Three eyes came to mind when I read this week’s challenge. One is the eye of the Fremont troll. It resides under the Aurora Bridge in Seattle.
The second is the eye of a needle.
And the third is a photo that my friend Marla took of her dog Bodhi! Who could resist a look like this?
After a good night’s sleep, we said goodbye to my parents and then headed for Byron, Georgia. We were excited to attend the upcoming Atlanta International Pop Festival prior to looking for more work.
To get to the event, we had to park about three miles away and walk in. We decided to camp outside the festival grounds on our first night. We had left the hot canvas tent in Florida, so ended up sharing a tarp with some people we met.
We spent the next day at the festival roasting in the sun. The temperature was about 104 degrees. There was no shade and no breeze. There wasn’t enough water and ice was considered a luxury. Five pounds of ice cost $1 and we paid 25 cents for a popsicle. The event staff passed out salt tablets, hats and suntan lotion.
I enjoyed the music despite the physical discomfort. We were about 30 feet from the stage!
I had mixed feelings/thoughts about being there. I was super, super uptight during a lot of it. The heat as well as the lack of water and food was unbearable and I didn’t like being around so many people who were stoned.
Our skin was blistered and swollen from sunburn when we left. However listening to musicians such as Jimi Hendrix, Richie Havens, the Chambers Brothers and the Memphis cast for Hair as well as getting to know some of the people who were there made it worth it. My favorite memory of the event was waking up the last morning to Richie Havens singing “Here Comes the Sun!”
My final conclusion was that I was glad we had gone, but didn’t think I would ever want to do it again.
The festival was over at 10 a.m. Monday so we packed up, hitched a ride to our car and were on our way by 11:30. Off to find a job!
[Note: My scrapbook says there were 200,000 people at the festival. Wikipedia said that the estimates varied from 250,000 to 600,000! Their article contains a lot of interesting information.]
(The next post in this series will be published on Friday December 11.)
To read the previous posts go to:
1970: My Summer as a Migrant Farm Laborer (Series Intro)
1970: My Migrant Farm Labor Summer #1 (Seattle to Florida)
I thought this photo showed the transition from bud to opening to open! I saw it today in India.
Written for Weekly Photo Challenge: Transition
Sreejit asked his dad, my ex-husband, to write the story of his life. This post is about his childhood and young adult years. While parts of it are difficult (sad) to read, it is also very inspirational. I hope you find it as moving as I do.
I decided to make this post a random list of some of the things that have happened during the last few days!
***
As we were driving from the airport to the ashram on Saturday morning, I noticed at times there were huge puddles covering a good part of the street. There were also big potholes in the roads. The rainfall must have been tremendous. That monsoon type of rain is usually over by this time of year, so I was surprised.
After evening bhajans (devotional songs) on Sunday, it began to rain again. You could hear the rain pounding on the metal roof of the auditorium. It started raining harder, and harder. When the rain seemed like it couldn’t possibly get any heavier, it did; time and time again. The sound became so loud it was hard to hear what people were saying.
Tuesday night there was thunder and lightning and more rain. I love the array of dramatic sights and sounds that occur when that happens in India. (I later heard that Chennai is “under water.” That certainly puts a different slant on my story. All is not beautiful about torrential rains.)
It has been hotter and more humid in the last few days than I can remember in any past December.
***
On Monday, Amma gave darshan (hugs, which are her form of blessing) to all of the brahmacharis (male monks) and brahmacharinis (female monks) as well as to the ashram residents who stayed at the ashram during the months she had traveled in Europe and North America. I enjoyed watching them get their hugs. They are so devoted to Amma and love her so much.
***
On Tuesdays, Amma comes to meditate with the ashram residents and visitors. Afterwards, she either asks or answers questions and then leads a song before serving lunch to everyone. That may sound simple but keep in mind that 3,000-5,000 people are living in the ashram. She hands each person their plate of food. Over the years, that process has been refined so that it happens with amazing speed. After everyone has received their food, we sing the meal prayer together and then eat. Afterwards Amma gives darshan to the visitors who arrived that day.
***
Three friends and I have been eating together at least one meal a day. We all met Amma in 1988 or 1989. Three of us took our first trip to Amritapuri in January 1990. This is my twenty-sixth trip to Amritapuri and they have come here many times as well. Sometimes we reminisce about the “old days.” Very few of the “oldtimers” we know come to India anymore; many seem to be content with seeing Amma when she comes to the U.S. I can’t imagine being with her only once a year, and if I had to pick between the U.S. programs and India, my choice would be India!
***
I’ve been going to the beach each day for a Tai Chi class. (There will be more about that in future posts.) This morning I went to the beach early and watched the waves. I remembered a tragic incident that happened last year. A young village boy was swimming in the water and was pulled into the sea by the undertow. I will never forget the blood curdling scream his mother made when she was notified that her son was gone. So many villagers, ashramites and the local coast guard looked for him, to no avail. His body washed up on the beach the next day. Such a sad situation.
***
I get much more exercise when I am here than I do in Seattle. I wear a Fitbit that counts my steps. In the U.S. I average 3,000 – 4,000 steps in a day. On my first day in Amritapuri, I walked 13,000 steps. Most days are between 8,000 – 10,000. In addition to walking from building to building, I also walk down five large flights of stairs eight to ten times a day. I walk up them two or three times. One of the two elevators in our building hasn’t worked since I’ve been here. I don’t know if it is broken or if they are saving electricity. Regardless, I am thankful my room is on the 6th floor instead of the 15th. If I don’t want to wait in an elevator line I just climb the stairs.
***
Every year, on Christmas Eve the ashram residents put on a Broadway style musical. Chaitanya (my daughter) writes and directs the play. Sreejit (my son) and his friends compose many tunes for her to select from as she creates the songs and lyrics. While Chaitanya and the musicians work on the script and the music throughout the year, the bulk of the play preparation starts after Amma and the tour staff get back from the Europe and U.S. programs. That means there are only three weeks for the cast to be picked and the dances to be choreographed. The musicians have to work on the instrumentation and the actors and actresses have to learn the scripts, songs and dances. Simultaneously, props, costumes, backdrops, sound, lights, subtitles and much more have to be made. The play work goes on night and day. The cast also do their normal ashram jobs during that time. The energy in the ashram becomes electric as the big night gets closer!
I won’t give any hints about the content of this year’s play, but I will mention that last year’s was about the life of St. Francis, St. Sebastian, St. Claire. I will share a few of the pictures so you can get a sense of the intricacy of the work.
****
There is more that I plan to share in a future post, but as I was coming to a close on this one, I had an experience that is a perfect ending.
Several years back, Amma decided she wanted everyone who is staying at the ashram to have the opportunity to sit near her for 30 minutes every public program day. Sometimes I go for my shift and sometimes I don’t. When I do, I often slide in just as my shift begins. Today, I decided to go early. I ended up being the first person in line for that opportunity. I was led to a seat about six feet from Amma in a position where I had completely unblocked vision the whole time! What a gift that was for me. Thank you Amma.
Previous Amritapuri post: https://livinglearningandlettinggo.wordpress.com/2015/11/29/living-and-learning-in-amritapuri-india-nov-26-28-2015/
Almost every year since January 1990, I have visited the Amritapuri ashram of Mata Amritanandamayi (who is more commonly referred to as Amma) in Kerala, India. Amma is an internationally known spiritual leader and humanitarian. My adult son (Sreejit) and daughter (Chaitanya) have lived in her ashram for many years so I am also blessed to be able to spend time with them when I come to India. I know from years of experience that my trip will be packed with learning and experiences. I look forward to sharing them with you.
Journey to India
I left Seattle on Thanksgiving Day this year. I was eager to be at my India “home” but dreaded the long trip. On Emirates flights, I am able to make the journey in 24 hours, but it is still grueling. The flight from Seattle to Dubai takes 14 hours; followed by a two hour layover in Dubai, a four hour flight to Trivandrum, an hour or more to get through immigration, customs and retrieving baggage, and then a two to three hour taxi ride to the ashram.
Last year, I was surprised and ecstatic when the airlines gave me an unexpected upgrade to business class for the 14 hour segment. That gift made my journey so much easier. That was the first time I had been upgraded in the 25 years I’ve been going to India, but for the last few months I found myself hoping it would happen again. I believe the best way to achieve a desire is to let go of it, but seemed unable to do that. I yearned to once again experience the luxury of lying down during an international flight. It was not to be however.
Something I really appreciated happened when I was waiting for my baggage in Trivandrum. My name was announced over the loud speaker and I was directed to come to the baggage counter. Once there, they handed me the Kindle I had left in the airplane. I had planned on reading during the flight but dosed off instead and had completely forgotten I had taken it out of my carry-on suitcase.
This scenario was even more remarkable when I compared it to something that had occurred this past summer in the United States. In that instance, I had also left an item on a plane. When I realized my error, I called the airline’s Lost and Found department and gave them my flight and seat number. I was told that the airlines only had three people to handle Lost and Found for the whole country and that I should keep calling back. They said it often took three months to know whether an item had been found. I called many times and finally gave up. And now, in India, the airport staff had tracked me down before I even left the airport. I left the airport feeling cared for and honored. It was such a good example of the kindness of the Emirates staff and the Indian people.
November 28
I’m home! I’m exhausted but content. Normally I get to the ashram before Amma returns from her fall European and U.S. tour, but this year the tour was over earlier than normal so she arrived in Amritapuri before me.
My taxi pulled into the ashram grounds at 7 a.m. After spending a short time visiting with my children, I generally start unpacking and washing the clothes and bedding that has been stored since I left the previous January. This time, when I unlocked my flat, I discovered Chaitanya had cleaned the room and even made the bed. Oh that bed looked so good after no solid sleep for 36 hours. I unpacked for a while and then decided I was too tired to be hand washing all of the laundry in buckets so I took a nap instead! That change in behavior was a first for me. I wonder how many other “firsts” there will be this year.
I always watch for changes that have occurred in the ashram since I was last here. On arrival, I noticed that the ground of the courtyard in front of the temple now is covered by large patio stones with grass separating them. It is quite beautiful and makes it much easier to transport luggage and other items from one place to another. I found the biggest change, however, in the huge auditorium. After a decade or more, there are now fans hanging from the ceiling, 35 of them! My eyes really opened in shock and delight when I saw them. Having the breeze during the evening bhajans (devotional singing) on my first night was wonderful.
One would think that Amma would take time to rest after returning from such a grueling tour, but of course that isn’t what happened. She came out in the afternoon and sang with us and then gave darshan (her form of blessing is a hug) to visitors who were staying only a short time. In the evening she came again for the bhajans. She sang so many of the old, beautiful Malayalam songs. I feel so blessed to be here!
I’m considering offering a weekly Challenges for Growth Prompt.
If there is interest, I would post a focus weekly. For example:
People could participate in different ways.
Would you be interested in participating in this type of prompt?
If so, which of the areas I have listed would you suggest I start with? Other suggestions are welcome!
There were times during my college years that I picked fruit as a way of making some money. I remember picking blueberries in Seattle and apples in Yakima. I also remember sleeping under a bridge when I picked in Yakima. I enjoyed doing the outside, physical work.
I graduated with a BSN (Bachelor of Science in Nursing) degree in June of 1970. I would not be able to take my licensing exams until September so I wanted to do something very different than nursing until I took the exams. Three friends and I decided to travel around the U.S. doing migrant farm labor. Brenda, who would also be taking the licensing exams, and I planned to also do a lot of studying during that time.
Over the next six weeks, I will be publishing posts about our experiences that summer. The content comes from a scrapbook I wrote soon after the trip was over.
Scrapbook
June 9, 1970
Mimi, Laura, Brenda and I left Seattle planning to spend the summer doing migrant farm labor. Our first destination was West Palm Beach, Florida where my parents lived. We planned to surprise them on their 25th wedding anniversary.
The rest stop where we ate our first meal had a river and beautiful scenery in back of us but in front there was an automobile junk yard! We were very cold but having fun.
The second night out it was pouring. This was the first time all four of us slept in the Datsun.
Early the next morning, we had car trouble. The radiator hose broke, resulting in a burned out head gasket. We found ourselves stranded in Plankinton, South Dakota, 250 miles from nowhere. The population of the town was 500. [As I was typing this, I was curious and decided to check out how much Plankinton has grown since 1970. I learned that in 2013 there were 715 people living in the town!]
Through the help of a minister, we were able to find someone to fix our car and a place stay, the minister’s church basement. Our car was supposed to be fixed by the next day, but due to Greyhound losing three different head gaskets, we were to be in Plankinton for seven days, long past my parents’ anniversary.
The church basement was great; it had a kitchen and everything else we needed. The only problem was that the minister went on vacation without telling anyone he said we could stay there. On the second night, we received a visit from the sheriff. Luckily, once he found out why we were in the church, he was fine with us staying.
Plankinton was very boring though. The theater was available only on Saturday night, and it was filled with a million kids. The teenagers amused themselves by driving up and down main street or by watching everyone else driving up and down main street. We could swim for 50 cents per person.
There was plenty of chance for us to read and study though.
We started worrying about our mental status when, during meals, we found ourselves stripping membranes from the inside of eggs and looking at the fountains that spurted up when we squeezed lemon peels.
Our mechanic, Al, took the car apart on the day we arrived. Once the part he needed arrived, he worked from 10 am to 3 pm and the following day he worked on it from 6 am to 2pm. He only billed us $14 for his labor. Sure was great to meet friendly people.
Finally, we left Plankinton and headed on. We drove straight to Florida, making only one stop….to visit a friend. We arrived at my Aunt Muriel’s house early on Sunday morning.
We sure surprised mom when we showed up at church. Dad was happy to see us too. They didn’t seem to be upset when they found out our plans for the summer. I was surprised.
We soon had car problems again. This time we were broke, so we spent a week washing windows, cleaning houses and porches, and selling flowers. We earned $100!
We had planned to do our migrant work across the south of the U.S., but my Uncle Ted advised us to work up the east coast instead. I thought he had a better idea of what we would be facing than anyone else, so we decided to heed his advice.
One day, mom drove us to Belle Glade. We soon discovered that we would be able to work there picking oranges. We went back to West Palm Beach to get ready for our first job. A couple of days later, we headed back to Belle Glade!
We had borrowed my parents’ old heavy canvas tent. A man in a nearby campsite gave us some extra rope and a stake. He said he thought that we were living in substandard housing and wanted to help.
That first night was miserable. We were inside a canvas tent in hot weather. To make it worse we needed to sleep in hot sleeping bags in order to keep away from the mosquitoes. The tent was useless. I finally got two hours of sleep by sleeping on the hood of the car.
The next morning, we were up at 5 a.m., in the dark. We drove to the place where we would board the bus that would take us to the fields. The bus was there when we arrived and it was already packed with pickers. We were the only white people on the bus. Everyone kept asking us, “Have you got a man yet?” We were startled by the question and didn’t know what to say. We soon discovered that everyone picked the oranges in pairs, because the ladders were 20 feet long. Each pair consisted of one woman and one man.
We arrived at the orange field at 7:30 a.m. By the time it was 4:30 pm, I was so tired; my body ached through and through. My partner Joe and I had filled seven bins. We were paid for our work at 6:00 pm and were back at our campsite in Belle Glade at 8:00 pm. On the second day, we again picked 7 bins of oranges. On the third day, Brenda picked with Joe and me. We tired much faster this day. We only filled 6 bins even though three of us were working.
The people we worked with were so nice. They knew the third day was our last, and they all wished us luck. Joe gave us a whole chest of fish to take home. That day, two tiny birds had fallen from the tree. We put them in a hat and took them home so my brother Bill could take care of them.
We arrived at my parents’ house at 7 pm. We were so filthy that they wouldn’t let us sit on anything.
The income we each made from our three days of work varied. The person who made the least earned $17; the one who made the most earned $31. We estimated that we had earned one cent for every 30 oranges we picked.
We were ready to leave Florida. Next stop- the Atlanta International Pop Festival!
(The next post in this series will be published on Friday December 4.)
One of the most important times of my life was the summer I spent doing migrant farm labor across the United States. It is a treasured experience, one that contributed significantly to making me the person I am today.
During fall of 2015, I was looking through the scrapbook I put together after that summer. It occurred to me that I could share the whole story of that journey, primarily using the words I wrote in 1970.
Below you will find the links to each post in the series.
1970: My Summer as a Migrant Farm Laborer #1 (From Seattle to Florida)
1970: My Summer as a Migrant Farm Laborer #2 (Atlanta International Pop Festival)
1970: My Summer as a Migrant Farm Laborer #3 (Working in Georgia)
1970: My Summer as a Migrant Farm Laborer #4 (Working in South Carolina)
1970: My Summer as a Migrant Farm Laborer #5 (Maryland and New Jersey)
1970: My Summer as a Migrant Farm Laborer #6 Series End (Pennsylvania and Washington State)
I hope you enjoy the series.
The Art and Craft of Blogging
A collection of discussions on the environmental issues
“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
...moments of unexpected clarity
Home of Lukas Kondraciuk Photography
Wellness, Support and Mindset
Thoughts on Creativity & Deeper Things
A Blog by Novella Carpenter
Ramblings of an Irish ecologist and gardener
Teaching the art of composition for photography.
Blog from SathyaSaiMemories ~ stories of love in action and the benefits of giving
There are 11,507 stories in Haddonfield; this is one of them.
Perennial gardening and more from the Green Mountains of Vermont
Whatever it will be...
Welcome to my little slice of the blogosphere
Living, Learning and Letting Go 