in my full seva glory

weeks in making. actually it's twenty years in making. i'll get back to it in a little bit. so, dear friends, i wrap this pretty much with my hands. took more than an hour to put me together. a big shout out to annette who hand-held me through at 7am sunday morning.

honestly i never thought i'd be getting into sari. for twenty years i resisted. so something major must have changed in me. i am actually enjoying it. a big part of it is dressing it up, dripping myself in jewelry, decking out to the nines.

as i meticulously and methodically pin, tuck, powder, lipstick and so on and so forth something truly miraculous happens. i experience this goddess shining through me and it's...me.

the glorious sound of the whole sangha chanting takes me straight to seventh heavens. they are these stars and galaxies reverberating boundless joy. i hold my gaze steady on the waving flame as it rhythmically circles under the guidance of my hands. i feel like i am light-speeding through the cosmos while my feet are firmly anchored into the earth.

every offering is a tapestry priceless in its own way. yet there is a common golden yarn threading through them all. happiness. gratitude. the video below is a clip from the finale in the fire puja back in pune, india. but the joy? from the same source. my highest and innermost self.

never say never. shubh mahasamadhi.

never say never. especially in the ashram. hear me out. i walk into the kitchen ready to do some dishroom seva. who do i see? barbara. all decked out in her corporate 'uniform' baking away. happy contentment is all over her face. i say, hey, barbara, are you going to abicek? by the way, i love, love abicek. four thirty in the morning. in the temple. watching a galaxy of sari clad radiant yoginis orchestrating a ritual bath for the enlivened image of bade baba. in exquisite silence and stillness. we participants chant vedic hymns and then we eat special sweets and sacred water that blends coconut milk and rose water. all done before dawn breaks. all right, where am i? o yes, i want to find a ride. and i know barbara doesn't miss an abicek. she says, all right, i'll pick you up four twenty. i pause for a momen, don't know what to say. i really want to be in the ashram by four so i can get a nice seat up front. okay, i do understand that the grace of a saint is not diminished by one row or two. but i just like to sit a little closer to where the action is. i don't want to sound ungrateful and i hesitate to abuse barbara's kindness. so i swallow my unmet expectation and say, all right. then something overcomes me from within and i hear myself bursting out, sure, and who knows, you might be so inspired to come at three thirty. not missing a beat, barbara says, with all the courage of her conviction, NEVER. i say, well, well, well, never say never, you're in the ashram. really. grace works in creative, out-of-the-box ways.

that was a couple of weeks ago. last night, before going to bed, i had a hunch to check my emergency cell. that's right. i don't really pick up calls on an emergency cell. it's one of the many things hwubby has to put up with me. anyway, there's a new message from barbara. it goes like this. listen, suk wah, i am invited to dress bade baba, they have to dress me in sari, so i have to come to pick you up three thirty. i laugh in awe as i say, thank you, bade baba. i really believe it's my prayer answered. and the truth is that there's enough grace to go around answering evryone's prayers. we just have to have the clarity and courage to see them as smart and right on expressions of grace. seriously how else can you get a girl to get up at two forty five willingly with a smile. try this. you'll be all decked out in a glamorous sari, dripping with jewels, clothe bade baba in spectacular garments and garlands and fresh flowers.

shubh mahasamadhi.

spontaneity. adventure. sense of wonder.

in all seriousness i'm sipping a summer smoothie, twirling my thumbs and chewing on this 'voice' thing. now i have to give a nod to this smoothie. totally cool, totally ayurvedic and so easy to make. soak some dates, work the hand blender in it, generously toss in freshly ground cardamom, and there you have it. i am lazy. i don't even strain it. i'd like to say i love the fiber and i don't like to waste anything. today i even put in a dash of handmade rose water. really. i can drink this all day long.

getting back to the serious business of figuring out this 'voice' thing. how to bring the two together? one poetic, sublime, the other hilarious, down-to-earth. i take a nice sip and the rich and deep aroma of cardamom sends off refreshing sensation in body and mind. i don't have it figured out. not yet. but i don't feel discouraged. it's like this morning i go into meditation with enthusiasm, faith and love. not a bit dampened by yesterday's experience. why would i be dampened? what was yesterday's experience. gee wiz i can't even bring it up to the mind what happened yesterday. all that happened vanished. only the present moment remains. and right now i recall the two cards that hwubby and i got from a deck of divine attributes before i left the ashram nineteen years ago. spontaneity. adventure. perhaps, maybe, they hold the clue to what i am contemplating. my guru says, let the sense of wonder be constant. i take another sip. i'm fascinated. who knew such magical alchemy could come out of two ingredients. all right, three, including water. cheers. to the sense of wonder.

breakfast with mrs obama

this classy health club that i have been guest in has a strong classroom. so i've been going to classes like, in the words of hwubby, suk wah's squeezing every drop out of the lemon. so there i am, this morning, walking into the room, all ready for my third class in the morning. nobody. i ask the front desk, what's going on. they say, she's leaving, people are waiting. who? mrs obama.

let's back up a little. there have been a beehive of activity around the back entrance of the hotel for several days. paving the driveway and then roping it so mrs obama will be the first one to step on it, or her motorcade, to be exact. veggie beds are put in. tomatoes, radishes, carrots are planted. nobody's asking my two cents. but, really, if i were to do it, i would transplant some robust tomato vines. now it's obvious that these teenie, weenie plant-lings have been where they are for what? well, butter up the first lady is a good enough reason, i guess.

by this time of the day i have no intention to go have mrs-obama-sighting. not that i didn't have the thought. i did. this morning hwubby and i arrive to see these cutie cutie secret service guys and gals parking themselves at strategic spots. in place of regular vehicles we see bomb squads, canine trucks, alameda sheriff's car. quite a sight. should i check the scene out? or shouldn't i? i decide, upon consideration, i want to stick to why i am here. to exercise. by the way here's a special shout out to one of the secret service cutie pies. he stops the paratrasit vehicle which we are on at the bottom of the hill when we come in early in the morning. the health club is at the top of the slope. he says politely to the driver, you have to stop here. then he sees hwubby and his cane. he says, are you able to walk up? before hwubby can say anything the secret service guy says, let me check. he goes away, returns after a few moments and says, you can go up. now we can actually say we have special permission from secret service to pass beyond checkpoint.

i digress. where am i? right, there's no class. so i wander outside to the slope leading down to the back entrance. i see some people in work out attire standing behind a yellow rope. most of them have their digital cameras in position. i spot a chef too. i think to myself, gee, doesn't he have to cook. somehow i find myself right at the yellow rope. so i park myself there. just when i begin to get impatient i hear this guy near me saying out loud what mrs obama is wearing, when she arrives, and she's about to leave for san francisco. someone shouts out to the secret service lady nearest to us, when is she coming out? she says, any minute now. sure enough. a few moments later several dark suit guys emerge from the hotel entrance. then a lady figure in white blouse and beige skirt walk briskly out. i don't have my distance glasses on. so i can't say i clearly see her face. i get excited with everybody around me anyway. i wave and call out, hi, mrs obama, good morning. the motorcade moves. i see someone wave in our direction behind the car window when the vehicle swerves around the driveway and we can see the side of it.

i turn around to the guy who is now calling his wife to tell her mrs obama is on her way to san francisco and burst out my burning question, do you know what mrs obama has for breakfast? the guy says, why don't you ask the chef, he's here. boom. so that is why that chef can stand out here to take pics. he's earned it. my eyes search around. i see him not too far to my right. i run up to him and say, what did you make? matt - i spot his name on his chef jacket - proudly says, poached egg with morel, grilled sourdough with asparagus and vinaigrette. so there you have it. i wave and hi mrs obama. and we have breakfast.

all this wonderful adventure happens not because i run after where mrs obama might be. on the contrary i stay focused on what i am doing. how do i learn this? i recall precisely when and how. early in the days when i am living the ashram i am this excitable little child. when word of where my guru is drift into my ear i can't help myself but drop whatever i am doing and run to it. so it is one day she is passing through the big dining room. i squeeze and dig my way through the crowds until i park myself behind a pillar. she is about one round table from me. suddenly i feel a tug from within, from deep in the belly. suddenly i feel my cheeks tingling. suddenly my heart races. i know what these signs point to. i feel like a child caught in something she ought not do. uc-oh, i should have stayed right where i am, i should not have left what i was doing. yeah, i was in the kitchen. that was where i was supposed to do service. so should i leave? should i stay? just about then my guru turns to the swami who is accompanying her. she says something to him. i wonder, what is she saying? i don't have to wonder for another moment longer because the swami looks around the dining room and says in his booming voice, people should go back to what they are doing. without a doubt i am sure i see my guru directly gazing into me as the swami makes clear her instruction. on the dot i turn around, return to the kitchen. i wish i can say i have learned the lesson once and for all. but as i can see for myself i have definitely not forgotten it. it is with me. it arises into my attention when i need it. i just have to listen.

she hit it out of the ball park.

i know quite a few awesome yoginis. nonetheless shivaa is in a class of her own. how amazing is she? let me see. she gets up before dawn, sings om for half an hour, meditate. she surrounds her house with two hundred roses. she takes care of them mostly by herself. her devoted and fantastic husband norm does compost and mango mulching and grows veggies. every two weeks sivaa hosts a meditation and chanting group in her house. we gather, chant, meditate and then shivaa feeds us with a heavenly meal. on friday mornings she goes to the ashram to offer service. sundays she goes to the six am chant in the ashram. regularly she puts on a sari and performs worship. as a matter of fact when i do worship shivaa is the one who comes in at five am and wraps me up. she is funny, witty. she says, gee, i don't't know you have a body. i say, i do have boobs and butt. we have such good laughs. hwubby loves her. he says, shivaa is sharp and perceptive.

every year she gives a garden party at the peak of rose blooming. people stream in from eight on. why eight? shivaa says, rose scent is best in early mornings. she serves guests with chai, siddha coffee, scones, filo dough with hazelnuts and chard, fruits. this year she makes gluten-free apricot bread as well. this is how thoughtful she is. she takes interested people on rose tours. every one is labeled. i say, even fools can meditate here. this year, so many people come. two swamis. people from ashram. people from the neighborhood. rose lovers that have come to be friends with her through rose societies. somehow yummy food keep coming out of the kitchen and shivaa keep giving rose tours. i say shivaa this year really hit it out of the ball park.

o, yes, i have forgotten to mention that shivaa has been living with parkinson's for more than a decade. apparently she was the first 'guinea pig' to have something put in her brain. later they found out that that's the wrong place. but it works for shivaa leaving the doctors scratching their heads. this is how much grace shivaa has. boundless.

he doesn't understand me. true?

a while back, like nineteen years back, several months into my stay in the ashram, i had this encounter with a swami. this memory hasn't surfaced for this long until now when i am reflecting on the impact of a regular meditation practice on the arc of life, rather than being tunnel-vision, nitpicking the day-to-day meditation experiences. so, back to the encounter. this swami is not into small talk. really, really, not into it. we are walking on a path through the sprawling woods on the ashram grounds, in opposite directions. i don't't expect him to say anything to me at all. so i am surprised when he says, suk wah. my mind goes blank. his eye stays on me, and says, how are you doing? by knee jerk reaction i blurt out, fine. i am all but fine inside. i cannot sit still on the meditation mat for more than a minute. the mind is constantly churning out thoughts, feelings and reactions that are judgmental, anxious, angry, sad, blah blah blah. and they all feel important to me. they are so real. i am so frustrated that meditation can't make them go away. recently i see this horrific image of innumerable cargo containers chaotically piling on top of each other after the tsunami in japan. that's sort of how chaotic and out of control my mind is at that point. those unyielding mental tsunami totally gut out my connection to my inner self. i want to ask the swami an intelligent and smart and thoughtful question to show him what an evolved yogi i am. but, oy, i can't think of a word. i am babbling on and on here. in the moment it lasts exactly that. a moment. no wonder the scripture says thought travels faster than the speed of light. anyway the swami pauses for a moment, and says to me, keep meditating. then he walks away. i remember now clearly my reaction to his words. i think to myself, no, you don't understand what i am going through.

nineteen years later. i realize he does know what i go through. that day on the path in the woods i am in a muddled state. the mind is going through a tsunami. i get swept up in the towering waves of dark thoughts, feelings and reactions. in the teachings of the buddha i take what's impermanent permanent. now i know all thoughts, feelings and reactions come. and go. without exceptions. unless i hold on to them. unless i feed into them. this is where my regular meditation practice take me across these turbulent waters. i gently return attention to the steady, rhythmic movement in the natural and easy breath while i notice and observe these mental waves. i don't treat one more important than the other. the differences in contents don't matter. what matters is my attention go underneath the contents and stay with the power of the throb that is obviously driving these mental waves.

yes, the swami understands me. he knows i have what it takes to keep meditating. he knows in time i will come to see what i need to see if i keep meditating. thank you, swamiji.

walking with avraham

for me the great thing about the jewish high holidays is not just about the thrilling prayers, piercing torah commentaries and exhilarating singing and dancing. it is to have this block of blessed time and sacred space carved out for the purpose of examining where i have been 'off the mark' and direct the arrow of attention and awareness to returning to the bull's eye, the present moment, where yhvh dwells and the source of courage, strength and sweetness are. more often than not during the year i forget the inner self and stray from the path. i confuse between the process of thinking and the contents of thoughts. i am not the contents of the mental activity.

in the meditation the rabbi do with us on second day of rosh hashanah i see myself in the meadow surrounding the lake of holy waters in the ashram where i had the great good fortune to live for a few years. then i find myself in the presence of avraham. yes, if there's some figure in the torah i want to be it's avraham. why? he walks with g-d. i want to walk with g-d. i don't know how. so the next best thing is to walk with someone who walks with g-d. anyway, in the meditation, we walk in simple quiet. there's no sense of time. just  crystal clear openness.

tendency not yet uprooted. 39 m + 16 m

sitting in the enchanting sound and soothing movement of the breath i am steeped in the certainty that this is more than worth it to get up in the winter mornings.

not so fast, suk wah. what about yesterday? whoops.

moving to center of seesaw

5 am sunday. hwubby drops me off at the ashram. i'm happy to walk the 15 min but he says, i'm up anyway. isn't he just fabulous?!

no sooner than i put my right foot across the threshold into the meditation hall i experience this sure sense of settling into a world of soothing and vibrant silence. even as i am arranging my meditation set-up i am already deep in meditation, well established in the awareness that i am none other than the inner self. call it soul, spirit. this is the real me.

as i am breathing through this understanding i know my consciousness is being held in the cumulative devotion, dedication, discipline and determination of many, many meditators, seekers, students, yogis who have been meditating, chanting and offering endless selfless service for 30 plus years to keep this holy place in pristine condition. my great good fortune is beyond words.

in this living and breathing silence i see i am moving steadily towards the center of the seesaw. the seesaw of pleasure and pain, ups and downs in the physical universe. my meditation practice is establishing me in the center where i am not tossed around but responding when necessary from a place of relaxed alertness.