Adding a New Dimension to My Blog

I’ve been very eagerly awaiting the day that I could write this post. I’m so happy that time has come!

Those of you who have been following me for a while know that it is not unusual for me to take photos of flowers, plants, trees, etc. and display them in a way where readers can get a closer and closer view. For example:

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Some back story before I go on.

When I was a child I had a microscope. I loved exploring the microscopic world. A few months ago, I started thinking about that experience. It occurred to me that it would be fun to buy another microscope at some point. Perhaps it would be a retirement activity.

Then two weeks ago, I realized that I could add microscopic images to the nature closeup photos I post. I talked to a friend who is a scientist and he suggested I buy a dissecting microscope. That seemed a perfect way to meet my current goal.

The microscope arrived last week and today I received the adapter I ordered. The adapter connects my iPhone to the microscope’s eyeglass.

The photos I am about to share are of the maroon pod that you can see in the three pictures at the beginning of this post.

As I looked at the first microscopic photos I took , they seemed so flat compared to the beautiful 3 D sights I was seeing when I looked directly into the microscope. When I transferred the photos to the laptop, though, the depth was much more visible.

While this adapter will probably never allow me to get a picture that matches the level of glory I see in the microscope, they definitely relay the amazing beauty and a lot of the intricacy. I think they are beautiful.

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The photos above are of the outside of the pod. Those below show what it looks like on the inside.

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Welcome to my new adventure!

Many Paths, Same Destination

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For several years in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, I wrote articles about my experiences with Amma for “The New Times,” a free newspaper that was, at that time, available in Washington and Oregon. I have started sharing some of those articles on my blog. I am choosing the articles to post based on their topic, therefore they are not being shared chronologically. The article below was published in March of 1998.

~

The day after Christmas, while eating brunch with friends, I half-jokingly said that next year I thought I would ask my guru, Amma, if I should come for my annual visit to her ashram in South India. (Normally I just go; I don’t ask.) On my way to the ashram last year (1996), my plane had decompression problems and fell 25,000 feet. This year (1997), less than a week before I was to leave on the trip, I discovered that I needed surgery, now. There for I had to cancel, or at least postpone, my pilgrimage.

While I am abundantly aware of the lessons I had the opportunity to learn from these two experiences, a part of me is a bit tentative about planning another trip to India. What else might happen? After making this statement, one of my friends snapped, “Why don’t you just check in with yourself?” I responded with some ineffective statement, and then kept my mouth shut.

Then, when I received my January 1998 issue of The New Times, my eye fell on statements written by Sobonfu Somé:

“People in the West tend to live unbalanced lives… so they search for a guru of some form to take care of their spiritual needs. The idea of a guru doing everything and all we have to do is show up and tell the guru, “this is what I need, fix everything and I can get out of here” does not work. The guru takes the individual’s involvement away and once the individual’s involvement is not there, nothing can really happen.” [Note: This quote is from 1998. I don’t know if Sobonfu still holds the same belief.]

After dealing with my initial desire to defend, justify, rationalize, explain, and judge, I decided that it is time for me to respond to this way of thinking.

What I have discovered in nine years of being a devotee of a guru [Note: I have now been a devotee for more than 27 years!] is that discipleship is anything but mindless pursuit. I have needed to learn to become – and stay – exceedingly conscious and attuned to what is happening both within and around me, to be impeccable in my actions, and to be fully in integrity. I have needed to learn when to ask my teacher for help and when to find the answer within. I have certainly not “given away my power,” but rather have been learning about what surrender means.

That is not to say that I have not observed people using gurus in the way that Sobonfu described. Several years ago, I asked for time with one of Amma’s swamis in order to share my concern over what I perceived as devotees “following” in ways I judged to be mindless, acting from what appeared to me to be blind faith.

He explained the difference between mature and immature discipleship. He said that the surrender that comes from a mature disciple results from years of testing and observing the guru as well as from watching the growth of both oneself and of other disciples. As a disciple has experience after experience with his or her guru, faith grows naturally. Surrender to the guru and to Spirit/God comes as faith grows.

I find I have judgments similar to Sobonfu’s of the ways I perceive some people using astrology.  It seems to me that when individuals make most or all of their decisions based solely on astrological readings, they create self-fulfilling prophesy, give away their personal power, stay stuck in self defeating behaviors and as a result limit their personal growth.  I notice that others use astrology as a guide or as a way of helping them to understand what they are experiencing, rather than a tool that has every answer.  I guess any tool used in an obsessive and mindless manner is likely to undermine the purposes for which it was created.  That is not the fault of the tool nor of the system, but rather problems created by misuse of the tool.

My years with Amma have been filled with an almost unbelievable level of challenge and growth.  My personal spiritual process has amazed me.  I believe that asking Amma to be my guide and teacher has resulted in speeding up the rate in which the universal “lessons” come and has provided me with the support I need as I move through each challenge.  I am thankful that I have someone to help guide me as I find my way through unknown territory.  I am also very thankful, and quite certain, that she does not “do it for me.”  As far as I am concerned, meeting and going through each challenge is what creates the joy of living.  I would not want anyone to do it for me.  That does not mean, however, that I must learn all I need to learn without help.

Perhaps instead of criticizing each others chosen spiritual paths, we can instead be thankful that there are so many ways to connect with Spirit/God.  With this attitude we will be better able to support each other as we learn the lessons we are here to learn.

~

“The New Times” articles that I’ve already shared:

Support in Times of Trouble

A Multitude of Lessons

Exposing the “Know-It-All”

 

my fault

Rara is an incredibly creative writer, author, and poet. She spreads love and wisdom with every blog-post. She also models being accountable for her thoughts, words, actions and attitudes. I encourage you to read her most recent poem, and to explore her blog.

White Boy Privilege

Last night, I read about the poem Royce Mann, age 14, presented in a school competition… he won the competition. This morning I found it on YouTube. I knew it would be controversial but was still surprised at the flood of nasty comments the video received.

Whether you  agree with it or not, I think the content deserves to be heard and thought about.

The words to the poem can be found at the bottom of http://www.cnn.com/2016/07/13/us/teen-slam-poet-white-privilege-hln/index.html

Note: A slam competition is a competition where poets read or recite their original work

Gypsy Soup

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Sreejit’s new book Gypsy Soup is now available at Amazon.com. The book contains some of his older poems and many that have never been published before. As always, Sreejit examines the darkness and the light inside himself and in our world. His poems are insightful and thought-provoking. I also enjoy the humor that he sometimes sprinkles throughout his poetry.

Here is a sample poem from the new book (used with permission).

 

It’s No Mystery

I wake up every morning,

with another chance

to be the perfect man

I always wanted to be.

I’m not talking about

Amma sucking the pus from the leper,

or Jesus walking on water

perfect,

I just mean that,

‘be the inspiration

I’d always desired to be’

that, ‘give it my all

from the bottomless depths

of my fallible humanity.’

 

Yet normally, before

I even make it to the bathroom

in the morning to brush my teeth,

an expletive,

or some other colorful thought,

invades my desired

perception of me.

In that moment when

I look in the mirror

and realize so many years

have passed,

or in that moment when

my stomach decides,

it’s better I now pass some gas,

I quickly forget

all about the divine

and become the man that can’t

even relax.

I feel the aches and the pains,

and the not quite migraines,

and start pitifully scratching

my ass.

 

Is this how Descartes

came up with the phrase,

‘I think therefore I am?’

Here a pain, there a pain,

everywhere I feel a pain,

I am, oh I am, yes I am!

Is this the height of my philosophy –

I feel pain therefore I am?

Then get me some coffee!

I’ll be perfect tomorrow.

Today I’ll just map out the plans,

of how tomorrow I’ll evolve

from this lazy seeker

and discover the mysteries

of man.

 

Is it really a mystery,

when the saints have laid bare

a path to keep the senses

at bay?

Or is it just that perfection

is another distraction,

another excuse for my

lazy reactions?

– the mind, so in love

with the ego’s satisfaction,

that it lets pleasure

show reason away.

And now, the ego

lives to fight

another day.

 

To order Gypsy Soup click here.

And consider checking out Sreejit’s blog as well.

The Seeker’s Dungeon

 

My Dream is Realized- Part 1 (June 2016)

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In 2012, several members of our Seattle satsang went to Amma’s programs at the new MA Center Chicago; located in Elburn, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago. They came back so excited and inspired that it really caught my attention. I used to go to most of the stops on Amma’s annual tour, but I had never been to the Chicago programs. In summer of 2015, I decided I would make visiting MA Center Chicago my top priority for the 2016 tour. Therefore, last Sunday I was on my way to Chicago for the June 27-29 programs.

The property used to be a Seventh Day Adventist college. When Amma’s organization purchased it, it had been empty for some time and the buildings needed a lot of restoration. The 145-acre property had all of the buildings that one would expect a college to have, as well as a large amount of farm land.

I saw the blue water tower, standing tall above the tree line, before I reached the Center. When I turned onto the property I drove through an area of houses that had originally been used for faculty. It was so beautiful that I became teary. I realized that this was a village of Amma devotees, the first in this country.

I marveled at what had been accomplished since the property was purchased in 2012. The program hall and the grounds were beautiful. They had recently finished restoring a building to use as a dining hall. The first afternoon, Br. Shantamrita offered a tour of the grounds and told us a lot about the land, what projects they have been working on, and their plans for the future. I was so happy to finally be at the Center, and to be there with Amma.

One of my major goals for the trip was to walk the land. The second day, I went to the gardens, the Echinacea field and some of the other places that had been pointed out to us on the tour. I will share information and photographs from that experience in a separate post.

When devotees are around Amma our weaknesses often surface so that we can see and work on them. That process was certainly front and center for me on this trip. While I loved being with Amma and I loved being at the Center, it was a very difficult experience for me. I have had ongoing back problems since February. While I am getting better, I still can’t sit or stand in one place for long. That made it difficult for me to enjoy listening to the music or sitting and watching Amma. It even hurt to stand and talk with friends. I would stay in the program hall for a while and then go outside and lay down under a tree.

Being in nature was calming and the view was beautiful, both during the daytime and at night. I took photographs as I was lying down and looking up.

I enjoyed that experience, but I also felt the pain of feeling restricted; i.e.not being able to do what I wanted to do. While part of my despair was due to not being in the hall with Amma as much as I would have liked, there was an emotional trigger even bigger than that one.

Amma’s programs are all run with volunteer labor.  I was tour coordinator for her Pacific Northwest programs for 15 years. I stopped doing that when physical issues made it nearly impossible to continue. For one reason or another, I haven’t been able to work during Amma’s programs for several years. That restriction catapults me into very uncomfortable emotional baggage.  Who am I if I can’t help? What are others thinking about me sitting or standing around and not doing anything?  I can’t be counted to complete anything I sign up to do; besides what could I do that doesn’t involve sitting or standing? I felt useless.

I have long been aware that “over-doing” is a major issue for me and that learning to “be” is my challenge. But it is a lesson that I obviously still have major resistance to learning. Part of me believes that if I surrender and let go, the physical issues might resolve but instead I stay in resistance and keep myself in emotional pain. This is a big one for me and I hope to learn the lesson soon.

So during the Chicago programs, I vacillated between joy at being there and grief. I had Amma’s darshan (hug) twice. My time in her arms felt so good and it was very clear she wasn’t upset with me for not doing anything!

There were some funny times too. My daughter came to my hotel with me during one afternoon break.  There was a Salvation Army store nearby and she asked to me to stop there so she could get some “new” shoes as the pair she was wearing was falling apart. She soon found some sturdy shoes and was very happy with them.  As we left the store, she threw her old shoes into the trash. When we returned to the program later, as she got out of the car she looked down and saw that the heel from the new pair of shoes had separated from the sole and was lying on the ground in front of her. She took off the shoe to look at it and the entire sole came off, in three pieces! Her first reaction was shock, quickly followed by laughter. We both laughed and it still gives me a chuckle when I think about the look on her face and the absurdity of the situation. Luckily, she had a pair of sandals in her room.

The second incident occurred when a friend asked me if I would chant back up for archana. The archana is a series of mantras, followed by a response, that takes over an hour.  I knew I couldn’t sit that long, and said so. Even though my response was true, it was also a good excuse.  The complete truth is that I don’t ever like to sit still that long. Also, many years ago, I was asked to do the archana response at a program in Paris, soon after I got off my international flight. I said no then too, but the person who asked me convinced me to do it. I was so tired that I soon started nodding off. It was all I could do to stay upright.  It was a mortifying experience and further increased my resistance to doing that particular job. I shared that story with my friend and she told me that had happened to her too. But in her case, she started dreaming, and in her dream she started to talk. Even though it was a dream, she talked out loud in reality too, right into the microphone! It certainly wasn’t funny to her at the time it occurred, but she had long since seen the humor in the situation. We shared a good laugh and I appreciated knowing that my own embarrassing moment could have been worse.

As the Chicago programs drew to a close, I felt grateful for having had time with Amma and with my family and friends. I also appreciated having realized my dream of being at MA Center Chicago. I felt sad about the things I couldn’t do, but at the same time was thankful that I am given the lessons that I need to learn and hoped I would learn this one sooner rather than later.

I know that I am making progress and that the lesson will be over when it is over.

A Multitude of Lessons

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(Because of the opening content, I will say at the beginning of this post, instead of at the end, that I originally published this article in the September 1998 volume of  The New Times newspaper. The first experience I describe in the article happened in the fall of 1997.)

 

As I sit here, only days away from undergoing surgery to remove an ovarian tumor, I find myself in a very reflective mood.  I read yesterday that the Chinese word for “crisis” is a combination of “danger” and “opportunity.” I can certainly see the potential for both in my current situation.  Since I do not yet know whether the tumor is benign or malignant, I am uncertain if I will simply experience a variation in the color of my day for a few weeks, or if this heralds the beginning of a major life change. The danger is obvious. So is opportunity, as lessons already abound.

The tumor was detected days before I was to leave for my annual visit to Amma’s ashram in South India.  This trip has been a major part of my life for the last eight years [Note: Remember this event occurred in 1997. I can now say I have been going to India for 26 years!] The discovery of the tumor and the abrupt change in plans has provided me with the opportunity to face my fears of pain, disability and death, as well as providing lessons in letting go of expectations, letting go of desires, and trusting Amma to guide me.  I am also getting practice in maintaining the attitude that all lessons I am given are for my own good.

I have to laugh when I remember that this is occurring as I am planning a workshop focused on staying in the present moment. I continue to chuckle as I recall that I am also in the midst of writing an article about how God can teach a multitude of lessons through a single event.  This is so much the way Amma tends to teach me, i.e. through experience rather than words.

In a guru-disciple relationship the guru sets up a variety of experiences so that the disciple can see weaknesses that need to be addressed or lessons that need to be learned. I have no way of knowing how many of the lessons Amma consciously sends my way.  Some might say that God, Spirit or the universe sends the lesson.  Generally, I find it helpful to simply attribute lessons to Amma.

~

The first time I became aware of how many lessons can be learned from a single event was in 1995. I had decided to create a workshop entitled “Lessons on Lessons.” This workshop would give me the opportunity to teach much of what I had learned about the process of receiving, recognizing, and working through universal lessons. I planned to develop the workshop during that year’s pilgrimage to India. It didn’t occur to me that going to India with an intention like that was like holding up a sign saying, “Amma, please send me lots of extra lessons.”

Within minutes of my arrival at the ashram that year, two devotees enthusiastically said, “I can’t wait until you hear the new song.”  One added, “Actually, some of us are concerned that when you hear it, you will leave your body and not come back.”  (Often when I hear bhajans, i.e., devotional songs, I experience ecstatic bliss.  Sometimes I feel like only my body is in the room, while the rest of me is in some unknown, unseen, wonderful place.)  Leaving my body and not coming back seemed totally out of the question, however, so I was not at all worried.  I was intrigued, though, and eager to hear the song.  Some time was to pass before I would have that opportunity, since the senior disciple who wrote the song,  was in Mumbai (Bombay).

Several weeks later, I traveled to Kozhikode (Calicut), a city in North Kerala, where Amma was conducting a seven-day temple re-dedication.  I was assigned to stay on the roof of the temple. There were several places on the roof where mounds of rough concrete rose awkwardly two to three inches above the surface.  Numerous times, when I passed a particular mound, my inner voice said, “Be careful, that concrete is dangerous.”  My response was, “I see it.  I AM being careful.”  I would then continue blithely on my way.  One day, as I was walking across the roof-top to my sleeping mat, not paying a bit of conscious attention to what I was doing, I tripped over the mound of concrete and tore a big piece of flesh from the top of my toe.

The injury was very painful but that was the least of my concerns.  Having an open foot wound in India seemed very dangerous.  Most of the time I go barefoot and the ground was undoubtedly filled with untold numbers and varieties of bacteria.  My nursing background told me that the extreme heat and humidity created a perfect breeding ground for bacteria.

I cleaned the wound as best I could and went on with my life.  I found I needed to stay very conscious of my surroundings because any time I would lose concentration, I would hit my toe on something, sending waves of pain coursing through my body.

That same day the swami who wrote the song my friends were so eager for me to hear arrived in Kozhikode.  He sang it that very night. My friends were right, the song profoundly affected me.  Massive amounts of energy soared through my body and with it came waves of deep grief.  As I cried and cried, another part of me noted that my experience was somewhat muted due to the pain I was experiencing in my toe.  I thought, “Well, Amma, THAT was an interesting way to keep me in my body!”

I was aware that this incident had already served three functions. It reminded me of the importance of paying attention to the instructions given by my inner voice and showed me that I could trust Amma to help me during altered-state experiences, i.e. the pain had kept me from going “too far” out during the song. I also recognized that the injury had provided me with practice in mindfulness in that I needed to stay very conscious of my environment so that I didn’t hit my injured foot, not to mention that if I had been mindful, I would not have injured my foot in the first place. During the next few days, I discovered other learning opportunities.

First, I stayed focused on the re-dedication program.  A number of devotees had decided to explore the city.  The fact that my foot hurt when I walked made it easy to say “No” to diversions and to stay focused on my spiritual goals.

Before I left the U.S., I had attended a workshop led by Steven Levine, who is considered by many to be a master teacher in the realm of living and dying consciously.  He commented that if we want to pursue a spiritual path, we have to be willing to feel fear.  I was certainly having the opportunity to face my fear of infection and pain.

A minister once taught me that you have to use the faith you have before you will be given more.  I was being given the opportunity to trust that I would be taken care of and, at the same time, trust that whatever happens is for my own good.

My toe healed at an amazing speed.  I would not have expected it to heal so quickly even in the United States where cooler temperatures and a cleaner environment would have made it easier to protect and take care of the injury.  The speed of the healing tremendously increased my faith in the power of the spiritual energy flowing through me.

I recognized that I had learned at least seven lessons from this one incident.  I wondered how many more I had learned at an unconscious level.  In addition, the friends that were supporting me had the opportunity to learn many of the same lessons by watching and participating in my experience.  Also, I had a new segment for my workshop, i.e., I could teach that by staying conscious one can learn many things from a single event.

~

As I bring my mind back to my current health problems, I am thankful for all I have learned in the past.  I am very aware that those lessons prepared me for what I am experiencing now.  I know there is much to be gained from this unexpected turn of events.  While I grieve not being able to go to India,  I also feel a sense of adventure as I anticipate what is to come.  I thank God for the adventure that is Life.

(Note:  The ovarian tumor turned out to be benign.  I recovered rapidly from my 1997 surgical experience and a month later traveled to India for a short visit.)

Breakfast Time!

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Today I decided I would make breakfast with vegetables from my garden.  The garden is small and some of the vegetables are already getting sparse, but I was able to include beets, two kinds of carrots, spinach, chard, yellow squash, a squash blosssom, a potato and basil. I realized later that I forgot to include a zucchini and I chose not to use my last bok choy plant.

I was particularly excited about the beet because I’ve never had any luck growing them.  But today the one I pulled out was BIG, at least in comparison to any I’ve had in my garden in the past.

I decided I would steam them with a bit of dill. They tasted uttamam! (Uttamam means “very good” in Sanskrit.)

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Later, I realized that I could have cooked some of the beet greens, but I know the worms in my two worm bins will thoroughly enjoy eating all of the scraps.  It seems fitting since they deserve a lot of the credit for the harvest.

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I am still very much a beginning gardener.  I love how much I learn each year

 

As a Bee Seeks Nectar

 

As a bee seeks nectar
from all kinds of flowers,
seek teachings everywhere.

Like a deer that finds
a quiet place to graze
seek seclusion to digest
all that you have gathered.

Like a madman
beyond all limits,
go wherever you please,
and live like a lion
completely free from all fear.

Dzogchen tantra

 

Survivor’s Guilt

As a psychotherapist, I often encounter clients who feel guilty for surviving abuse or other tragedies.  On the news this morning, I heard Patience Carter, a 20 year old who survived the Orlando massacre, read her poem “The Guilt of Being Alive is Heavy.” I will say no more. I believe her words eloquently reflect a message that is important for us to hear. My heart goes out to her and to survivors everywhere.