Kristin Strachan
4 min readDec 1, 2021


“Hello. This is Kuan Yin.

The being through whom these teachings flow will share a heart story.

Tonight I was fully blindsided by what I call an emotional landmine, a hidden memory cache of immense power that bloomed up, seemingly out of nowhere. Not a bad thing, but big. And it made me cry a lot.

I had a truly amazing childhood, the only girl child of opera singers. I was raised in the theater, and in nightclubs where great singing abounded at the time. This is back a few days. The music of those days, and on into my adulthood is woven as surely into my tapestry as any thread in any life weaving. Deep, visceral, emotional, vivid, as were the people that populated this journey. I was bathed and saturated with the greatest of all the musics of the earth, Beethoven, Bach, Verdi, Wagner, all the greats went into my ears and into my heart for years and years.

I wandered off a bit in my teens, a true hippie child, into the music of the day, which had its own authenticity and beauty, but the classics were never far away. I sang and sang all through my adulthood, in the Opera, Choral singing, church singing, weddings, funerals, I sang my way through life. I loved it greatly always. Through marriages, careers, child-rearing, trauma, joy, love…I sang.

Then my father committed suicide, at the age of 83. I never blamed him, but something maybe stopped in me. Some part of the music died too. The deep joy love of the romantic opera theater just could’nt be faced any more. I really didn’t realize it then. Not fully until tonight.

My spiritual life bloomed fully into radiant life 11 years ago, when I met my spiritual teacher, Master Sha. Some other things worked in the direction of going away from singing for a living and for the joy of it, work, family, so much. I embraced, and do now fully embrace the spiritual upward turn that took my eye and my heart in another direction, not fully comprehending what that meant, to leave my music life behind, for another kind of music. The music of the soul, the soul song of God, the Infinite Divine, the resounding song of Tao.

The other rested easy, or so I thought. The past has its landmines, its little pockets of memory that are more than memory, the past is sometimes written in our very bones, the little membranes of our heart, hiding. Hiding. Until some match of sound and light ignites them into fire, saying,

Remember me! Remember me! Don’t forget me!


It is the music of Puccini, and sometimes Verdi, that trip this wire. This music is sung so deeply in me, that which I thought was forgotten.

My husband and I watched a favorite movie tonight, a real gem of a comfort movie, high on my top ten of all time favorite movies. Moonstruck. A perfect cast, beautiful writing, gorgeous acting, and…..Puccini. I’ve watched the movie before, and have been able to shield my heart. Not tonight. Tonight the scab of an unhealed wound came off and it was so so painful. So painful. To my bones hurtful to hear those beautiful singings, those melodies from the very beginning of this life experience. I’m still not sure what to do with this, except I know what to do. I’m strong, I have gifts, I can be healed. I know it.

I know how this came to be. My most amazing spiritual father gave the highest shining blessings to us all today in a teaching time about the highest level of singing and dancing as a healing modality. He removed my coverings, my protections of old wounds, and old memories that needed to come up to be transformed and resolved. I thought I had transcended and forgotten them. I am still in the swirling pain, but I see my radiant teacher with his hands out to me, healing and raising me to my highest possibility.

My father is on his journey, my mother as well. All grandparents, aunts, uncles, all passed. I have no siblings. My life stands clean to the wind, I embrace my husband, child and grandchildren, the animals in my care. I bow most humbly to my radiant teacher, and continue up the path, hopefully shriven, from what has seemed to hold me with its hands of memory. I am sorry for my failings, my weakness. I am thankful for my strength, and for the great Buddha journey that lies before me. I deeply honor my spiritual master that has saved my life and my soul journey, and my soul family as well.

Thank you. Thank you, the music, all that great great music. I bless that you might resonate in my soul in a way without pain or attachment.

Thank you.”

There’s not much more to say. The lesson is in the writing and the realization of this being.

That is all,

I love you, Kuan Yin.”