In 2008, after the closing of the seminar in Mumbai that Spero and I had been attending yearly, I asked him “What are your plans”? He answered, in so many words, “Well, I am hoping to open a free clinic in Dharamshala, nothing concrete yet… just some thoughts…” “I am coming”, I blurted out spontaneously. Spontaneously because of an innate desire to take part in something of this nature and also because of an inexplicable draw towards the North of India and Dharamshala, a place I had always wanted to visit.
Through the many months I kept in touch with Spero, as much for myself so that I could realise the wish that I had, and to encourage him in the long and difficult path to materializing his project.

In September 2010 I came to Bir, inspired by Spero’s dream and something within me that knew that this is what I needed to do. I was immediately greeted with open arms by Spero and then introduced to Robin, his partner, with her beautiful, warm and welcoming smile and eyes. It was mystical. The distant Himalaya Mountains just in vision through the clouds, the mist swirling in the hills of upper Bir and the energy of being in a place that was about to unfold for me. Spero said about Bir “people usually arrive and leave, but those who stay do so for a purpose, a reason that only Bir can bring clarity to”. I had packed in my bag many, many questions around being a homeopath, and indeed what is homeopathy, the therapeutic relationship and its meaning, and so, so much more.

Through the weeks I spent with Spero and Robin enjoying deep discussion about homeopathy, healing… and experiencing the joy and difficulties that they were both going through with their project and daily living in Bir. The clinic was just newly opened and I spent days there helping Spero with the trickle of inquisitive patients, curious to know what we were doing. But patients gradually started to come, Tibetans and the Indians, who presented with complaints that I had never seen in my clinic in Jerusalem! Spero treated them all with utmost care, commitment and responsibility. In my minds eye, I can still see the slight old Tibetan lady who insisted on turning the prayer wheel, much too heavy for her size, complaining of pain in her arm; the very young and princely looking Indian who was barely clad, with high fever and yet so cold that we immediately went to buy him a blanket and jacket to keep him warm; and then there were the stories we were told by the Tibetans about their dangerous journey of escape from Tibet over the mountains to India.

I was in Bir, the heart of Buddhism, with its colorful prayer flags, waking to the sounds of drums, symbols and prayers in the early morning, the cheerful Tibetan people who would acknowledge me with a nod or smile as I walked along the main market street. And then there were the monasteries where I would sometimes, sit and just sit, quietly embraced by the smell of incense, the prayer books, the silence and the deep knowing that at this moment all is good. I was so deeply impacted and blessed with insights and understandings that today have became an integrated part of me.