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Monday, December 31, 2007

Wisdom knows when to laugh and when to cry

  • Creation is the play of Life upon Itself, through Divine Self-Imagination.
    SOM pp. 131
  • May I look on all beings with the eye of friend,
    May we look on one another with the eye of friend.
    The Rig-Veda
Seriously, nature is filled with a sparkling joy that speaks of vibrant happiness and playfulness. Wisdom allows us to know when to laugh and when to cry, when to be spontaneous and when to be still. Far too often, however, laughter and spontaneity are set aside in favor of serious business.

How will the Spirit of joy release itself into our world, if we do not also practice our play? If we have no time to be frivolous, no time to color, no time play, how will the Spirit of creativity unlock in us those answers that we have not found through our most serious and exhausting searches?

Life is God in expression, and It is calling us to come out and play, to sing and dance with joy, to be that expression, always! Should we not trust ourselves more to know when to laugh and when to be still?


Today I release the joy that is within me. That joy enlivens all who come into it's field of reach. That joy is Spirit within enjoying It's creation. I am one with that joy. I give thanks for my life and all that is in it.
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Sunday, December 30, 2007

How to deepen our awareness of the presence of God

  • In that inner sanctuary of our own nature, hidden perhaps from objective gaze, nestles the seed, perfection.
    SOM pp. 36
  • O give me Grace to see Thy face, and be
    A constant Mirror of Eternitie
    Thomas Traherne
No matter the conditions in which we find ourselves, there remains something within each one of us which is in its original state. This place inside is reached in silence, in contemplation and quiet listening. Within this place is the recognition of harmony health and beauty. Entry into this personal sanctuary is denied to no one. However, such a communion must be approached with an open heart and a full intention to receive something greater than the immediate circumstance of life: Reality.

Like any method, meditation must be practiced to reveal its subtleties and depth. Regular time, at the same time each day, in the same location each time, is a wonderful approach to rapidly deepening the experience meditation has to offer. During the time set aside to meditate we strive not so much to think, but to observe; not so much to visualize, but to receive; not so much to direct, but to deepen our awareness of the invisible presence of God in and through all life.
Today I pause frequently to silently observe Spirit in the world around me. Today I pause frequently to silently observe Spirit in the world inside me. Today I pause frequently to silently observe Spirit reflected back to me. I give thanks for my life and all that is in it.
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Saturday, December 29, 2007

Prayer

  • I will give thanks to my Inner life for all It’s marvelous wonders, and for all its wonderful works.
    SOM pp. 526

  • Prayer is friendship with God. Friendship is not merely generalized in mood: every event is its occasion.
    George Arthur Buttrick

“Prayer is to be simple, direct and receiving”. Prayer is to consciously enter into communion with the Divine in an inner language which is sincere, to the point and completely devoid of any desire to persuade, impress or control.

Spirit within knows us completely. Spirit within is unmoved by beautiful words which do not carry the weight of our conviction. Spirit within responds immediately when the words of our mouth reflect the truth of our being.

Why would we expect our prayers to bring forth joy, unless we entered into prayer with joy. Why would we expect our prayers to bring forth harmony, peace and power, unless we entered into prayer with harmony, peace and power.

At the center of successful prayer is a quiet sense of gratitude for the magnificence of life. Try it for one day. Simply say an inner thank you to everything and everyone. Let this be your prayer for just one day.

Today I let my thoughts be simple, direct and receiving. I express my relationship to Life in my innermost thought and I allow myself to remain open throughout this day to Spirit’s loving embrace. I affirm frequently that Spirit within me knows the way. I give thanks for my life and all that is in it.

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Friday, December 28, 2007

Receiving

  • Divine intelligence working through me always, knows just what I need and always supplies it when I need it
    SOM pp. 527
  • That nature alone is good which refrains from doing unto another whatsoeveris not good for itself.
    Zoroastian Golden Rule


To receive gracefully is the completion of the act of giving. To receive gracefully is to live in this world without fear of lack.. Rather,it is to live in a state of readiness to accept life’s treasure,understanding that Spirit has provided everything.

Both the physical acts of giving and receiving must be preceded by an inner spiritual recognition that we exist in a constant flow of Good -- one which remains unaffected by how much we give or how much we received.

All successful giving and receiving relies on the gracious heart which desires to see God’s Love in action. God’s Love has its source and origin in our being and is activated both when we give and when we receive.

What would it be like to say “Yes thank you” to everything that was
given?


Today I say "thank you" and I receive.

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Thursday, December 27, 2007

Giving

  • I allow myself to dip deeply into my Divine nature.
    SOM pp. 559
  • The magnanimous know very well that they who give time, or money, or shelter, to the stranger - so be it done for love, and not for ostentation - do, as it were, put God under obligation to them, so perfect are the compensations of the universe.
    Ralph Waldo Emerson

When we give with the simple motive to impart love to our world, we place ourselves in a state of grace that returns to us love in the form of our needs. There is no system of measurement in giving. We cannot give to receive. We cannot give money to receive wealth. We cannot volunteer time to receive more leisure time. We cannot give of our possessions to build up a household of treasure. Giving to receive is a caculated transaction that is somewhat different from the desire to express love.

If we allow ourselves to dip deeply into our true nature, we will find that we have plenty from which to draw. The rewards come not from what is given, but from the spirit of graciousness and the openness of the heart that gives it. The reward can never be the goal of giving, for in the moment we desire reciprocation, we remove ourselves from the flow of love and separate ourselves from the joy of giving.


I dip deep into my Divine nature. I find within an endless desire to give, to share and to nurture. Today I allow my motives to be centered in Love. I expect only to give freely - letting the results of my giving fall as they may. I give thanks for my life and all that is in it.
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Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Are we responsible for the state of the world?

  • Only those thoughts can enter my mentality which I allow to enter
    SOM pp. 518

  • The seven blind men who gave seven different descriptions of the elephant were all right from their respective points of view.
    Mohandas K. Gandhi
We are subject to an avalanche of raw information every moment of life. A barrage of stimuli which evokes reactions of different kinds from each of us. If we were to pause in life to examine those things which elicit in us a “negative” reaction, we would undoubtedly find that we have transferred much of the meaning from within ourselves, onto the subject in question.

Surely this cannot mean that we are responsible for the state of the world we perceive. In a sense we are. For we are free to react to the information that we receive any way we wish. Every moment, we interpret, organize, and store our experiences and out of that field of experience, our lives are projected.

Being able then to react any way we desire is then the secret to our freedom in life. We are able to name an event good, bad or anything else. However, the true nature of our experience is easy to determine when we ask of the Divine Intelligence within, “How is God present in this thing before me?”



I open my heart to the experience of Life. I inquire deeply into all that transpires in this day, looking to see the evidence of God’s hand on my affairs. I declare with each breath that all is well in my world and I embrace the Truth in that affirmation in all my affairs. I give thanks for my life and all that is in it
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Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Holy Busyness

  • [Our] mind should swing from inspiration to action, from contemplation to accomplishment, from prayer to performance.
    SOM pp. 477
  • He who acts out of the pure love of God, not only does he not perform his action to be seen by men, but does not do them even that God may know them. Such a one, if he thought it possible that his good works might escape the eye of God, would still perform them with some joy, and in the same pureness of love.
    Saint John of the Cross


Today’s world seems to be hurried, busy with much to do, many actions to perform and choices to make. So much so, that when we most need to take action, we often cannot. Paralyzed by lists of tasks, reponsibilities, decisions and difficult and weighty challenges, we are sometimes unable to do what is before us.

Perhaps at such times, inaction is the appropriate response. Perhaps at times of difficulty, stress and confusion, the very best choice is to pause, wait and become recentered.

To return to the world with a sense of joy and commitment that transcends the challenges of ordinary everyday life, we must surely set aside time daily to make known our choices and desires to the Spirit within. This, followed by a time of quite meditation and a willingness to be the instrument through which the Mind of God expresses, transforms our every action into a celebration of God as us.

Indeed, regular time spent in silence prepares us to stand firm and confident in such times when the weight of the world seems to bare down.

Today I enter into each activity with the quiet confidence that Spirit is expressing as me by means of my thoughts, words and deeds. I choose wisely, therefore, because I know that nothing can hinder the pure activity of Life through me. I give thanks for my life and all that is in it.


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Friday, December 21, 2007

The Power of Meditation: Aum in India

Every morning I join the teenage boys at 6 am for yoga. They have been meditating already but I need those few extra minutes to get my spot in the shared shower and wake up. I join them just as the start to chant 3 aums.

I've chanted in America before, ah but on the 2nd floor of an ashram staring at the blessed Ganges with the oranged sun climbing through the pollution haze is not a scene I've played in anywhere, not even close.

One boy was late and missed the chanting. At the end of the yoga he sat quietly as everyone left. After a long deep breath he sang aum - and the world stopped.

Those remaining in the room either left quietly or sat and waited for him to complete his practice. I had never heard such an aum by on person. At first I thought it was a trick of acoustics, an echo. Then I thought it was some special training like those multi-noted Tibetan voice gargling monk chants.

No. It was just a young boy immersed in the god idea and from him came this note that had other sounds in it. It was high and low at the same time. Buzzing and resonating smoothly at once and it filled all time and space and packed the room with holiness and the world stopped.

And when the aum stopped the world stayed stopped. There was none of that "oh you sing so well" or "I just love how you aum" or "your aum really touched me.". Just agreement and silence. And tho a part of the world stayed stopped the activities and sounds of its life blood went on and on and crept in over the walls, into the windows, over the floors. Life. Loud, fast, busy, hard, big.

Like last night's conscious stretching hours. A wedding reception next door. Hindi disco till 3 am. Boof, boof, boof, bass drums amplified till forever. And on the other side a temple doing its evening service which includes this thing where bells are clanged and drums bashed and gongs slammed in all manner of loud and hasty clashes. I don't know why. I can't keep asking why, how? what!

Just take it in.

So I sit between two worlds colliding. Assaulted by a strange flavor of disco from the west and from the east a jangle of metal so loud and irregular it cannot be shut out like some insignificant ambient noise. So loud it all is that the guru must shout at dinner "my ear has finally opened."

We laugh with the relief at the ironic timing for his congested ear to have its opening. And then we go on as usual to sit with him and hear the petitions and problems of people who come to see the holy man and receive his blessing, advice and instruction.

The thing is this: they do exactly as he says. Their unfailing faith in his love works it way through their actions into confidence in the world, hope and a sense of place in the universe that is beautiful to watch.

Boof, boof, boof, clang, clang, clang, shanti, shanti, shanti.

Aum.


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Indian Temple - There is Something Holy there

The guru sent me to visit the main Shiva temple with a guide: Tejpal. Up until a recent time the temple was accessible only to Hindu-born Hindus. Now it has been decided that no one has exclusive access to God and the temple is open to anyone.

The son of the man who built the Taj mahal went on a conversion mission to turn India to Islam, and one of his strategies was to tear down major Hindu temples and erect a mosque in its place just like the Roman Christians did with pagan temples.

Half of the Shiva temple remains, and half is a pretty much unused mosque. The Shiva temple is one of the most ancient and important in India and was recently threaten with a bombing.

I was searched 8 times and went through 3 metal detectors and constantly watched by hosts of armed men. No one escaped the scrutiny, and somehow, like everything in Varanasi, it all worked together in a mad frenzied elegant movement like cells flowing in a blood stream.

I was awestruck into silence. My guide asked, "are you ok?". "Yes, I am happy.". "You feel the something special holy. We all feel it here."

My throat constricts with unbidden emotion and recognition of the subtle something holy that is bleeding out of every 3000-year-old step that mothers and children are touching with reverence because every inch of this place is sacred ground. I shuffle along shoeless in the ant column through dirty water, flower-strewn floors, and shallow dark, congested tunnels...till at last, I come to THE place. I think it's a lingam. I don't know. I can't see through the tears, and the ancient pit and its inhabitant is covered with garlands and garlands and garlands and yogurt and honey and water, and I don't know what.

There is only a moment to kneel and touch the water as hoards of devotees clamor behind waiting to embrace the energy at the center where the lord of change and renewal is highly likely to meet your heart's request.

I can barely remember the rest. When did I get that red dot on my head? How did I get my shoes and camera back? I know we left them outside security where we bought garlands and offerings and gifts to take back to the guru as the sign of our pilgrimage.

There were other temples, shops and rickshaw rides, eggs to buy, sugar bags with ants crawling around inside and crafty dodging of police as the guide overloaded the auto rickshaw and we laughed, and the guide held my hand for a moment and smiled with understanding.

Earlier that day a staff member at the ashram told me about the sad changes she had noticed in Vanares over the last 10 years. She told me about her concern that this incredible mystery on the earth would slip away. She told me about the McDonald's that opened and was so successful that they took in enough money in one week to open a second and they have plans for more. McDonald's in Vanares? What could that be compared to? I can't think.

Everywhere I look here life is incomprehensibly complex and diverse. Beautiful beholder see what you want. Badly broken systems, beautiful, brave beggars, dark-eyed god-crazy sages, and God. At the Ashram Seva is the thing. Respect is the way. Obedience is voluntary.

The Guru talks to us about the importance of Seva. He explains that some people serve in Seva to complete themselves, to fill an emptiness within. He explains that Sadhana (spiritual practice is what fills us and when we are full there is an overflow and that overflow when directed to others, and worthwhile pursuits constitute Seva. "But," he says, "Anywhere is good to start."

Next: I had never heard an Aum singing till now.
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Lanka - "I am one with everything around me."

"I am one with everything around me."

Today after lunch I retired to my room to do this and that. There was a scratch at the door, and it slowly opened. Through the opening dark, deep, brown Indian eyes peeked in for permission to enter. Tejpal, the 24-year-old law student, Babaji devotee who picked me up at the airport in designer jeans, wanted to talk. He sat on the floor at my feet so I got down with him on the mat and we chatted like old pals about this and that. He had prepared some poems and wanted to share them with me:

"The best kind of friend
Is one with whom you
Sit on a bench saying
Nothing and when you
Get up and go you feel
You have had the best
Conversation ever."

He asked me if I know what real prayer is. After my lengthy explanation, he politely said "I think real prayer is when you stop for a moment, close your eyes and bring the whole idea of God into your mind. It only takes one second."

I asked him if he prays for anything. "Like what for example?" he asked. "Well for example to be a good person." He looked confused and said that he already was a good person and why would he pray for that. "Oh, but..." he remembered... "I do pray every day for a happy life for all beings and second I pray for a happy life for my mother and father."

It was a perfect ending to an exciting day of being invaded by aggressive monkeys who took my room - hostile take over - while a young 'un held me captive in the women's bathroom. I had to be rescued by the young Indian workers who put down their paint brushes and shovels amidst belly rolling laughter and charged at the monkey troop with hooting and hollering. These were no friendly fur balls. These monkeys had done this before, worked together and knew exactly what they were doing.

"I am one with everything around me."

To calm down, I scrubbed the kitchen floor. My self-appointed seva was met with a mixture of delight and surprise and the question "has Babaji seen you?". When he did see me the next day digging a trench with the workers he came over to supervise a bit and then told me to sit down "that's enough seva for one day" called for a chair and delicious syrupy deep fried Indian bon bons to put an end to my second self-appointed seva. He has a different plan for me. But that's for next message. I am getting ahead of the story. Back to the day before and the outing after the monkeys. Lanka!

So off to Lanka to go shopping for provisions. Imaging Wednesday night market, but do NOT close the streets to traffic. Keep it going and add thousands of bikes, rickshaws, trucks, autos and suspend all rules of driving. Give everyone a horn, bell or whistle and have them honk, ring and shout at the same time...for no apparent reason. Line the sidewalks with extra stalls, shops, makeshift temporary homes, abandoned cars, bikes and impromptu garbage dumps. Throw in twelve cows, several monkeys, turbans, bald heads, saris, wedding processions, street side food preparers and a dozen dogs. Now make the streets about half as narrow and turn up the volume some more and you have got lanka when it is NOT busy. - I have videos to prove it.

Oh by the way, that wedding ceremony, the reception is tonight in the compound next door. The guru advised me not to imagine that sleep will be possible before 3am.

While in lanka I wish I had Tejpal's recipe: I think real prayer is when you stop for a moment, close your eyes and bring the whole idea of god into your mind. It only takes one second.

Next: security at the temple, mcDonalds and Sadanha: discovering a meaningful life -- the true meaning of Seva.


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Aghori

The guru explained a lot. He comes from a line of famous teachers in the Aghori teachings. He calls his people left wing Hindus because across time they have been known for breaking conventions and superstitions. Some of the famous teachers in history did outrageous things to make the point, like drinking from a skull, dancing in cremation ash and more.

Aghoris, as a result, have had an image of being eccentric, intoxicated nomadic ascetics practicing tantra in unholy places and conducting weird habits, bodies smeared with cremation ashes, sporting a Shiva trident and garland of marigolds.

Today's Aghoris are shifting away from secrecy, seclusion and wild behavior and are becoming active socially while maintaining respect for their roots: nondiscrimination between pure and impure. Babaji treats me with respect and offers me a seat on a chair whereas everyone else sits on the floor at his feet, Indians, and Westerners. I cherish the private chats when no one is around, but I can't share the content of those stolen moments before the endless stream of devotees arrive with presents, problems, and petitions.

I left him in such a session and took a boat ride to the ghats. Many families were out washing body and clothing, brushing hair and teeth and ritual water scooping in the holy waters.

Today we saw many bodies burning. Draped in gold and orange paper the cotton clad corpse is dunked in the mother waters in a kind of grotesque dance before being set aflame.

Next: protein, fiber, and vegetarians in close quarters
, universities, museums rickshaws and scams.
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The Power of Meditation: Visit to the Ashram, India

December 2007 - Varanasi, India

What I saw on the first night at the ashram was like being in a movie. After a tour of the facilities, I had a nap in my room. By 5 pm it was dark, and a knock on my door announced that it was time to take the boat up the Ganges to see the ghats for the festival of lights. Swarms of insects and mosquitoes followed me - Indians apparently are not tasty. The banks were lined with thousands of candle lamps...wicks of cotton floating in an orange hull filled with oil. All along the banks folk are setting the lamps afloat. I don't know what it all means yet. Everything here means something, and it's all well known to those participating. Hundreds of boats bump into each other as we try to edge closer to the banks to watch the ceremonies and dance. Loudspeakers are blaring prayers and chants, and our host translates on, a prayer for those killed the day before in the three bomb blasts in the city area.

We glide through sulfurous fumes at the place where the city empties its untreated waste into the river, just below the ghats where funeral pyres have been burning from the same flame for 3000 years.

I can see the shape of a body in the orange burn haze, and the air has a strange scent just there.

Back at the ashram, I try to follow what to do; shoes off. Silence. Stand. Sit. There is the guru. But no one is saying a word. He is very gracious to me and addresses me suggesting a light meal and dinner. I told him I didn't want to miss the fire ceremony. I had heard that because of the full moon and auspicious ceremony day that this evening's spiritual practice would be unique.

They were. Again everyone knows what to do. There is a pit, a lingam, another, photos, wood, bowls with stuff in them, mats. I think I inadvertently sat in the wrong spot and next thing I found myself participating in an elaborate fire ceremony involving splashing water in the mouth (hopefully not from the Ganges) and chanting while flinging cedar chips and other stuff into the fire.

Later the Guru explains that the wood in the pit is leftover from funeral pyres as a symbol of embracing that which the world rejects. Just like the ashram welcomes the children.

Dinner was delicious, silent and ceremonial. Following was the evening blessing. I don't think it was expected, but I participated, prostrating before the guru to get my blessing on the head (red dot and all) and cake. Then to blissful sleep.

Well....till at 4 am -- horns are honking, loud voices shouting, tailgates clanking, dogs barking. And if I am not mistaken those are amplified voices chanting. What is going on?  It's time for meditation and yoga.  And the power of meditation is that it makes all of this work together, I would discover.

Next; left wing Hindus, crazy ash covered naked holy men, rickshaws, and Lanka
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India - "Everything conspires for my good."

Last night's meal on board British Airways was roasted turkey with stuffing cranberries and some kind of yam-like pie. So I got to have thanksgiving dinner after all.

The next day on the way to Delhi the meal was Indian with lime relish and this morning we were served a probiotic drink along with breakfast. Interesting.

One hour in Delhi and already four attempts at swindling me. "Your flight is at ten, and there is no bus till ten you have to catch a taxi.". "It's better for you if you wait here." (So you miss the bus.). "May I have your passport?". (Er......no!) And so on.

Finally, the Delhi domestic terminal bus arrives. Oh, my God. Run down, noisy and dirty like everything else. But smiles all around. Even the man who tried to cheat me with the taxi now sweetly helps me to the correct bus.

It's curious that we outsource computer support here since the whole place is run on hand written records in ancient grubby large ledger books that are carefully studied and check since they have the power to stop anything or anyone doing what they need to.

Run down dirty and colorful.....and alive. The fast food places look delicious. I can't wait to eat my first power bar wisely taking up space in my checked baggage.

Modern boys in designer jeans among businessmen (and a few business women) in corporate gear and carrying briefcases and color, color, color.. Westerners stick out, even more, when they take on local cloth color and beads. (I want to be like them.)

There is a fuss here at the airport. Everyone is rushing to a window, leering out and loud gabbling voices compete with the seemingly constant delayed flight announcements.

It's getting wilder and louder. Where
Are all those armed soldiers now? They've vanished. What's going on? Simultaneous yelling and my heart is beating faster, and I can't hear the announcements and the rest of the folk in the waiting area are strangely untroubled by the aggression in the corner. What is happening? Now the jet noise is added and simultaneous announcements from various carriers and the smell of curry. I"m hungry.

There is a lady waving a sign. Oh thank god! It's my flight.

Next: India's southwest airlines, burning bodies and raw sewage. Oh and three bomb blasts and mosquitos. Oh and Shiva lingams and fire ceremonies and yoga. And orphans. And chanting. And the holy blessed Ganges. And aghors. And prassad.

Later!
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