straight through my heart like an arrow, penetratingly sad, yet brilliantly purposeful. We were not close, yet his journey intersected mine and affected me in many ways. As early students of the Vidyadhara, we seemingly had little in common because Michael had apparently shown up already fully functional, articulate, elegant, and mysteriously confident - like a fish out of water, wearing a suit. What sort of creature was this, I wondered? I admired his statesman-like qualities and inscrutable cheerfulness, his fatherly insight, as well as his humility. In the mid-80s, I worked for MEG in Boulder for a year or so. Aware of each other's activities, we occasionally conversed and shared stories - once via Skype when I was in Sweden and then 2 years ago at the PT retreat in Maine. No, not especially close. But when I heard of his illness, a relatively rare cancer, I could not avoid the eerie resonance I felt - for my mother had died of the same cancer. Only weeks before, he was kind enough to read my memoir and write a glowing review. Somehow we had moved closer. Attending the moving ceremony for Michael last night here in Boulder, which happened to take place on the 1-year anniversary of the death of my close friend Bill Scheffel, I could not ignore these many signals of karmic coincidence and blessings that Michael brought into this world and that I know will continue to flow from wherever he lands. I feel sad, but a good sad full of heartfelt gratitude and appreciation for his dedication and solid goldness.