salutations to chapati, my own chapati

miracle of miracles. i can eat chapati. it has to be my very own handcrafted chapati. but, the point is, i am free from this gluten-free restriction. how does it happen? i don’t know. since the only thing that has happened since my last chapati is....panchakarma i can only wildly guess that all that purging and oiling and baasti-ing have something to do with it. as i receive from my meditation today, i realize i am a great alchemist. there is this huge mystical world within me. so much alchemy that are beyond the radar screen of regular awareness is going on. i probably will never know the detailed biochemical action that is involved. but, who cares. i don’t have to know how electricity works to enjoy its benefits, right? i do know this, though. a big part of what they do in vaidyagrama is to get my digestive fire up. with so much toxins removed and i am striving to do the right things, like, not to drink cold things, particularly during meals, my digestive fire is not dampened the way it was used to. really, i had my days of downing icy coke while overeating. 

of course there is challenge down the line. for instance, does it mean i am never going to have ice cream again? what about my lovely ice cream maker? is it goodwill bound? and check this one out. when am i going to start churning butter?

to be continued. meanwhile i enjoy my hot off the stovetop chapati. generously dollop ghee - handcrafted by....me - and, this part is not to be revealed to my dr hari k, sprinkled with organice cane sugar and almond butter. it’s yummy breakfast with a cup of tea, i mean, that tea as made in vaidyagrama, aka, chai without black tea.


have i also mentioned it's thrilling to see the almost done chapati swell to this happy buddha belly? the earthy aroma is golden and tantalizing. i am mouthwatering and all fired up.

musings on i b s

i am reading i b s, as in issac bashevis singer. by the way i have a sort of second degree relationship with i b s. for a while i was getting regular rides from an israeli guy for chinese martial arts classes. this is long before i begin studying torah with my rabbi. so one day this guy says, my grandfather is isaac bashevis singer. what do i say? well, what do i know. i say, singer, as in the sewing machine? as i recall now there might have been a pause coming from him. then he says, no. then, i think, another pause. a question comes to me because this guy's last name is zamir. i say, this is the grandfather from your mother's side? he says, no, he's my father's father. i have more questions but it is obvious he doesn't wnat to clarify any further. so i swallow my burning question. how come your father's last name is not singer?

anyhow, anyway, as i read singer's writing i feel, in a way, we are doing something similar in very broad strokes. he is incredible in integrating the internal and external worlds, the mundane and mystical. his writing voice is conversational, lively, directly speaking to the reader. i don't have his masterly level of writing skills. not yet. but in my own way this is what i want to do. to bring together the immortal and mortal worlds into a seamless whole.

sacred bath. ocean of devotion

i practiced daily for a week to prepare for the role i am invited to play in the ancient ritual of bathing the statue of a saint. so i enter the temple with the expectation that the tray that i am about to pick up has the following five substances in the following order: honey, powdered sugar, yogurt, milk and ghee. it is not conducive to staying in the present moment that i have a sari drama right before this. the choli (sari top) laid out for me is too small. (i ruined my own the day before with an iron that is too hot.) the slip that i have is elastic. it has to be draw-stringed in order to hold up the nine yards of sari fabrics. so ten minutes before the ritual is scheduled to begin the sari specialist unwraps me and starts all over again with a proper slip.

anyhow, back to the moment when i lay my eyes on the tray and the first thought is, where is the honey? why is it not next to the powdered sugar? bang, wham, i am out of the present moment. i don't even know it. and so it goes in the next moment, and the next. until the event director steps in and starts giving me specific instructions. for a couple of moments the mind is still hanging onto what should have been instead of staying with what it is. in another word i am still not following the given instructions. then the event director, who has served in this role many, many times, does something inspiring and inspired. she says, with a clear and firm voice, suk wah, you are radiant, you are beautiful, have a good time. somehow some mystical alchemy clicks through. i am back in the moment. i settle into my own self. i have a great time coming from the heart.

the great being doesn't need the bath ritual. but, being devoted to seekers, the external ritual is yet another fantastic opportunity to guide seekers to turn inward, to roam in their hearts. a short while later, i watch two gorgeous ladies dressing the statue with one-pointed focus in the presence of a temple full of participants. the silence is grand and fresh. i gasp in awe as they place a garland of fresh flowers on him. it has three huge full-bloom gardenias hanging down his chest and a long necklace of tiny rose buds. i cannot imagine the many hours of work gone into this creation. the devotion driving it is inspiring and humbling all at once.