That “Now I Get It” Moment

I graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Nursing degree in 1970, followed by a Master of Nursing in 1974. After receiving my Master’s degree, I taught undergraduate nursing students at the University of Washington for five years. I enjoyed teaching, conducting research and writing for publication, all requirements of my Assistant Professor position. After teaching there for five years, I decided to take a job as a Maternal-Newborn Clinical Specialist at Swedish Hospital Medical Center in Seattle.

To progress along a tenure track at the University of Washington, I would have had to earn a PhD. At some point in the early 80’s, I decided to start working on the PhD. I don’t remember what my reasoning was at the time, but I imagine it was to keep my options open. Afterall, I might want to teach at the University again someday. I continued to work at Swedish Hospital part time as I started the PhD program coursework. I don’t remember what the degree was called in those days but I know that it focused on nursing research and that I chose a track that had a special emphasis in statistics.

At some point during those years, I also started my personal therapy. I loved that process. It helped me move through the pain of my early years and I was able to make good friends and connect in a way I hadn’t in the past. One day, I had an insight that hit me like a sledge hammer. Even though I was doing very well in my studies, I realized I didn’t want a PhD and I didn’t want nursing research to be my life’s work.

In that moment, I realized I was studying for the degree in hopes that my father would acknowledge my existence if I had a PhD. My education had always been important to him and some of my earliest memories were of me asking him to make up math problems I could work on.

While I don’t think we were ever close, our relationship became even more strained as I moved into my teen and young adult years. We had battles when I came home from college during summer vacations, usually over civil rights issues. During one of those altercations, he told me to get out of the house. My mother intervened so I didn’t actually move out. The last straw came in 1971 when I told him I was going to marry Al, an African-American man I had met in Seattle. Simply by my having made that statement, he declared that he would not speak to me again, and he didn’t. My father died in 1999 without ever having said a word to me or my children.

Realizing that my PhD study was so tied to a child-like yearning for my father’s approval ended my interest in the degree. I was loving my psychotherapy experience and in time it became my passion. I did what it took to get the credentialing to become a nurse psychotherapist (Clinical Nurse Specialist in Psychiatric and Mental Health Nursing) and I’ve been doing that work ever since.

I see the moment when I recognized the tie between my PhD program and the unfinished business from my past as one of those life changing moments, one that propelled me into work that I felt passionate about and believe I was born to do.

Written for Dungeon Prompts: That Now I Get It Moment

Instagram

I joined Instagram last week and am enjoying it a lot. If you would like to follow me, you can find me at karunap108!

I Remember When #2…….

Photo Credit: blackhistorycollection.com

I remember when:

There were separate toilets for “whites” and “coloreds” in the southern United States.

I worked for a short time picking fruit in South Carolina in 1970. There the “white” workers were given a toilet to use while the “colored” workers had to use an outhouse.

There were department store restrooms where half of the toilets were pay toilets. You had to insert a dime into a metal box on the door in order to get access to the toilet. The pay toilets were kept clean, the others were dirty.

In 2014, I went to a restroom in a public building near Seattle and found a sign on one stall saying “This toilet is reserved for e-cigarette employees only.” (I am choosing to not reveal the name of the company that did this.)

Is a new form of segregation starting?

To read more “I Remember When’s” go to https://livinglearningandlettinggo.wordpress.com/2014/07/01/i-remember-when/

Perfection is Not the Goal!

“We can be redeemed only to the extent to which we see ourselves.”
― Martin Buber

I have a tendency to mull over past mistakes. I am even more likely to do that when I have made mistakes that hurt my children in some way. There are times I still cringe when I think of ways I treated them during their childhood and teenage years.

It is true that I, like most parents, did the best I could even though I didn’t have the knowledge or skills to do a perfect job of parenting. And like most parents, I was often too tired and worn down to always do the right thing. I have no doubt that I was a “good enough parent” but when I am “in my stuff” I expect myself to have been perfect.

For me, redemption comes when I see how they are in the world as adults. Sreejit is 40 years old and has lived in Amma’s California or India ashram since he was 19. He is committed to his spiritual path and to serving the world by supporting Amma’s charitable projects. He does this by being one of the main cooks for the Western Canteen in Amma’s Amritapuri ashram. In addition, he is a gifted musician, author, song writer, blogger and poet.

Chaitanya is 37 years old and has lived in Amma’s Amritapuri ashram since her 21^st birthday. She too is avidly committed to her spiritual path and to supporting Amma in any way possible. She is a born leader, responsible for managing Amritapuri’s Western Canteen and Café. In addition, she is a gifted writer, director and choreographer of Broadway style musicals. When people need support, they often seek her out.

Both of them are loved and respected by all who know them; and they are wise beyond their years. I have had numerous people tell me “If you ever question that you have done things right (in life), all you need to do is take a look at your kids.”

Both Chaitanya and Sreejit have told me how valuable it was for them to have had the life experiences they had as they were growing up. I regularly see them using knowledge, skills, and attitudes that have their roots in things they learned from their dad and me. They took those teachings and then developed them as they became the people they are today.

As Buber said, “We can be redeemed only to the extent to which we see ourselves.” When mistakes I made in the past come to mind, I need to remind myself to look at the bigger picture. My children learned from any mistakes I made and are better people because of them. My being perfect would not have even been in their best interest. I only need to look at the “fruit of my actions” to know I was a good parent!

Chaitanya and me

Sreejit’s fFirst trip to India

Playing around

Chaitanya’s first trip to India

With their dad

Best of friends

Sreejit and Chaitany are on each end

Written for Dungeon Prompts: Redemption Song

Fierce of Heart

While mystical experiences are not the basis of spiritual process and can even be a distraction, in my early years with Amma I believe they were a means for Spirit to get my attention and pull me in. They showed my normal logical mind that there were realms I knew nothing about and that I had to let go of my rigid way of seeing the world and learn to allow my life to unfold.

Last week, when I read Sreejit’s Dungeon Prompts: Only for the Fierce of Heart challenge, I thought of an event that occurred in 1994. Before I tell you that story let me say that I believe it takes courage and a fierce commitment to one’s spiritual journey to be willing to go places that take you out of the realm of normal experience, and also to be committed to doing “whatever it takes” along the way. Some of the processes that were happening to me in those days were public, and since I am very introverted, I believe my willingness to let them occur, with discrimination, exemplifies my fierce determination to do whatever it takes.

After I met Amma in 1989, I experienced tremendous separation grief whenever she would leave. I am so thankful that Spirit led me to places where that empty hole inside of me could continue to fill when I was not in her physical presence.

One of those places was the Power House Church of God in Christ. The Church of God in Christ (COGIC) is a black Pentecostal denomination. I never thought I would go to a conservative Christian church again, but other than the fact that I was uncomfortable with many of their sermons, I loved it. The people were so loving towards me and their music filled me with joy.

At some point, my feet started spontaneously moving to the music while I was seated. Many months later, I stood up and let the dance take over my entire body. Soon I began “Dancing in the Spirit” along with other parishioners. My form of dancing often turned into whirling. That process not only removed the grief, it led to exhilarating joy.

In summer of 1994, when I attended Amma’s New York City programs, I decided to go a service at a COGIC church in Harlem. I had visited that same church the year before. At that time, I found it to be similar to Power House, but more restrained. Their music tended to be soulful rather than celebratory and I had not seen anyone dance.

This time, a friend decided to come with me. At the beginning of the service, the minister welcomed both of us and told us to have a good time. Like the previous year, there were no other white faces in the congregation.

During the time since my last visit, I had begun to experience the spontaneous dance almost every time I went to church. As I looked around this church, I saw the ushers were children. At Power House the ushers were adults. Part of their job was to protect the people who were dancing in the Spirit. I concluded that dancing was probably not a regular occurrence here and decided to restrain it should it occur.

I was not prepared, however, for the fact that all of my recent contact with Amma made that unconscious part of me much more accessible. The minute the music started, my body began to dance. While I probably could have shut it down, the energy was so strong I wasn’t sure about that. I decided to let it come. Later, my friend said people looked at her, concerned that I was okay. She just stood there helplessly indicating I was fine.

The energy became stronger than my body could keep up with, so I dropped into a position of prostration, i.e. bowing down with my forehead to floor. The energy inside of me began to calm down.

While I had no doubt that my dancing in that church was acceptable and that the congregation would probably enjoy telling the story of the day the white girl danced in their church for years, part of me was embarrassed. I was once told that the difference between shock and embarrassment is that shock drains life force energy whereas embarrassment may enhance it. A person experiencing shock turns white and “death-like.” With embarrassment, the fear is joined by a bit of pleasure. Instead of turning white, the person experiencing embarrassment turns red from the increase in blood-flow. My experience at the Harlem church was definitely embarrassment not shock. I felt full of life!

At the end of the service, the minister, with a smile on his face, said, “We told her to have a good time, and she did!” I have relished that memory for years.

As I was writing this post, “Hold My Mule” by Shirley Caesar came to mind. The recording starts with a story and turns into song. I have used it in many workshops over the years and was delighted to find it on YouTube. I think it is a good example of being fierce of heart so will use it to end my post!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yO-Fkmyz44M

I’d Rather Be…

I would rather be…
letting go in Amma’s arms
awakening comes

Written for Dungeon Prompts: I’d Rather Be….

A Glimpse into the Worm Bin

Vermi-composting is a process by which worms make high quality fertilizer for the garden. I have a large outdoor worm bin as well a smaller bin that stays in the house during the winter and on my deck the rest of the year. I blend most of the food scraps I put into both worm bins, but last week I decided to put some bigger pieces of food in the small bin so that I could watch the worms at work.

First, I gave them part of a large round zucchini that had been partially cooked. I tore it into 4 pieces before I put it into the bin. Within 36 hours nothing remained of the zucchini except the skin and the hard stalk that had connected it to the plant.

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Next, I decided to put an acorn squash that had fallen off of the vine and was starting to deteriorate in the bin. Again, I tore it into four pieces. This time the vegetable was raw so it is taking considerably longer for the worms to eat it.

I took these photographs over a three-and-a-half day period. It is clear that only the seeds and probably the skin will be left when the worms finish their meal!

My Oh My!

I’ve had a garden in my front yard the last few years, but it has never been like this before. Maybe it is because of the new raised beds, or the extraordinarily hot weather, or the vermi-compost.

Whatever the reason, I am marveling at what is unfolding in front of my eyes! There have been times when everything was growing so fast that I wondered if I was living in the Jack and the Beanstalk story.

This may not amaze those of you who are used to successful gardens but this is the first time I’ve had this experience!

One of the things I am especially happy about is that the garden is full of bees. Most are bumblebees but there are honey bees as well. Two years ago bees were rarely to be found in my garden.

Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historic Site

On June 29 and 30, Amma conducted programs in Atlanta for the first time. At one point, my daughter Chaitanya asked if I wanted to visit Martin Luther King, Jr.’s church and the other buildings at the MLK National Historical Site. I jumped at the opportunity. We went during the short break between Amma’s morning and evening programs. Our plan was to see as much as we could this year, and view the rest the next time we go to Atlanta. The first place we visited was Ebenezer Baptist church. Starting in 1960, Martin Luther King, Jr. co-pastored that church, along with his father. As we sat in the pews, a recording of one of Dr. King’s speeches filled the air. I closed my eyes and imagined myself being present at the time the speech was first given. I would have been content to stay sitting there for hours. When I looked around, I noticed many people were taking photographs. I resisted doing the same, but in time changed my mind; I wanted to be able to share this memorable experience with others.

At King Hall there were many exhibits about the lives of Dr. King and his wife Coretta Scott King. In addition, the hall contined rooms that were tributes to Rosa Parks and Mahatma Gandhi.

800px-Martin_Luther_King_Jr_NYWTS_5 — Photo Credit: Wikimedia

In Rosa Parks’ room, there were many pictures and mementos. I was particularly drawn to a quilt that was hanging on the wall.

Among the items in Mahatma Gandhi’s room were one of his walking sticks, a pair of sandals, a portable spinning wheel, and framed quotes. I was not aware that Dr. King had so much respect for Mahatma Gandhi. I also didn’t know he had traveled to India. Dr. King once said: “To other countries I may go as a tourist, to India I come as a pilgrim.”

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Next we went to the place where Dr. and Coretta King’s bodies are interred. It was beautiful and felt like very sacred space to me.

We had planned to visit the home where Dr. King was born, but once there we discovered they only let visitors in twice a day and you have to get tickets ahead of time. We did appreciate having the opportunity to see his house and stand on his porch, but will have to wait for a future visit to go inside. We spent the last half hour of our visit at the National Park Visitor Center. Below you will see parts of the huge mural that is across from the entrance to that building. I wish I had had time to look carefully at all that was contained in that artwork. Inside the Center there were enough exhibits to keep us busy for most of a day. Several of the displays were interactive. An example is in the picture below, where visitors were able to walk alongside statues of the civil rights marchers. We will definitely spend more time at this Center in the future.

The night before our visit, I read about the National Historical Site in the tourist book in my hotel. I found a story that really surprised me. In preparation for writing this post, I learned more about it. When Martin Luther King, Jr. was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, not everyone supported the decision. The first ever integrated dinner in Atlanta was planned to celebrate it. Black business owners signed up to attend but the white business establishment wanted nothing to do with it. J. Paul Austin, chairman and CEO of Coca-Cola, and Mayor Ivan Allen brought some of the prominent white business leaders together. The message Paul Austin gave them was:

“It is embarrassing for Coca-Cola to be located in a city that refuses to honor its Nobel Prize winner. We are an international business. The Coca-Cola Co. does not need Atlanta. You all need to decide whether Atlanta needs the Coca-Cola Co.”

The event sold out within two hours! During our time at the Site, I experienced deep emotions and many memories. That era had affected me and my life decisions profoundly. There is no doubt that Martin Luther King, Jr. contributed significantly to making me the person I am today. I feel blessed to have visited Dr. King’s memorial site and look forward to returning to it in the future.

Justine’s Tea Party

I have been wanting to go to one of Justine’s virtual tea parties for some time. I could make lots of excuses for my lack of attendance. The only one I will mention is that in February I ate an incredible S’more tart at the Columbia City Bakery in Seattle. I finally had found something I could bring to Tea Time!

The problem was that I didn’t have the idea until I had left the bakery. There was no way for me to get a photograph of the tart that day. The next day, I called the bakery and asked when they would be serving it again. I was dismayed to be told that had been a Valentine’s Day special and would not be re-made, at least not until February 2016.

A few months ago I discovered a website that I have come to love. It is called Minimalist Baker. The recipes are healthy, generally 10 or less ingredients and are easy, and quick, to make.

I decided I would bring their “Immune Booster Orange Smoothie” to the tea party. It is remarkable that I love this smoothie so much, because sweet potatoes are a major ingredient. I have disliked sweet potatoes for as long as I can remember. Almost all of the vegetables my mother served when I was a kid were canned. Canned sweet potatoes….. yuuuuuccccckkkkkkkk. No wonder I didn’t like them.

But this smoothie is delicious… and doesn’t taste at all like canned sweet potatoes! I will show some of the process of making it and then give you the link to the recipe.