The second is a September 12, 1962 speech by President John F. Kennedy. As you listen to it, consider how we can apply his words to solving the problems we are facing in the world today.
When we are in a bad mood, we may find ourselves focusing on someone else’s faults. When we focus on the negative, we are likely to see negativity all around us. From time to time, Amma reminds us that even a broken clock is right twice a day.
People often get triggered into negative thinking when they are with someone who reminds them of a person that hurt them in the past. In the psychotherapy model I use, we refer to that as “putting someone else’s face” on the present day person. That process is also referred to as projection.
Clients in therapy frequently project their parents’ faces on their therapists. I remember a time in the mid 90’s when a client was always angry with the male co-therapist in one of my therapy groups. He knew that the therapist reminded him of his father, but he was having a hard time “getting his dad’s face” off of the therapist.
This therapist had some unusual characteristics so I said to the client, “Did your dad ever wear an earring?” and “Did your dad sometimes wear red toenail polish?” The client started laughing. His father would NEVER have considered doing either of those things. Seeing the differences really helped him separate the therapist from his father.
This week, for one, two, three days or longer, focus on looking for the good in others. If you have trouble finding anything positive about a person, consider whose face you might have on them. If you decide it is a parent, or a boss, or someone else from your past, identify ways the current day person is different from the one in your past. Then “de-role” the present day person by saying to yourself, “You are not (insert the name or role of person from the past), you are (insert the name or role of the person in the present).” After you de-role the current day person, you may be better able to identify some of their good qualities.
Also consider making lists of the positive qualities of anyone you have negative thoughts about, whether they be from your past or present.
Sometime during the week, write a post about some aspect of this topic or about your experience when focusing on seeing the good in others. Feel free to use whatever form you desire: i.e., prose, story, poem, photograph, etc.
I look forward to seeing where this challenge takes you.
The article that you link to this prompt should be a new post written specifically for this challenge.
General Prompt Information:
Since it is easier to make behavioral changes if we focus on them one day at a time, each of the weekly challenges will start with “Today, I focus on…….” It will be up to you to decide how long you want to focus on a particular challenge— one, two, three days or even longer. At some point during the week, publish a post that relates in some way to the subject of the week.
Link your post back to this prompt post. If the pingback doesn’t work, then leave the link to your post in the comment section of this post. Be sure to include “Challenge for Growth Prompts” as one of your tags.
Throughout the week, I will publish the links for the posts that were created as the result of this prompt. I will also post the links from those who participated the previous week. That way they will be seen by anyone who comes to the this page.
If you don’t have a blog, please feel free to submit your contribution to the prompt in the comment section below.
This week’s contributors to Looking for the Good challenge:
My thanks goes to each of the bloggers listed above and to those of you who wrote your response to the challenge in the comments section of the challenge post.
To see the most recent Challenge for Growth Prompts Click Here
Welcome to the first “Challenge for Growth” Prompt! I look forward to posting a new challenge for you every Wednesday at 5 a.m. PST. I am also eager to see the posts you create in response.
General Prompt Information:
Since it is easier to make behavioral changes if we focus on them one day at a time, each of the weekly challenges will start with “Today, I focus on…….” It will be up to you to decide how long you want to focus on a particular challenge— one, two, three days or even longer. At some point during the week, publish a post that relates in some way to the subject of the week. Feel free to use whatever form you desire: i.e., prose, story, poem, photograph, etc.
Link your post back to this prompt post. If the pingback doesn’t work, then leave the link to your post in the comment section. Be sure to include “Challenge for Growth Prompts” as one of your tags.
Throughout the week, I will publish the links for the posts that were created as the result of this prompt. That way they will be seen by anyone who comes to the Challenge page.
If you don’t have a blog, please feel free to join the discussion in the comment section below.
This week’s challenge is:
“Today I focus on my needs rather than my wants.”
The nature of the mind is that as soon as one desire is met, it is off to the next one, often without taking any time to appreciate the desire that was just realized. An endless stream of wants leads to the experience of scarcity; we never feel full, we never think we have or are enough.
One way to create a sense of abundance in our lives is to decrease the number of our desires. We can do that by putting our primary focus on meeting our needs and then prioritizing our wants. The first step for many people is to learn to differentiate their needs from their wants. Some examples: We need water – We want a soda; We need food – We want a big restaurant meal; We need shelter – We want a new house.
This week practice identifying which of your desires are needs and which are wants. When looking at your list of wants, decide which are the most important to you. On the day or days you focus on this week’s challenge, give priority to meeting your needs. If you put energy into obtaining any of your wants, be sure they are ones you have determined to be of significant importance.
Sometime during the week, write a post about Needs vs Wants. It may be a general post regarding some aspect of the topic or it may be about an experience you had when focusing on your needs instead of your wants.
I look forward to seeing where this challenge takes you.
After Brenda and I left New York City, we drove to Pennsylvania. We spent the day looking for work and finally found a job, on trial, for $1.50 an hour. The housing they provided was for men so we stayed in a campground.
The owner was very unsure about hiring girls but we turned out to be better pickers than the teenage boys he employed. Since he paid by the hour, they did as little work as they could get away with.
We picked peaches and nectarines for four days. One day we also worked in the evening in the packing house. The other nights I was asleep by 7:30 p.m.
I was amused by something that happened on this job. The owner was moderately conservative; very conservative about some things. Little did he know that he had a gigantic field of marijuana growing on the edge of his orchard. There were also marijuana plants scattered throughout his orchard. The kids spent more time harvesting the marijuana than they did picking his fruit. They thoroughly enjoyed THAT work!
If he only knew……..
After leaving Pennsylvania we drove on to Yakima in Washington State. Once there, we found a job with no problem; a job picking fuzzy peaches yet again!
Finding housing in Yakima was much more difficult because the state had condemned all housing that didn’t have a toilet, running water, stove and refrigerator. Most farmers couldn’t afford to provide for that level of accommodation, so there was almost no housing available.
Local people rented their yards to the migrants, at a rate of $5 a night. That seemed to us to be a big racket, especially since most of the workers and their families slept in their cars. [Note: As I think how little money we earned on these jobs, I’m realizing what a big chunk of it that $5 would have taken.]
We finally found a place to live. It was somewhat like a motel. Having a room that had a stove and a bathroom felt like unbelievable luxury!
We picked peaches for four days. We were paid the same wages in Washington State as everywhere else.
My college roommate visited us while we were there and for two days the three of us studied together for our nursing licensing exams.
One day, when we were driving around, we saw this new living area for migrant farm laborers.
I also found the bridge I had slept under when I had gone to Yakima to pick fruit while I was in college.
After our time in Yakima, we returned to Seattle. I ended my summer adventure with this scrapbook entry.
I had been surprised by the amount of racism we experienced that summer. After all, it was 1970 not 1950. Brenda and I decided we should share our story with others. We contacted a local newspaper and gave them an interview. This is the article the newspaper published. (My name at that time was Carol Smith!)
In the article, I said that in the future I wanted to spend a summer with one migrant group. While I never did that, my 1970 experience has stayed very close to my heart for the last 45 years.
With that statement, this series now comes to an end. Thank you for sharing my journey with me. I hope that you enjoyed it and had a sense of what our life was like as we crossed the country in 1970 working as migrant farm laborers.
The night we left South Carolina, we stopped in Virginia. We asked a man if he knew of any place where we could find shelter if it rained (we sleep on the ground in sleeping bags). He told us we could sleep on the front porch of his house. Then he changed his mind and said if it rained, we could sleep in the camper he had in front of his house. Still later he told us we could stay in the camper regardless of whether or not it rained. So we lived in luxury that night. I had left South Carolina filled with anger towards white people. His kindness began to restore my faith in people with white skin.
The next day we drove north of Richmond and stopped at a truck stop. Mimi and Lara were leaving us at that point so we all took showers and then Brenda and I helped them get ready to go. They found a ride to Boston with some truck drivers. Once in Boston they would find other means to get back to Seattle.
Mimi leaving
Brenda and I then drove on to Easton, Maryland. We had no trouble finding a job or a place to stay. The farm labor office wanted to make sure that we realized all of the workers in the camp were black but offered no objection to our staying there.
The camp was not as nice as the one in South Carolina. It consisted of 54 houses that were each divided into three rooms. The only thing that separated the rooms were sheets of plasterboard; plasterboard that had big holes in it. A family lived in each room. Our room had two beds, a light that wouldn’t turn off and some shelves. That’s all.
Our home
There were showers in the camp, but no way to turn them on. Several houses down there was a water spigot.
We fixed up our room by buying some flannel to put on our beds and using plastic to cover the shelves and holes in the wall.
Our home fixed up!
The first morning we picked cucumbers and earned $6. What cucumbers do to the hands is something else. They create a yellow-green-brown stain that doesn’t come off. I liked this picking better than any other we’d done. I was sure glad we were picking something other than fuzzy, itchy peaches. If it got hot we’d be in trouble though because there was no shade in the cucumber fields.
I had sworn I would never work in a cannery again but that resolve didn’t last. Since picking vegetables wouldn’t provide enough income for us, we had to also work in a corn cannery. We worked one day separating good corn from bad, several days on a machine that stripped the husks off the cobs and several more putting the cobs into machines that took the kernels off. We worked 7 pm to 1 am.
The corn cannery paid once a week, on Friday. Since we didn’t know if there would be a lot of drinking in the camp on payday, we thought Friday night would be a good night to go to Baltimore. Once there, we went to an outdoor Peter, Paul and Mary concert!
The people in the camp were very nice. Many of the men offered to “keep us company” but no one was obnoxious about it and they took “No” for an answer. It seemed inconceivable to them that we could spend a summer, or even a night, without a man, but once our answer got around no one bothered us.
Our new friends
The corn cannery was really different than the peach cannery. Here we could work whenever we wanted to and they hired anyone who showed up for work. We were even allowed to take frequent breaks. The product they put out seem a lot better quality too. I had fun working at the cutter. I found I could put 110 ears in the machine per minute, but that was only when the machine didn’t get clogged. I was able to remove the clog myself, most of the time.
We worked in the fields for six days. Most of that time we picked tomatoes. I calculated our pay to be:
Regular tomatoes: 92 tomatoes= 1 basket= 18 cents
Pear tomatoes: 260 tomatoes= 1 basket= 20 cents
On our best day, we picked 65 baskets of tomatoes, together. Our combined total for that day was $12.35, or $6.18 each.
We wouldn’t have minded staying in that camp all summer. It was our most stable situation and the people were fun to be with.
We found that even in those poor conditions, we had everything necessary to be happy. It was amazing, considering that there were no showers, how clean the people were and how clean and well-dressed they kept their children. In this camp, the children went to school every day.
After two weeks we were ready to take off again. We received $140 cash for our work. That sure looked like a lot of money to us. Most of it was from the cannery work. $140/ 2 people= $70 each. Since that was for two weeks, we had each earned $35 a week for picking vegetables and working in the cannery combined.
After leaving Maryland, we drove to Ocean City, New Jersey and went to a coffee house called the Purple Dragon. A team from University Presbyterian Church in Seattle wase working there. They were all friends of Brenda’s. Were they ever surprised to see us! We stayed with them for two days.
We then drove to Middletown, New Jersey to be with lifelong friends of my family. I really enjoyed spending time with them. We talked a lot about my parents’ lives when they were young. It helped me to understand many things about them.
We had no luck finding for work in New Jersey. This had once all been farm country, but by 1970 it had all been developed. The few farms that were left were very small.
In the South we had encountered racial discrimination. In New Jersey, we faced gender discrimination. No one was willing to hire “girls.”
One day, we drove to New York City. We visited the Phoenix House (a drug rehabilitation program), Harlem, and the Downstate Medical Center midwifery program. We were pleased, and surprised, that we never got lost!
After leaving New York City, we headed for our next stop, Pennsylvania!
(The next post in this series will be published on Friday January 1.)
This is the 500th post I’ve published since I started this blog in March 2014! I like that it is a “Living and Learning in Amritapuri” post that gets that distinction.
Painting
Paint doesn’t last a long time here, probably because we are so close to the Arabian Sea. I imagine the salt water breaks it down. This is one of the years that the front of the temple is being repainted. The work is so intricate and temple becomes even more beautiful when it is freshly painted. I don’t take photos on the ashram grounds unless they are nature oriented but you can see what I’m talking about in this picture. I particularly wish you could see the horses clearly. If you zoom in you will be able to see more.
Christmas Play
I’ve been meaning to tell you about something that happened during the second week I was here. On one of the first play rehearsals, I walked into the room where the practice was being held, only to find Jesus sitting by the door meditating. I was startled; the experience was so surreal. It, of course, only took seconds to realize that it was the woman playing Jesus in the play but it felt so real for that brief moment. None of the other actors wear their costumes during the rehearsals, but I soon discovered she always does. It not only helps her get into character, but, I think, it also helps everyone get into the spirit of the play.
[Note: Traditionally in India the actors are either all men or all women. That used to be true in the plays offered by the ashram Westerner’s too, but over the years there have been more and more men in our plays. Some women still play men’s roles though.]
Yesterday was the dress rehearsal for all of the women and children. There are seven very young children who were wearing sheep costumes. They were SOOOOOOO cute. I expect to have pictures to share with you after the play.
Only a few more days until Christmas Eve, the night the musical will be performed!
Tai Chi
I am so loving this process. I am able to reach a meditative place that I haven’t been able to reach since the mid 90’s. I look forward to finding a Tai Chi teacher when I get back to Seattle.
Often there is a man practicing Kung Fu near where we practice Tai Chi. It seems like they have similar origins since they share a lot of the same moves, but the Kung Fu seems so violent compared to the gentle movements of the Tai Chi. Both are beautiful in their own way.
The fishermen are usually out in the sea when we have the morning class. One day this week, the men had their boats pulled up on the beach and they were working on the nets. I noticed a lot of the boats and the supplies were stored on the beach the next day, so I took some pictures.
Bhakti
My next door neighbor helps care for the ashram dogs when they aren’t with Amma. As a result, Bhakti, is frequently in or near her room. Bhakti is well loved at the ashram and is welcomed wherever she goes. Last year, I was amazed when I watched Bhakti wait for the elevator on the ground level, get on it when the door opened, and then get off when it arrived at our floor. Somehow she knew her second home was there.
If a moth dies during the night or if I drop some food on the ground, then a trail of ants usually comes. I discovered many years ago that it is generally possible for me to get the ants out of my room without killing them. If they are on a wall, I put some water in my hand and wetten the wall near the area where they seem to be going. When they get close to the water, they turn around and go back to wherever they came from. It even looks like they “talk” with their friends because the ants that are coming towards the wet area turn around and join the others when they see them going the other way.
There don’t seem to be many mosquitoes here this year. That has never happened before. I noticed it the other day but since mosquitoes usually don’t bother me, I thought maybe I was wrong. Yesterday, a long term resident mentioned the lack of mosquitoes to me, so at least some other people have that belief too.
It has continued to rain almost every day; often very hard rain. Most years there is no rain when I am here in December so this is a marked change. I assume the rain is the result of climate change; could the reduced number of mosquitoes be too? I think mosquitoes are another “pest” for me to research so maybe you will see an “Interesting Facts about Mosquitoes” post someday!
Lessons, Lessons, Lessons
I wrote the above part of this post last night before I went to bed (it is 13 ½ hours later in India than the U.S. so it is Tuesday morning here now.) When I finished, I had the feeling/thought/sense/belief that I hadn’t had much to share this year and hoped that the pictures I’ve put up have made my posts valuable to others. Even as I had those thoughts, I knew that my perception was probably off because of the comments I have received from people after reading my posts.
This morning I woke up realizing that I actually have been bombarded by lessons, leelas, tests, and experiences. Yes I am feeling hot, tired, run down emotionally and physically, but that, in part, is a side effect of the purification and learning processes that I am undergoing.
So if I look at things from that perspective I have more to say!
My steady stream of “losing” things has slowed down considerably but not stopped. Everything that I had lost has “come back” except for the archana book. Many years ago when I was in a stream of losing things, I was so disturbed by it that I ended up deciding to see a psychologist. I wanted to rule out early onset Alzheimer’s and Multiple Personality Syndrome. Neither of those diagnoses seemed warranted but I wanted to hear that from a professional. The psychologist told me is that neither disease was present, but that my unconscious mind had found a fool proof way to get my attention. That was, and is, definitely the truth. I don’t think much else shakes me up as much as not being able to find things that should be easy to find.
There are a lot of people who have flats here and live alone. To make sure no one is sick in their room without anyone knowing about it, we have to initial a paper first thing in the morning. Someone is assigned to check the room of anyone who has not signed in. Going to each person’s room takes them considerable time and effort. Generally, even though I have the best intentions, I forget to sign in three or four times during a trip. One day last week, I was headed downstairs to sign the paper and was congratulating myself for not having missed a single day this time. Imagine my surprise when I returned to my room later in the day and found a paper saying the person had come to check on me since I hadn’t initialed the paper. I must have become distracted on my way downstairs. A lesson in pride, not being present, and removal of ego I think.
The auditorium here has no closed sides and is huge. The west part of it is used for dining room seating for the Western Café and Western Canteen and the east part is used for dining room seating for the Indian food line. (Anyone can eat at any of these places, but the type of food served is different for each.) There has been an ongoing problem with Westerners taking the dishes from the café and canteen to their rooms to eat. That results in a constant loss of dishes. Even though the dishes may ultimately be brought back, during the time they are in private rooms they are unavailable for the cafe/canteen to use. One day this week, I came downstairs to discover that the whole dining area had been roped off and there is a closed line of tables against the ropes. The only entrance to the dining area is now on the west side of the hall. During the meal serving, someone is posted by the exit to stop people from leaving with the dishes. If they want to take their food to their rooms, there are bowls, plates and spoons available for purchase for 10-60 rupees (15 cents to $1). It used to be possible to walk through the auditorium and dining area as a short cut to many places in the ashram so I’m finding the change to be a big nuisance although I can see that the new system is working very well and is needed. I realize it is an opportunity to work on staying even minded and to surrender personal comfort for the higher good.
During the last two days, in my perception, my daughter and son were inundated with challenges. When that happens the mother bear in me comes out in force (“Mess with me but don’t mess with my kids”) and probably disrupts my piece of mind more than anything else. I know those lessons are important opportunities for them to learn as well as a chance for me to practice letting go and letting them have their own experiences, but it isn’t easy.
This list could go on and on but I’m going to stop. I think you can see why when people ask how my vacation was I say, or at least think, that it wasn’t a vacation. This is hard work. But I know the results are well worth going through the discomfort. I am learning and growing in a multitude of ways.
When I was looking for pictures for this post I saw the quote I put at the beginning. It seemed very relevant to what I had just written. Thank you Amma for helping me eliminate my ego so that the love inside of me can emerge.
In a previous post, I mentioned that I wanted to learn more about termites. They are as fascinating as I assumed they would be. Here is some of the facts I discovered:
There are more than 3000 varieties of termites.
Termites work 24 hours a day 7 days a week.
If you calculated the weight of all of the termites in the world and the weight of all humans, the termites would weigh more.
Termites eat dead plant materials and cellulose in wood, leaves, soil, animal dung, etc. They are considered to be a pest when they are in our houses because of the damage they cause by eating the wood.
They are important to the environment because they are decomposers. They aerate and improve the quality of soil.
Termites have been around for 300 million years.
They descended from an ancestor that was similar to a cockroach.
New kings and queens have wings. The wings are needed in order for the pair to find and build their colony. Once the colony is established, the king and queen break off their wings and begin to reproduce.
Termite kings and queens stay together for life. The king helps the queen in raising their young .
The video below says that the queen may live for 15 years and during that time she will lay more than 164 million eggs. (One article I read said the queen may live 50 years.)
Termite workers and soldiers are sterile. The workers build and maintain the nest and take care of the king and queen. The soldiers defend the nest.
Both the workers and the soldiers are blind since they live in the dark and don’t need eyes. (The king and queen need eyes to pick the location for their nest.)
The termites communicate with each other using pheromones, a chemical scent. They talk to each other in this way as well as leave trails to guide other workers. The soldiers communicate danger by banging their heads against the walls of the nest.
The size of a termite colony can vary from hundreds of termites to millions.
Cleanliness is important to termites. They spend a lot of time grooming each other.
I found this interesting two minute YouTube video about a termite queen and her attendants.
You can read more about termites in these articles:
After leaving Fort Valley, Georgia we drove to Greenville, South Carolina, but found no job there. We then drove about ten miles north and started asking people if they knew of any migrant camps. The first farmer we were directed to said his was an all-black camp and he wasn’t about to mix races; but, he gave us another name.
We followed his advice and went to the business he suggested. The owner was quite amused by us and willingly gave us a job. In fact, he let us work two hours that very afternoon.
The job issue was settled, but where would we stay? There were two crews; one black and one white. The white crew was comprised of single men. Mr. Robinson said we couldn’t stay with them, and we agreed with his decision. We had seen that the black camp had families, so we asked to stay there. He said we “wouldn’t last fifteen minutes in that camp.” I asked how that could be since there were so many children. The owner looked perplexed and told us that there were no children there. Then he thought for a moment and said, “Oh you mean the ‘n…..s’.” To him black children didn’t even qualify as “children.” I was outraged but knew it wasn’t safe to express my feelings and thoughts.
His solution to the lodging issue was to give us a cattle truck to sleep in. One night of that and we swore we’d never do it again, and meant it. The next day, we picked peaches for the whole day and earned $3.75 each. We knew we would have to wait at the packing shed for about two hours to get paid, so we decided to walk to the black camp to check it out for ourselves.
When we entered the camp, we talked to some of the people who were gathered. They had a bus, so we asked if we could sleep in it. They introduced us to Leroy, the black crew boss. He said it would be fine for us to stay in their bus. Later he told us they would be willing to set up beds in their kitchen for us.
With some hesitation, we decided to stay in the camp. The job paid so little, there didn’t seem any point to worrying about being fired when the owner found out we had disobeyed him. We had another reason for concern, however. We had been told before that the white people wouldn’t bother us for the things we did, but that they might take it out on the black workers. We talked to Leroy about our concern. He said our actions would not cause them any trouble, so we moved in.
Our new home
We made dinner and then everyone wanted Brenda to play the guitar so we could sing. We sat on the car with the kids and sang for hours.
We went to bed about 10 pm and then the night began. The black crew’s kitchen was in the same building that the white crew lived in. What separated the two rooms was a partial wall with a bit of screening above that. The white men were drinking and pretty soon were quite drunk. There was a lot of daring and betting going on and it really scared us. “They want to see what a migrant camp is like? Let’s show them what a migrant camp is like.” We had a few visitors that night, but were able to get them to leave by talking fast and shaming them. Luckily for us, they were mostly talkers, and a few of them were on our side. By 2:00 am they had given up. We slept for a while and then picked fruit the next day, earning $4 apiece.
We stopped at 1 pm and then drove to the post office in Greenville. Our checks from Ft. Valley were there. We were able to cash them by finding a minister who was willing to co-sign for us.
To prevent a repeat of the previous night, we had arranged with Leroy’s wife to lock the kitchen door from the outside and keep the key. Since we had received our checks, we planned to leave the next day.
The whites treated the blacks worse here than any place we’d been. As I mentioned, there was a white crew and a black crew. They were not allowed to mix with each other in the fields. The black workers got paid even less than we did, even though they had much more experience. The white crew had access to toilets, the black crew and their families used outhouses. The white men kept the black men up all night forcing them to do whatever they wanted. Black women were taken and used at the whim of white men. It was really ugly.
[Note: As I typed this story from the scrapbook, I was really struck with the difference in the content of the sentences in the last paragraph and Leroy’s assurance that there would no problems coming their way due to us staying in the camp. If I’m remembering right, the black men in this camp kept their distance from us, i.e. they did not interact with us. I don’t think it would have been safe for them to even speak with us. My guess is that Leroy, as crew boss, had privileges that the other men didn’t have.]
We sang again that night. This time we sang a lot of spirituals and folk songs and the people from the camp sang with us. We were having a good time; a little girl was brushing my hair. Then at 11 pm we heard a voice, turned around, and found three policemen standing behind us. One said, “We have orders from Mr. Robinson to get you off of his land.” I couldn’t believe it. We talked with them for a while but got nowhere.
I was upset, mad, furious, angry and not too happy. We couldn’t understand why Mr. Robinson hadn’t said anything to us when he saw us during the day, or why he had waited until 11 o’clock at night to throw us out. The people were as upset as we were. Leroy was there with shaving lotion all over his face and a razor in his hand. We said a lot of sad goodbyes and then left. As we were driving away, we asked the police if we could go the packing shed and talk to the owner if he was still there. (The shed was only two minutes away.) They were okay with us doing that.
Packing Shed
When we arrived at the shed, we discovered that four of the crew members, three black and one white, were already there. The two crews had signed on for the whole season, but they were telling the owner that if he kicked us out at that time at night, by morning his camp would be empty. We were so surprised!
We talked to Mr. Robinson also. It was clear he didn’t believe it was safe for us to stay in the camp and he wouldn’t allow us to do so. We told him we were responsible for whatever happened and we felt perfectly safe. Since his crews had threatened to leave, he was under considerable pressure and finally gave in; he would let us stay until morning.
The policemen drove away. It would have been interesting to hear their thoughts about what had transpired that night.
The four of us and the representatives from the two crews triumphantly returned to the camp. It was obvious the people enjoyed us as much as we enjoyed them. We sure appreciated that they had intervened on our behalf. We sang for a while longer and then went to bed.
We had no further problems that night. The white men were noisy again, but they didn’t say a word about us. The next morning we departed the camp, and before long left South Carolina behind.
(The next post in this series will be published on Friday December 25.)
Lakshmi, one of the ashram elephants, has been out three times since I’ve been here. She is led into the courtyard by her trainers/attendants and the devotees, especially children, feed her. I love watching her take a whole clump of small bananas with her trunk and eat them all at once. These are some pictures of Lakshmi and Amma from 2011.
This morning during my Tai Chi class big dragonflies flew overhead. When I did some more Tai Chi in the evening, the eagles were soaring above us. Both scenes were so beautiful.
Play Preparation
Play preparation is happening everywhere. Practices, creation of the set design, costumes, backdrops, slides in Malayalam and English, lighting, sound, all occurring simultaneously. I generally go to one of the practices each day. So far they have been learning and reviewing one scene at a time. Starting on Sunday they will be putting it all together. It is so exciting. From my room I can hear many of the practices I don’t attend. In fact, at times I can hear the music even better from my room. The sound goes up I guess.
I am spending more time sewing costumes than last week although I only work on them 2-3 hours a day compared to Jani and Sumati’s night and day work.
There is one part of the play I am very eager to tell you about but will wait and until after it is performed on Christmas Eve.
Leelas abound
It is amazing how I can “lose” as many things in this one room as I do in my house. For several days this week I was not able to find my iPhone cord (and was very thankful I sensed I should bring two cords to India, and did), the Fitbit gadget (I don’t know what it is called) I put into my laptop’s USB port, and some tweezers. I looked for them for days and took everything in this room apart several times. When I couldn’t find a receipt I needed on Tuesday, it felt like the “last straw.” Within minutes of reaching that level of frustration, I found the phone charger and the Fitbit piece in places I had looked for them many times. They were practically in plain sight. I also remembered where I put the receipt. No tweezers though.
This scenario felt like something we call Leela (God’s play). No other way of seeing it made sense to me.
Soon after I wrote this section yesterday, I noticed that my meal card and my time card for Amma’s darshan (hug) had disappeared from my wallet. I felt sooooo frustrated and tired of this kind of leela. There will be more to this story later in the post.
[Note: Tokens are distributed to get Amma’s hug. It is a way to create some organization in the darshan process; there is no charge for the token. Yesterday the tokens for Westerners were given to people who had just arrived at the ashram, were leaving soon, or were new devotees. The rest of us who hoped to have darshan later were given time cards which would probably be exchanged for darshan tokens sometime in the evening.]
Journey to town
Yesterday, I had to go to town for a variety of reasons. Prior to 2006 when we went to town we had to take a canoe. When the tsunami hit in 2004 Amma transported everyone in the village and ashram to the mainland by boat because there was no nearby bridge. Over the next two years, the ashram built a bridge so people could get off the peninsula in an emergency. Having the bridge has also made it possible for us to walk to town whenever we want to go there.
The view from the bridge is gorgeous. This is what I saw when I went to town yesterday.
On the way back, I stopped at a shop and bought some fruit and crackers. The picture of the cashew crackers on the front of the box made them look so good. After I purchased them, someone asked what the ingredients list said. I took a look. No cashews at all! I imagine one of the “flavorings” that are mentioned on the ingredient list is something that tastes like cashews!
I remember hearing this year in the U.S. that one fast food company, I think it was McDonalds, was going to start using more real food. The example that was given was that they were going to use real black pepper! I was perplexed. Why would anyone use fake black pepper? It didn’t seem like black pepper would be an expensive ingredient, certainly not as expensive as cashews.
T-shirt
I saw a t-shirt I liked the other day. On the back it said:
Love & Serve
Give & Forgive
~Amma
More Leelas
While leelas mean “God’s Play,” they don’t tend to be fun. I see them as challenges, tests, lessons, etc. They can lead to an emotional roller coaster. Sometimes when one happens over and over like what I described above, all you can do is shake your head and laugh, and continue riding the wave, roller coaster, or whatever metaphor you want to use.
I felt sad after I lost my time card. I knew the crowds would be really big starting this coming weekend, and I thought that last night would be the only time I would have a chance to go for Amma’s hug until just before I leave the ashram in January. For the next couple of hours I looked for the man who was in charge of the tokens for Westerners. I didn’t think he would replace the lost time card, but it never hurts to ask. I never saw him, and it was getting late. Even though it was only about 8 pm I was so tired.
I decided to go talk to my daughter Chaitanya and see if she had any advice. She has nothing to do with tokens in India but she is one of the people in charge of them on the foreign tours so I thought she might have an idea. I really wanted to go for darshan that night. As we were talking, Chaitanya glanced out of the cafe window and saw that the token person was standing right there! She asked him if he was going to be able to hand out more tokens that night and he said only to people who had just arrived or were leaving. I told him I had lost my time card. He said “Oh, you had a time card? Here, you can have the last of the ‘regular’ darshan tokens!” I was happy and relieved. I could have my hug, and the leela was over, maybe.
For the next hour or so I waited in the line and got my time with Amma. So nice. I felt content and headed for my room. As I got near the elevator, I looked for the key to my room and discovered it was gone. That was another one of those shaking my head times. To me these experiences are practice in staying calm, going with the flow, being patient, being persistent, letting go, and/or learning to do whatever it takes. I reviewed where the key could possibly be. I had locked the room when I left it and put the key in my bag. The only thing that made sense was that I must have dropped the key when I pulled my wallet out of the bag to buy some fruit to give Amma during my darshan. I walked back to that table and found the people who staffed it in the last stages of putting everything away. I asked the woman if she had found a key and she handed my key to me! I was very thankful that the leela was short lived.
This morning, I discovered this set of leelas still aren’t done, which is no surprise. I had not gone to the morning prayers the day before, so forced myself to get out of bed for them this morning. When I was ready to leave my room for the temple, I discovered my chanting book was not in the place I leave it EVERY day when I return from the prayers. I quickly looked around the room and it was nowhere to be found. Did I drop it when I came back from the prayers two days ago? Or will it show up out of nowhere like the other items? Who knows.
The only chanting book I could find was a copy I have that is written in Devanagari script (Sanskrit). By then I was so late for the prayers that there was no way I was going to find where they were in the book, particularly when I would be reading it in Sanskrit script. I haven’t studied any Sanskrit since I’ve been here so thought maybe I was supposed to be working on that. I stayed in my room and read the chant from that book, slowly, until the people in the temple were finished with the morning prayers. Looks like it is going to be another day of challenge. Oh…. and I found the lost tweezers within a minute of finding out I had lost the chanting book!
“I will accept each challenge as it comes and will learn and grow as a result.”
“I will accept each challenge as it comes and will learn and grow as a result.”
“I will accept each challenge as it comes and will learn and grow as a result.”
“I will accept each challenge as it comes and will learn and grow as a result.”
“I will accept each challenge as it comes and will learn and grow as a result.”
“I will accept each challenge as it comes and will learn and grow as a result.”
The Atlanta International Pop Festival was over at 10 a.m. Monday so we packed up, hitched a ride to our car and were off by 11:30. We decided to drive about 60 miles north, clean up and look for a job. When we got out of the car to pay our fee at a state campground, the ranger informed us that we could not camp there unless we had an adult chaperon. Since we were between 19 and 22 years of age, I was flabbergasted. He wouldn’t even let us wash up. He said this would be true in any state campground. His last remark was, “Lady, this is Georgia!”
We drove to another campground 20 miles away. They registered us without blinking an eye.
We showered and then drove to Griffin. The Farm Labor office was closed so we went to a grocery store to shop. As we pulled into the parking lot, we realized that some young back men and women were picketing the store. We asked them where they suggested we shop. They answered our question and then one man asked if we had come from the festival. When we said yes, he smiled and responded, “We like you people.” What a difference from the first park ranger!
The next day we drove around looking for work. It was not an easy task. The white farmers weren’t about to let us work with black pickers and they weren’t even nice about it.
One person suggested that we go to the farmers’ market in Atlanta, so we did. We applied for work at the office and then set up our camp stove in an empty stall. A truck driver and a younger guy came over and talked with us and then Brenda took out her guitar and we sang. Pretty soon another man, whom we found out later was a fruit inspector, came over and joined us.
When the office had not called us by 9 am, we decided to go look for a job ourselves. We were successful in that endeavor.
Brenda and I sold watermelons from 11:30-4:00. That night we slept in the back of the watermelon truck. The next morning the truck driver and his friend took us to breakfast and then we worked from 10:00-3:00.
While working at the farmers market, we ran into a new problem. Many of the white farmers assumed that white girls doing this kind of work were prostitutes and we were continually being propositioned. If we had wanted to, we could have made a fortune. By 3:00 we were sick of dealing with the men and took off.
Numerous people told us if we wanted to pick peaches, we should go to Fort Valley. The fruit inspector even gave us the names of some people to talk to when we got there.
We arrived in Ft. Valley about 6 pm and went directly to the Farm Labor office. I had a sense that if they knew we had gone to the festival, we would have been escorted out of town. We were told they would help us find a job, but it would not be picking. They also said they would help us find a place to stay. The apartment they arranged for us was fantastic. It was a garage apartment on the edge of town. There were two bedrooms plus a large living room and a kitchen. It was completely furnished. Our rent was $20 a week.
After we unpacked the car, Mimi and I headed for a laundromat. There was a 13 year-old white girl there who told us a lot about the festival even though she had not attended. If everyone believed the same things she did, it was no wonder they hated hippies. According to her, the hippies had “stripped naked in car washes, in grocery stores, in back seats of cars, and who knows where else.” While we were in the laundromat, a black man came in and put his clothes in the dryer. The girl had a fit. She made a nasty comment and then rushed to get her laundry and ran out the door. I was so angry by the time I left the laundromat, I was shaking. I had a sense that if I had spoken to the man, his life and ours could have been in danger.
The next day, we went job hunting. There were no jobs at the packing house, cannery or brewery so we decided to go to the fields and ask the black pickers where they thought we could get a job. They were thoroughly shocked at our inquiry, but were very nice. They told us where we could catch the pickers’ bus the next day.
The next morning we were on the bus, headed for the fields. The workers that filled the bus were, for the most part, younger than us. I heard a girl tell an older man that no, she did not respect him. She said that was what was wrong with the world; too much respect and too much waiting.
We arrived at the fields about 9:00 am. The whole bus load of us were told that we were too late and sent home. After we returned to the parking lot, we sat around and talked with the people. A few white policemen passed by which made me nervous but I decided to ignore them.
After a while, we decided to talk to the farm labor office staff again. We were told the cannery was hiring a third shift. We returned to the cannery but didn’t make it past the gate. We did go back to the bus parking lot to tell the pickers they were hiring at the cannery. As we started to drive away, a policeman stopped us and got out of his car. His words, “They want you at the cannery.” It had only been five minutes since we had left the cannery, but when we returned, they hired us.
Our shift would be 8 pm to 3 am starting that night. The woman who talked to us said her husband had bet her $5 that we wouldn’t last more than two days.
The first day, we worked 8:00 to 1:30 am and then picked fruit from 7 am to 1 pm. We were working with kids who were 13-16 years old. I really enjoyed myself.
I made $2.40 at the picking job. We were picking from trees where the fruit had been harvested before, so we earned less than we might have otherwise.
The cannery work was interesting. We were assigned to work on the machines that put the peaches into the cans and sealed them. Mimi and I were on one machine; Brenda and Laura on another. Our job was to make sure the cans were filled appropriately, both in quality and quantity. The fruit came to us at a rate of 120 peaches a minute. The cans also had to be the right weight, so we added or took away a peach as needed.
Brenda and I studied for our licensing exams as we worked. We hung our notes on the canning machine. That really surprised our foreman. He couldn’t believe we could study and work at the same time but we did and he allowed it.
These peach stained study sheets are 45 years old!
We soon discovered it was a horrible, smelly job. We stood still for seven hours in water filled with peach juice. It was impossible to get the juice off of our shoes. Our shoe laces stood straight up and had a putrid smell.
The working conditions were unbelievable:
Everyone worked eight to ten hours a day, seven days a week. If anyone missed one day, they were fired. There was no overtime pay.
Everyone worked eight to ten hours a day with only one ten minute break; no dinner.
No one was paid when the machines weren’t working, which could be as much as four hours a shift. If anyone left, they were fired.
A few days later we decided go picking after work. We didn’t get home until 6 pm. At work that night we were told the shifts were now going to be eight hours long and our shift would be the one to start the new schedule. That meant we had to work until 6 a.m. We were hurting so bad by the end of the shift as we had been on our feet about 36 hours.
It was interesting to note that night shift workers were almost all black and the day shift was 100% white except for the black men who did the dirty work.
We quickly tired of working in the cannery. We were ready to move on, but had committed to five more days of work.
Our bosses had been really nice to us but they didn’t know what to think about us. In fact, the whole town couldn’t figure us out. I think everyone knew where we were from, what kind of car we drove and where we were living. I believe we left good impressions everywhere we’d been, except for the first Georgia state ranger.
Saturday night of our last week, the generator in the place we were living blew out and the electricity went off. Within two minutes we were off to Macon to see a movie. We hadn’t planned to go that far. We had gone to Byron and asked where the theater was. The response we heard was, “Lady, you got to be kidding.” So we went on to Macon and saw “Two Mules for Sister Sara.” It was a good movie. We made it back to work as the first whistle blew.
Sunday night we sat and talked with Larry, our boss, after our shift was over. We really liked him. He gave us each an empty peach can as a souvenir! The cannery canned under many different labels. The one he picked for us was “Pride of Georgia!”
I knew it would be a long time before I ate another canned peach. (Among other things they soaked the peaches in lye to remove the skins. The machines we ran bubbled over with lye that had not been completely washed off.)
When we went to work on Monday night we were told that the entire night shift had been laid off. Hallelujah! That night we composed two songs.
To the tune of “The ants go marching one by one.”
The cans go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah (x 3)
Eight more hours before we’re done
The cans go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah
All the peaches fell in my shoe
The cans go marching …
I close my eyes and that’s all I see
The cans go marching …
I can hardly wait till I’m out the door
The cans go marching …
It’s hard to believe I’m still alive
The cans go marching …
And I sure hope the next one sticks
The cans go marching …
What will I do, it’s only eleven?
The cans go marching …
While I stand here and curse my fate
The cans go marching …
I sure wish they were filled with wine
The cans go marching …
Tomorrow night we will do it again
And to the tune of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”
Rotten rotten little peach
Will you tell me I beseech
How past all these eyes you came?
With the rest though not the same.
In my can you’ll not be found
So I’ll throw you on the ground
But alas, you’re out of reach
Someone gets a rotten peach
The next day we left Fort Valley. We had had a good experience, but swore we would never work in a cannery again. Next stop: South Carolina!
[Note: Many years later, I saw a small article in the Seattle newspaper talking about a cannery in Georgia that had been shut down because of violations. Yes, it was the cannery where we worked!]
The next post in this series will be published on Friday December 18.
“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” “Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.” “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”-William Shakespeare
This is the 500th post I’ve published since I started this blog in March 2014! I like that it is a “Living and Learning in Amritapuri” post that gets that distinction.
The Atlanta International Pop Festival was over at 10 a.m. Monday so we packed up, hitched a ride to our car and were off by 11:30. We decided to drive about 60 miles north, clean up and look for a job. When we got out of the car to pay our fee at a state campground, the ranger informed us that we could not camp there unless we had an adult chaperon. Since we were between 19 and 22 years of age, I was flabbergasted. He wouldn’t even let us wash up. He said this would be true in any state campground. His last remark was, “Lady, this is Georgia!”
Living, Learning and Letting Go 