With Amma in Toronto

amma children

This past week I traveled to Toronto to attend the last of Amma’s 2016 North America programs. Every day with Amma is always filled with learning and experiences. There is no way I could detail everything that happened while I was there but I will share some of the events that were most important to me.

The Weight was Lifted

In the post I wrote from Amma’s Programs in Chicago (My Dream is Realized), I shared about the increasing emotional distress I have been feeling because, due to a variety of physical issues, I have been unable to participate in seva (volunteer work) at Amma’s programs for some time. For fifteen years I was the coordinator for Amma’s Pacific Northwest programs. I stopped doing that volunteer job about six years ago. While I still do various forms of seva in Seattle, I haven’t committed to any seva shifts during Amma’s programs for at least three years. I was beginning to feel useless.

Amma clearly was not upset that I wasn’t working, nor was anyone else. Regardless, I found myself becoming more and more critical of myself. I realized how much my distress was taking away my ability to really “be” at the program. All too often my mind was on what I wasn’t doing instead of being present. Prior to coming to Toronto, I decided I needed to ask Amma for help.

[Before I relate what happened when I talked to Amma, let me say that she gives very individualized responses. Two people may ask her the same question and get two completely different answers. It is important that people talk with Amma directly rather than assuming an answer given to someone else is the same answer she would give to them.]

On the first day of the Toronto program, I arrived early so that I could join the question line. (I will share more of that process in the next section.) As Amma answered the questions of the people in front of me, I eagerly anticipated my own experience. Finally, I reached the front of the line. As Amma listened to the translator while he shared my concern, her eyes gazed at me with love. Her response was immediate. With firmness, yet at the same time with great tenderness, she told me not to ever think like that. She said I have done so many years of seva and that I shouldn’t feel any guilt or any worry about not doing seva now. I felt seen, heard, loved and respected. It seemed like a heavy weight was removed from my mind and my heart instantaneously. Even though I heard Amma’s answer through the translator, I will be able to see the way she looked at me, feel her touch on my cheek and hear her words in my mind forever more.

Synchronicities

I imagine most of us have the experience of synchronous things happening from time to time. When around Amma, though, they seem to happen with much more frequency.

One of those events occurred on the day I asked Amma my question. I hadn’t asked her a question for a long time, but I knew the general practice was to meet on the left side of the stage before the program started and a question line monitor would come with a sign up sheet. If there were a lot of people waiting, then the organizer might do some prioritizing based on the severity of the issue.

I waited on the side of the stage for a long time and only one other person joined me. When the question line monitor arrived later, I was very surprised to discover that 8 of the 10 slots were already full. I assumed other people must have known who she was and stopped her as she walked through the crowd. I ended up with slot #10.

I was delighted that I was going to be able to ask my question, but a disgruntled part inside of me harrumphed from time to time, “I should have been FIRST not LAST.” I didn’t give the complaint much weight since I knew I could have lost out altogether and was ecstatic that my time would come.

As I was going through the line, a friend of mine who had recently suffered a major loss walked by. When she saw me, she asked if she could sit with me. Because I was last, and the line was moving forward leaving empty seats as each person’s question was answered, there was now an empty seat next to me. I put my arm around her shoulders as she cried. There was no doubt in my mind that the reason I was last person in the question line, instead of first, was so that I would be available to support her. The event also served as a reminder to me that I help in ways other than signing up for seva shifts.

Another synchronous event that occurred was one that was fun, but of no major significance. I was walking with Chaitanya and Akshay headed for a restaurant. I mentioned to them that I have become practically obsessed with eating sushi. Seconds after I made that statement, we turned a corner a block from the hotel where we were staying. On my left, there was a building with a big sign on it, “Grand Opening Coming Soon….. All You Can Eat Sushi.” I will look forward to going there when I go to the 2017 programs in Toronto!

Dance

There is always an entertainment program on the second night of Amma’s retreats. Devotees sing, dance or entertain in other ways. For many years, the Tour Staff has created a big dance to be performed during the last retreat of the tour. As has happened numerous times in the past, they invited me to join them. That left me in a dilemma. I REALLY, REALLY wanted to do it, but could my back take it? (I’ve had back problems since February.) My pain had reduced tremendously over the past month, but would I hurt myself if I danced a fairly high energy Indian dance? I knew that I could do it in a low impact way, but I still had doubts.

I decided to participate in the practices and take one day at a time. I could change my mind at any moment. After the first practice I was a bit sore, but the next day I felt better than I had in a long time. The same thing happened after the second practice. It looked like I was going to be able to participate in the dance!

During special events, like festivals, Amma frequently encourages the devotees to dance, and sometimes dances herself. The staff members that created the dance at the Toronto retreat decided that they wanted to surprise Amma by inviting the retreat participants to join in the staff dance. About three hundred staff and retreatants came to one or both practices. Right before the dance was to be performed, most of the chairs in the room were stacked on the sides of the room and everyone was invited to join in. People who knew the dance were scattered throughout the room and the dance was easy enough that people could participate whether or not they had been at a practice. As a result, at one o’clock in the morning, about 500 devotees danced for Amma. And at 2:30 a.m., just before the program ended for the night, Amma danced for us! It was a magical night, never to be forgotten.

These are only a few of the many experiences I had during the Toronto programs. I could write so much more, but hopefully I have said enough to give a sense of how profound the four-day program was for me. I have so many new memories to savor between now and when I go to India in November!

Photo Credit: Amma’s Facebook Page

Gypsy Soup

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

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

It’s No Mystery

I wake up every morning,

with another chance

to be the perfect man

I always wanted to be.

I’m not talking about

Amma sucking the pus from the leper,

or Jesus walking on water

perfect,

I just mean that,

‘be the inspiration

I’d always desired to be’

that, ‘give it my all

from the bottomless depths

of my fallible humanity.’

Yet normally, before

I even make it to the bathroom

in the morning to brush my teeth,

an expletive,

or some other colorful thought,

invades my desired

perception of me.

In that moment when

I look in the mirror

and realize so many years

have passed,

or in that moment when

my stomach decides,

it’s better I now pass some gas,

I quickly forget

all about the divine

and become the man that can’t

even relax.

I feel the aches and the pains,

and the not quite migraines,

and start pitifully scratching

my ass.

Is this how Descartes

came up with the phrase,

‘I think therefore I am?’

Here a pain, there a pain,

everywhere I feel a pain,

I am, oh I am, yes I am!

Is this the height of my philosophy –

I feel pain therefore I am?

Then get me some coffee!

I’ll be perfect tomorrow.

Today I’ll just map out the plans,

of how tomorrow I’ll evolve

from this lazy seeker

and discover the mysteries

of man.

Is it really a mystery,

when the saints have laid bare

a path to keep the senses

at bay?

Or is it just that perfection

is another distraction,

another excuse for my

lazy reactions?

– the mind, so in love

with the ego’s satisfaction,

that it lets pleasure

show reason away.

And now, the ego

lives to fight

another day.

To order Gypsy Soup click here.

And consider checking out Sreejit’s blog as well.

The Seeker’s Dungeon

Living Codes

Sreejit has written a new poem that I think is an amazing piece of self reflection.

Preview of a Future Post

I have spent the last three days at Amma’s programs at MA Center Chicago. It was my first time being on this magical property. When I get back to Seattle, I will be writing about some of my experiences there, but I thought it would be fun to give you a small pictorial preview of the post to come.

A Multitude of Lessons

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

Support in Times of Trouble

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.

Grandma and Sreejit2 — 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.

Chai, Cindy, Bill, and Sreejit in the late 80's — 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

As a Bee Seeks Nectar

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

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

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

Dzogchen tantra

Working on My Attitude

Looks like I had a visitor during the night.

Photo Credit: Wikimedia

I’m working on my attitude.

Thank you mole for aerating my garden for free.

Thank you mole for aerating my garden for free.

But the flowers looked so beautiful yesterday.

Thank you mole for aerating my garden for free.

But now some of the seedlings have been destroyed

Thank you mole for aerating my garden for free.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Obviously it was, because it did.

Thank you mole for aerating my garden for free.

I will get there.

Eventually.

On Living and Dying Day 8 by Alfred Poole

When I woke up this morning, I found an email notice in my inbox saying this post had gone up on The Seeker’s Dungeon. As I read through it, I received what was probably the biggest surprise in my life, and an incredible Mother’s Day present.

For those of you who don’t know, Al is my ex husband and father of Sreejit and Chaitanya. Our life has gone through so many phases. Sometimes our paths merged or were side by side, sometimes they were close together and for many years there was a lot of distance between us, even though we still worked together in raising our children.

I think this post is a great reminder to me, and others, that you never know where life’s road will take you and that healing of relationships can and does happen.

I feel very blessed.

Challenging My Memory

I intentionally carry a small purse (7 ½ x 5 ½ x 2 ½ inches) and I keep very few things in it. I believe that having a small purse increases the likelihood that I will be able to find items when I look for them.

Despite that precaution, I find myself constantly searching for things. I often say that if I could get back all of the time I have spent looking for my keys, it would add years to my life.

Sometimes I lose items due to not paying attention to where I put them. At other times though, the circumstances are more bizarre.

A few weeks ago, I bought a clock at my local Rite Aid store. I was aware at the time that it might not work out, so I took care to keep the receipt. The next day, I decided to return the clock. I looked through my purse, the place where I was sure I had put it, and it wasn’t there.

I mentally retraced every move I made after having left Rite Aid. I remembered that I had carried the unbagged clock to the QFC next door. Had I kept the receipt in my hand instead of putting it in my purse? Had I put the clock and the receipt in the grocery cart and accidentally left the receipt in the cart? That didn’t seem right, but at least it was a reasonable explanation.

For two days, I searched everywhere for the receipt. I looked through my purse over and over again. I finally accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to find it. A day or two after that, I looked across the table and saw this:

Purse It was the receipt for the clock! There was NO way that receipt had been hanging out of my purse all that time. And I live alone so it was not reasonable to think that someone else had placed it there.

Hinduism has a word called leela. It means God’s play. The whole thing sure felt like a leela to me. God’s play would have a purpose though. So if this was a leela what was the purpose? Well it had given me the opportunity to practice being calm in all circumstances; trust the process of life; remember the importance of being mindful; be persistent in going after what I want, yet know when it is time to let go; and remember that everything happens for a reason.

Decades ago, I had many experiences of losing things and then finding them days, weeks, or months later… in plain sight. So often the items were in places I had looked many times. I began to wonder if there was something physically wrong with me. Did I have a dissociative disorder (i.e. in those days the extreme version was called Multiple Personality Disorder)? Did I have Alzheimers? Did I have some other medical problem? None of those explanations seemed right but I went to a psychologist anyway. He reassured me that there was nothing wrong with me and said he believed that my unconscious mind had found a way to get my attention FAST. There was no doubt about that; I hated having my memory challenged.

This morning, as I was contemplating writing this post, it happened again. I have a brick wall in my garden that I build two years ago out of loose bricks. My garden has gophers and their tunnels cause the wall to slump. Therefore, I need to rebuild parts of it each spring.

I decided I would start that rebuilding process this morning. I’ve been having back problems the last few months so I knew I would have to do it slowly, a small section at a time. I finished what I considered to be a reasonable amount of the work…. and then decided I would do just a little more. I reached for my trowel and the level, and they were nowhere to be found!

I hadn’t moved from where I was working. I searched for the tools for a while and then gave up. Clearly I shouldn’t be doing any more; I had done all my back could tolerate. I also decided there was no point in continuing to look for the tools. I went back into the house to rest my back.

When I took the garbage outside, two hours later, I found the trowel and level in another part of the garden. When I saw them, I remembered that earlier I had seen some bricks that were not straight in that part of the garden and had walked over there to straighten them. I had set the tools down at that time.

I imagine there are rational explanations for everything I lose, although I often don’t have a clue what it is. I do believe things happens for a reason and those reasons are for the good. I appreciate any process that gives me opportunity to learn and/or protects me from me.

Written for The Daily Post Prompt: Misplaced