We Shall Overcome

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Ever since I learned about Song Lyric Sunday, songs from my past have been going through my mind. My 67 years of life has had so many phases and the music that is dear to me reflects all the different paths I have walked.

As I contemplated what song to use this week, I realized I wanted it to relate both to my life in the past and the present. What song could do that better than Pete Seeger’s version of We Shall Overcome.  As I read the words and listened to the video I chose to accompany it, I began to cry.

There were so many levels to my tears. I grew up during the struggle for civil rights and in a lot of ways that movement created the me I am today. As I looked at the photographs that are on the video below, my mind flooded with my own memories. Some of my tears were from remembering what this country was like before the push for civil rights, and feeling touched by how far we have come.

At the same time, the events of this past week (and many weeks/months/years before it) make it evident that we still have a long way to go. Therefore, another part of my tears were due to despair arising from the recent killings in Baton Rouge, Falcon Heights and Dallas and the overwhelm of not knowing if, when or how we will make the violence stop. When will we (humans) learn to live with love and respect for all beings?

No one knows for sure who wrote We Shall Overcome. There is some new evidence that it may have originally been a gospel hymn composed between 1932 and 1942. The lyrics have changed over the years. The song as I know it became associated with the Civil Rights movement in 1959 and was soon considered its unofficial anthem.  (Wikipedia)

 

We Shall Overcome Lyrics

We shall overcome,
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart,
I do believe
We shall overcome, some day.

We’ll walk hand in hand,
We’ll walk hand in hand,
We’ll walk hand in hand, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart…

We shall live in peace,
We shall live in peace,
We shall live in peace, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart…

The whole wide world around,
The whole wide world around,
The whole wide world around, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart…

We are not afraid,
We are not afraid,
We are not afraid, TODAY.

Oh, deep in my heart…

We shall overcome,
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart,
I do believe,
We shall overcome, some day.

 

While my faith is a bit shaken right now, as I listen to the music, I know that this is my truth.

Oh, deep in my heart,
I, Karuna, do believe
We shall overcome, some day.

 

 

My Dream is Realized- Part 2 (June 2016)

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MA Center Chicago is located outside of the city on 145 acres of land. On my second day there I walked to some of the places that had been pointed out on a tour of the property I took the first day. (Click here to read Part 1 of this post.)

I headed first towards a gigantic greenhouse. Between the greenhouse and me was an area that a local farmer uses to grow alfalfa. Part of the alfalfa had already been rolled into cylindrical bales.

(Click on any gallery to see the photos as a slide show.)

As I walked, I spotted a bird’s house and two bee hives.

I finally made it to the big greenhouse.  I believe it is a special kind of greenhouse, it may even have a different name. Maybe some of you will recognize what kind of farming this is… and tell me!

When I left that area, I saw all of the big fields.  They were filled with so many different plants. I remembered that we had been told that 34 different medicinal herbs were being grown on the property. There were many other types of plants as well.

I was most eager to see the Echinacea field.  Previously, I had seen a video of the fields when they were in full bloom last year. At this time of year, I could see Echinacea flowers at all stages of their growth cycle.

Milkweed, nettles and other beneficial plants are allowed to grow throughout the Echinacea field. Br. Shantamrita had told us whenever they see milkweed on the property they mow around it.

Here is the video of the Echinacea field when it was in full bloom last year.

After leaving the Echinacea field, I discovered there were more fields; many more.

 

I even saw the new orchard

I didn’t visit all of the fields, but I believe I will have more opportunities to do that in the future. As I walked back to the program hall, tired but happy, these were some of the views I saw.

I was so happy to be at MA Center Chicago that numerous people asked if I was planning to move there. While I don’t know what my future holds, I do not expect that I would do that. I can’t imagine living through the Chicago winters and besides, I love the Pacific Northwest. If and when I decide to leave my house, I would be more likely to move to the Amritapuri ashram in India where my adult children live or to the Center we will soon have in the Seattle area.

I know that part of my excitement is because of my interest in nature and in gardening but I believe it is also because I marvel that a community like this one in Chicago exists.  I have been a devotee of Amma’s since 1989. I visited her ashram in India soon after she started her first humanitarian project. Since then, the number and scope of her Embracing the World projects has grown at a phenomenal and mind-boggling rate. This center is one small part of that network. I feel very blessed to be a part of Amma’s world.

 

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.

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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.

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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.)

Support in Times of Trouble

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Pain is a part of the human experience. Since we are imperfect beings, we all do things (intentionally and unintentionally) that cause pain for ourselves and others. As nothing is permanent, relationships come and go, ending either through separation or death. Each loss makes the way for a new beginning.

Pain creates discomfort that provides us with the opportunity and the motivation to learn and grow.  As our resistance to pain decreases, our ability to experience joy increases.  While pain is inevitable, the support we receive from others can make it more bearable.

I am very aware of the ongoing emotional support that I have received from Amma during  painful life events. While I could give a multitude of examples, perhaps the most remarkable ones occurred in the time frames surrounding the deaths of my mother, brother and father.

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My mother with Sreejit in 1977

In 1992, within days of returning from a visit to Amma’s ashram in southern India, I received a phone call from one of my brothers saying that my mother was in a coma and near death. Every time the coma lifted, however, she would call for me. This was a surprise as she had instructed me years before that when she reached the end of her life, I was not to come to the hospital, nor was I to attend her funeral. My father had disowned me in 1971 when I married a black man and had not spoken to me since. My mother gave me those instructions because she knew my presence would upset my father.

Now her death was imminent and she was calling for me. When I arrived at her bedside a day or two later, my mother wept with joy and relief.  During the next week, I visited her daily at times when my father would not be present. I knew that if he found I had been there, he would refuse to visit her again.

I wondered what I could do to help my mother’s passing.  I felt drawn to buy her a cassette player and two tapes, Alleluia and Om Namah Shivaya, both by Robert Gass and the Wings of Song. [There are many meanings for Om Namah Shivaya. The translation I like includes three of the meanings: “I bow to the God within me,” “I bow to the universal God,”and “I bow to the aspect of God that is Shiva.”]  When I played Alleluia for my mother, she began to cry.  When I played the Om Namah Shivaya  tape her immediate response was, “I have heard that before.” I knew enough about my mother and her life to think it was highly unlikely that she had heard that song before. I sensed that Amma was nearby, helping prepare my mother for her journey Home.

I felt very grateful that these events were happening during a time I felt filled with Amma’s love. I also sensed that my recent vision to her Indian ashram allowed me to be more open to the direction of Spirit than I might be otherwise.

My mother died a month later, after I had returned to Seattle. When I attended her funeral, my brothers’ invitation having overpowered my father’s disapproval, I was told that my mother had listened to the Om Namah Shivaya tape constantly from the time I gave it to her until her death. The nurses would wheel her into the atrium of the hospice with the cassette player and headphones accompanying her. She and my brothers listed to the song together in her room. I was told that one of the nurses would sit with her, and together they would sing along with the tape. I was exceedingly grateful to have been able to participate in my mother’s dying process in that way.

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Chaitanya, Bill’s wife, Bill, and Sreejit in the late 80’s

My brother Bill had been diagnosed with cancer five years earlier. After my mother died, his health began a rapid decline. I expected that he would die prior to the time Amma arrived in the U.S. for her yearly tour. (She conducts programs in North America in June and July of each year.) As the time for the tour came closer, it became obvious to me that he would pass while Amma was in our country.

That year I traveled to Vancouver, BC to attend the first of Amma’s North American programs.  Next came the Seattle retreat.  (In those days the retreat occurred before the public programs.) On the last day of the retreat, as I was sitting out in an open field listening to a tape, my son approached me and said that my brother had died. He put his arm around me and I cried.

I was aware of how Amma/Spirit/God had taken care of me once again. My brother had passed when I was at a retreat where I could be in Amma’s arms receiving the massive love she bestows. Most of my friends were present and available for support as well.

Later, when I made plane reservations to attend my brothers funeral, I felt even more cared for. Unbelievable as it might seem, my plane would return to Seattle at the same time Amma would be in the airport waiting for the plane that she would take to continue her tour. I was able to walk off of my plane and moments later, once again be in her arms.

The third example happened in January 1999. I was in Amma’s ashram in Amritapuri, India when I received a phone call that my father had unexpectedly died. Once again, I was able to go directly to Amma after having received the news.  When I had attended my mother and brother’s funerals, my father had been unwilling to speak to me. In both instances, he had left immediately after the services to avoid any possible contact. Clearly, he would not have wanted me at his funeral, so leaving India was unnecessary. I felt grateful to be in a place where I could have Amma’s support and the support of many friends as I grieved the loss of the fantasy that he would eventually be willing to engage with me. I was in awe that once again I had been with her when a member of my family died.

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Photo Credit: Amma’s Facebook Page

So frequently the painful life events I have experienced since I met Amma have occurred just before, during or immediately after I have spent time with her. Having her physical or spiritual presence during those times has increased my faith, allowing me to trust at ever deeper levels that she will be there for me when I need her. As my faith has increased, my ability to surrender to the will of guru and Spirit has grown.

I love this adventure called life. I so appreciate the love and support that is available within a guru-disciple relationship and I am exceedingly grateful that this is the spiritual path I have chosen.

Adapted from article written for The New Times: May 1999

 

Amma is presently in North America on her 2016 Summer Tour.  Her schedule can be found at: http://amma.org/meeting-amma/north-america

 

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.

On Living and Dying Day 15 by Sreejit Poole

I think this is one of the best posts Sreejit has ever written.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Spare

Sometimes I feel like I spend my life looking for things.  Having spares is a necessity for keeping myself sane.  These are the items for which I most often need to find a spare.

 

And these are ones where I often can’t find my spares no matter how many  of them I buy!

I have a long way to go in mastering the virtue of being mindful.

 

Written for Weekly Photo Challenge: Spare

The Circle of Life

Sreejit at The Seeker’s Dungeon has been hosting an event called On Living and Dying.  I participated early in the challenge (Am I Contributing to My Living or My Dying?) but I find myself continuing to ponder the subject.  I realized that I have lots of photos of birthing and living and some that could probably be considered rebirth, but I had none of dying. Yesterday I remedied that situation.

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As I was writing this post, it occurred to me that I might be able to find evidence of rebirth already, and I did! Rebirth is occurring amidst the dying. What a good example of the circle of life.

 

 

Visions of the Wise

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யாதும் ஊரே யாவரும் கேளிர்
தீதும் நன்றும் பிறர்தர வாரா
நோதலும் தணிதலும் அவற்றோ ரன்ன
சாதலும் புதுவது அன்றே, வாழ்தல்

 

To us all towns are one, all men our kin,
Life’s good comes not from others’ gifts, nor ill,
Man’s pains and pain’s relief are from within,
Death’s no new thing, nor do our bosoms thrill
When joyous life seems like a luscious draught.
When grieved, we patient suffer; for, we deem
This much-praised life of ours a fragile raft
Borne down the waters of some mountain stream
That o’er huge boulders roaring seeks the plain
Tho’ storms with lightning’s flash from darkened skies.
Descend, the raft goes on as fates ordain.
Thus have we seen in visions of the wise !
We marvel not at the greatness of the great;
Still less despise we men of low estate.

 

When do you think this profound poem was written?

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The poem was created by Kaniyan Poongundran, a Tamil philosopher during the Sangam period (3rd century BC to the 4th century AD). It was published in the Purananuru  in 192 A.D.

 

Arrow Photo Credit: Wikimedia