There are people, stories, and anecdotes that seem to bring us a message we, without realizing it, needed to hear. Such was the experience I had with Master Puran Bair, whom I met at a retreat I attended.

With my breakfast plate in hand, I dared to sit at the same long wooden table where he sat with his wife, Susanne. A little intimidated by his serious and withdrawn personality, yet drawn to his knowledge, we began to chat. His affability, attentiveness, and energy opened the door for me. “Tell me about yourself,” he said. I told him what a privilege it was to dedicate myself to what I'm passionate about, to feel that, through my work, I can help people. I told him about the manuscript I submitted to the publisher two months ago, which, unlike my previous ones, I wrote from a place of vulnerability, without masks or armor to protect me.

This new title doesn't contain research or studies from universities or experts in various fields, which in some ways has always been a shield behind which I have protected myself. When it came to promoting them or giving a lecture on the subject, the path seemed simple given the number of times I'd walked it. Not now. Now it's different. What am I going to do with a book in which, without any protection, I expose my absolute fragility? I even question whether, not being a therapist or thanatologist and simply narrating my own journey, I'll be able to help people facing loss.

Puran's response left me perplexed:

“I participated as a meditator in a 1997 research project at the University of Kassel in Germany to demonstrate that it is possible to radiate visible light from the chest area under certain circumstances. The experiment was conducted in a completely dark chamber at a temperature of -25°C. Measurements were carried out with a computer connected to a device with a very high-efficiency photomultiplier tube and other technical elements. My meditation was conducted using a heart-centered method.”

“I stripped naked so that the fluorescent light from the static generated by my clothing wouldn't affect the experiment. Over a period of ten hours, I focused on meditation in 10- to 20-minute bursts, with breaks. The results were incipient and erratic: between 37,000 and 45,000 photons per second.

“Frustrated, the researchers and I ended the experiment. We went to dinner at one of their houses. I noticed my friend's four-year-old son came down to say hello with a bad cold.

“The next day I woke up with a great revelation. The boy needed light to heal. I called my friend to ask him to repeat the experiment, and at 8:00 a.m. we were there again.

“With the child in my mind, I focused on ‘sending him light’ through the exhalation of my heart to heal him. Within half an hour of beginning the meditation, the light photon count rose to 100,000 photons per second steadily and consistently until the meditation ended. It was easy. I didn't have to make the great effort of concentration of the day before. What was the difference? As simple as it was complex and inexplicable: the intention to help the child. That's the difference, Gaby, and that's everything.”

With my eyes open and unblinking, I fell silent. Her life testimony gave me the answer I needed to hear. Loving intention is what opens the way for photons to illuminate, give life and congruence to each of our actions. And when it emerges from the heart, like the device, we register it immediately.