The Dungeon Prompt assignment for last week stated:
We all have some aspect of our personality that most don’t see. It may be a superhero that we walk the world as. It may be a tough guy telling back the bullies that only you hear on the inside while the world sees a soft spoken person. It may be the shy, sensitive, insecure child that you cover up with a bold and outgoing personality. Who are you hiding within? Who do you walk the world as, but most do not see?
As I pondered those words, I thought of three parts of me that are still buried so far within that I barely know them myself. Let me introduce you to them. Continue reading “Introducing My Alter Egos”→
Last week in Attitude is the Key, I shared that I am attempting to be thankful for the moles in my yard by taking the attitude that they are providing free aeration services. Two or three days ago, I had another chance to work on attitude… and discrimination.
When I arrived home that day, I noticed that there was a small mound of dirt on the top of one section of my new brick-lined planting beds. There was also some dirt on the sidewalk in front of that section. I was puzzled. Had children been playing in the garden? I walked over to the dirt expecting to brush it back into the bed, but was horrified to discover that it wasn’t dirt… it was millions (or so it seemed) of ants! The video below is only five seconds long, but it gives you a glimpse of what I saw.
Moles I can live with, but what was I going to do about this? I don’t like to kill anything but I couldn’t leave the ants there. In India, if a trail of ants enter my room, I use a few drops of water on the wall or floor to divert them. There was no way a little bit of water was going to work in this situation; there were too many ants and no trails. And if a child, or anyone else, walked into this area they could be hurt. I knew I needed to do something about it, right away.
I thought for a few minutes and decided I did not want to use poison; I would wash them away with a water hose. I sprayed water along the brick wall several times and then checked the area repeatedly that day and the next. I don’t know how many ants I killed and how many just moved on. Regardless, I feel relieved that the ants are gone.
Where did those ants come from? There was nothing that I know of in the dirt that should have drawn them there; it was as if they manifested out of nowhere. I like to see life as a series of lessons and tests, sent to help me learn something. This seemed like one of those lessons. I believe I used discrimination and took appropriate action. I hope I learned what I was supposed to learn.
When I read Sreejit’s post “Dungeon Prompts: Take Me To Church” this past Thursday, I instantly knew what the nature of my response to the prompt would be. Even so, I had the sense that I shouldn’t write it then and there. Now I know why.
On Sunday evening, I attended the ordination of a friend who was becoming a Unitarian Universalist minister. She had worked towards that goal for many years. It was a day of great celebration. The ordination rituals affected me in ways that I hadn’t expected. Towards the beginning of the ceremony, there was a procession of already-ordained ministers. It reminded me of college graduations where the professors walk in, each clothed in different robes reflecting the school they had attended. I took one look at these ministers and my “being” erupted in grief. Grief of recognition, grief of longing. Was it related to past lives? Maybe. Probably. That grief came again as the group of ministers walked out of the sanctuary during the recessional.
Tapping into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
tears flowing
touched to the core
Home
During the ordination, in addition to thoroughly enjoying my friend’s experience, I was flooded with ideas for this post. Ideas continued to “come” for the rest of the night. By the next morning, I was ready to write!
Spirit has “taken me to church” so many times during my life.
I remember feeling embarrassed as an eight to ten year old child when my mother brought a friend to my bedroom as I was kneeling beside my bed praying. I also remember avidly reading books and watching movies about nuns in my early teen years. I had a sense I was “supposed” to become a nun, but that was not possible. I wasn’t Catholic!
When I was in tenth grade, and living in Hawaii, I went to a Billy Graham crusade and became a born again Christian. Afterwards, I joined a Youth for Christ group at my high school. I remember the group traveling together on buses, singing hour after hour. That was pure bliss for me. I felt like I was part of a family, I belonged!.
Tapping into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
heaven on earth
joy abounds
Home
At the end of that year, my father retired from the Army, and we moved to Florida. I attended a Congregational church, which was my mother’s denomination. I loved being part of the youth group. During the summer of 1965, we traveled from Florida to Washington State and back, studying The Belief’s Men Live By. I still have many memories of that summer. It was also the time I decided I would go to a Free Methodist college in Seattle.
When I arrived at the college, I was still a fairly conservative Christian, much more conservative than my Congregational friends. The college that I attended was so conservative though that over time I became very disillusioned, and for the next twenty years considered myself to be somewhere between an agnostic and an atheist.
Spirit did not leave me during those darker times though. I loved to go to the University Unitarian Church the day after Christmas to participate in a Messiah Sing-a-Long. I went every year until I started spending every Christmas season in India. Singing the Messiah was such a highlight in my life.
Tapping into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
heaven on earth
joy abounds
Home
About the same time, I started attending the Unitarian summer camp at Seabeck Conference Center. My children and I participated in that camp every summer for thirteen years. There I had the opportunity to be with a group that was like an extended family, where there were plenty of hugs, lots of rest, and fun, and children were cared for by all of the attendees. Crossing the bridge into the conference center was like traveling to another world. My whole body would relax and I could breathe fully. I considered Seabeck to be my home in the universe for many years. In fact, I still consider it to be one of my homes.
Tapping into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
heaven on earth
my soul is at rest
Home
I was still quite negative about anything spiritual. I reached a point when even hearing the word God made me feel sick to my stomach. That changed the night I went to Amma’s Seattle program in 1989. In the months prior to that event, spiritual people started showing up in my life, much to my dismay. In fact, it was one of them who had invited me to go to Amma’s program. My internal response to her was “NO” but “YES” came out of my mouth. When the day arrived, I walked into the room after the program had already started. As Amma and the Swamis (monks) began to sing, I burst into tears. My tears lasted throughout the night and I entered into deep meditational states. What was happening to me? My friend had told me that she thought I would like it once I adjusted to the cultural differences. What cultural differences? I had never had any contact with Eastern spirituality yet I felt completely at home.
Tapping into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
tears flowing
touched to the core
Home
I went back to Amma’s program the next night, and to part of her retreat on Orcus Island the following weekend. Six weeks later, I attended her retreat in New Hampshire and six months after that took my first trip to India. Being an Amma devotee has been the center of my life, and the life of my children, ever since.
One of the first changes I noticed after I met Amma was that I was able to separate my love for Christ from my anger at the Christian church. In time, even my anger at the church decreased. After all we are all human and are doing the best we can on this life’s journey. My spiritual life once again became my major focus.
Being with Amma, however, had opened a part of me that I didn’t know existed, a part that contained so much grief. I was still experiencing deep, and often spontaneous, trance states. At times, I felt as if some part of me was at a party that the conscious part of me was not invited to. Although I was very curious about that, I sensed it was a protective mechanism. If I was experiencing this much grief without knowing what was happening, what would I be feeling if I knew. I believed I was experiencing the grief of longing, longing for union with God. When I was with Amma I usually felt a sense of peace and fullness. But when I was away, my separation grief flared.
Through grace, Spirit led me to many places and situations that made the time away from Amma more comfortable. They often were areas where left brained, reserved Carol Poole (my name before I asked and received a name from Amma in 1990) would never have considered going.
Soon after I met Amma, I started studying the tabla, an Indian drum. Over time I became aware that my tabla teacher was the leader of a rock band called Tribal Therapy. He invited me to come to a show but said I probably wouldn’t like it since it was rock music. When I went to his concert, I discovered his songs were all spiritually based. I had never danced before but something inside of me “turned on” and I danced the night away, filled with joy. I started attending his band’s performances as often as I could. I was one of the last people I would have expected to ever become involved with an Indian guru, and now, at 41 years-of-age, I had also become a band groupie. Unbelievable!
One day in 1991, I walked to a service station near my home, inexplicably taking a different route than I would normally take. As I passed an open field I noticed a sign that said “Tent Revival starting August 28.” A big “YES” erupted within me as I gazed at the sign. I was very surprised at my reaction because at that time I still felt very separate from the Christian church. I eagerly awaited the night of the revival and when it came, it was wonderous. The revival was sponsored by Power House Church of God in Christ, which is an African-American church whose roots are in the Deep South. People were dancing in the spirit, speaking in tongues, praising God, and singing. The sermon spoke to me, even though I needed to reframe some of the content. The Gospel music sent me into ecstasy. I started attending that church regularly, and did so for many years. Being in that environment “fed me” during the times I was away from Amma. Early on, my body started dancing spontaneously, in a form that was similar to a whirling dervish. The whirling felt familiar, probably from lifetimes long past. I found it hard to believe that I was once again attending a conservative Christian church, a Pentecostal one at that. I loved that I was able to immerse myself in the experience and was treated with love and respect by the congregation even though I had beliefs that were very different from theirs. At one point, from the pulpit, the minister claimed ME as a member of the church. (I had never joined because I didn’t believe parts of their Statement of Faith.) I felt so grateful and blessed.
In 2000, when I visited St. James Cathedral in Seattle, a flyer caught my eye. It was for a Taize service that was going to take place in the church in a half hour. I decided to wait and see what Taize was. When the service started and the music began, my tears flowed. The grief I felt was so familiar. The music used a call-response style and was in a variety of languages. Soloists sang the call portion and the congregation responded. After some time, the congregation continued with the main chant, and the soloists started singing melodies above it. The moment they started singing in that way, my body filled with bliss. I soon learned that Taize was the name of a monastery in France, one that is dedicated to reconciliation of the Christian church. I attended the weekly Taize service at St. James Cathedral for some time. Years later, two friends and I visited the French monastery when we were on our way to Amma’s ashram in India. Below you will find a video of the monks singing my favorite Taize song, Veni Sancte Spiritus.
Each of these experiences tapped into something beyond my understanding, but no doubt, I had been “taken to church.”
my spirit soaring
heaven on earth
joy abounds
Home
There have been many special times on this spiritual journey of mine but these events have been some of the highlights. The path has taken me one place and then another. What stays consistent throughout is Amma. My journey with her has been the center of my life since 1989, and probably for lifetimes before this one. While Spirit has led me in many directions, the place where I feel most at Home is when I am enveloped in Amma’s arms.
my spirit soaring
heaven on earth
my soul at rest
Home
Last fall, I started working on a new project. I live on the side of Beacon Hill in Seattle and my front yard slopes down, both south to north and west to east. That means that rain water always flows towards the house. I decided that it would be better to level off the land and in so doing create garden beds where I could plant flowers and vegetables.
To that, I brought home load after load of bricks, and with my level and shovel in hand, I began to build walls. The bricks are loose, but I staggered them in a way that they stayed standing. When all of the walls are finished, I will have four large garden beds.
During the winter, I noticed some of the bricks were shifting and the walls had begun to sag. I assumed it was because the dirt underneath was settling. Also bricks have been bumped, children have moved them, people have even sat or stood on them! The structures still functioned well as garden beds but didn’t look as nice as they did originally.
Two weeks ago, I started to work on the project again. I continued building new walls but also rebuilt some of the old ones. (Since the bricks are loose I can do that as often as I need to.) Before long, I discovered that settling land and human actions were not the only reason for the sagging walls.
Moles had been burrowing under the brick walls and the area was full of their tunnels! That, of course, had caused the walls to become uneven. I knew I wasn’t going to kill the moles, so what would I do? Continue reading “Attitude is the Key”→
The Dungeon Prompt Sreejit gave us for this week was to “take some time and think about the one thing that you’ve learned which you would most like to pass on to future generations.” I gave myself several days to simply be with the instructions, knowing that the answer would “come” if I allowed myself to be quiet. And come it did! While I am far from having learned this lesson, I have come a long way down the path, and know I will go a lot further before I pass from this world. The lesson that is most important for me to learn and pass on is to quiet my over-active mind.
I have always been an introvert, and probably always will be. In addition, I lived in the era of “Children are to be seen and not heard.” In our home, the most common form of punishment was to be sent to our room. I spent a lot of time in my room. Did a lot of pouting there in fact.
I think my patterns of over-thinking have their roots in those early years. By the time I was in my thirties, I spent so much time immersed in my thoughts. When I was with a group of friends, or in a class, I analyzed everything I wanted to contribute to the conversation. By the time I had the perfect words figured out, the conversation would have moved past the point where speaking the words would have purpose. When I did manage to get them out, I would then spend an inordinate amount of time afterwards reviewing what I had said. Had I said what I wanted to say correctly? Had I made a fool out of myself?
That problem was probably at its height at the time I started my personal therapy process in the mid-eighties. I remember feeling like my mind was a computer that was about to explode. At one point, my therapist told me if I didn’t stop, I was going to end up in the hospital. He told me to pay complete attention to every moment. For example, when I was going to eat to say in my mind, “I am picking up my fork, I am putting the food on my fork, I am lifting the fork to my mouth, I am putting my fork down, I am chewing my food, I am swallowing my food, etc.” When I followed his instructions, my mind slowed down.
I met Amma in 1989. My mind was often very quiet when I sat near her, and I entered meditational realms that held so much deep peace and bliss. It was as if a door had opened for me and I could see what was possible. When I was away from her though, I would go back to many of my old thought patterns.
At that time in my life, I felt a strong desire to live in an ashram (monastery), even though I knew that it was not the appropriate time for me to do that. Whenever I thought about living in an ashram, I would feel so much grief that I couldn’t stop crying. Sometime in the early 90’s, I took this problem to Amma. Her immediate response was “Stop Thinking!” I now realize in those two simple words, she had given me a direction that could change my whole life.
Simple to say, but not simple to do. I have come a long way in that endeavor, but if I am in my “stuff,” over-thinking is still likely to be the cause of it. I make myself so miserable in that way.
I know that a silent mind is where intuition, insight, and inspiration reside. I also know that the road to a silent mind is by doing the spiritual practices I have been taught, such as japa (mantra repetition), chanting spiritual texts such as the Sri Lalita Sahasranama, singing bhajans (devotional singing), and mindfulness. Processes such as meditation and yoga also help.
So what is preventing me from doing those practices consistently, what is my resistance? I have no doubt that the resistance is fueled to my over-doing. As long as I fill my life with doing things that do not support my goal of having a quiet mind, I will not have it.
While I still am over-doing, I am much more likely to say no to things that I don’t want to do. I have a harder time saying no to activities that give me pleasure. However, some of those activities, such as studying Sanskrit and writing for my blog, are part of the path to a quiet mind. I am most successful in those undertakings when I do them in a way that is meditative.
Like most big changes, learning to quiet the mind takes time. I have the opportunity to make choices between doing and being many times each day. As I experience the benefits that come with a still mind, I am more likely to make choices that will promote it. I am progressing on the path, and that is what is important.
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.
Today, I saw a cartoon on Counseling TidBits that I loved. I asked Jane A Weiss, LCSW for permission to post it on my blog and she said “Yes.” Thank you Jane!
“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
Living, Learning and Letting Go 