I didn't know but the Thymus which is related to health, absorbing stress, etc begins shrinking after childhood and as we grow serious. Young children laugh 400-600 times a day, adults 0-30. Laughing cures disease, and promotes health, happiness, and longevity. Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly. Do I laugh 3 times a day?
This morning at 6 went to the second floor balcony of the Old Temple next to the internet office to get away from mosquitoes and write in a mellow place. There was a women writing in her journal and several others talking. But, after settling in, an older women Renunciate comes up to me and in silent gestures says emphatically that what I'm doing is not allowed and I must leave. Does she have something against Apple? It was at that moment I had the realization that it's a good thing some people don't talk.
Big Black American brother Malcolm was here a couple of weekends ago from his work as (I think it is) an engineer in Bombay. Towering (6'6") above the crowds and moving like an African King I looked into his eyes and gave what I thought a welcoming embrace. Malcolm and I exchanged a few more words and a hug before he was off a couple of days later saying goodbye. I was also taken by a black sister, her face always joyful and engaging, who'd come with him but had stayed on. We'd say, "hello" now and then and I wanted to get closer but the opportunity never really arose until I took a picture of her with Lakshmi the elephant. Later Malcholm told me Shaneetha was his God Mother for the last 27 years and a pivotal influence to his development. She'd flown in from Atlanta to be with Malcholm and Amma.
Then Malcolm suddenly was back again this last weekend. Of course I remembered his name and was again drawn to welcome him and with another big, full on embrace. This time he'd brought his amazingly handsome and quiet 18 yr. old (6'5") nephew, also working in Bombay (as an NBA junior league trainer/recruiter), and Malcholm's brought his wife who'd flown in from London.
There was something very big, very special, happening and I was seeing it.
Now, in shades of a color scale, I being a 3, Karen and Helena a 2, she and Bodhi would be a 5. Malcolm was a 9 along with Amma. Kerala (as with the N.E. Calcutta side) ranges between 5 and 10. It's generally lighter in the Arian invaded northwest.
I bring color up because Malcolm is definitely a Black American and I tending to White. Raised in exclusive Marin in the 40's and 50's I've not been around Black Americans. And though I never, ever considered myself prejudiced or superior, I never felt I could connect with that other world. Blacks, I felt, seemed to have a (justifiable) reticence of trusting Whites, of reaching out and then being further put down and alienated. On both sides we felt the pain of pervasive politically/socially induced separation. When visiting England over the years I'd notice a huge difference. They were regular people. Of course England abolished god forsaken slavery much earlier and was also set up to re absorb her Colonial rule at home. And the Upper Class, firmly in control of the masses, didn't need to divide them arbitrarily more. Our Federal government seemed bent on systematically and brutally destroying their self worth as all who read this blog know.
But I'm speaking from the white outside. Malcolm's father know's because he was a long time professor of African History and Civil Rights at the University of Chicago. And Malcolm along with his 9 other brothers and 3 sisters know and they inherited his passionate and articulating self esteem.
When I first looked into Malcolm's eyes I knew he was a bridge. I saw an African King looking back at me without a trace of compromise. Eyes deep, like doors opening doors, with a view from a very high clear place. I felt graced. I felt elevated. And I felt honored to be included. No separation or charade.
God-Mother Shaneetha and I had contrived to take a picture of the wholefamily. And at the very last moment before their going it happened and I've never been so honored. I knew the picture would be the best I've ever taken.
But there's more. The night before, after dinner, Malcolm came over to where strong, quiet Auzzie Mick and I were talking. Sitting down, the three of us hung together there, heads about two feet apart, while Malcolm transmitted story after intense story growing up Black. For more than three hours I saw women circle and felt men nod, the masculine energy that intense like a fire pit in grass. Mick could throw me above his head, Malcholm to the next story.
Next morning after Black Malcolm's Black family went to Black Amma for goodbyes and we took those pictures I got to tell Malcoholm what meeting him meant to me. With my heart wide open I said what it meant to me to be embraced by him in all his powerful Blackness and that I would never be the same ever again. He'd opened his huge, wonderful wisdom doors and welcomed me and I had entered. He gave me the gift of having a Black Brother after 72 years with the Human Family on Planet Earth.
I want to add that, obviously, Malcolm's mother who recently passed, and now his beautiful partner, my Black sister, is the chalice of who he is. He is who he is because of them. God bless you Malcolm.
For some reason other than Malcolm and his family, I haven't been drawn to Americans. Mainly French and Finn's and my close Aussie friends and Elgin and Jane from Britain. (100 Finns coming for Christmas). Above all, I keep connecting with French. As I may have mentioned, Shambo serving curd
on my right, and I are always delighted to see each other. I can hardly wait, his 20 year old daughter comes in two days for the first time.
This evening, while Amma was busy hugging lines of people...individuals, couples, families...and the big open air temple was full with 3 or 4 thousand, an older man and a couple of dozen older Indian ladies in sari's toward the front and close to me suddenly got up and, forming a circle, began choreographed dancing in a slow circle and rhythmically clapping their hands. Soon younger women, Indian and Western, joined, 100 or more for maybe fifteen minutes of celebration.
Stick that under your Punjabi turban!
Soon after I went up for my eventual hug.
Mon., Dec. 17t
This is probably where I have to insert my balloon being popped.
But first I need to preface the implosion by saying a little of what it means to me being here. I, being Libra and Aquarius, and with Venus on the Ascendent, etc., etc. am in cosmic big heaven. First and foremost I'm in a spiritual, devotional, etc. ,etc. totally eclectic, global gathering and I'm a people person, a Connector.
Everybody here feels like part of me, all eyes are windows looking in and out at once. The huge sound system of Indian Shabds and Western devotional song lifts me like Hawaiian winds across the Pacific.
Being around high spiritual beings anything can happen. One comes to realize ones life is not in one's hands or what one thinks. At any moment I can feel rejected...even ejected out of here...and as suddenly resurrected. One lives by Grace on the edge in the company of the illustrious. It sounds weird, but bsolutely nothing happens in thought or action that is not totally known and choreographed by, in this case, Amma especially here in this ashram. It was wholly the same with Maharaji's incomparable Grace at my Punjab Ashram. No matter how I resisted or thought otherwise, He was the Captain of my (very small) ship.
I also felt a similar, though different, relationship with a few other Gurus when seeking back in the late 60's. I felt like an asteroid coming into the gravitational influence of an immense Sun. I'm intrensically connected to Maharaji no matter how distracted and absorbed iI am in Mendocino. And for months I felt Amma pulling me to India like the tide into the Pacific under the Golden Gate Bridge.
Let me take this further by saying the Guru or Realized Being that one has a connection to is felt thru all time and space. My Root Guru, Maharaji passed in 92', I've only had a few hugs with Amma over the last 15 years but both fill the inner chambers of my essential Being. I felt this timeless Presence and connection when reading about Ramakrishna in the early 60's. He lived in the mid 1800's over in Bengal and captured my longing. And for years I've felt touched, as have 10's of millions, by Ramana's Mahashi who died in the early 1950's. I see his picture on my dresser and he's alive seeing me. That's why I plan to pilgramage across the other side of India and circumprambulate (is this a word?) for days around his Holy Mountain. And why I'm also feeling drawn back in the Himalayas to the Great Sage Babaji's ashram in the Spring to simply sit in his undying presence. To some this may seem as foreign as computers do to me. But doors do open.
Mon. afternoon: Frustration.
A spiritual seeker can walk the straight and narrow their whole life and then in one step stumble and fall. As we get older, and looking back, we can see the ups and downs, the pitfalls. It happened in a way with me last night. As a Preface to my attempts at blog sending, everybody needs to know THERE IS NO WI FI TO CONNECT TO HERE!
Over two weeks of continued attempts to write and blog finally came to a head. In despair I lost my joy, my humor, my connection with everything I treasured here. I got really mad, and hit bottom.
Here's the story before my American brother Cosmo threw me a line and hauled me back aboard.
I'd finally become overwhelmed by frustration for not being able to write. Boiling with anger, I became a big, desperate noise. I couldn't even ask Amma for help . Defeated by night, I was ready to run with nowhere to hide. It was a rough one, half of it spent on the roof pacing under the stars.
The Collapse: Writing it out Tuesday morning.
Before dawn in my mosquito net I began writing out the rage.
...."It feels like I've been punched in the stomach. How can I write when I'm so bummed?
The pieces I've written in the last 5 days have disappeared.
I've spent so many hours and hours trying to get the blog format to work, prevailing on a dozen people countless times for help, so that I miss living the moments for sharing. All because of technical problems that finally seemed hopeless or not meant to be solved. I'm finally so bummed I could smash this fucking IPad.
My fucking brain doesn't seem to work with computers, I lack patience to sort it out, I miss the obvious and logical, and every time I try my efforts and hopes are dashed.
I like learning to write....a creative process of shaping and refining what I'm feeling. But I'm stopped dead. My hopes are dashed. I'm not liking being here. I'm so frustrated that I can't write. I can't write because I'm negative, I'm so bummed I want to leave.
If I want to transfer this piece into a blog I don't know how so it's just another piece floating around and getting lost like the others. I can't write directly on my Blog without being plugged into someone else's machine which takes so much arranging and time that spontaneity and convenience disappears.
Because I'm so fucking slow at composing/typing all sorts of interesting impressions fade away. And, now, finally I'm just fucking so upset nothing other than negativity can come thru.
I need patient, focused help....time for this fucking brain to slowly sort out the mechanics rather than hop from this person's potential solution to another's'.
I think I'll leave to party on the beach in Goa. This writing thing isn't happening. I'm so behind in what I wanted to write about and unavailable to what I could now write about....that it's over. Fuck God! It's obviously got other plans or simply wants me otta here.
I felt linked with family and friends and now that's severed because I'm cutting the cord. I'll buy a cheap phone.
It took two weeks of patiently and repeatedly trying to access my blog thru this IPad till something snapped. Like a relationship that is held together by hope and trying but, finally, is confronted by the inevitable divorce. Now comes the sadness and anger. Party's over.
I had hopes and fantasies. I generally don't want to build physical houses. I want to be creative another way. Fuck Saturn on my Venus and Ascendent. "
Tues. Morn.: The Turnaround
Serving breakfast I could hardly stand. There was a dark clowd aura around me as I walked among the Devoted flowing in their whites and pretty colors. My light was out. Then I spotted the shining head of giant Cosmo at the far garden table and crawled. Seething, I could only talk explicatives. Without words, Cosmo, the prizefighter, stepped into the ring and rang the bell.
He'd try to help me edit and post before but it went in circles and nowhere.
But now it suddenly changed in about a 2&1/2 minutes. He connected his Tablet (?) with SIMM card to act as a 'hot spot' to my IPad and had me open my Apps. Instead of going to my blog web page (why did I have that damn confusing thing anyway?) he pointed to a big orange B and said, "that looks like your blog app." From there it was magic. I was suddenly barking up the right tree. I could edit and begin gathering scattered pieces from 'notes' and 'documents', I could post pictures and change the dreadful black blog background. The garden was suddenly filled with song birds and people were laughing. I could write in a real blog app anywhere, anytime, without waiting hours or days for someone with a compatible computer to score a brief plug in.
Cosmo's a big brawling prizefighter looking guy. Seemingly taller than I, all 230+ imposing pounds of him (he hasen't weighed himself in years) moves among the crowds like a giant old Redwood stump, sprouts growing out the top. Or stands like a craggy out crop of stone...a monolith. He looks more dimensional than his 50 years. He's balding but has a long fringe of golden hair around the sides hanging to his shoulders. He even sits tall like an old Celtic Lord at the head of a massive table. He never hurries and unlike me, is the opposite of excess and distraction. He's inflapable, never ruffled. Actually, I'm learning, we are opposite in many ways. For example, when bicycle touring, he begins his leisurely 45 miles after lunch while I begin my 90 early finishing by lunch or push on for far more till dusk. We're the tortoise and the hare. He figures things out himself, I get others to do it for me. Here I venture forth into (cyber) battle flailing about impatiently knowing there's a calm giant at my side.
But we've also shared similar life adventures. Among other feats he cycled from the top of Norway to Gibraltar this last summer, and before that all out around Transylvania. For two or more years he peddled around India, Thailand, etc. In my way, I've cycled from the top of Scotland to Gibraltar, (1960) a lot around Europe over decades and just a bit in India. I grew up working on my father's fish buying docks and I know Cosmos's been a commercial fisherman in Alaska. We both save our money for traveling adventures and, increasingly, the spiritual path is our focus. But he has never married, therefore has enough money saved to retire, and, on his own time, is able to explore India and stay here at Amma's.
He doesn't talk a lot and told me he wasen't computer savvy. But he came out ahead of everybody to patiently deal with my angst and get me finally connected. He's actually teaching me, insisting I figure things out myself till I'm really stuck. (He says he's charging me 10 rupees every time he has to put on his glasses.). I find him to be savvy, wise, and, as I've gradually learned, to have a big generous heart. If I were a seal he'd be a whale gently guiding me into deeper cyber seas. We're gradually becoming old Hippie buddies. And my sense is that we'll bump into each other more along the path.
I enjoyed a huge, delicious, nutritous lunch with French friends.
Soon after, alone, a bus load of really compromised kids, some drooling, others contorted and barely able to walk, we're guided by my garden table after being hugged by Amma. I was writing and when I saw them close up I spontaneously threw my arms open throwing kisses, waving, and bowing my head with folded hands while connecting to each thru my eyes over and over again till the last wheel chair past. They gave me this totally unexpected heart opening joy and when the last wheel chair passed I cried and I cried and I cried.
Tues. afternoons all thousand+ of us pour like rivers down to the beach and sit on sand or chairs around Amma for an hours (partially) guided meditation. Then she answers questions which well thought out and informative. One long, articulate question was about the expression of homosexuality. A recent Indian parliamentary law apparently had reinstated a draconian British colonial law making it a crime punishable by up to 10 years in prison. It's being hotly contested. Another informative question by an Australian social worker addressed Aboriginal wrongs in modern life. While skillfully avoiding confrontation with governmental laws Amma has a way of opening up the question with insight and compassion because, as she says, her mission is about change thru peace and loving one another rather than confrontation or division. These long, involved questions and answers translated back and forth between the local language and English, with the Sun spreading brilliant hues of orange, to red, and crimson over the ocean behind us.
Under a full Moon rising, four of us, Cosmo, Johan from Sweden, and an older sister from Switzerland, found ourselves gathered around a garden table sipping chi. I've invited Johan to cross my bridge in Mendocino, that's how much I was taken by him. He was only here for 3 days, on his way to Bali. In the midst of multitudes, I'd exchanged warm greetings with him the day before on the steps of the old temple. In the summer Johan runs his diverse and accomplished yoga center in Sweden, then goes to Bali during winter months to practice, study, and teach. Coming and oming and going he stops at Amma's while also studying Vedanta with Swami Dayananda up in Karnatica. (Noland and I stayed at his large ashram there) He also studies with the venerable Swami Chinmayananda over at Ramana's Holy Mountain in Tirruvannamalai. And he makes pilgrimages for study up in Rishikesh and the Himalayas where we may meet in March. He has packed a lot of study and training in his 43 years. We shared till midnight in the golden light.
Wed. 18th:
Two Vedic Astology session with Ranjit. The first at 11 for me and at 2 for Karen. I felt that particular Wednesday was auspicious for the reading and he strongly confirmed it.
He came to Michigan with his family...his father a doctor...when he was 8, going thru high school and university before surrendering to the spiritual journey. His American speech is the same as mine. It was delightful having a reading from him in such a familiar way. And, he was spot on so I'm blown away by his way with the Vedic. He reads charts on Amma's tours abroad.
I paid $10 for 1/2 hr. Sessions each. We really hit it off so he threw in a couple of extra hours.
He's keen on me reading his tropical (Western chart) chart in a few days. He saw that our marriage was emotionally challenging for me being inherently a business relationship. We both have strong, positive outlooks with spiritual path being prominent. Good health, long life and hours more said.
Amazingly precise and accurate with dates. I loved being with this sublime being.
I have 10 friends signed up so far.
Professional dancers from Bali, performed before a full temple tonight. It was
their way of inducing Amma to come to their paradise island. In exotic, colorful costumes they acted out universal themes of Kali, Saraswati, even Radha, before the enchanted dozens of young children sitting closely before them. Wow!
Up on stage, after inching my way along the line for an hour, I was stopped on my knees in slow motion right before Amma and her hug as she laughed and applauded. We all had the feeling Bali was on the next tour.
Thurs. 19th:
Ever morning at 4, if you're not up, the sound from a huge lowd speaker hundreds of yards away blares devotional songs. This electronic call to God happens all over India.. The speakers are shaped like big bells and strapped to a pole or tree and they're cheap because the sound pierces the warm, soft dawn like giant fingernails over blackboards. You get used to it.
More Westerners, Asians, South Americans, Africans.... arriving over the Christmas Holiday. Dozens of couples with young children of different nationalities and colors skipping around in animated clusters.
Groups now gathering here and there and on rooftops preparing skits and music for a big Christmas Show.
I was in a drumming/chanting circle in a garden by the river when a beautiful young rainbow women put a flower in my top knot.
Hot and humid and looking for sleep. Want to be on the beach for sunrise.
,lillyi
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