My first brush with the practice of Ho’oponopono occurred in 2015, at the Cayce Association for Research and Enlightenment (A.R.E.) in Virginia Beach. One of the workshop presenters, an Energy Medicine practitioner, mentioned it. I suppose I stored the seed away in my mind somewhere, and now it has begun to grow.
Recently, the reverend and practitioners in Agapeeast.org (part of Agape International Spiritual Center), whose classes and services I attend online, spoke of the power and usefulness of the short Ho’oponopono prayer (I’m sorry—Please forgive me—Thank you—I love you).
For quite a while I had been feeling flat during meditation, with no recognizable sense of Spirit. Reverend Victoria of Agapeeast taught the Ho’oponopono prayer. Several students in the class mentioned that it was their “go-to” prayer when their upset was too great to focus on any other method of prayer.
The continued stress of the COVID threat added to family troubles led me to try Ho’oponopono. What an experience! I found focus, ease, and peace in repeating the prayer. It’s been about a week since I’ve used the prayer instead of my traditional mantra. Now I look forward to each meditation session, extending it to forty minutes if the daily schedule permits. It’s like sinking into a scented, warm, cleansing bath. I recommend giving Ho’oponopono a try.
The prayer comes from Hawaiian tradition. Morrnah Nalamaku Simeona, a Hawaiian Kahuna (the one who guards the secret), adapted the practice for anyone to master and apply.
To learn more about her, the history of Ho’oponopono, and the technique, go to:
“The most powerful time to pray or meditate,” Satya tells me, “is between three and five a.m.” She leans back in the peacock chair. On her lap is a cat with the oddest markings, black and white splotches more like a cow than a cat. The dog, Belle, sits at Satya’s feet. It licks her toes with long, tender strokes.
“That must tickle,” I think, but Satya seems not to notice.
“That’s when the higher spirits are most accessible,” Satya adds.
“Like archangels?” I ask.
“Mmm. Uriel and Gabriel, mostly. Michael and Raphael are busy with the dead and dying.”
Am I really having this conversation? Satya’s patio is overhung with sprays of maple leaves turning red at the edges.
“I’m a morning person,” I say, “but that’s even a bit early for me. I like the quiet before the household wakes up.” Today I hold a mug of Satya’s homemade chai, a mixture of black tea, milk, turmeric, ginger and honey. It’s golden, warm in my hands and in my center.
Satya smiles with her wide pansy-blue eyes. “I’m usually up by three. The spirits wake me. I can feel their energy. It’s a lovely time of day, so new, unspoiled. So soft.”
“What do you do at three a.m.?” Sometimes I feel like I’m in the presence of a saint, like Mirabai or Teresa of Avila. And sometimes I think maybe they were right to commit her. But Satya does no harm to anyone.
“Oh, I take a shower. Make up some chai and sit with the animals a bit. Then I align my energy field for the day. And I meditate, of course. And pray. Do some visioning. Nothing special.”
I think of my morning, starting at about six a.m., when the sudden shrill of the alarm clock frightens me out of some odd, rambling dream. After my heart stops pounding, I get up, start the coffee, and make the kids’ lunches. Go back upstairs, give my husband a poke in the ribs and hustle into the bathroom before the kids take over.