Putting Pain Into Perspective

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For several years in the mid to late 1990’s and early 2000’s, I wrote articles about my experiences with Amma for “The New Times,” a free newspaper that was, at that time, available in Washington and Oregon. I have started sharing some of those articles on my blog. I am choosing the articles to post based on their topic, therefore they are not being shared chronologically. The article below was published in May of 1995.

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As a psychotherapist and a consciously evolving human being, I have a strong interest in examining the emotional pain in my own and others’ lives. This year (1995), during my annual visit to the ashram of my spiritual teacher, Mata Amritanandamayi, also known as Amma, I had an experience that helped me put my own pain into perspective.

This year’s trip was different from my previous trips in that most of my two month visit was spent traveling with Amma as she conducted programs throughout India. (Amma’s public programs include lectures, devotional singing, and darshan, which means to be in the company of a great soul. Amma’s style of darshan is to hug each individual who comes to her.) My time in India was to end with a program in Pune, a city southeast of Mumbai.

Four days before I was to leave India, I found myself filled with grief. While I was excited to be returning to Caesar salads, Western toilets, hot showers, and American efficiency, I felt enormous grief about leaving my teacher, the devotional singing and the bliss of the divine energy that I access so easily when in Amma’s presence. I noticed that my sadness was mixed with a measure of rage which I knew was rooted in my childhood. I sat close to Amma and allowed the sadness and rage to wash away and the peace and stillness to come.

Two days later, during an evening program, I was watching Amma give darshan to the large crowd who had assembled. While I was watching, a man came to her carrying a large teenage boy who had no use of his arms or legs. His legs appeared to be no larger than the diameter of a fifty-cent coin. I thought he might also suffer from cerebral palsy. Moments later, another man carried in a boy who was in a similar condition. Then another pair presented themselves to Amma, and then another, and another.

Soon it became obvious that a bus load of severely handicapped teenagers had been brought to receive Amma’s touch. As the children kept coming, my body flooded with grief. Other images then started coming into my mind’s eye, images of the pain and suffering I had witnessed during the last few weeks.

Miles and miles of shanty-town shacks built mostly of corrugated tin; tin in a country where the temperatures may be 90 degrees in the winter and 120 degrees in the summer. I had seen people preparing food in the huts over open fires. I had imagined the nightmare those huts would be at night when the rats roamed.
In the middle of busy railroad yards, wherever there was 20 feet between the crisscrossed tracks, families had erected tents. Children were growing up on the tracks. The tracks served as their playgrounds and their toilets.
A tall blind man had stepped into the railroad car in which I was traveling. The pupils of his eyes were shiny, bright silver. He was carrying a six-month-old baby. Once he had come to the center of the car, he started singing. People came forward and put money in his hand. When everyone had donated, he stepped down and found his way to the next car.
A woman, legs totally useless and crossed stiffly in front of her, inched her way down the sidewalk on her buttocks, moving so slowly that you couldn’t even tell she was moving unless you watched her intently.

Each of these scenes had moved me to tears. As the memories flickered through my mind’s eye, I imagined what it would be like to be trapped inside a body that I had no ability to operate; a body that even robbed me of my ability to communicate. I also imagined what it would be like to be born into extreme poverty, where I had little or no way to improve my situation. As I compared what I believed I would feel in those circumstances to the pain I was now feeling about leaving India, I was able to put my own pain into perspective.

I saw that the pain I was experiencing was temporary. Even though I hurt, I knew the grief would pass. Amma would be coming to the U.S. in a few months. In addition, I knew how to connect with divine energy whether I was in India or in Seattle, I just needed to be willing to make the effort.

I remembered that a portion of my pain was energy I was still holding onto from my childhood. I knew that as I continued to access and release this old rage, I would experience more and more peace and freedom from pain.

Next, I reminded myself that I had consciously chosen to put myself into a situation that would cause me pain. I know it is difficult for me to leave India. Going to India is a choice I make freely and willingly understanding that pain will be one of the many feelings I will experience on the journey.

I wondered briefly if I should feel ashamed of myself for feeling grief about my situation. I let that go, realizing that self-criticism was not the purpose of the lesson I was receiving. My grief and pain were real. My job was not to deny the pain or to judge it but rather to be active in releasing it.

As I pondered this newest thought, yet another came. I noted that as I progress in my own healing, I experience my heart opening more and more to those around me. It is as if my eyes are opening and I can more clearly see the needs of others from a place of deep compassion as opposed to guilt-ridden caretaking. I then thought of the others in my life who are equally committed to their personal growth. I recognized they are undergoing a similar progression.

As these insights flooded into my mind, I experienced a renewal of my commitment to continue this process. In my mind’s eye I could see the ripple effect that will occur as each one of us, completing our own healing, create a world where there is enough food, shelter and love for everyone. A world where no one is left alone in their pain.

We cannot eliminate pain from the earth; that is part of the human experience. We can, however, significantly change the way we relate to pain. I hope that my experiences will give you insights that help you to put your own pain into perspective.

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“The New Times” articles that I’ve already shared:

Support in Times of Trouble

A Multitude of Lessons

Exposing the “Know-It-All”

Many Paths, Same Destination

Many Paths, Same Destination

For several years in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, I wrote articles about my experiences with Amma for “The New Times,” a free newspaper that was, at that time, available in Washington and Oregon. I have started sharing some of those articles on my blog. I am choosing the articles to post based on their topic, therefore they are not being shared chronologically. The article below was published in March of 1998.

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The day after Christmas, while eating brunch with friends, I half-jokingly said that next year I thought I would ask my guru, Amma, if I should come for my annual visit to her ashram in South India. (Normally I just go; I don’t ask.) On my way to the ashram last year (1996), my plane had decompression problems and fell 25,000 feet. This year (1997), less than a week before I was to leave on the trip, I discovered that I needed surgery, now. There for I had to cancel, or at least postpone, my pilgrimage.

While I am abundantly aware of the lessons I had the opportunity to learn from these two experiences, a part of me is a bit tentative about planning another trip to India. What else might happen? After making this statement, one of my friends snapped, “Why don’t you just check in with yourself?” I responded with some ineffective statement, and then kept my mouth shut.

Then, when I received my January 1998 issue of The New Times, my eye fell on statements written by Sobonfu Somé:

“People in the West tend to live unbalanced lives… so they search for a guru of some form to take care of their spiritual needs. The idea of a guru doing everything and all we have to do is show up and tell the guru, “this is what I need, fix everything and I can get out of here” does not work. The guru takes the individual’s involvement away and once the individual’s involvement is not there, nothing can really happen.” [Note: This quote is from 1998. I don’t know if Sobonfu still holds the same belief.]

After dealing with my initial desire to defend, justify, rationalize, explain, and judge, I decided that it is time for me to respond to this way of thinking.

What I have discovered in nine years of being a devotee of a guru [Note: I have now been a devotee for more than 27 years!] is that discipleship is anything but mindless pursuit. I have needed to learn to become – and stay – exceedingly conscious and attuned to what is happening both within and around me, to be impeccable in my actions, and to be fully in integrity. I have needed to learn when to ask my teacher for help and when to find the answer within. I have certainly not “given away my power,” but rather have been learning about what surrender means.

That is not to say that I have not observed people using gurus in the way that Sobonfu described. Several years ago, I asked for time with one of Amma’s swamis in order to share my concern over what I perceived as devotees “following” in ways I judged to be mindless, acting from what appeared to me to be blind faith.

He explained the difference between mature and immature discipleship. He said that the surrender that comes from a mature disciple results from years of testing and observing the guru as well as from watching the growth of both oneself and of other disciples. As a disciple has experience after experience with his or her guru, faith grows naturally. Surrender to the guru and to Spirit/God comes as faith grows.

I find I have judgments similar to Sobonfu’s of the ways I perceive some people using astrology. It seems to me that when individuals make most or all of their decisions based solely on astrological readings, they create self-fulfilling prophesy, give away their personal power, stay stuck in self defeating behaviors and as a result limit their personal growth. I notice that others use astrology as a guide or as a way of helping them to understand what they are experiencing, rather than a tool that has every answer. I guess any tool used in an obsessive and mindless manner is likely to undermine the purposes for which it was created. That is not the fault of the tool nor of the system, but rather problems created by misuse of the tool.

My years with Amma have been filled with an almost unbelievable level of challenge and growth. My personal spiritual process has amazed me. I believe that asking Amma to be my guide and teacher has resulted in speeding up the rate in which the universal “lessons” come and has provided me with the support I need as I move through each challenge. I am thankful that I have someone to help guide me as I find my way through unknown territory. I am also very thankful, and quite certain, that she does not “do it for me.” As far as I am concerned, meeting and going through each challenge is what creates the joy of living. I would not want anyone to do it for me. That does not mean, however, that I must learn all I need to learn without help.

Perhaps instead of criticizing each others chosen spiritual paths, we can instead be thankful that there are so many ways to connect with Spirit/God. With this attitude we will be better able to support each other as we learn the lessons we are here to learn.

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“The New Times” articles that I’ve already shared:

Support in Times of Trouble

A Multitude of Lessons

Exposing the “Know-It-All”

Exposing the “Know-It-All”

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One of my major enjoyments in life is to watch and experience the ways in which Life/God/Spirit/Guru reveals the lessons I need to learn. I see each lesson as a potential adventure, an opportunity to participate in one detective mystery after another.

Many lessons become evident when a situation results in exposure of a self-defeating behavior. Once unmasked, we have the opportunity to examine the behavior and then look for new ways to act, ways that will be more nourishing to ourselves and others.

While I know that I will have lessons to learn throughout my entire life, I find that when I am in the presence of my guru, Mata Amritanandamayi (Amma), the lessons are considerably less subtle and seem to come at a faster rate. Luckily, when I am with her, I am usually able to work through the lessons faster.

Earlier this year, while visiting Amma’s ashram in South India, I experienced a series of events that made the theme of a new lesson quite obvious. I was so fascinated by witnessing this process unfold that I decided to write about it.

The new series began when I informed my daughter that Kollam, a city north of the ashram, would be a good place for her to buy new glasses. When others told her the Kollam shop produced poor quality glasses, I insisted they were wrong. I KNEW that the shop’s glasses were of EXCEPTIONAL quality. After experiencing some of the events that followed, I reflected on this incident once again. I realized that my strong pronouncement had been based on a sample of one, i.e. I knew of ONE person who had purchased glasses in Kollam and SHE had been very satisfied. I could see that I had no basis for having drawn such a strong conclusion.

Next, while waiting for Amma to arrive at the temple for the nightly music program, a woman sitting beside me remarked that it was too bad that the number of Indian visitors coming to the ashram had decreased. I was shocked because there had actually been a HUGE increase in the number of Indians coming to see Amma. In fact, now there were frequently more visitors than the temple could hold.

I said, “You mean during the last day or two, now that the holidays are over?” “No,” she said, “I mean all of the time.” She went on to say, “In fact, fewer people are attending the programs she leads throughout India.” As I readied myself to tell her how thoroughly wrong she was, Amma arrived, ending the possibility of further discussion. I agitated throughout the evening program, filled with the desire to correct her misinformation.

I hoped I would see her later, but I never had the opportunity to rectify the situation. I remained agitated for some time, uncomfortable that someone was passing on such mistaken information.

The next day, I observed an interaction between a young Indian girl and a Western man. He said “Om Namah Shivaya” as she approached. This is a mantra that is frequently used as a greeting at the ashram. “What does that mean?” the girl asked. He responded in a shocked and rather demeaning manner, “You don’t know what that means? It is a greeting used all over Kerala (the state in which the ashram is located). Where are you from?” “Kerala,” she replied. He shook his head, unable to believe that she did not know something so fundamental.

I, without invitation, inserted myself into their conversation, informing him that “Om Namah Shivaya” was NOT the primary form of greeting used in Kerala. While some Hindus may use it, it was not even that common. “Namaste” or “Namaskar” was a much more common greeting. He insisted that I was wrong, restating that “Om Namah Shivaya” was the proper greeting. He walked away, totally ignoring the girl’s request for a definition of the phrase.

That same day, I told my daughter the story of a brahmacharini (female monk) who at one point had chosen to abstain from Amma’s darshan (time when Amma hugs each person who comes to her) for two years. Later in the day, I told the brahmacharini I had shared her story. She informed me that the period of time had actually been six months, not two years. I was shocked. I was SURE it had been two years. Again I saw my urge to be right, but I could not ignore the fact that her recall of the subject matter was more likely to be correct than mine.

As I reflected on these four incidents, I saw how they exposed my tendency to insist that something is fact when I don’t have enough information to warrant that certainty. The woman in the temple and the man who had been talking to the Indian girl had mirrored that behavior. In all four instances I could see my strong desire to “be right” as well as my ongoing urge to “set people straight.”

This know-it-all attitude can be considered a personality trait. Luckily, all personality-based behaviors can be placed on a continuum, having both healthy and unhealthy elements. At the healthy end of the continuum, this trait allows an individual to be efficient, responsible, insightful, helpful, and productive. At the unhealthy end of the continuum, however, the individual becomes arrogant, judgmental, suspicious, pushy, and obsessive.

I appreciated having been presented such a clear picture of ways I sometimes operate from the unhealthy end. In the days and weeks that followed I was repeatedly given opportunities to choose to indulge in those behaviors or to “do it different.”

Since I have returned to the U.S., the same lesson has come again and again, growing in magnitude each time. Even now, while still feeling the pain from the most recent incident, I can see my mind working in ways that makes it obvious I have not fully learned what I need to learn. While I regret the pain I cause myself and others, I am grateful that Life/God/Spirit/Guru is committed to revealing the work I need to do as I continue on my journey Home.

(Above article written in March 2000)

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“The New Times” articles that I’ve already shared:

Support in Times of Trouble

A Multitude of Lessons

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Photo Credit for the Know It All: Clip Art Panda

Letting Go of Worry

“Worry is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained.”

Arthur Somers Roche

Think about how much time you have spent worrying during your life. Did all of your worrying help you in any way or in hindsight do you think that time could have been put to better use?

How would you be different if starting today you were able to live in the present instead of immersing yourself in regrets about the past or worrying about the future? What would your life be like if you no longer worried?

Close your eyes a moment and imagine yourself living a life free of worry. Notice how your muscles relax and your breath comes and goes easier. Are you breathing deeper? What other changes do you notice in your body and mind?

Would you like to let go of your tendency to worry? If your answer is “Yes,” considering using one or more of the techniques I list below whenever you find yourself worrying.

Write a list of all of your worries. “I’m worried that _________.” Simply fill in the blank, over and over and over again, until you have listed all of the worries that you can think of. Write whatever comes to your mind whether or not it makes any sense. It is fine for you to write the same worry multiple times

Vince Horan, one of my co-therapists, frequently tells clients that “Fear needs information.” Take a good look at your list of worries and pick one. What information do you need to gather in order to relieve that fear? Go get it!

If you are ready to deal with more than one fear, then identify a second, third, fourth, etc. I suspect if you get the information you need, your fear will reduce, and so will your worrying

Play the “what if” game. For example, if you are afraid that you will lose your job, the “what if” might be “I won’t have enough money.” Next ask yourself “What if you don’t have enough money?” The answer might be “I won’t be able to feed my kids.” Then ask “What if you don’t have money to feed your kids?” The response might be, “I will go to a food bank.” Keep following the thread until you realize you will be able to deal with whatever happens.

FEAR is False Evidence Appearing Real. Look at your list of worries and identify the ways you have been fooled into thinking you are in danger. Next to the false evidence, write the truth.

Immerse yourself in the present. You may need to get so focused on the present that you think, “I am moving my spoon towards my bowl of cereal.” “I am picking up a spoonful of cereal.” “I am bringing the spoon towards my mouth.” “I am putting the spoonful of cereal into my mouth.” “I am chewing my cereal.” etc. If you focus on the present this minutely, you will become absorbed in the moment, your mind will quiet and your body will relax.

You can create a variation of Jean Illsley Clarke’s fuss box exercise. Stand in a box or on a pillow, or just draw a circle in the carpet with your finger and stand in the middle of it. Begin to list all of your worries out loud. Don’t stop and think, just let them pour out, even if they don’t make sense. It can be helpful to be dramatic and even to exaggerate them. At some point, you will feel done. If you’ve been dramatic and/or exaggerated, you may even find yourself laughing. When you feel finished, step away from your worry box and identify something you will do to deal with one of the problems you mentioned.

Many years ago, I learned a technique from a therapist named Mary Goulding. She instructed us to push our tongues into our cheeks and then talk nonstop about all of the things we criticize ourselves for. When we talk about our worries that way they, of course, sound really strange. It is another process that often ends up in laughter.

Create an affirmation and use it as a mantra, such as “I am a competent, capable adult.” The mantra is likely to be something you don’t fully believe but would like to believe.

Say the mantra 1,000 times a day for the next 21 days. Better yet, consider saying it 10,000 to 20,000 times a day! If you find yourself saying the affirmation and worrying at the same time, speed up the mantra. It doesn’t matter how fast you go.

Imagine the power of filling your mind with a positive belief rather than a fear-based one. If you say enough of them, you may find the affirmation flowing through your mind automatically. You may even wake up and find it streaming through your mind during the night.

Think of all of the challenges that have come into your life unexpectedly. Reflect on how well you dealt with those. We are usually able to deal with whatever unexpected situations occur in our lives. It is worrying about things that haven’t happened, and probably never will happen, that saps our energy and pulls us into depression, anxiety and overwhelm.

Actively choose where you are going to put your attention. Decide if you are going to focus on worrying or focus on something else. If you choose to focus on something else, do it.

Listen to music that you find soothing. As you listen, practice breathing slowly and deeply. Focus on relaxing and letting go of tension.

Distract yourself by doing an activity that you really enjoy. Go for a walk, work in your garden, read a book, immerse yourself in a hobby, spend time with friends, etc

Call a friend and tell them you are worrying. Ask for reassurance or help in problem solving.

Create a 3-second contract, such as those used to break fantasy addictions in some 12-step recovery groups. Your contract might be “I won’t worry for more than 3 seconds.” You won’t break the contract when you find yourself immersed in worrying; you break it if you choose to continue worrying after you have become conscious you are doing it. Sometimes having the contract is enough. If it isn’t, consider creating a consequence you will do each time you break it.

When you are in a worry-free state of mind, write a letter to the part of you that worries. Give him/her reassurance and ideas for moving beyond the worry. Focus on messages that will give hope or help with problem solving. Then put the letter some place where you will be able to find it when you need it. Reading guidance from a stronger part of yourself may be more effective than advice coming from another person.

I’ve shared 15 actions you could take whenever you are worrying; there are certainly more. Add any others that you know, or discover, work for you. I suggest you keep a copy of this list handy so that you can use it whenever you are worrying.

At those times, work your way through the list, in any order you desire, until you find you have shifted out of the fear. The chances are good that you will be feeling better long before you do all of them.

I will end this post with two videos. You may even want to add them to your list of worry stopping techniques. They sure help shift my mood!

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What helps YOU stop worrying?

With Amma in Toronto

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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.

My Dream is Realized- Part 1 (June 2016)

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.

Chicago

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.

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

2016-06-09 20.17.00

(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.)