“A true genius admits that he/she knows nothing.” Albert Einstein
“It is unwise to be too sure of one’s own wisdom. It is healthy to be reminded that the strongest might weaken and the wisest might err.” Mahatma Gandhi
“I will not ask thee for improved memory, only for a little more humility and less self-assurance when my own memory doesn’t agree with that of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong.” An Anonymous Abbess
“Acting with humility does not in any way deny our own self-worth. Rather it affirms the inherent worth of all persons. Some would consider humility to be a psychological malady that interferes with “success.” However, wealth, power or status gained at the expense of others brings only anxiety- never peace and love.” Commentary on Christian Bible Reference Site
Humility, among other things, is the absence of arrogance. One of the ways I am most likely to be arrogant is to hold on to a belief that I am right and others are wrong. I may verbalize my opinion and then stay silent, but internally I am very likely to be holding on to my rightness.
When I met Amma in 1989, I didn’t know anything about Eastern spirituality and I had never heard of Sanskrit. Months later, I attended a one or two day workshop focused on learning the sounds of the Sanskrit letters. I have no memory of where I heard about the workshop or why I went. I do remember one other Amma devotee there, so maybe he invited me to go, or perhaps a group of devotees attended. Many of the bhajans (devotional songs) Amma sings are in Sanskrit so it may be I wanted to learn to pronounce the words of the songs correctly.
The workshop leader, Vyaas Houston, taught us the sounds of the letters through music; i.e. we sang the alphabet! He told us that by the end of the workshop few, if any, of us would be able to sing the whole piece by ourselves, but as a group we would sing it well. He was right. I thought it was a powerful display of the power of group process.
My writing the first two paragraphs of this post brought back another memory of that time. In the first weeks after I met Amma, I bought a cassette tape at East-West Bookstore. It was called Jai Ma. When I played the tape the first time, I had an experience that astounded me. As I listened to one song, I burst into tears. During the next song, my body flooded with joy. Yet another tune filled me with peace. How could that be? After all, the songs were in Sanskrit and I had no idea what the words meant.
Later, when I told one of my co-therapists what had happened he responded, “Of course, in Sanskrit the feelings are imbedded in the sounds.” This therapist was very logical and science oriented, as opposed to being interested in spirituality, yet he said this in such a matter-of-fact way. I was intrigued, but not enough to start in-depth study of Sanskrit.
After the weekend workshop, I made flashcards to teach myself the meaning of some of the Sanskrit bhajans. I also wanted to learn Malayalam, Amma’s language, so even though the word on the flashcard above is Sanskrit, the letters are in Malayalam script. (The meaning of the word is on the other side of the card.) Over the years, I attempted to learn Malayalam several times but without a teacher it seemed impossible. I didn’t make any significant progress so eventually gave up the endeavor.
Amma has always worked to bring back India’s traditions, e.g. traditional dances, traditional music, traditional values. There was a period when Amma started encouraging the ashram residents to learn Sanskrit. I remember a time about five years ago when Amma asked some of the brahmacharinis (female monks) to stand up and speak to everyone present in Sanskrit. Amma looked so happy as she listened to them talk.
Watching Amma’s joy piqued my interest in Sanskrit again, but I knew learning on my own wouldn’t work well. In 2011 my desire began to grow. When I went to Amritapuri in November of 2011 for my annual visit to Amma’s main ashram in India, one of the first things I saw was a friend of mine, Meenamba, sitting by herself studying Sanskrit! I sat down beside her and told her I also wanted to learn. She offered to give me the books she used when she first started learning the language.
Soon thereafter, I received a group email from a devotee in Seattle named Madhavi. She was offering to teach our satsang (a group of Amma devotees) how to say and understand the Sri Lalitha Sahasranama Strotram, a spiritual text Amma asks us to chant daily. I had met Madhavi before but she was new to our satsang so I didn’t know anything about her.
Her email certainly caught my attention. I responded, commenting that learning to read the chant was not my goal; I wanted to learn spoken Sanskrit! I asked if she would be willing to correct my homework as I worked my way through the books I had been given.
Madhavi replied that she had been teaching spoken Sanskrit for seven years! She said I could learn the letters and their sounds in the class she had advertised, and that she was willing to expand the curriculum so that those of us who were interested in learning spoken Sanskrit could do so. I marveled at the synchronicity of all that was occurring. This was certainly a major turning point in my Sanskrit journey
Madhavi’s class started in February of 2012 and I have been studying Sanskrit with her ever since. That first summer I also took a Samskrita Bharati three-day intensive, and did that again in 2013 and 2014. While Madhavi’s classes focused on reading, writing, and grammar, Samsrkita Bharati’s classes focused exclusively on spoken Sanskrit. In fact, that group resists speaking any English during the summer camp and they also discourage students from taking written notes. Luckily, they were willing to relax the rules a little with me since I need some things clarified in English. But each year I attend the camp I can see my progress.
When I went India in November of 2012, I studied with Meenamba for a month. During Amma’s Seattle programs in the summer of 2013, members of Madhavi’s Sanskrit class went together to receive Amma’s blessing. In November 2013, I attended Meenamba’s Sanskrit class during my visit to Amritapuri and just before I returned to Seattle we also went as a group to be blessed by Amma. That time each of the students said a sentence in Sanskrit to her! Amma beamed.
In May of 2014, our Seattle Sanskrit class organized and performed a skit in Sanskrit for Amma. That autumn, I started attending a weekly Samskrita Bharati class as well as Madhavi’s class. All but two students in the new class were Indian. The Indian students learn so much faster than I can. That is largely due to the fact that their native languages contain a lot of Sanskrit words so vocabulary isn’t as much a problem for them as it is for me. I found that I had learned enough of the fundamentals of Sanskrit in Madhavi’s class though, so that even if I still couldn’t understand conversations in Sanskrit, I could usually understand what was being taught. I’ve had to learn to be patient with myself and be okay with what I can and cannot do. But I do see myself moving forward and that is what is most important.
Last winter, a brahmachari (male monk) was teaching a Sanskrit class when I came to Amritapuri so I attended his class. I appreciate how each of my instructors have used a different style of teaching. I have learned so much by experiencing the various styles.
As Amma’s 2015 summer tour approached, I decided I wanted to again speak to Amma in Sanskrit, but this time I wanted to say more than a solitary sentence! I had the opportunity to do that last Thursday when I attended her programs in Dallas. Speaking Sanskrit, I thanked Amma for the new satsang that recently formed in the Seattle area. I told her I was very happy there and that I was leading bhajans every week. I added that I loved studying Sanskrit and asked her to help me learn to speak it. Her smile got bigger with every sentence I uttered, which of course filled me with joy!
I believe this week has been yet another turning point on my Sanskrit journey. I think this will be the year that I will be able to build my vocabulary enough to finally be able to participate, at least to a limited degree, in Sanskrit conversations. I am excited and ready to do whatever it takes to make that happen!
For some time, I have been thinking about writing a post about a small lemon tree I purchased during the summer of 2013. My plan was to call the article “A Tale of Endurance.”
Then on Thursday, Sreejit posted his Dungeon Prompt for the week. He asked us to address:
How do you measure up to your eight-year-old-self’s plans for the future? We all had childhood dreams, or fantasies. How did you imagine the world as a kid? When you were eight years old, what did you plan on being when you grew up? What would that version of yourself think about who you are now?
Responding to this prompt posed a problem as I have almost no memories of my childhood. My mind went blank when I thought of my eight-year-old self. As I reflected on my childhood as a whole, it occurred to me that that my growing up years could also be seen as “A Tale of Endurance.” I wondered if I had that attitude about life by the time I was eight.
I decided to include both endurance tales in one post!
A Tale of Endurance #1
What did my eight-year-old dream of? I have no idea. My only clue is that I know my primary past-time during my childhood was reading. I do remember loving the Bobbsey Twin series. I think those were books an eight-year-old might read. I have no doubt that when I immersed myself in my books I was transported to other lands. It is likely that most of my childhood dreams came from the books I read.
Since I couldn’t answer the prompt by talking about my dreams, I decided to see if I could learn more about my eight-year-old self. I searched for some pictures and found two. I believe I was eight in the first one and nine in the second.
Me at 8?
On our way to Germany
I grew up as an army brat. I was born at Sandia Base in Albuquerque, New Mexico and lived there for the first years of my life. At some point during the Korean War my father went to Korea and my mother, brother and I moved to West Palm Beach, Florida, the city where my mother’s family lived.
I thought I had attended three different schools in the third grade but as I looked through old belongings yesterday, I discovered I had gone to two schools during the second grade and two in the third. When my father returned from Korea, we moved to Fayetteville, North Carolina; I would have been seven at that time. After two quarters of school in Fayetteville, we moved to Ft. Bragg, which is also in North Carolina. I finished the second grade there. I attended third grade at Ft. Brag for half a year and then moved to Pirmasens, Germany for the last half of third grade.
I can imagine the difficulty that switching schools so often would cause a child who was a strong introvert. In an army brat’s life, friendships were usually short; either we moved, or our friends did. I have no memory of any childhood friend, other than the cousins we visited on vacations.
I remember my mother saying that my pattern was to have one friend and then if they moved on to another best friend I would be devastated. I can imagine myself developing a “why bother” attitude when it came to friendship.
Yesterday, I also looked through all my elementary school report cards. I probably had read them sometime in the past, but it would have been decades ago. I paid particular attention to the report cards from the years I was eight and nine.
At that time, my teachers described me as earnest, pleasant, a hard worker, cooperative, and a good student who was creative, read well, learned quickly and had a wholesome attitude. In the second half of second grade and the first half of third grade, I received “Excellent” and “Good” for grades. When we moved to Germany and they used A, B, C, etc. as the grading system, I received A’s and B’s. The area where I consistently received the lowest marks and negative comments were in Writing. One teacher wrote “Carol (my name at that time) writes large enough but her letters are poorly formed.” Those comments continued throughout my elementary school years. I have no memory of my writing being an issue, although I’m not surprised considering how poorly I write now!
After writing positive comments on my report card, one teacher added- “I’m afraid she doesn’t receive much challenge.” I wonder what she meant?
Other comments that interested me were:
“She is slow to express herself.” That seemed reasonable for an introvert.
“Carol has improved some in writing but seems tense and not able to relax when writing and other times also. Have you noticed this?” My mother, who was also a teacher, responded “I have never noticed any tension in her writing at home but then she has an eraser at home (which she uses far too often) and I think her not having one at school may cause the tension. I’m not sure. She is a sensitive child and may be trying too hard to succeed in a subject she knows she’s having trouble with.”
I don’t know how soon my life began to feel like a tale of endurance. As I aged, I became more and more unhappy at home. At one point, I counted off the days until I could leave for college. I hated moving so often and wanted to create a life where I could stay put. Hmmmm. I wonder if that was a dream when I was eight. If so, it was one I created as I have lived in the same house in Seattle since 1973!
I have loved getting some insight into my eight-year-old self. Thank you Sreejit for offering this assignment and thereby prompting my exploration.
A Tale of Endurance #2
In the summer of 2013, I bought a small lemon tree. There were several lemons on it when I purchased the tree and I had visions of all of the lemons that were to come. The nursery staff told me to bring the tree into the house before the temperatures dropped, so as winter neared I put it indoors. One by one, the beautiful lemons turned black and fell off. Then most of the leaves fell off. Soon there was nothing left but the trunk (if you can call something that small a trunk) and a few leaves.
Spring came and nothing happened. The same few leaves stayed on, but there were no new ones and there were no buds. I took the plant to a nursery to see if it was possible to save it. They instructed me to use a particular kind of fertilizer. Months later there was still no new growth. It wasn’t until late August that a few flower buds formed. The plant was still alive but it seemed too late in the season for any fruit that formed to grow to maturity.
As it started to get cold, I once again brought the tree into the house. And again, the few small lemons that were on the tree turned black and fell off. This time the rest of the leaves fell off as well. I decided to leave the tree in the house even though it was just a stalk.
Sometime in late winter, I concluded that the situation was hopeless and put the tree outside on the balcony. I would compost it in the springtime. However, when springtime came and I picked up the container to take it to the compost heap, I noticed there were many tiny leave buds!
This tree seemed determined to live. Over the next weeks, the leaves grew, flower buds formed and then blossomed!
After a difficult childhood, my life blossomed and has been filled with friends, adventure and learning. It is interesting for me to see that many of the characteristics that my teachers pointed out on my eight-year-old report cards are characteristics that I am known for now. I think my eight-year-old would like the adult I have become.
It appears that this year the lemon tree is moving forward on its journey towards health. Perhaps in time it will even bear fruit that will become ripe!
I appreciate all the ways, past and present, that I am learning the value of endurance.
I met Amma, a spiritual leader from Southwest India, in 1989 when she was leading programs in Seattle, Washington. A friend had invited me to go with her. I had no interest in attending, but when I was asked “Yes” came out of my mouth. As the music started that night, I burst into tears. Even though I had no previous experience with Indian music or Eastern spirituality, I had a strong sense of being “Home.” I cried for hours. Later in the night, I received my first hug from Amma, who is known as the Hugging Saint. Her hug felt good, but I was much more interested in the music!
I was intrigued enough by my experience to go to the programs the next day and to the last day of a retreat she was leading on Orcas Island. Afterwards, I was invited to be part of a group who was seeing Amma off at the Orcas Island airport. As she prepared to board the plane, I started crying as if my heart was going to break. I found my behavior extremely bizarre since I barely knew her and I saw no reason for my intense emotion. Six weeks later, I was at Amma’s programs in New Hampshire and six months after that I was with her in India.
Over the next few years, I continued to experience huge separation grief whenever I was leaving Amma, even if I was going to be seeing her again days later. My grief was particularly intense whenever I left Amma’s Indian ashram. At times, I wondered if I was going crazy. As I struggled to find some explanation, I remembered that Amma had said that those of us who are attracted to her have been with her in previous lives.
I knew Amma generally didn’t answer questions about past-life experiences, but I decided to present her with my theory at the next opportunity. When that time came, I told her I believed I had lived with her in an ashram before and that I grieved to return to that familiar “home.” I added that I thought my “job” in this lifetime was to be in service in the world and to learn to feel connected to her when I was not with her. It seemed to me that it was fine for me to come to the ashram every year, but that I should not live there.
When my comments were translated, Amma responded, “I recognize you.” I looked at the swami (monk) who was translating, puzzled. “She is telling you, you are right,” he said. My eyes filled with tears. She had said she knew me! I experienced the joy of being known and the relief of having my reasoning validated. I was not crazy. There was a logical, albeit unusual, explanation for my overwhelming grief.
My life had been focused on service before I met Amma, and it has continued to be. I have visited Amma’s Indian ashram almost every year since 1989. I feel connected to Amma when I am with her and when I am not. I also feel connected to the ashram when I am there and when I am not. I am so grateful for all I have learned and experienced in this lifetime.
As hard as it is for me to imagine, my son Sreejit is turning 40 years old today! He was born on December 13, 1974. He has been such a blessing to his dad and me and to so many others.
I have loved looking through the old pictures in preparation for this post. So many special ones, especially in this age group. This was also the period when his sister Chaitanya joined our family! I remember Sreejit came to see me at the hospital after she was born, bringing chocolates and flowers. When it was time to go home, he wanted me to come with him. When I said that wasn’t possible, he wanted to take the chocolates back! (His dad doesn’t have a memory of this event, but since it is a strong one for me I’m going to leave it in!)
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Some of my memories of Sreejit’s school aged years were his involvement with Boy Scouts, summer camp and his love of Michael Jackson. He also started to draw during that time. A friend and he spent countless hours creating comic books.
Home from camp
Michael Jackson days
During his preteen and teenage years, Sreejit played the saxophone, piano and both acoustic and electric guitar. I took him to his first rock concert, to see Prince! He loved it and so did I. He became very interested in heavy metal music and wanted to become a rock star!
Sreejit’s life goals changed abruptly when he met Amma in 1990. A resident from Amma’s San Ramon ashram came up to me the night he met her and said, “Did you see the way that boy looked at Amma, and the way she looked at him? He is going to become a brahmachari (monk).” The woman didn’t know Sreejit was my son at the time she said that to me. Her intuition was certainly right on though. He soon exchanged his black heavy metal clothes for the white attire that most devotees wear. He learned to play the harmonium (a keyboard instrument that has bellows) and the tabla (Indian drums).
Sreejit’s fFirst trip to India
Sreejit moved to Amma’s San Ramon ashram in 1994 and lived there for 15 years. During most of that time, he worked two or three jobs simultaneously, as well as doing the work required of an ashram resident. In addition, he completed his Philosophy degree at San Jose State College. Soon after he graduated, he wrote a book titled, Of Mind Or Matter. The book was fiction, but it incorporated his knowledge of philosophy and spirituality.
Sreejit’s love for music has continued throughout his life. He has composed many songs. One of my favorites is “It’s a Long Road”
It’s a long road
I’ve forgotten
who I am.
It’s a long road
I’ve forgotten
what’s the plan.
Your hands
hold me close
but your eyes
are to the sky,
millions seek your mercy
but you say
freedom is your right,
just fight.
Do you remember me,
for I don’t have the eyes to see,
do you remember me,
am I your everything,
for you’re everything to me.
To walk through this world
a human being
is to carry the burden
of countless lifetimes
of suffering.
As I grow weary
I remind myself
that every problem
I’ve created myself.
Do you remember me,
for I don’t have the eyes to see.
I know I don’t deserve
this life I’ve been given
– time after time
I’ve chosen easy over right.
But, still
you shower praise
and I can’t help but
think your crazy
– crazy for the life,
crazy for the fight,
crazy for the divine
and I know your right,
but do you remember me?
The recording features David Balakrishnan on Violin Anu Aiyer on table, Swarna Aiyer on keys Amritapriya Schmidt on backing vocals and Sreejit Poole on vocals and guitar
Sreejit was invited to come to Amma’s ashram in Amritapuri, India in 2009 to be a cook in the Western kitchen. That has been his primary ashram work since that time. 2009 was the same year that he and Chaitanya, who also lives at the ashram, started creating Broadway style musicals which are performed on Christmas Eve. Chaitanya writes and directs the plays; Sreejit and his friends write most of the tunes. During the musicals, Sreejit plays the harmonium and frequently sings and/or has a voice role (In Indian plays the voices often come from people on microphones behind the scenes.) A few years ago, Sreejit was an actor in the play as well as participating as a musician. As soon as one musical is over, Sreejit and his friends start writing the musical scores for the next one.
Sreejit and Chaitany are on each end
Sreejit as preacher
Moses after the opening of the Red Sea
Jesus speaking to crowd
Three Wise Men
Play Musicians
In 2012, Sreejit started a blog called The Seeker’s Dungeon. He said this about his blog:
There are plenty of people to write about a heaven that they haven’t experienced. But I want to write about the road traveled to get there. This is meant to be an intense and honest look into the motivations of the human spirit and a search for answers into how we can use the passions of humanity, not just to satisfy our base level instincts, but to bring about a positive change in our world. Maybe it is dark. That is fine. Only when we open the blinds do we see the dust in the room. The dust to me, if not the main goal, is still interesting all the same..
At first, The Seeker’s Dungeon was a poetry blog, but over time he started writing in many different styles. I was amazed at the depth and skill of his writing. I feel so much respect for his work. Many other bloggers were impressed as well; as of today he has 7,670 followers. For most of a year, he encouraged me to start a blog of my own. I began to feel the desire to participate in Dungeon Prompts, a weekly challenge he offered to other bloggers. One day, I decided to build the blog and answer one of his prompts without him knowing I was doing it. I loved surprising him in that way. I am so grateful to him for introducing me to blogging and the WordPress community.
You never know what Sreejit is going to do next. Recently he started a YouTube page and posted some of the music he has composed. He also has begun to play the guitar again. And most surprising, he has decided he wants to learn to tap dance! He asked me to bring tap shoes for him to India and has started teaching himself to tap.
Sreejit has dedicated his life to spiritual growth and service from the time he met Amma at 15 years of age. He has used his 40 years of life well. I am so proud of him and proud to be his mother. Happy 40th Birthday Sreejit!
With Love, Mom
Notes:
Some of you may wonder why you are receiving this on December 12. India is 13 1/2 hours ahead of Seattle so it is already his birthday here!
I spent a lot of time during my childhood sitting in my room pouting. Decades later, during my personal therapy journey, I was able to move beyond much of the negativity and pain of those early years. It was in my therapy community that I first had a strong sense of belonging. I felt content and happy. One day, though, I heard a friend talking about feeling joy. Happiness versus joy….. hummm. That was something to contemplate. I felt happy, but I certainly did not feel joy. Continue reading “Living in Gratitude”→
“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
ed his life to spiritual growth and service from the time he met Amma at 15 years of age. He has used his 40 years of life well. I am so proud of him and proud to be his mother. Happy 40th Birthday Sreejit!
Living, Learning and Letting Go 