Soul Rebel

Who can give the heart?  It is a such a mysterious phenomenon that although we each ponder and strive for the fulfillment of our deepest needs for affection and intimacy it seems almost an illusionary ideal to actual surrender one's deepest self, most primordial nature, to another.  That is why it is said that one cannot give the heart unless there is total surrender to the person who the heart is truly meant for.  This is rare and the saints say can only be achieved through sincere sadhana since the heart, being of a higher plane, can only be fulfilled by appropriate reciprocation with another entity on such a higher realm of existence, not of the temporary fleeting forms and qualities that are interspersed through the day to day realm of external images and sounds.  In short, the heart will only be satisfied by the Divine.

I went shopping yesterday for school supplies and have come to the conclusion that I am ready to become really serious and focused about my schoolwork.  This resolve is epitomized by a new dry-erase white board which hangs over my bed in my room.  The day to day relaxation of flowing with the current of activities as they present themselves before my mind is coming to an end, and a systematic approach to time management is gradually taking shape beginning with a list written on the board in large green writing about me which talks to me boldly about what I need to do tomorrow (today).  I think each and every person should have a white board, not just external for the purpose of studies but also internally for the growth of the heart towards its goal. It is such a wonderful thing - anything can be written such as an inspirational quote, a design, a list of activities and reminders, and then miraculously it can be washed off to make the entire slate clean again for the next appearance of life's manifestations.  So our mind can be, constantly filled with thought, with people and their interactions, with day to day things that require time and energy to process, but in a moment and at will, we are able to pick up that great eraser, the powerful meditation of inner awareness, and simply sit back and watch the whole great show get erased.  It is not some type of destructive activity but rather it is the ongoing cycle of life and the true gift of the human to be able to connect with their God-centered nature within through practice of this timeless procedure of stilling the mind and turning the senses within to perceive the soul of souls existing within.

Absolute Freedom requires Absolute patience

WE are in this world.  We exist in a matrix consisting of splendid beauty and harmony as well as infinite difficulty and strife.  Our tiny sphere's of consciousness constantly seek to find an equilibrium where the expression of our truest nature can unfold and find value and satisfaction to give meaning to our journey called life.  However hard we try though, we often fall short of our expectations.  This is a result of the factor of patience which is lying dormant within us and yearning for expression in all our day to day dealings.

Patience is such a beautiful quality.  How patient are the trees which blossom and the clouds that move silently through the sky.  How patient is the divine mother and the mother earth, who tolerates infinitely the natures of her children who perform all sorts of activities on her surface.  If there ever was a quality which could most readily contribute towad our peace of mind and well being, I think that it would be patience, for it has the power to unlock all doors and reveal that the locking was due only to our own inability to realize the divine harmony behind it all, quietly arranging everything for the complete good and perfection of each and every soul.

Yesterday I met Ramachandra Bhatta, a very wonderful man and devotee who runs a branch of the acedemics here called Yoga and Spirituality and Consciousness.  He spoke in sanskrit to a student who came in the room and told me about a gurukula he runs in Bangalore where all the young boys speak sanskrit alone.  I was frankly amazed, for the first time seeing directly and witnesing the sanskrit mother language being spoken.  He told me that it was more natural for them to speak amongst themselves in Sanskrit than in their own native mother toungue of the local vicinity, Kanada.  I asked if the reason was because it is the Mother, and he smiled and confirmed my statement with a grin which revealed that he knew something and was experiencing something that was both secrete as well as mysterious.

Strange and wild... wonders of the fourth dimension,
I seek to rectify myself but become lost in the interconnection.
Do I hoist the flag and redeem myself to my inner child?
Or wait for Santa clause to come whistling down the chimney, and open my mind with the tools of freedom to dance wild?
I think I shall wait to overcome this fear called death,
And press on with my duty in life to be the best doctor, family man, and Naturopath.
Scorn, hatred, guilt, low self- esteem....
Ghosts in the actic, unreal, superfluous, and nothing but a dream.
Arise! Awake! and do not stop in the last drop of kitchree is gone!
For today you shall rise, and over come that beast of inner pain with your patient love and joyful song

Little butterflies

In the midst of darkness there is a ray of light.  In the dark and dense grove of the meshes of samsara there is a piercing tree of knowledge and wisdom than reaches up to catch the light.  Similarly in our lives we struggle to overcome obstacles, yet the mind of the peaceful warrior, the spiritual warrior is always at ease, no matter how difficult the cause.   The reason behind such equanimity and poise is the connection with the Paramatma which is maintained throughout every waking adventure in the realm of this earthly creation.

We walk and talk, dance, and laugh,
Sometimes pray and cry but never seek to ponder why,
This world turns the way it does, each interaction leading us to a further one,
Can we become one with the stars and sky, our individuality lost in the matrix of a most high?
Or are we all eternal individual souls, having some role to play in the unfoldment of the unknown.
Let laughter flee, the sign says on the Anatomy Lab door,
forget about your mind and heart and prepare to come to face to face with natures gore.
Why does it all matter?  Why not throw in the towel and have lunch on a white sandy beach?
Because the inner flame that burns within, drives us to perfection of sadhana to reach.
The life is short and though it seems absurd, five and a half years they say -  you can not possible last that long,
But little do they know the secret that I posses - a Holy man whose heart is pure to give me his love and bless,
It is not by my strength, I tell, that I will pass this course, but due to the grace of Guru and the Divine that my ship is running towards its source.

Hari Om Shanti

Swinging savage swords of illusion piercing practise

Almost one month has passed in Prashanti.  I have eight hours of classes a day, one hour of yoga, one hour of sat-sanga, one hour of bhajan, two hours of meal time and the rest I try to sqeeze as much study as possible.  My life has become a mechanism that is beyond me.  In the past, unable to ever overcome inertia to rise early to perform and spiritual activity due to lethargy, now I spring to life well before brahma muhurta knowing that if I do not, I will not be able to get in precious study time during the only period of the day that is truly mine and truly quiet.

Yoga has become more than a routine, it has inched its way into my classes through breathing techniques and chakra awareness.  The bhajans with the entire school are truly wonderful.  Impelled by the other students to play mrdang,a I enjoy the rapture of feeling the immersion in blissful seva to my gurudeva through the divine interplay of the mrdanga's sweet beats, regardless of whatever bhajan being sung, I am with Gurudeva in sankirtana. 

Teachers continue to be extremely helpful and instrumental in assisting me to come up to speed.  All my classmates are fresh out of high school, they laugh and play with me calling me 'uncle' after celebrating the 31st birthday yesterday.  Whatever they call me it is all fun, and the relationships are real.  Some faculty keep saying that I am from America and therefore others should follow my example...not exactly the image of what I would want others to live up to, I always thought of myself as a reformed American and twice-born into the Vedic culture, but having lived in Indian culture more and more now I can appreciate the good qualities of the western world that have helped me through my journey and continue to do so. 

Hari Hari

B-Days: Become a child and Make friendship with others

Hari Om,

Yesterday many peple wishes me "many returns on the day."  At first I thought it sounded quite nice but as I heard it more and more I began to wonder what it's actual significance was.  As I feel asleep after my classmates had thrown me a surprise party, I pondered that it must mean to have many revisits to the world of cycles of time to re-experience the celebration of the birthday and life.  One friend of mine who is a Baba in Vrindavan, Dheer Krsna, laughed when I told him it was my birthday.  He said very accuratly that I had taken so many births, from my mother, from my guru at diksa, at the time of taking saffron cloth, at teh time of accepting white cloth.  It occured to me this was just another point on a line on a plane, a part of an ever rotating field of complexities and transformations and transmutations called life.

We sang, and danced and ate cake last night.  As the lights burned above the 31 candle in the middle of the cake I recollected that 30 years had gone by, almost one third of a century and it seemed a fitting celebration for the occasion to be celebrating in Prashanti with all my beautiful classmates.
They gave me a statue of Govinda playing his flute next to a cow, a chaddar, rasa gullas, and most of all the blessing of their friendship and love.  Most of all I felt tremendously satisfied that I could jump around in my dhoti with my hands stretched in the air and to the surprise look on the face of a visitor guest exclain, "its yoga!"  Maybe somehow they could understand.

Dream a Little Dream

Today is the day which my good mother, Lila, carried me forth into this world in Weymouth Massachusetts at 3:20 pm thirty one years ago.   Thanks Mom.

Silence speaks the wonders of my relationship with time.  Where did go the leisurly walks along the Ganga?  Or the peaceful movements through Vrindavan along Yamuna's sandy shores?  When did time become divided into minutes and even moments?  The great one's who have come before in this magical journey called life have spelled out the perameters for the constant awakenings, for the constant shifting of the consciousness from the plane of the unreal, or temporary compulsion of the ego and psyche towards the realm of shifting and transmutating forms comprised of aquiese substances such as shape and qualities, and these perameters reflect an ever present sphere of cognitive activity common to all faiths, spiritualities, and mystical traditions which are all characterized by the ardent use of one's time to the fullest capacity.

When I was in a near death accident in 2003, I was forced into the reality that death is an all-too-real friend and thus there became a frenzy to not loose time.  It seemed that if everything could be taken away in the flash of a moment than what is the use of spending time and energy to build up projects of this world like relationships, like careers, like places in society...it all appeared to be a phantasmagoria after approaching death's door.  As time went on however, the mask of illusion which had been so terribly ripped away slowly began to reveal that it itself was not the illusion, the mask was simply my own relationship to the external environment which had not become purified.   In time the shackles of constant self-constraint and die-hard resolution to not waste time or life relaxed into a peaceful acceptance of the reality - yes death will come one day, and that day is not certain, but there is no use in running through life missing half the picture in anxiety about an unknown event. 

Now as the seasons have turned and the moments become again ever so precious it becomes clear that time is only a perception of the individual and their ability to live fully expanded in the presence of divine awareness.  In the western world we obsess about time, its factors and its rule, as if it were some type of God.  Running on four wheels and forgetting ourselves in the constant rush to meet the time expectations of the requirements placed on us, our minds are adjusted to the hollow yet severe compulsion of a terrifying force which constantly drives us to our destination of endless quest for more time.  Yet in India, especially at this moment where I find myself engaged in studies, there is a different conception underlying the matrix of cognition that spins its threads around the time factor and its play in life.  However much we strive to unite our life forces with the higher purpose to bring about the greatest good and development for the highest change and attainment, still the time remains there to give comfort and strength, to be one's friends, and to offer one the choice to simply become still and listen to the trees.  There is not the adrenaline rush that all will plunge off the cliff if the time factor is not met, yet there is constant dynamic meditation of time's value and purpose.  It appears that the yoga process is capable of slowing down the mental process and the screaming need for result orientated action to the point of being fully satisfied just sitting in a lecture being aware of the breath flowing through the different chakras.  How could time therefore exert such a pressure when it is understood and appreciated in its fullness for who it is.  TIME I AM say my Sri Krishna in His celestial Song of Gita, I have tried to find him in puja, in the meadows of Vrindavan, on the hills of Govardhana, in the streets of LA and Houston, and the heights or Tirupati, but how amazing that He has shown Himself to be with me at every step of the day in my studies through proper time management and its subsequent duties and accomplishments that this brings.  

The beggining of the END

THIS IS THE END, MY ONLY FRIEND THE END.

The words of Jim Morrison echo through my subconscious as I douse my sleepy face with ice cold water using a funky old lota at 4:30 am at Prashanti.  Why is it that so many lyrics from songs I listened to in high school continuously repeat themselves in my brain and find their way onto my tongue?  Have not I heard enough times about the value of silence?  The value of the name of God?  The beneficial purpose of introspection and self inquiry?  AM I not at a Yoga University in India?  Learning the ancient truths of the scriptures passed down through the ages to convey enlightenment and peace.  Yet first thing upon arising I find peace by singing, by rapping, or recollecting some song related to life in a culture I have left behind so many years before.  Yet somehow it remains with me, it seems beyond my control to erase the samskars and vasanas within me.  SO I learn to live and tolerate and adjust myself to my current space in the time-space complex I call reality.  But it sure as hell is strange.