backbone of my life

from collection of pujari outfit

i love my daily meditation practice. it is the backbone of my life. i structure my daily schedule around my meditation practice, wouldn’t want to live any other way.

in the shifting sands of life my meditation practice is my anchor.

again and again, deep in meditation i experience profound contentment, happiness, strength and so much more.

over time i find it easier and easier to go about what i have to do in the world while being aware of my innate calm, clarity and certainty.

little by little, i become more and more immersed in this understanding, that when i sit down to meditate with the intention to meditate, then whatever happens is meditation. on some days meditation can be choppy, stormy, whatever. at other times i experience enchanting lights, luminous insights, illuminating visions, or.... nothing. to be accurate, it's beautiful silence shimmering quiet bliss, deep contentment and rock solid recognition of my own strength. coming out of meditation, it never ceases to amaze me, day after day, how fortunate i am to be able to sit for 2 hours quietly. i notice that the understanding is ever fresh, ever full and fragrant.

 i enjoy looking for ways to further strengthen my meditation practice in the same way i fertilize the gorgeous roses in my garden periodically. given california is still in drought i have to be mindful of using water. it's astonishing to see what a bit of weekly soaker-hosing can do to roses. it's astonishing to see how little they need to keep blooming. every week i have more than enough vibrant blooms to put on arati trays and altar.

arati tray

see what they didn't see.

i have a new thing added into the morning sequence. go into the garden and find a couple of roses. roses that are approaching full bloom but not past their peak. behold their beauty for a day. soak them in hot water in the evening. together with split cardamom pods. but this is about something i discover in the garden this morning. first it catches my eye that the hydrangea bush is loaded with gigantic blossoms. in fact the entire bush looks like one big flower. seriously. the branches are so heavy that they bend like the plant is in a full forward bend. some of them are almost touching the african violets that are across the narrow pebble path, while others have found their way into the bamboo grove which is now a luxuriant jade green fence all the way down the path to the garden gate. morning lights play off the fresh dew over the contours of the pink and blue hydrangea blooms. i, being someone good at picking bones from eggs, spot some withered blooms deep inside the hydrangea bush. somehow i just can't stand it. i dig my way into the rich explosion of flowers and clip the dead ones off. i take them to the green tub that is outside the gate, turn around, steps across the open gate, locks it behind me, turns around, and my gaze leisurely looks up and ahead. wow. somehow, chaperoned by the bamboo grove, the pebble path seems to stretch forever into the golden morning brilliance hovering above and around the hydrangea. i'm looking at this heavenly bouquet that fills up the other end of the path. if i were to enter the grounds for the first time i would have thought that that is the end and there is nothing beyond. but i know it is not so. i keep walking, following the curvaceously laid pebbles. in a few moments an expansive vista opens up. a whole garden of roses, figs, lemon, peony, plums and so much more.

indeed, the physical eyes can be so deceiving. they don't mean to but truly there are only so many things they can see. they need guidance. then their vantage point shifts and, wham, now they can see what they didn't see before.

deeeliish rose water

again, without any mental pushing, meditated two hours. actually the last half hour is for coming out of meditation. kind of like the trip after summiting a peak. as important as the climbing up part. at times i watch my body and mind and breathing movement simply in awe. evidently an invisible power that is out of my conscious control is at work here. i didn't even think of meditating two hours. in fact i was telling myself, one hour is okay, suk wah. but then when the beeps of timer seep into hearing through the earplugs it is clear that the body is still comfortably immersed in this stable, upright and strong posture. i scan around within. there is not an iota of urge to move any fiber or ligament. the limbs are pulsating a lively hum. the tempo is powerful and lyrical all at once. every cell is just fine where it is.

i ponder what has made this miracle possible? of course i understand all the efforts i have been putting in count. but what is the, shall i say, 'last straw on the camel's back' but in a fantastic way?' what pushes the scale to this off the chart way? not missing a beat an inner message appears quietly and tenderly. yummy rose water. i get it. what is happening is a couple of days ago i had the great good fortune to receive an abundance of knowledge about what and how to eat in accordance with the ancient ayurvedic principles in summer season. that night i started making this deeliiiish rose water with roses from my own backyard. yesterday i throw out the old grocery list, make out a new one and stock up on all that are hydrating, moisturizing, oily - as in avocado, not fry food -, sweet and cooling. sublime creations like roses have powers that uplift the body and mind. appreciating a rose's beauty is acknowledging the light of the self within it.

i've always loved my roses. now i love them even more.

what is stopping me from whittling away at it?

this morning's meditation is bright, awake. after getting out of bed it comes to me to go into the yard for a little bit. a little bit. that's very clear. so i do. i water the roses. our eight roses are splendid and forgiving. they are so happy just to get a little bit moisturized while sending up these gorgeous, fragrant beauties even though i've been holding back on watering because of water department recommendation. anyway i have a pattern of going into the yard and getting carried away not realizing i am exhausting myself, often to the point of hurting the body. where am i? o yes, so i meditate after half an hour in the yard. that in itself takes all the spiritual will i have accumulated. i can feel the pull to stay longer. i can hear the figs, bamboos are saying, good morning, so nice to see you. but, really, my point is somehow this unscheduled activity imbues my meditation with brightness and alertness that are marinated with intoxicating sweetness. i watch the inbreath deepening naturally, the outbreath lengthening. i respectfully hold attention on the space where the outbreaths dissolve into like foam into ocean. the sense of satisfaction is beyond measure. the closes approximation i can come up with is this. lying on the silky, milky sand on the fiji island where the movie that brooke shield stars in when she is sixteen, drop dead gorgeous. sparkling and gentle waves wash the body in these massage moves that smoothe out whatever tensions lodged within fibres and tissues. the mind that is conditioned to get satisfaction from things external can't really wrap around this. it's all right. i don't feel the urge to explain it. i just watch the mind go vibrantly still. i know i am washed clean by the source of potentiality from whence the physical universe and stars, planets and galaxies spring.

so there i am reveling in this wonder all within my own being when some long-buried memory makes its appearance. it comes with embarrassment and shame. probably i have consciously shoved it into some dark attic in the belly or pinkie. i make an effort to take in a deep, deep breath. as the oubreath makes its course, long and fine like the lotus stalk that arises out of a muddy pond, i look at it, in spite of the habitual pull that says, no, i don't want to look at it.

i am all of twenty-eight. i decide i want to write a movie script. so i do. i take it to a producer in a big movie studio. a few weeks later she calls me and says, i show it to my boss, she likes it, she wants to talk to you. what else could she want? make it into a movie. she says, suk wah, you play a nice planning role, after a few you'll direct. now, here's where my stupidity and arrogance kick in. it was the time when the first 'rocky' comes out. somehow i am hit with the idea that i can push this. so i say, either i direct or no movie. well, the studio head complies and shelves it.

before returning attention to meditation i ask this question. why am i seeing this now? what do i have to learn from this? the answer comes in a follow up memory. several years after that episode the studio head says, suk wah, i really like that script, is there any way you can look at it again? did i do it? no. why? i don't know. bingo. this is it. this is what's relevant to me right now. i have this manuscript. in order to finish it properly, to get it out there, i have to look at it again. and some how i just can't bring myself to examine it line by line, page by page. what is stopping me from whittling away at it day after day, the way i wrote it in the first place? 

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.

we are a guac black hole

six of us doing the practices together. sweet and intimate. we chant rudram with our guru on dvd. i have no doubt she is with us right here in shivaa's divine abode and we have her all to ourselves. i feel that much closer to god, that much closer to my own true nature, my innermost self, the source of all that i am. as i glide into meditation on the wave of resonance from our singing om this steady throb pulses through my entire being. the scents of shivaa's blooming roses quietly infuse through the windows and dusk lights and permeate my awareness.

we emerge from all this with a bottomless appetite for food. shivaa says, i made this guac with five huge avocados. and? we wipe it all out to the last drop. we are surely a guac black hole. i, for one, have two big bowls of shivaa's spring soup. tender fava beans in a shittake broth enriched by coconut milk. slivers of a variety of mushrooms float together with bits of carrots and red pepper flakes. a hint of ginger gives it an extra subtle buzz. for salad shivaa does this spring number. cole slaw with mint. lorraine is the first one who raves about it. i take a bite and my jaw drops. a brilliant move.

stomach satisfied and mind quiet i hitch a ride home with shrileka continuing with our spiritual catching up. as far as i am concerned that is the real dessert. insights and understandings arising from us examining and reflecting our experiences sweeten our perceptions as we take care of all kinds of life challenges. we realize more and more all this is grace. all this is grace. and all this is grace. as a seasoned yogi says about hwubby's taxi hit, a boon in disguise. now, ain't that sweet.

miracle hwubbies, miracle food. miracle buddies.

i'm walking through shivaa's gardens ready to rock'n roll another evening of wonderful and marvelous meditation, chanting, studying and... eating. so there i am oooh-ing and aaahhh-ing at the abundantly blooming roses and who leaps into my vision but norm's beaming, welcoming presence. of course i'm opinionated. i think my hwubby is the best of the best but i have to say norm comes in a really close second:) this is his day off and he is totally blissed out having us taking up his house for a greater part of the day. he is always happy, really happy, infectiously happy. i say, hey, what are you doing? he chuckles, i'm mowing and i'm happy. there you have it. meditation in action. he's humble too. such a great combo.

we chant amidst veils of rose scents rolling in through the windows. gives an extra lift to the vedic hymn. feel it in my voice. feel it in our one voice. 

shivaa puts me in charge of getting her garden greens into the salad bowl. i almost ruin it. i see some pretty little lavender blooms sprinkled around the lettuce leaves. i just jump to the conclusion that they are overgrown weed that got mixed up into the lettuces. so i ignore the little nudge from within that says, ask shivaa, and toss them into the food scrap tin as i break up the lettuces, dill, fennel. the refreshing scent coming off the bowl builds and builds. shivaa throws in mango chunks, instructs me to add cranberries, raisins, roasted peanuts. i say to myself, i'm doing such a good job. and i hear shivaa say, where are the thyme flowers? ooops.

here's the thing. being around generous spirits like shivaa makes it that much easier to not get sucked into the tendency to beat up myself. it helps that much more to weaken the impact of negative tendency when i am around dedicated yogis who understand that nothing takes away or add to the inner self and so accept me as i am along with all those, let's say, residual habits. an even greater thing is they care about me enough to call me in moments of forgetting and disconnecting from the inner self. case in point, i am kind of rambling on and ruth, in her clear and bright voice, kindly says, get to the point. love it. i'm truly fortunate to have buddies who are so present.

as we share our reflections on our spiritual journey we listen to each other with an open mind, laugh our hearts out and munch our way through those yummy dishes that shivaa skillfully prepared with so much sweetness and thoughtfulness. the lima bean soup is sublime. the shittake base infuses an ethereal fragrance to the earthy, creamy soup that looks like molten alabaster. it's a beauty to behold with petite peas floating, red quinoa, carrot bits. taking it straight up to the seventh heaven with an inspired move shivaa made a mint yogurt chutney. i slurp down two nice bowl-fuls besides hummus with tapernade and chunky quacamole with a touch of tangerine. it's a miracle that i could meditate after all this for no reason other than they are truly miracle food.

miracle food. miracle buddies. lucky me. inner growth, truth growth, has never been easier. and fun too. lots of yuummy fun.