सिदर्-वृक्षाणां समीपः उपविशामि
Near cedar trees I sit.
मम पुरतः सुन्दर-अल्दर्-वृक्षान् पश्यामि
I see beautiful alder trees in front of me.
मम उपरि सर्वतः च सिदर्-शाखाः सन्ति
Cedar branches are above and around me.
चटकाः आलापम् एक-काकः च काकशब्दं कुर्वन्ति
The birds are singing and a crow is crowing.
“हे काक त्वं शृणोमि” इति वदामि
“Crow I hear you.” I say.
प्रातः मम अभयारण्ये
Early morning in my sanctuary.
सर्वं कुशलं अस्ति
All is well.
My friends, Yashas and Ramana, and I have been meeting occasionally to practice and sing bhajans (devotional songs). This past Friday, Yashas asked if we could sing outside in a beautiful place when we met on Sunday. What came to my mind was a public beach or in my back yard with neighbors looking on. While I liked the idea of being outside, I was not up for being in a public space, so my first reaction was not positive.
Later, I began to think about the lot behind my house. That space would be much more private but it is filled with blackberries, ivy and morning glory vines. As I pondered that possibility, I remembered there used to be a secluded area under a cedar tree in that lot. I decided to see what that space looked like now.
It turned out there were actually two cedar trees, standing side by side. Most of the area was sloped but not all of it. We would be able to play the harmonium and sing there once we cleared out the dead branches and some blackberries. In time, we could even invite others to join us. The neighbors might be able to hear us singing but they wouldn’t be able to see us. That mystery could be fun for everyone.
My hope was that we would be able to see a tree I consider majestic while we sang, (I have since discovered that it is an alder tree and rather than being one tree with four trunks, it is actually two trees, each of which has two trunks.)
The next day, Yasas helped me with the clearing. We sawed off dead branches, cut down a few blackberry vines and generally cleaned up the space. We placed some of the leaves on the ground to sit on.
Sunday afternoon, I built a small altar. Finding a level place where it wouldn’t fall over was tricky!
When Yasas and Ramana arrived, we sat in the new sanctuary and sang and talked for three hours. We had a wonderful time.
And this was our view!
When I sent some of these pictures to Sreejit (my son), he commented that we looked like pagan hippies. Hmmm. Well I still treasure the hippie part of me (A Hippie and Proud of It), and my love of Nature is ever increasing. I will accept that label!
I suspect I will spend many more hours in this new sanctuary.
The directions for this week’s Dungeon Prompt were:
All of our mistakes have made us into the people that we are today, and so this is not meant to be an exercise in regret, but rather a fun look back with the thought, “that was maybe not such a great idea.” Tell us about a past exploit of your younger, less wise self.
It only took seconds for me to know what I would be sharing!
I moved from Florida to Washington State in 1966 to go to a conservative Christian school named Seattle Pacific College. Months before I arrived, the administration had granted students the privilege of being able to go to movie theaters. The school still had rules against wearing pants on campus, except on Saturdays, and they didn’t allow students to play cards, dance, or drink alcohol.
I believe it was sometime early in 1968 when I decided to become a volunteer at the First Avenue Service Center. That was a place where the homeless men and women from “skid row” could wash their clothes, bathe and have a place to hang out during the day.
I have no memory of how I found the Center but I loved being there. I talked with the people who frequented it and tried to bring some light into their days. I played a lot of pinochle with them even though I knew my college would not approve; pinochle was a major past-time for those who gathered at the Center. At some point, I wrote a letter to my mother saying something along the line of “Oh mom, I am meeting so many interesting people. I am getting to know ex-cons, drug addicts, drag queens, and prostitutes!”
I was very surprised when my mother wasn’t as excited about my adventure as I was. In fact, she told me she would be sending me a plane ticket home! I had no intention of leaving Seattle or the Center. While I don’t remember what happened next, since I never received the plane ticket, she must not have followed through on her threat. And I didn’t leave the Center.
My involvement with those people was not confined to my volunteer time. I would hang out with some of them outside of the Center as well. At one point, I started dating a young man who was a heroin addict. I was madly in love with him and did everything I could to spend time with him. To his credit, and my luck, he never asked me to get high with him. I had no interest in using any kind of drugs even though it was the 60’s. I just loved hanging out with him. I was so co-dependent though. If he wanted me to drive him somewhere I did it. I remember being so eager to see him that I drove back to Seattle non-stop after I had finished a summer job in New Mexico. The first thing he did upon my arrival was ask me to drive him to Portland … then … and I did it.
I didn’t know anything about co-dependency in those days, I just knew I was meeting fascinating people and my life was full of adventure. He eventually lost interest in me and took off. Looking back, I believe that he never considered me to be his girlfriend. I think I was mainly a chauffeur and he let me tag along at other times.
In hindsight, was it wise for a naive 19 or 20 year old to be volunteering at a place like that? Was it appropriate for me to be hanging out with “ex-cons, drug addicts, drag queens and prostitutes” outside of the Center? Was my “dating” a heroin addict a mistake? I would answer “No” to all of those questions, although I have to admit as I am writing this blog post, I am wavering on those answers a bit.
Would I want my daughter to have the experiences I had? I’d answer “Yes” in regards to some of them, but definitely not to all of them. I put myself into some very dangerous places and painful situations. Did I make mistakes? Yes I did, but I learned from them. And as Sreejit said in the prompt directions, everything that happened during that period of my life contributed to making me the person I am today.
I still remember a few of the people I met in those days. And the lessons I learned then allow me to do a much better job of keeping myself safe now. I also have a lot more compassion for my mother than I did at that time. I can certainly understand why she would react to my letter by telling me she would be sending me a plane ticket home!
Later in my life, I met my spiritual teacher, Amma. When I asked her for a spiritual name she named me Karuna. Karuna means compassion. I think that my sense of compassion and my adventurous spirit really blossomed and came to fruition during the year or so I volunteered at the First Avenue Service Center. I don’t have any regrets.
Photo Credit: Clipart Panda
Photo Credit: Steve Shattuck
Some of you may remember that towards the end of last month, a swarm of tiny black ants formed on the sidewalk in front of my garden. I, of course, didn’t know how many there were but in my shock it looked like millions! I didn’t want to kill them but I also didn’t want that many ants, and potentially more, in my garden. I also didn’t want anyone to accidentally stand in them. After pondering the dilemma for a short time, I decided to wash them away with water from a hose. That solution worked and the ants never came back.
When I wrote about that event in Discrimination Opportunity, a blogging friend responded that he understood black ants to be harmless. In pondering his words, I realized that I had moved to action very quickly. I had been stung by red ants in the past after I unwittingly stood on or near their hills. Even one bite from a red ant can be very painful, and being bit by a large number of them is something I will never forget. Did that memory cause me to act too fast?
As I continued to reflect on my action, I realized that a child would be terrified if that many ants were crawling on them, even if they weren’t being stung. I concluded that my washing the ants away was a reasonable response, but I wasn’t sure that I was right.
Prior to that event, I had seen a few big black ants in my living room. After the incident with the tiny ants in the garden, more of those big ants showed up, both inside and outside of the house. Two ant events in a short period of time made me wonder what was going on.
When I become conscious of an animal, bird or other living being repetitively showing up in my life, I sometimes look to see what that creature symbolizes in Native American traditions. I googled “native american medicine ant” and found Dr. Loretta Standley’s website. She says this about ant medicine:
When Ant Medicine grabs your attention it is asking you to cooperate with your tribe (co-workers, family, projects, etc.,) in unity and patience. Ants are resolute and unwearied little creatures. Although they are tiny, they are indeed mighty. They have a strong skeleton on the “outside” of their body (exoskeleton) with specialized muscles that give them their strength. Ants can carry 30 times their weight, which would be equal to a 150 lb. person carrying a bulldozer on their back at 19,500 lbs.
The typical way to stop ant medicine is to literally stomp on it or fumigate it. If an ant is stomped on, it will emit pheromones that will draw more ants to the area. In short, ant medicine is unstoppable, tireless, patient and unified.
Ant’s message is about working non-stop toward your goals and forging ahead for the Good of the whole. Are you working on a project that benefits a larger audience? Have you been ignoring your tribe? Ant medicine cooperates with the tribe in harmony and wisdom toward a common goal, knowing that patience will be rewarded. Have you been cooperating with yourself on your own personal projects?
I was intrigued. Just the day before, I had met with two colleagues to clear up some long standing issues between us and was going to do the same with another friend the next day. I thought the “ant medicine” perspective was valuable and would ponder the questions Dr. Standley put forth. Now that I had this information would the ants go away?
Nope! If anything, the number of ants increased. I did more research and discovered the ants were carpenter ants. Everything I read indicated that I would probably have to call a professional pest control company to keep them from damaging my house. While there were still not that many ants, over the next few days their numbers continued to increase. Their favorite location seemed to be on my front porch.
I decided to take the time to observe them and see where they came from, where they were going and what they were doing. As I watched, I noticed that there were some small holes, or perhaps just indentations, in the caulking near the front door. The ants went to those holes over and over again. Even though the ants never went inside of them, it seemed like the holes were getting bigger. Maybe the ants were breaking down the caulking. They also went to a place next to the bottom corners of the door where some wires, probably old wires from broadband television hook ups, were located.
The following day there were even more ants on the porch. Anytime I left the door open even for a minute, the ants tried to get into the house. I decided I couldn’t continue doing this so called pest control. I made an appointment for them to do an assessment the following week.
I remembered hearing that spreading cinnamon powder could repel ants. It hadn’t worked very well in India when I tried it there, but I didn’t want to kill these ants unless it was absolutely necessary, so I spread some cinnamon in front of the door and in the areas where the wires were located. The number of ants decreased immediately but some still made their way through the cinnamon.
The next morning, I looked outside to see what was happening. There were three dead ants on the porch. Two were by themselves; the third was being pulled away by a live ant. The dead ant had a little different coloring than the rest of the ants. When I had looked up carpenter ants on the internet, I had noticed that the queen ant had different coloring than the workers so I wondered if the one being pulled away was a queen. I questioned whether a queen would be on the porch with a worker, but it seemed like a possible explanation as to why the black ant was trying to carry her away.
The live ant spent the whole day trying to drag the dead one from the porch. He seemed disoriented so I believed that he was probably also under the influence of the cinnamon.
I had thought the cinnamon would repel the ants, not kill them. My heart felt heavy as I watched his efforts. As I felt my feelings, I was struck by how much I have changed. I was raised in an era when we killed bugs, flies, spiders, and beetles, with swatters and insect spray, and here I was mourning the death of three ants and feeling compassion for the one who was taking such care to move the dead one.
I watched that process throughout the day, and noticed that no other ants ever came onto the porch. It has been almost two weeks since all of this happened and I have only seen two or three carpenter ants in or outside of my house during that time. They appear to be gone.
But my story doesn’t end there. There are two more related events!
During one of the psychotherapy groups I led the first week in June, an ant walked through the room. One of my clients immediately smashed it. As I thought about his action during the following week, I realized it was a good teaching opportunity. In the next group, I asked him if I could do a regression piece with him (a role play where he acted as if he was an eight year old and I was a healthy parent). He said yes so I talked to his eight year old about ants and what he thought should happen to them if they were in the house. We also talked about spiders. After we discussed his belief that they should be killed, I asked if he wanted to try something different. He was interested. I offered him the opportunity to be in charge of catching and releasing all bugs, spiders, and ants that might wander into the group room. He liked that idea and accepted the challenge. This past week an ant came into the room and he had his first experience of catching an ant and taking it outside!
The second incident occurred yesterday, the day I started writing this post. That morning, a friend phoned and said she wanted to talk to me about the morality of killing carpenter ants! Her situation was very different than mine in that there were a huge number of ants involved, but the timing amazed me. How interconnected we all are as we learn what we need to learn on our life journeys.
Am I done with the ant lesson? I don’t know; only time will tell. What I do know is that I have gained much from these occurrences. I see that I had an opportunity to:
I feel very grateful for all I have experienced and learned as the result of this ant “lesson.”
When I travel around the globe, people from war-stricken countries often come to see me. Women from these areas tell me, “We wake up in the morning to the sounds of gun-fire and screaming. Our children cling to us in fear and cry; we also hold onto them and cry. It’s been so many years since we awoke to the chirping of birds.”
Let us pray that the crackle of gunfire in such places is soon replaced by the sweet sounds of chirping birds, and that the young and old alike burst into laughter instead of tears.
–Amma
Amma is leading programs in North America until July 20. She is in San Ramon, California now and then will go to Los Angeles, Santa Fe, Dallas, Atlanta, Chicago, Washington D.C., Boston, New York City and Toronto. Schedule
I think this is an amazing video. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Perspective means different ways of seeing things.
When some people see worms they get squeamish. They wouldn’t even think holding them and letting them run through their fingers.
The picture above is of the worms in my vermicomposting bin. I feed the worms and in turn they create fertilizer! I love watching the worms. I particularly enjoy it when the time comes to separate the worms from the fertilizer (the fertilizer goes to the garden and the worms go back into the vermicomposting bin) because I get to pick them up and feel them squiggle in my hand.
As I look at the vegetable plants that are growing in my garden now, I know the worms have played a significant role in making them so healthy. I feel immensely grateful that they are doing such an important service for me and for the earth.
Perspective can make such a difference.
Written for Eclectic Corner: Perspective (Written Piece)
When I read Sreejit’s post “Dungeon Prompts: Take Me To Church” this past Thursday, I instantly knew what the nature of my response to the prompt would be. Even so, I had the sense that I shouldn’t write it then and there. Now I know why.
On Sunday evening, I attended the ordination of a friend who was becoming a Unitarian Universalist minister. She had worked towards that goal for many years. It was a day of great celebration. The ordination rituals affected me in ways that I hadn’t expected. Towards the beginning of the ceremony, there was a procession of already-ordained ministers. It reminded me of college graduations where the professors walk in, each clothed in different robes reflecting the school they had attended. I took one look at these ministers and my “being” erupted in grief. Grief of recognition, grief of longing. Was it related to past lives? Maybe. Probably. That grief came again as the group of ministers walked out of the sanctuary during the recessional.
Tapping into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
tears flowing
touched to the core
Home
During the ordination, in addition to thoroughly enjoying my friend’s experience, I was flooded with ideas for this post. Ideas continued to “come” for the rest of the night. By the next morning, I was ready to write!
Photo Credit: Wikimedia
Spirit has “taken me to church” so many times during my life.
I remember feeling embarrassed as an eight to ten year old child when my mother brought a friend to my bedroom as I was kneeling beside my bed praying. I also remember avidly reading books and watching movies about nuns in my early teen years. I had a sense I was “supposed” to become a nun, but that was not possible. I wasn’t Catholic!
When I was in tenth grade, and living in Hawaii, I went to a Billy Graham crusade and became a born again Christian. Afterwards, I joined a Youth for Christ group at my high school. I remember the group traveling together on buses, singing hour after hour. That was pure bliss for me. I felt like I was part of a family, I belonged!.
Tapping into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
heaven on earth
joy abounds
Home
At the end of that year, my father retired from the Army, and we moved to Florida. I attended a Congregational church, which was my mother’s denomination. I loved being part of the youth group. During the summer of 1965, we traveled from Florida to Washington State and back, studying The Belief’s Men Live By. I still have many memories of that summer. It was also the time I decided I would go to a Free Methodist college in Seattle.
When I arrived at the college, I was still a fairly conservative Christian, much more conservative than my Congregational friends. The college that I attended was so conservative though that over time I became very disillusioned, and for the next twenty years considered myself to be somewhere between an agnostic and an atheist.
Spirit did not leave me during those darker times though. I loved to go to the University Unitarian Church the day after Christmas to participate in a Messiah Sing-a-Long. I went every year until I started spending every Christmas season in India. Singing the Messiah was such a highlight in my life.
Tapping into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
heaven on earth
joy abounds
Home
About the same time, I started attending the Unitarian summer camp at Seabeck Conference Center. My children and I participated in that camp every summer for thirteen years. There I had the opportunity to be with a group that was like an extended family, where there were plenty of hugs, lots of rest, and fun, and children were cared for by all of the attendees. Crossing the bridge into the conference center was like traveling to another world. My whole body would relax and I could breathe fully. I considered Seabeck to be my home in the universe for many years. In fact, I still consider it to be one of my homes.
Tapping into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
heaven on earth
my soul is at rest
Home
I was still quite negative about anything spiritual. I reached a point when even hearing the word God made me feel sick to my stomach. That changed the night I went to Amma’s Seattle program in 1989. In the months prior to that event, spiritual people started showing up in my life, much to my dismay. In fact, it was one of them who had invited me to go to Amma’s program. My internal response to her was “NO” but “YES” came out of my mouth. When the day arrived, I walked into the room after the program had already started. As Amma and the Swamis (monks) began to sing, I burst into tears. My tears lasted throughout the night and I entered into deep meditational states. What was happening to me? My friend had told me that she thought I would like it once I adjusted to the cultural differences. What cultural differences? I had never had any contact with Eastern spirituality yet I felt completely at home.
Tapping into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
tears flowing
touched to the core
Home
I went back to Amma’s program the next night, and to part of her retreat on Orcus Island the following weekend. Six weeks later, I attended her retreat in New Hampshire and six months after that took my first trip to India. Being an Amma devotee has been the center of my life, and the life of my children, ever since.
One of the first changes I noticed after I met Amma was that I was able to separate my love for Christ from my anger at the Christian church. In time, even my anger at the church decreased. After all we are all human and are doing the best we can on this life’s journey. My spiritual life once again became my major focus.
Being with Amma, however, had opened a part of me that I didn’t know existed, a part that contained so much grief. I was still experiencing deep, and often spontaneous, trance states. At times, I felt as if some part of me was at a party that the conscious part of me was not invited to. Although I was very curious about that, I sensed it was a protective mechanism. If I was experiencing this much grief without knowing what was happening, what would I be feeling if I knew. I believed I was experiencing the grief of longing, longing for union with God. When I was with Amma I usually felt a sense of peace and fullness. But when I was away, my separation grief flared.
Through grace, Spirit led me to many places and situations that made the time away from Amma more comfortable. They often were areas where left brained, reserved Carol Poole (my name before I asked and received a name from Amma in 1990) would never have considered going.
Each of these experiences tapped into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
heaven on earth
joy abounds
Home
There have been many special times on this spiritual journey of mine but these events have been some of the highlights. The path has taken me one place and then another. What stays consistent throughout is Amma. My journey with her has been the center of my life since 1989, and probably for lifetimes before this one. While Spirit has led me in many directions, the place where I feel most at Home is when I am enveloped in Amma’s arms.
my spirit soaring
heaven on earth
my soul at rest
Home
Written for Dungeon Prompts: Take Me to Church and Weekly Photo Challenge: Enveloped
Amma’s North American Summer Tour begins in Washington State on May 30. To see her entire tour schedule click here
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