It was November of 1996 and I was standing at the top of a long flight of marble stairs, looking down to the clear waters of a deep well far below where people were immersing themselves...

The place was Goindwal in India's northern province of Punjab, only a short drive from Amritsar and the Golden Temple. It is a magical place, a place I had heard about for many years. A place where, the Siri Singh Sahib (Yogi Bhajan) had told us, if we recite Japji (our morning prayer) on these 84 steps we would wash away 8.4 million lifetimes of karma!

I had not understood the power of that until then, seeing the faces of those two women in our yatra (spiritual journey) who were there doing it. It would take them two days, beginning on the bottom step in the water and moving up, step by step, going down to immerse themselves in between each recitation of Japji and then back up to the next step, until they reached the top step. They had a special glow I had never seen before.

I made a promise that day to Guru (God) - that if He made it possible for me to return the next year I would do the 84 steps. A year later, the funds "miraculously" appeared for me to go on the yatra, and I knew it was Guru's will that I keep my promise.

We began at Goindwal as five committed Sikhs - three women and two men, standing waist-high in the clear water below the bottom step - each on their respective sides of the head-high wall that discretely separates the two genders. It was a deceptively warmish morning of a wintry November day, the sunlight streaming down through the windows high above us.

All the women in the yatra had joined us for the opening Ardas, a prayer for the blessings and completion of this practice, and then they chanted with us the first recitation of Japji - taking 10-15 minutes to complete. It was thrilling. Visitors who had come to take a single ceremonial dip stopped respectfully to watch us.

It wasn't until we were on the fifth step reciting Japji that I realized how ill prepared we were to handle the cold winds sweeping down from the entrance high above us. We each had a towel - mine was soaked through by then - and one wool blanket to wrap around us as we recited and walked down and then back up again each time. It quickly got soaked also. I was shiver-shaking as I came back out of one immersion and an older woman reached over and rubbed my legs briskly as I was drying myself.

Later on, about step 15, a lady with precious stones in her earrings and on her rings took off her silk shawl and rubbed my legs with it. In the late afternoon, another lady came by and gave us small glasses of warm tea. I counted my blessings at having been born a woman to enjoy the compassion of these wonderful women.

At first it was easy to take the broad, steep steps at a brisk pace going down and up, but gradually it became harder. One of the women who started with us and one of the men dropped out; vowing to come back better prepared. Remaining on the men's side was my fellow Phoenician and business partner Hari Nam Singh, and on the women's side with me Sat Mohine Kaur from Atlanta.

We kept up until about midnight when the three of us stopped to take a brief few hours' nap in rooms we had set aside at the temple guest house less than 50 yards away. That day we had taken in only water we had brought along and two protein bars so we would not have any unnecessary interruptions. At first light we resumed at step 40.

The second day was harder than the first. As before, hundreds of women and children streamed past us every hour to take their ceremonial dips. Many of them paused to touch our feet in respect, but this day there was no chai (tea), no warming rubs of the legs. There was only the force of our chanting Japji propelling us through the spin of the millions of lifetimes we were burning off.

By now I felt the profound change process we were in. We were quite literally burning off those millions of lifetimes. On some steps I could feel an uplift, on other steps the emotional weight was huge, evoking depression, even taking me to the point of near-death. It took all the power of Japji and Guru's will to keep up. I realized I was actually doing a seva - not a selfish act, but one where I had focused on my students and how they deserved a stronger teacher and I had to clear away all this "stuff" if I was going to be of greater service to them. That desire helped keep me going.

The afternoon came and sunset approached, and we were on steps in the high 60s. By now the other two - with far younger hips than mine - had been able to take the steep stairs faster than me and were several steps above me. When they finished about 9 p.m. I still had seven steps to go - about two hours at my rate. They disappeared, I assumed to go rest in the rooms.

A little later, Hari Nam Singh came back with a still-warm roti (bread) he had found for me in the Gurdwara kitchen. He held my Nitnem (prayer book) as I ate and then recited silently and supportingly with me on each of the remaining steps.

When we reached the top, the 84th step, Sat Mohine Kaur rejoined us. It was 11 p.m., 26 hours after we had started. I led the recitation of the closing Ardas, expressing gratitude for all that Guru had done to help us complete our missions here.

We each continued to process the impact of that work for next 40 days, knowing that we had been forever altered and renewed. I, along with Hari Nam Singh, before returning to the States went on to Australia to teach my Womanheart women's retreat. All the while, still processing Goindwal.

It was only when I was home in Phoenix, teaching my regular yoga class, that I fully realized how exquisitely Guru had answered my prayers. He had made it possible for me to go to Goindwal. I went and did the work. And in my going through the fires of karma, he had answered my other prayer - I had indeed come home the stronger teacher I had asked to become.