I was with Osumi, Sensei in her Tokyo home, a place so familiar to me that I often feel like I grew up there. We had a special relationship perhaps no one understood, including me. She seemed to understand it, but I’ll never know for sure. In the dream, I was sitting in the living room, waiting for some delicious ebi (shrimp) tempura to emerge from her kitchen. Although this took place in the past, my mind held all my experiences from the future.

In the dream I then recalled something I had forgotten. I never told anyone except Hillary how something was missing in Osumi, Sensei’s life and that when I met her, something was equally missing in my life. Today I would say that Osumi, Sensei and I each needed the other to discover how to better keep “God’s electricity” running rather than risk blackouts and power shortages.

The secret I held for all these years was that her seiki practice was not enough to keep her electrical line buzzing. What she didn’t know was that the seiki line also needed to be singing in order to carry the additional charge of sacred emotion. What I learned was that the seiki electricity carrier must do more than sing; there must be spontaneous movement blended with song.

In the dream I also recalled that Osumi, Sensei asked me as many questions as I asked her. She recognized the holiness of my grandparents, as did all strong spiritual elders around the world. I didn’t have to mention them—they felt their ropes before I spoke and sometimes spoke to them before addressing me. In addition, Sensei could not hear enough about what I experienced with the Bushmen and other cultures that were spiritually strong. However, if a spiritual lineage had no seiki electricity, she had less interest. I remembered these discussions with her in the dream. She also believed that no one can choose their mission, role, or gift in life. Sensei felt that we are each here with a destiny and that we must bow before it. When you find it, the serious work then must immediately, with no delay, begin.

Without the discipline that turns a seed into a flowering tree, Osumi, Sensei believed that your opportunity to thrive in the orchard is wasted. She inexplicably knew the destiny of everyone she encountered and told them what they must do about it. If you were to receive her prescription for action and not follow through, she would kick you out of her house and not see you again.

In the dream, I laughed at how she is probably the last person anyone would want to meet in life or dream, because she was perhaps the most demanding and the least placating and pleasing person of them all. She wouldn’t tell you what you want to hear and if you didn’t do what she instructed, she would move on and tell you to come back in another lifetime.

In the dream, Sensei came out of the kitchen with her cook holding a plate of tempura. Osumi, Sensei never ate when I dined. She just stared at me and made sure every bite was perfect. Nothing delighted her more than watching my delight. She would smile and break into laughter, something rarely seen by others. People later came from nearby and far away to ask her why she treated me like a son. She always replied, “It’s our destiny.” I felt the same—nothing I did or didn’t do earned admission to this relationship. It happened spontaneously and was natural. I learned how to embrace her love and the ancestral seiki wind whirling around her. Both had unpredictable minds of their own. She and I both bowed and prayed before the vastest space that is beyond all names, including the name of “seiki.”

After I finished enjoying the perfectly prepared tempura, she went to the kitchen to bring out the next course. While waiting for her to return, I remembered how my many years of exploration revealed that the ultimate life reset is not a seiki session, but a melodic acoustic bath. I sat in her living room alone now, thinking that a seiki session is a practical and effective warmup exercise for the deeper holy soak, but it’s not the main course.

Seiki jutsu is more sushi than tempura. It helps awaken raw presence. This makes you ready to receive the next course—a hotter serving of sizzling oceanic emotion. Osumi, Sensei loved how I owned the feeling for both the uncooked fish and the deep-fried prawn.

Then Osumi, Sensei reentered the room, bursting with a smile that filled the space with her sunshine. Like she often did with clients over the years, she answered my question before I asked it: “Keeney, Sensei,” (she always addressed me in this traditional way, respecting me as an elder teacher), “everything is seiki including those important times when we drop seiki and its practice.” She then offered me some ice cream to sweeten and further deepen her point.

In this dream meeting with Osumi, Sensei, I realized that it took me nearly seventy years to discover how a strong numinous rope is made of many intertwined braids of string. A spiritual rope needs at least three lineage threads because each adds something the others do not embody. As you hunt for living and ancestral teachers to emulate, know that you will someday need at least two other different and complementary characters to add to the saintly chorus line. At least one of them should feel unfamiliar and even uncomfortable to you—they likely carry the missing medicine you need. At first it may taste bitter, but later it will become sweeter as you widen the scope of your aesthetic ecstatic taste-buddies.

Assume that the Sacred Ecstatics cooked ancestors know your destiny, which you may have an inkling of but cannot fully know. That’s rope business. Act, then doubly and triply act to fully live into your unfolding adventure. That’s how you build enough room to host every kind of sacred theatre performance, especially those that set a fire in the soul.

I almost forgot to mention another thing from the dream. While having a bite of either sushi or tempura—I don’t recall which it was—I remembered how I’d feel confused and embarrassed when Osumi, Sensei’s longtime associate and translator, Professor Burton Foreman, would tell me stories about the people who came from all over the world to study with Sensei, hoping to become a seiki master. Some had even dreamed her and left their profession behind to live in Japan under her tutelage.

While she did her best to give most sincere seekers some kind of seiki transmission, those who wanted an apprenticeship were either quickly dismissed or they later gave up due to the hard work and traditional Japanese-style subservience required. In the dream, I wanted to ask her why she was unable to teach anyone. I was not surprised when she started to answer even before I had finished thinking of the question:

“Keeney, Sensei,” she started, but then paused to carefully consider her choice of words. “Everyone is serving seiki even if they do not notice this fact of life. Some people receive a dream but do not follow its instruction. They only served as a mail carrier delivering wisdom for someone else who is willing to do what they are not.”

“Let me explain it this way: If the mail carrier delivers you a package that contains a wisdom book, it is unlikely that they opened it to read and study. There is no reason to be upset that the carrier does not make use of the gift they pass on. It likewise does not matter if the recipient of a spiritual vision only uses it to elevate themselves over others as special. Seiki still has been delivered through them and, in some cases, has also brought a teaching on how not to relate to a visionary gift.”

“Other people may never receive a vision, but they wholeheartedly follow great visions of the past, present, and future by trying to put them into life-changing action. The ancestors need not waste their time sending these people a vision. Perhaps they prefer that the non-dreamers get a good night’s rest before putting in another day of mystical action. The purpose of everyone’s life is to enact their part in the grandest mission. Even if they don’t, they still fulfill the higher purpose of seiki.”

After Osumi, Sensei finished speaking, a breeze blew through the room, the sun broke through the clouds outside and shone through the window, and I woke up.