Friday, December 12, 2008

The Heavens Weep

Aunty Nona Beamer recently died in West Maui, Hawaii. Her achievements in music, Hawaiian cultural advocacy and spiritual inspiration are legendary. But the words used to describe her passing were simple: “Ue ka lani—the heavens weep—as we mourn the loss of our hulu kupuna, beloved Hawaiian treasure,” said a long-time friend. Aunty was the matriarch of the famous Beamer musical family, and she played her magical ukulele until the end. Her departure has caused much weeping in the Islands, as well the heavens.

Hawaii is not a perfect place. It has its share of greed and prejudice. But there is a special spirit here which deserves consideration. Aunty’s survivors included three sons and one daughter. Two of her sons were by blood; one son and her daughter are ‘hanai.’ Hanai means an unrelated child or adult who is so loved that they are ‘spiritually adopted’ into the family. Whereas adoption in the legal sense often has the result of distinguishing adoptees from birth children, my observation has been that hanai sons and daughters are not distinguished, at least in the way they are loved and treated, from other siblings.

On this year’s ‘American Idol Gives Back’ TV fundraiser, a famous actor and his wife looked on in disbelief as three African children lay down to sleep on a narrow dirty pad in a corner of their hut. These orphans, along with tens of thousands of others, live in hopeless desperation. While we complain of high gas prices and falling home values, many potential hanai brothers and sisters around the world live in abject poverty and helplessness. The actor and his wife wiped away real tears as they left the village.

If our inspirational leaders today turn out to be singers, actors and sports stars, so be it. Bono may be more relevant than Bush. Musicians, dramatists and athletes have inspired people throughout history to rise up in compassionate unity with others. The Greek tragedies brought people together as they recognized the universality of suffering. The ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’ inspired a majority to break apart the institutions of slavery. A victorious black athlete named Jesse Owens at the ‘Hitler Olympics’ in 1936 predisposed the world to eventually reject the lies and deception of the Fuhrer.

It has become obvious that the political leaders and governments of the world are not up to the challenges of the 21st century. Not nearly. As always, hope lies with us—we the people. It lives within those of us who have the metaphysical vision to see that, spiritually, we are all hanai in relation to every man, woman and child on this planet. Can we save everyone from sadness, poverty and starvation? No. But we may be able to save one child, one brother or one sister.

Nona Beamer, the embodiment of aloha, is gone. Let us who remain wipe away our tears, and reach out a hand to our spiritual world family, hanai relatives of every race, creed, culture and country.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Starbucks Rendevous

Your ancestors will come into the Lodge; not the Lakota ancestors, but your own ancestors will come to be with you, to counsel you,” said the well-groomed Caucasian man to the Hawaiian businesswoman sitting at his Big Island Starbucks table. Before this statement, the two had been talking business deals, internet search engines and websites for the last hour and a half. They seemed to be client and consultant. Now, the conversation had changed: “We come together for a sweat lodge every Sunday morning,” he said. “We pray for grace and peace in the world and in our own lives. Come sweat with us if you like.” The woman seemed stunned for a minute. But she was intrigued and asked the man to continue.

He went on to describe his yearly participation in traditional Lakota sun dances on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. It seems that he was no Indian wannabe, but a human being seeking guidance wherever he could get it.

Now they both spoke softly. “Yeah, I’m an atheist still, I guess,” he said almost apologetically. He talked about a father-scientist who had ingrained in him a cynical determination to accept nothing on faith alone. Then the man spoke of his discovery of quantum physics and its ‘unquestionable similarities’ with indigenous and mystical wisdom teachings. This new scientific paradigm was shaking up his inner world. “That’s nuclear physics, man,” he said to the woman, “not some new age voodoo.”

She made a quiet and spot-on observation about his personal dilemma. “You hit a nerve,” he responded to her suggestion that perhaps he was struggling between what appeared to him the irreconcilable domains of faith and reason. Then their conversation trailed off for awhile. I mused to myself, ‘Maybe his scientific father is coming back as an ancestor spirit from the unseen world to speak to him in the sweat lodge, to help him avoid the mistakes he had made in splitting apart science and spirituality?’

The business meeting turned ‘meaning of life’ conversation continued as they spoke of Jung, Heisenburg, and Pauli; religion, science and the Tree of Life. The man and woman at a Starbucks rendevous ended their conversation, exchanged cards and disappeared into the night. But they had gotten my attention for a few minutes, and my appreciation.

Two excited people at a little café in Hawaii spoke of changing attitudes and trends which may someday change the world. First I resisted listening in, struggling to stay on track with my writing project. Then I got an inner push and surrendered to the moment, finally memorializing in cyberspace the thoughts of two unknown people among millions of people who are envisioning a new and better world. A world where the scientist and the mystic acknowledge that they are looking through telescopes and meditation visions to find the very same Mystery.

And I lifted a quick, silent prayer to my own ancestors. We can all use support in that Search.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Faith in the Sun

I didn’t see the sun today on my commute down the coast. The rain was heavy; there were several small rock slides; the skies were dark. My daily morning prayers include the Gayatri Mantra, a prayer in praise of God Who manifests through the Sun to give us light and energy. But today my sun prayer “Om bhur bhuva svah…” was not visually connected to a sunrise. During the day I noticed that several of the hospice patients I visited were having a 'down day.' One of them noted that her moods seem to fluctuate with her ability to see and feel the sun.

This experience reminded me of some of my ‘bad days’ or hard times in life, when I could not see or feel Spirit, when God seemed to have turned away, when my faith slipped into the background or disappeared altogether for awhile.

I remembered one dreary day when the weather perfectly matched my mood. I had recently experienced a series of setbacks and disappointments. That day I was flying cross country with one of my teachers. As the plane lifted off it climbed through multiple layers of dark clouds. Visibility was zero.

Suddenly we were above the clouds facing a bright and powerful sun. I could see for miles. Although I had seen suns above clouds on other flights, that day something was different. The teacher looked at me with a knowing smile. No words were spoken, but we both ‘got it.’ The sun is always shining! We just don’t always see it. Faith is required, and, every once in a while, an experience of confirmation.

In the Upanishads, the mystical portion of India's Vedas, Spirit/God is compared to the spiritual sun which illuminates the universe of matter and the Universe beyond matter. The seers say that God is always there—shining, loving, giving, teaching, showing, forgiving, guiding, being. We do not always feel or see God, just as we don’t always see or feel the sun. But Faith tells us that God is there, just as the sun is there, shining brightly as always, above the clouds of doubt which cover our vision.

Friday, June 6, 2008

Messengers, part I: Speaking with an Angel

There was nothing unusual about that particular autumn morning fifteen years ago. I had stayed overnight in a little apartment above a friend’s garage, and got up around 8am to sit for awhile in a nice lazy-boy rocking chair. Out of the blue, a disembodied male voice spoke to me: “We are here for you. As you struggle with good and evil in your world, we too push against the dark forces in our subtle realm. We are here to help you.” I had not asked for this type of help as far as I could remember. I wasn’t expecting a ‘voice from above.’ But, there it was.

Like everyone, I have voices in my head which are speaking all the time. But those are my voices. This was clearly another being communicating to me. Although this had never happened to me before, there was absolutely no doubt that someone other than me was speaking inside my head. I assumed that he was an angel or some type of higher being because of the authority in his voice, the pure feeling of his presence and the content of his communication. And for some unknown reason, he seemed to have a message for me. Later, I learned that the word angel means “messenger.”

Surprisingly, I was less afraid or shocked than inquisitive. I had often thought about beings from the subtle realm. I believed in them, but wondered why they seemed to be so absent to most of us most of the time. So without thinking, I asked a question internally: “OK, but why do you make it so hard to get that help, to receive messages from you?” I was really thinking, ‘why don’t you just walk in, sit down, and tell us how we can do things better? Why do you seem so obscure?’

His simple answer surprised me, “Because you’re too rude.” It took me awhile to understand what he meant. I’m not sure even today that I know for sure. But what I concluded intuitively about that message is as follows. We, in this world of space and time, are usually very absorbed in dense matter energies. Our earthly cultures tend to accentuate the physical and minimize the ethereal. A person who is more interested in the subtle or the unseen world is generally seen as either having their ‘head in the clouds’ at best or as a strange or bizarre person at worst.

But apparently an angelic being was telling me that the reason I and others were not getting the help, guidance and support we could use down here is because of our rudeness, which I interpreted as ‘crudeness.’ I have thought about earth analogies to the angel’s answer over the years. For example, suppose a group of people have come to a gathering to discuss philosophical or spiritual matters. If an alcohol or drug intoxicated man stumbles into the room and attempts to join the conversation, there will be a problem. Even though the group may wish the man no harm, he will not be able to commune with them, to listen and receive the information being shared. In his crude state of awareness, it will be impossible to grasp and understand the subtle nature of the conversation.

We may be sincere in wanting to receive direct grace and guidance from subtle realms. But without cultivating higher consciousness, it will be impossible in most cases. Of course angels and other higher beings may intervene unilaterally, and sometimes they do in unusual ways. We may note, however, due to free will, that angels will not usually share unless invited by invocation, and by a requesting person who is in the proper state to receive their subtle messages.

The moral of my story is this: there are higher realms which interpenetrate our world. The ‘good beings’ of these realms are able and willing to give us messages and inspiration in our struggles for good on the earth. But, without qualifying ourselves by setting our spiritual antennae to a refined state of awareness, to a proper ‘spiritual frequency,’ we will be unlikely to receive the communications being broadcast for our benefit.

This is why the great teachers of our world spiritual traditions have encouraged us to purify our consciousness through prayer, pure thoughts and deeds, and various other religious practices. What we see, what we eat, what we think and speak, who we associate with, how we spend our time, what we surround ourselves with—all of these are not simply the ‘do’s and don’ts’ of an outdated morality.

These practices are instead pragmatic means by which we may qualify ourselves to enter into an ongoing communion with the angels, the devas, or other higher beings who act as messengers of God for our benefit and for the benefit of the world.

Messengers,part II: Looking for Us

I have come to believe that angels, or messengers from more refined realms, are out ‘looking’ for us--seeking to point us toward a heavenly home world, or at least to a more heavenly consciousness on earth. I have reached this conclusion from my own personal experiences as well as years of listening to people nearing death recounting interactions and communications with angels or higher beings. In most of these 'nearing death' experiences, higher beings offer to help human beings find their way back to the spirit world.

If we assume that messengers of Heaven are out looking for us, we may then return to the question of why it seems somewhat rare that these meetings take place (except for nearing death experiences). I suggested earlier that one reason the angels don’t ‘find us’ very often is our state of consciousness---we are too absorbed in earthly affairs, our 'line is busy’ talking about the things of the world so that heavenly callers can’t get through to us.

A metaphor may help us understand why these human-angel interactions are rare. Suppose a rebellious teenager leaves home. Perhaps she leaves Kansas and hitchhikes out to California to become a movie star. If that young woman wants to stay ‘lost’ from her parents and friends, there are ways that she can do it. She will not call or answer calls. She will not give an address or a location. She will become absorbed in California living and try hard to forget her life in Kansas. She wants to be free, independent, ‘on her own.’

Perhaps her parents could find her, but they know that she will only run away again. She is using her free will to remain lost. They hope that she’ll return home when her days of California dreamin’ have faded. One day she will see Hollywood for what it is, and return home to the ones who love her---to her family.

The Biblical story of the Prodigal Son tells a similar tale of a son who left his kind and loving father to ‘sow his wild oats.’ He eventually tires of his shallow life. He 'hits bottom' and returns home of his free will. The 'lost son' is immediately embraced by his joy-filled father.

These stories are appropriate metaphors for we who find ourselves having wandered from our home world of spirit, currently moving here and there within space and time, birthing and dying within the material universe.

There seem to be at least two types of souls who remain ‘lost’ from the spirit world: (1) those who are outright rebellious, embracing this world as their one and only home, and (2) those who feel orphaned, abandoned or unworthy, not believing that they have a higher home. Both souls have a form of spiritual amnesia, having forgotten their transcendent identity, temporarily thinking themselves to be only physical beings of the earth, rather than magnificent spiritual beings on a journey away from home.

So, here we are. Angels of God are out looking for us, ready to offer help to improve our lives here and guide us toward our home of perfect peace and joy at life’s end. The question is: do we want to be found?

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Luminaries, part I: The River of Life

I sat in the twilight watching as they made their way down the path to the river. There must have been two hundred of them—some alone, some with family members, each carrying a glowing lantern. These ‘luminaries’ had been decorated in remembrance of a departed loved one, some recently gone, some who had passed years ago. Other people without lanterns had grown silent, recognizing the emotional and sacred nature of the moment. These empathetic observers lined the river’s banks from the bridge overlooking the release point to the downstream turn in the river where the luminaries would float out to sea.

A prayer was spoken to acknowledge each departed person, who had once lighted the heart of a loved one or a friend. That life was now being remembered in the glow of a symbolically painted lantern which would soon be placed into the stream.

When I had arrived earlier at the hospice ‘Celebration of Life,’ I looked over the information tables, spoke with some friends, listened to music and enjoyed the communal atmosphere. I glanced at a table with what looked like some kids’ home-made lamps. Then I saw her. On one of the lanterns I saw a picture of Joyce, one of my former hospice patients. All of a sudden, tears welled up in my eyes. She would be floating down the river tonight.

Now the moment had arrived. The first luminary was released, then another and another. In a few minutes the river was full of lights moving slowly down the River of Life, igniting memories of good and hard times, of youth, of old age, of last words and special embraces, of legacies and lessons learned. Then came the tears. In the darkness, tears flow more easily. Each person along the banks of that river remembered someone. Each person was alone in their sadness, but united in a common fate of love and loss.

Now I looked out into the darkness straining intensely to see Joyce’s luminary. Did I see it there? Was she really heading out to sea? Out of the blue, a dream from the night before flashed in my mind. The main visitor in that dream was my Dad, who died ten years ago. Perhaps his luminary was out in the water too! Then other memories flooded in—of departed loved ones and friends, of hospice patients who had become new friends before swiftly leaving our friendship and the world. Suddenly, my night vision came on and I saw everyone on that river bank crying desperately, inconsolable at loss after loss after loss. The River of Life had become a River of Death.

There were tears for loved ones and friends, and friends of friends; for fathers and mothers, grandparents and children, for unknown families lost in the Myanmar cyclone and the China earthquake. The River swelled with the tears of hundreds, thousands, billions of crying human beings. The whole world was crying, but the River never came onshore. It flowed on without noticing, carrying the luminaries slowly out to sea.

Luminaries, part II: The River of Light

Gradually, the scene before my eyes began to change. Minutes before, as people released the Luminaries of their departed loved ones, everyone had stood on the shore alone in the darkness of their grief, in stunned silence and reverie. Now, there was a rustle here and there; people were moving around. What was going on?

I had noticed immediately that each Luminary upon release into the water seemed to have a mind of its own, or perhaps ‘karma’ of its own. Some of them moved swiftly into the middle of the river, sailing quickly toward the awaiting ocean. Others drifted toward the shore and seemed to get stuck in a place of no movement. Some of the lanterns got caught in little whirlpools and even moved backwards for a while.

Then I understood what was happening. People were moving down to the river in the darkness to free the lanterns that had gone off course, or were wandering lost around the banks. A little boy pushed two stranded lanterns out away from the bank with a stick. A man made waves with his hands which sent several helpless lanterns out toward the middle of the river, to the main stream of lights moving toward the ocean. The energy in the crowd shifted from sadness and loss to joy.

Then I saw a small boat out in the water. Several people were sailing in the darkness to rescue lost Luminaries and set them moving toward the ocean-seeking current. The crowd saw the boat and cheered. No Luminary will be lost! They will all reach the ocean! This physical and metaphysical reality hit me like a brick. Here on this one tiny planet on a little Island in the Pacific Ocean, a handful of human beings were making damn sure that the Luminaries of their departed loved ones would make it down the river to their destination in the ocean. Would an all-loving Supreme Being do any less?

The inescapable truth of unlimited mercy and universal salvation was so palpable to me in that moment that I started a one-way conversation in my head: ‘You ministers who talk of eternal damnation by a loving God….come down to this river bank tonight and see how every soul is saved. See the mercy of mere human beings who will in no way let a beloved relative or friend fail to reach their destination. Did you notice, my brother, that not a single Luminary floated upstream, away from the ocean. Did you see, my sister, that all lights got out to the sea---though some had gone off course and appeared lost? Can you see my friends how a loving God, the dearmost Friend and Beloved of all souls, will not allow a single soul to remain lost forever?’

That river, which in our humanity and sorrow had seemed a river of darkness and death, had now become a river of hope, a river of light.

In this Ashram of the World, every human drama, every act of heroism and courage becomes a metaphysical lesson for us—if we have the eyes to see.

Luminaries, part III: The River’s End

There was once a river that flowed from a high, high mountain. It was said that this particular mountain, being closest to the sky, received only those blessed rains containing souls arriving from the upper world. These new immigrant spirits thus began their journey down the river of life.

One day a little boy noticed the way in which souls traveled the river. He saw some spirits flying down the middle of the stream, streaking toward the ocean like comets. The boy was impressed! ‘These must be the little ones who finish their journey quickly to get back home soon,’ he thought. He saw other spirits gently gliding along the river as if they would float forever. ‘Those must be the aged ones who live long and full lives so they can share wisdom about the river with others coming behind.’ The boy saw other spirits caught in little eddies or big whirlpools. They seemed to go round in circles, or get battered against the rocks. ‘Uh oh, those must be the ones who have a rough ride in the river school. I have heard that some of these become powerful survivors who go on to great deeds.’

The boy watched the river and the spirits for a long time. He noticed several truths about the river and its spirit travelers. Most obviously, all of the souls moved in the same direction—downstream. The boy never saw a traveling spirit make much progress against the current, although many of them tried with all their might. No matter how hard a traveler struggled to reverse direction on the river of life, soon a new rain or a strong wave would push him along with the others.

One day the boy wandered all the way to the river’s end and saw traveler after traveler hit the ocean with a yell of triumph. Shortly thereafter, he noticed these life-completed spirits being ‘evaporated’ back up into the Great Raincloud from which they had all come. He wondered if all of the spirits he saw up the river would get to the ocean. Moving on his little path back upstream the boy saw time and again a traveler who was stuck in a whirlpool, or exhausted and unmoving, or languishing in a brackish backwash. Would these spirits make it to the sea?

The boy would sit and watch a trapped or exhausted traveler, sometimes for hours or even days, to see if anyone would come to the rescue. Sometimes a new traveler coming downstream would bump into the stuck traveler, pushing her back out into the main course of the river. Or compassionate travelers, who seemed to be looking toward every rough patch of water, would reach out a hand to grasp an exhausted brother or sister. The boy also noticed some mysterious occurrences where no spirit traveler was involved, but a trapped soul would be freed without any visible intervention.

The boy’s grandfather once told him that he had also been a ‘river watcher’ in his childhood. He claimed to have met a magical being down by the river’s end one day who told him that he could ask one question about the ‘doings’ of this river and the spirits who traveled it. The boy-grandfather asked about the spirits ‘who got evaporated’ up into the heavens. Were they all going to the same destination? The wise being smiled and answered, “No my child, at least not right away; many will return with the rain to this great mountain or another mountain some where in the universe. These are called the ‘life finishers.’ They will come back for another ride down the river school, likely a very different ride next time. And some deep-hearted ones will go above the Great Raincloud and beyond the rainbow to our homeworld and never return. These are the ‘life graduaters.’ But, do not fret! Every one of them will graduate beyond the rainbow in time.”

His grandfather had died two years ago. The boy never met the magical being down at the river’s end. But after years of watching the river and its travelers, he sat down one day with his school notebook and wrote: All souls travel downstream; all souls get the help they need; all souls make it to the ocean in their own time; all souls eventually return to their Source.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

I Wonder

Honoka’a is a little town in the northern part of Hawaii’s Big Island that overlooks the Pacific Ocean at an altitude of about 1,000 feet. It is named for the many caves which have been created by the ocean’s endless pounding of tall cliffs along this part of the Hamakua coast. Sitting here today in my ‘sea cave’ (honoka’a), breathing the ‘breath of God’ (hamakua), I wonder about the world.

I wonder why we have created such a busy world where the simple and profound acts of life (such as taking a single day off for deep meditation and contemplation) have become something we can only do by working, working and working to save for a ‘vacation.’ Ana reminds me that the word vacation means that one ‘vacates’ their routine place or way of living and working in order to find a more exciting or relaxing place to be for awhile.

I wonder why some so-called ‘primitive’ cultures (e.g., the Zuni of New Mexico) may have over 200 days of ‘vacation’ or ‘ceremonial celebration’ as a community, while we can only muster up a hand full of holidays (used to be ‘holy days’), and two or three weeks of personal vacation time per year.

I wonder why we think that happiness comes from complex, technology-crazy living and low-brow entertainment, rather than the ancient cultural dictum of ‘simple living, high thinking.’

It is said that five millennia ago in Naimisaranya, India, once believed to be the ‘hub of the universe,’ many seers gathered to perform a great sacrifice for the benefit of the people of our time. They were able to see what would be the lacks and needs of those who would take birth in this Winter Age of the Universe. That ‘Kali Yuga Age’ was just beginning, and the sages saw signs of a coming ‘spiritual winter’ when earth’s residents would become wrapped up in worldly affairs, working like animals just for material maintenance—thus missing the precious opportunity for spiritual evolution available in the human form of life.

Long ago, the sages foretold that such a time would come. Those great souls seemed to always spend their time by the river, a holy river such as the Ganges or the Jordan. Thinking thus, sitting here in the little seaside town of Honoka’a, I release my mind from wondering and worrying about the imperfections of this day and age and offer gratitude for the gift of this day---a day to sit by the Ocean into which all of the holy rivers flow.

So today, like our spiritual ancestors, I sit by the water, chant ancient mantras, feel the purity of God’s breath, and look out to where sacred rivers of all faiths have mingled together as one. And, in awe, I wonder.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Mistaken Identity

A four year old boy named Jacob is convinced that he is a girl trapped in a male body. No matter how hard his parents try to get him to play with ‘boy toys’ or to stop dreaming of wearing dresses, Jacob cannot shake his conviction that he is a girl. As years go by he struggles to resist his urges toward all things female (including the color pink) until the age of ten when he puts a gun to his head threatening to kill himself unless he is allowed to ‘be who I am.’

A National Public Radio program explored in detail a split within the psychotherapy community between therapists who believe that children like Jacob have been culturally conditioned toward the ‘wrong sex’ and those who adamantly believe that some children are indeed boys trapped in girl’s bodies and vice versa. One thing is clear: children or adults who feel forced to be someone other than who they are inside may go through immense confusion and suffering.

I have had two friends over the years who struggled with these types of issues. I know from counseling with them the deep and traumatic pain they both experienced in trying to come to grips with their ‘mistaken identity.’

Not only within the physical realm, but in spiritual circles as well, the issue of our true identity is a vital question. The inquiry “Who am I” is at the heart of the mystical path within the traditions of Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, Judaism and other faiths.

Some Eastern philosophies view a person as possessing three identities: a physical body, a subtle psyche, and a spiritual essence. Children who at a young age recognize that their innate male or female psyche does not match their physical body may struggle violently within themselves, as well as with well-meaning parents and teachers, to come to terms with an identity crisis that will not go away.

And those of us on the spiritual path may also reach a shocking point when we realize with unmistakable clarity that we are not who we appear to be. We are not just a man or a woman, an American or a Mexican, a Jew or a Christian, a Caucasian or a Filipino. Deeper than our physical body, our psyche, our ethnic, cultural and even religious identity we exist as our innermost identity—as primal spirit, or immortal soul.

“We are spirits in a material world,” sings the contemporary rock star as most of us nod in vague agreement. But if we do not at some point wake up to recognize our real identity as a spiritual being covered with a temporary physical body and psyche, we may wind up ‘living a lie’ like the boys who are girls and the girls who are boys inside. Our precious and fleeting human life will be compromised in a profound and tragic way if we do not wake up and live as who we truly are.

Then we will live powerful and free. We will live as who we are and have always been.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Seeds of Greatness

Michael Avery, a California eighth grader, has been signed to a basketball scholarship by the University of Kentucky for the 2012 season.

Many people were upset that such a young boy would be subject to the pressures of fame and the sports media when Michael’s scholarship was made public today. What I found ironic is that the intense scrutiny of young people to discover special talents is limited mostly to sports. Hundreds and thousands of sports ‘talent scouts’ fly all over the country and around the world looking for physically-gifted young people who could become elite football, basketball and baseball players.

What if hundreds and thousands of ‘scouts’ were out looking for young people who possessed the potential to become highly gifted poets, writers, politicians, spiritual teachers, visionary scientists, business leaders, etc. What if we were out looking for a potential president rather than a potential Superbowl quarterback. Think of the enormous value which could be added to America and its citizens if we sought out future public servants with the same intensity that we seek out future sports stars!

In some cultures of past and even recent history, special seers had a role in discovering the future greatness which existed in all of their society’s young. I met a man from India in the 1980’s who said that his father had the ability to understand a person’s unique gifts and destiny simply by observing his or her ‘karmic lines.’ These lines were said to be visible not only on hands and as fingerprints, but as facial lines and even peculiarities of the eyes. In ancient India, the role of a Brahman-guru-teacher was to look into the face and heart of a young student to see the special ‘seed of greatness’ which had been planted there by Destiny.

Psychologist James Hillman’s excellent book, The Soul’s Code, affirms this thesis: that each person’s destined greatness exists clearly in seed form in early childhood. His research indicates that those who grow to fulfill their destinies in a magnificent way have one thing in common—at least one adult saw each child’s special gift and encouraged the young person to follow their soul’s natural path.

The Wisdom Text Bhagavad-gita confirms the importance of a person following their own life purpose, their own special dharma, “Better to follow one’s own dharma imperfectly than another’s dharma perfectly.” The teaching is that following one’s own inherent seed of greatness leads to excellence in one’s service to society, but will also fill one’s heart with happiness because he or she is ‘doing what comes naturally.’

And spiritually, the peace we attain by following the path to which we are most inherently psychically attuned (our dharma) creates a foundation for accelerated spiritual progress. If I’m a satisfied farmer, or poet, or nurse or politician, I will be less likely to ‘run after the things of the world’ to find my happiness. My discretionary time may then be spent ‘growing my seed of greatness,’ evolving my soul through the lessons of the earth school—to more compassion, cooperation, love, generosity, service and wisdom; to love of God and love of man.

I wish the best for Michael the budding basketball star who will play for the University of Kentucky Wildcats in 2012. If his occupational calling, his seed of greatness, is in the sports arena, I pray that he attains his happiness there. And I pray that we as a society quickly wake up to assist all of our young people in cultivating their unique seeds of greatness. We will need their most heroic material and spiritual efforts to support the World Transformation prophesied for the 2012-era.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Whose God?

“God in All Worlds” read the title of the book. I paged through it recently, finding mostly Christian quotes with a few philosophers and sages of other religions thrown in for universality. But I sure liked the title.

How could God, a designation for Ultimate Reality, be less than any or all of the ways in which individuals and faith traditions have sought to understand that Being who is Being Itself? Religions and their apologists have an annoying tendency to point fingers at what they consider competing views of God. The ‘monotheists’ disparage the ‘polytheists,’ the ‘pantheists’ are at odds with the ‘monists’ and everyone seems to be down on the ‘atheists.’ Interestingly, all of these categorical views include the word ‘theos’ indicating God.

I grew up in the monotheistic tradition of Christianity (as a Southern Baptist) which posits a Transcendent Supreme Being. Later I discovered that my mother’s family were Quakers who came seven generations ago from Germany to Pennsylvania. I was also told by my mother that we had a Cherokee grand-relative in our family tree as well. Over the years, I was able to study with teachers and practitioners of these and other religious traditions. The Quakers are more inclined to commune with God as the ‘still small voice’ Who speaks to us when we quiet our mind/ego through prayer and meditation. The Cherokee, like most Native American traditions, honor a Great Spirit Who interpenetrates the world and can be seen, felt and heard within its natural phenomena.

These three views of God—as Transcendent, Immanent within ourselves, and Immanent within the world—all made sense to me. In fact, I felt over time that I was able to touch the Spirit Who is God through all of these avenues of communion.

My wonderful Baptist Church community in rural Georgia gave me a profound sense of God as the Supreme Loving Being. Although some of our ministers were a little intense for my taste, the deep-feeling hymns which we sang every Sunday and Wednesday night spoke of a God of beauty, wisdom, grace and mercy. However, after leaving home and meeting people of many denominations and faiths, the exclusivist doctrines of my boyhood church no longer resonated with my experiences in the greater world. I had been satisfied devotionally, but later disappointed theologically.

Baptist? Quaker? Native American? Were these views contradictory, half true or false? Was one right and the others wrong? For a few years I ignored religion, for it seemed that perhaps all religious views were arbitrary attempts to find ‘the one true way’ to the exclusion of all others. One day in Graduate School I came across a little book called “How to Know God.” It turned out to be an English translation of the quintessential yoga text—Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. The philosophy and theological perspective of this and other Vedic texts of India finally gave me a universal view which made sense--incorporating, at least for me, ways of seeing God or Truth which were complementary instead of contradictory.


The Vaishnava Vedic lineage that I eventually embraced as a monk even had venerable Sanskrit names to describe these three ‘faces of God’ that I had discovered in my Protestant Christian, Quaker and Native American heritages. Bhagavan described God as the Supreme Person, Brahman described God as interpenetrating Spirit within the world, and Paramatma described the God within, the ‘still small voice’ of the Quakers.

I was at last able to integrate the devotional heart of a Christian with the deep meditational practice of a Quaker, and the ecstatic harmony of an Indigenous oneness with Nature. God within all worlds came to be the God within my world. And for this, I will always be grateful to the Sanatan Dharma* tradition of India.


*Sanatan Dharma is the name preferred by practitioners of the ancient religion of India for their faith. Sanatan means ‘Eternal’ and ‘dharma’ means ‘the Way.’

Saturday, May 3, 2008

Every Flower will Bloom

A flower must bloom, even if it blooms once in a lifetime in the desert, even if it blooms in the morning and has withered by noon. The world is full of flowers: some are in full bloom, some are still hidden beneath the surface, some are just now going out in a blaze of glory on a windy day. If a flower never blooms in this world, then there must be other worlds that will witness its blooming glory one day. One day, one by one, they will indeed bloom. All of the countless lovers of the Beloved will surely bloom one day, finally mesmerized and blown open by the unstoppable love of God.

God is not an old man with a beard, though he may have taken up that disguise one day to get a point across, or to cause someone to laugh at the paradox of it all. God is love, God is beauty, God is grace. One special day, God inspires to bloom every one of his countless flowers, whose winds of karma, extinction of desire and exhaustion of free will mistakes have run their course.

So rise up young flower of destiny. Grasp the special qualities and gifts that only you have been seeded by your Creator. Look around you. The world is in dire need of color. Your color may complete the special rainbow that is destined for today alone. Your color may complete the rainbow that gives hope to someone in a hopeless situation. Your song may give symphony to someone who has heard no words of joy today. Your love may reflect the Creator in a unique way that someone needs to receive.

We are all flowers in the field of Life: wildflowers, fragrant flowers, flowers reaching up to the sun with confidence. We come and we go, and then another one blooms, and then another. Some bloom quickly, streaking through the sky like a comet. Some bloom gradually, and fade away in a graceful and memorable exit. There is no need to worry or fear. We will all bloom someday, somewhere within the Realm of our Creator. Every single one of us.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

A Nursery for Mystics

“Almost any religious system which fosters unearthly love is potentially a nursery for mystics.” ----Evelyn Underhill

Love of God certainly qualifies as unearthly love. We know what Jesus meant when he said: “love your neighbor as your self.” But what did he mean when he said to “love God?” At the beginning of the 20th century, Evelyn Underhill, the great chronicler of mystical experience, declared that ‘unearthly love’ and mystics go together like hand and glove.

We know that mystics are apparently rare, and may even be radical and strange. We have heard that mystics have a hard time living like ‘normal’ people in the world. Why, then, did Jesus declare to all of us that to ‘love God’ was one of the two great commandments* for all people, if only mystics are able to participate in this ‘unearthly love?’

There are two possible answers: (1) love of God is not ‘unearthly,’ and may just mean being good and praying to and thanking God for supplying our needs, or (2) we are all potential mystics capable of loving an ‘unearthly’ God. We here define a mystic as one who is able to see beyond the earthly world of time and space and experience the unseen realm which interpenetrates and informs our own material universe.

If we examine the Great Religious Traditions of the world, I believe we can agree that the latter answer is indicated in the teachings of these faiths. And if that be true, we may then look to our own tradition to find the specific inspirational teachings or teachers that will act as a nursery to birth us to the deep spiritual life of the soul. This may be related to the rebirth or the ‘born again’ doctrine spoken of in various faiths.

Recently, Ana and I went to the new planetarium connected to the Observatory community on top of Mauna Kea. The lady facilitating the program pointed out among the stars and constellations the Orion Nebula, which she described as a ‘nursery for the birth of new stars.’

Looking up into the sky now and seeing the blue smudge in the sword of Orion near the constellation Taurus is a magical experience. There right in front of our eyes is a nursery where stars like our own sun are being carried in the stellar womb. It reminds us that within the deep womb of our own faith lies a spiritual nursery which may birth the mystic within us. That mystic is the true dweller within which is our very soul. That mystic is one who can reach the beatitude and fruits of following all of the commandments of all religions by ‘loving God and loving our neighbors as we love our selves.’


*Drawing on his ancient Jewish tradition, Rabbi Jesus boldly stated that these two commandments—to love God and to love our neighbors as our selves—included and transcended all of the 613 laws and commandments of the Jewish faith.

Friday, April 25, 2008

The Sweetest Taste

Recently, Ana and I attended Easter Mass at St. Andrew’s Cathedral in Honolulu. The minister urged the congregants to go beyond simply believing the doctrines of Christianity and to actually encounter the risen Christ. He spoke of the first Easter when Mary Magdalene encountered Jesus in the garden three days after the crucifixion. The risen Jesus was initially unrecognized by the woman who was one of his closest disciples. Then the Master looked at her and said “Mary.” The veil was lifted from her eyes and she exclaimed “Rabbi!” Her beloved Teacher was not dead. Their relationship had not ended.

Religion—the deep intimate bond between a mortal and the Immortal—can never be experienced or understood through doctrine alone. The scriptures of the theistic religions describe ancient encounters between God and other beings, our own spiritual ancestors. But our saints of all faiths urge us to go beyond reading about the religious experiences of others to taste love of God for ourselves.

The tastes of the world can be sweet and varied. But they are ultimately short-lived and endlessly mixed with bitter tastes. Without tasting the fruits of religious experience, we will not be able to resist absorption, compulsion and addiction to the fleeting tastes of material life.

In the Vedic texts of India, God is described as Rasaraja—the King of all Rasas, or Tastes. This echoes the Psalmist who said, “Oh taste and see that the Lord is good.” The key to a sustained and motivated spiritual path in this Ashram of the World is to taste the immortal joy which is right before us. God is all around us, like the water which encircles a sea creature. As we serve the Highest through all our actions, we will taste the Goodness of God—a ‘food’ which nourishes the soul.

And as we learn to listen intently with our inner heart, one day we may hear God speak our name, as Jesus spoke to Mary so long ago. We will hear our name in a whisper on the breeze or amidst the bird songs of a forest or even rising above the noise of a crowded street. Our Master, our Friend, our Beloved calls us by name to taste the sweetness of a Relationship which has long been forgotten but never lost. This is the resurrection we seek—the revival of a deep, deep relationship with Divinity which brings the greatest joy and peace.

Interconnections

In indigenous cultures, ancient or modern, the circles of the sun, moon and planets relative to the earth, as well as cycles of these and other celestial bodies, are considered critical to one’s understanding of life and living. I read recently that the 11 year sunspot cycle of the sun has a major influence, not only on telecommunication systems, but on living beings as well. Most of us have heard of the highly-documented increase in aggressive and psychotic behavior on full moon nights. Police and hospital officials understand this phenomenon, and plan accordingly. Fewer people may know that sun and moon cycles are also used by some smart investors in their stock market decisions.

Even casual attention to the ups and downs of the stock market let us know that swings of emotions—whether fear or optimistic moods—on a collective level can send shock waves around the world, disrupting whole countries’ economic strengths in the process. Understanding how peoples’ emotions are affected not only by oil prices, the inflation rate and the consumer confidence index, but also by a host of celestial influences, is important as we go forward as a world community.

If we can conceive of the world as a great Ashram, we may gain insight in how to grapple with this significant issue of emotional swings and their interconnected repercussions on peoples’ survival and happiness. In a spiritual community, where the interconnections among all of the members are understood, it’s easier to see that as we take care of the needs of ‘the least among us’ we take care of ourselves. Disruptions in one person’s emotional health may affect many other ashram dwellers because each person plays a role in the tasks of the entire community. If one person’s health needs are ignored, someone will have to take up the slack. So compassion and common sense dictate that we care for all of our sisters and brothers in the world community.

The world has become an interconnected community, demonstrating time and again the butterfly effect*: for example, emotionally abusive working conditions in China can affect the health of children in America (unsafe imported toys). And fear of recession in America can affect the value of someone’s retirement fund in France. For better or worse, we’re all interconnected in a fragile system of interdependence. Whether manmade or celestial actions bring cycles of favorable breezes or ‘disasters’ we have a choice and a challenge in these very global times of our lives. Compassionate and pragmatic choices will lead us to care for the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health of each other—beyond racial, cultural, religious or country borders—if we want the human race to survive and thrive in the modern era.


* The ‘butterfly effect’ is a metaphoric-scientific principle arising from chaos theory that the wind created by a butterfly’s wings in China could contribute to the creation of a tornado in Kansas.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Karma, Dharma and Love

Recently I spoke via the miracle of cell phone technology with my friend Mike, who lives in the Washington, DC area. He was driving home from his job at the EPA in slow DC traffic. I was driving to the southern part of the Big Island to see a hospice patient. Mike was talking about his ongoing experiences with teachers and teachings from the world religions: “They all have something to say about karma in one form or another; and they all look at dharma…” he said. “And they all have something to say about love,” I finished the equation. Mike had noted that the Great Faiths all seem to revolve around a few universal principles. “And that’s a good thing!” we both agreed.

Karma, dharma and love: with these three principles we can gain a lot of insight into life on this planet. Karma gives a hint as to what our past activities and desires have been (either in this life, or some say even in past lives). For example, if I wake up one day behind bars wearing a uniform with black and white stripes, I can guess with some certainty that I have broken the law.

As a universal principle karma—the law of action and reaction—encourages us to accept responsibility for our current situations, and to use the lessons of karma to improve our plight. A school boy who fails fifth grade due to inattention to his classwork, or too much attention to girls, has a choice: he can learn from his mistakes and go on to graduate with honors (thus transcending his karma, or even being motivated by his karma), or he can go on being inattentive and continue to fail. We don’t generally like to hear that we’re responsible for our situation in life—and there is something to be said for the effects of group karma. But most spiritual traditions bluntly state that ‘as we sow we reap’ and ‘as we do unto others, others will do unto us.’

Karma then gives us some insight into why we are ‘where we are’ in life. Dharma on a personal level indicates what our special purpose in life is: some are called to teach, or to minister, to build, to create, to care give, to farm, and so forth. Dharma is that seed planted in the heart by Universal arrangement or agreement. The seed of a maple tree will not grow into an orange tree. The sooner we can determine our dharma, the quicker we can begin to play our role in the drama or the pilgrimage of this life. If I’m doing my dharma, and you are doing yours and she is doing hers, the world will be a heaven on earth—as all of the members of Life’s Orchestra play their instruments on time and in time.

Dharma indicates who we are and what we are here to do. Karma indicates how we’ve understood that and how well we’re doing at it. And Love indicates the purpose for each of us accepting our vocations and doing them excellently. Love is the reason behind the whole creation. God, Great Spirit, the Mystery, Source of all has spun out this universe and all of its inhabitants for love alone. As parents create children for love, so God creates all of the creatures of the universe for love alone. Love flowers and grows as the lovers grow into their particular strengths and beauties. God the Beloved awaits our maturing into vessels of divine love.

With our dharma understood, and our karmic actions directed toward the Good, each of us can and will flower into the magnificent beings we were born and seeded to be. As the song says, “someday there will be love.” And that will be our perfection.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

A Goddess Speaks

Earlier this week, I traveled on the road by Volcanoes National Park where Goddess Pele has been sending forth small explosions and big streams of billowing gases from her crater home, Hale mau mau. I pulled over and walked out on a trail leading toward the ocean to get a better view of what the Island’s Grand Lady may be up to. I was on my way back home from the house of a hospice patient, a 90 year old woman named Leilani who has seen a multitude of volcanic, earthquake and weather patterns on this highly volatile Isle, where new land for our planet is being created every day.

Leilani is a Catholic, who longs for a return to the Latin mass which she loved in her youth. She had been a catechism teacher who reveled in the majesty and mystery of medieval Church traditions. Since Latin was minimized during the changes of Vatican II, Leilani gradually stopped going to the Anglicized mass. It did not touch her soul. I shared with her that Pope Benedict had recently issued an edict which would make it easier for bishops to perform the Latin mass again. She smiled wearily, as if to say, ‘well what took them so long to figure that out!’ As we discussed the vog (a volcanic equivalent of smog) which was troubling her breathing, she said casually that “Madame Pele must be trying to tell us something.”

Here in Hawaii, a crossroad of East and West, of indigenous and mainland cultures, most of us have little trouble crossing cultural and religious boundaries with our thoughts and conversations. Grandmother Leilani, a devout Catholic, certainly understood the primacy of Pele, the fiery goddess who lives just a few minutes up the road from her house. She didn’t need to consult Catholic doctrines or attend interfaith dialogues to understand the reality of the ancient Hawaiian gods and goddesses. And, to Leilani they posed absolutely no threat to her belief in and devotion to the Christian God.

Leilani and her daughter thought that perhaps Pele was protesting the increasing development of the coastline of the Island by ‘rich investors from the mainland.’ They spoke their thoughts out loud: ‘and what will happen to us Hawaiians when all of the land is privately owned by outsiders?’ We all began to speculate on other possible reasons why Pele was spewing her gases out onto the Island at an alarming rate. Was it a sign of protest against the spread of greed and aggression all over the planet? Was it a warning of things to come? Was it a wake-up call or a call to action? Was it the blast of a natural trumpet announcing the beginning of a Golden Age which would bring all of us together?

Whatever Pele’s reasons, I stopped and offered my prayers to the Goddess for a relief of Grandmother Leilani’s breathing problems, and for patience with us interlopers of all races and cultures who have settled into this particular patch of Nature, a little confused about how we all fit into the flora and fauna of this Island paradise. “You have our attention,” I silently prayed. “Help us to be pono*, help us to wake up to our part in the Life of the Whole, help us to take care of each other and the Land, help us to cooperate with the perfect movement of the All That Is. And….thank you for the reminder.”

*Pono, a Hawaiian word meaning to be righteous, aligned with humanity and Divinity.

Faces of the Mountain

Mauna Kea, ‘the white mountain,’ rises majestically above Hawaii’s Big Island as the tallest volcanic creation in the Pacific at 13,796 ft. These days my mythic world revolves around this great being like the circumpolar stars circle the pole star. From every side of the Island I get a different view of its personality. At a little bridge on the northern coast road which curves along the mountain’s slope, I always ‘stop’ (at least in my mind) on a beautiful morning commute to view what appears to be a powerful, broad obelisk, often partly shrouded in clouds of mystery. Down near South Point, Hawaii, the southernmost village in the United States, I see a longer view of the mountain—like a hazy divine presence in the background of a peaceful worship service. From Hilo’s eastern perspective, one day I saw Mauna Kea rising in the distance behind the local Hongwanji Buddhist temple. I was astounded to see the snowy slopes of the mountain juxtaposed with the temple’s archaic design. It reminded me more of the rugged Himalayas than a sleepy Polynesian peak. And from the western ‘gold coast’ of the Big Island, Mauna Kea stands guard with two other mighty mountains, forming a sort of volcanic trinity.

Mauna Kea has come to symbolize for me a God who has Faces which look out to worshipers and lovers in all directions. People of all faiths and persuasions view Divinity from perspectives which seem at times to be diametrically opposed, just as our great mountain looks very different to southern and northern Island dwellers. But doesn’t this reinforce the transcendent greatness and compassion of God? One Source, living in the center of all beings and all things, looks out with different and appropriate faces to those looking back from an infinity of directions. Is this Mountain, or this God, any less conceivable, or any less believable, because of a paradox of complementary visions? I think not.

Some say that one should stick with their own view of a mountain or of God; that one should study their single, often hereditary, vision each day; then clarify and quantify that deeply personal conception over a lifetime. I say that this is fine and perfect for some. But for some of us, for those called to be explorers of Truth, mediators and bridge-builders to Truth, the burning desire to travel around the circumference of a great mountain, or a Great and Multi-Faced God, is not a whimsical, self-indulgent obsession.

It is a pilgrimage of love. It is a circumambulation of wisdom gathering. Let us not be deterred from gazing through the viewing windows of people and cultures of myriad perspectives. In the process, we may discover more facets of the personality, beauty and greatness of our beloved mountain, or our Beloved God.

Blessed are those of multiple vision, for they may one day see the brilliant, multi-faceted diamond at the heart of all existence that is God.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Shelter from the Storm

In a full cycle of time, weather patterns change perceptibly. In a solar year, we experience weather ranging from a crisp spring morning to a lazy summer day, from an overcast day of autumn to a full blown winter storm. Similarly, in a Great Cycle of time, what has been called a Platonic Year, the changes are even more pronounced. The Golden Age of perfect harmony gives way to a less perfect Silver Age; the Bronze Age of gathering clouds gives way to an Iron Age of chaos, a veritable winter storm of dissent and confusion among mankind. The Greeks, Romans, Hindus and other ancient peoples described these great cycles and also noted that one should prepare for the quintessential weather of a particular Age.

The Iron Age, or ‘winter’ of the four long eons of time, is upon us. The Vedic seers, along with other cultures, foresaw the Storm of the Iron Age which would rage within the hearts of men, creating divisions of every kind—between the sexes, races, languages, cultures. Divisions would arise between rich and poor, young and old, even between mother and child within blood families. The ‘Iron Age of Quarrel and Hypocrisy’ would be experienced as a Cosmic Wind and Rain Storm of gigantic proportions. Who amongst us can deny the insanity of this age in which we live, with its unending wars and genocides? The evening news each night confirms our worst fears.

But, these seers also saw that the Grace of Spirit would send forth a Golden Age within this long-running Age of Iron—described as “an Umbrella within a Hail Storm.” As the 2012 Era draws near, the prophecies of many wise cultures coalesce around legends of a cleansing followed by a transforming Age of Gold. The South Americans say that ‘the eagle of the North will fly with the condor of the South.’ The Vedic sages foresaw that people of all races and creeds would come together in One Family, singing Sacred Songs to purify an atmosphere long contaminated with anger and greed.

Ashram is from the Sanskrit word ‘ashraya’ which means ‘where one can find shelter.’ As we awaken to the possibility of a Golden Age where ‘lion and lamb lie together’ and people are no longer divided by the Old Fearful Ways, we can spread the word to those with the ears to hear that the Ashram of the World has open doors for all. If we can dream it, if we can begin to live it, then each and every child of God can find a shelter from the storm.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Enlightenment Lessons from Politicians

An ashram is a place for intense spiritual growth, a place where we face our desires, confront our illusions and seek to gain insight into our true nature.

The 2008 contest for the Democratic nomination for President continues as Senators Clinton and Obama fight their way across the United States seeking votes and victories. What could attention to American political primaries have to do with our path to enlightenment? If the world is our ashram, we may look for spiritual lessons in all areas of life. What might politics have to do with soul growth?

Well, for one thing, the incredible discipline, determination and (dare we say) courage to run for the highest office in the land is admirable. Can we as spiritual candidates match the time, energy and enthusiasm of political candidates seeking to serve as president? Do we not seek to serve the Highest and Greatest? Do we find that some men and women engaged in a material service put us to shame with their dedication? Where is our fire, our passion, and our courage to expose ourselves and our values to the criticisms and judgment of the world?

Living in the world, we regularly interact with people of high discipline and energy working in various occupations and services. These men and women can be our inspiration, our exemplars, as we challenge ourselves to pursue the goal of self realization as intensely as they rush toward their goals of self achievement. Among such men and women, politicians are some of the most intensely dedicated.

Politics is a brutal game, not for the faint-hearted. So is the spiritual path. The Katha Upanishad describes the spiritual journey as subtle and as perilous as ‘a razor’s edge,’ especially for the faint of heart or inattentive: “Wake up, get up! Your boons you’ve won! Awake and understand them! The path is like a razor’s edge. With guidance go attain it!” Some of the great mystics of all faiths and times have given up everything of value: every attachment, every unnecessary pleasure of the world in a fierce engagement with the greatest antagonist of a spiritual aspirant’s life—his or her own mind.

There is another way in which politics may inform our spiritual journey: by learning from the failures, ‘near death’ experiences, and improbable comebacks of politicians. Both John McCain and Hillary Clinton were ‘given up for dead’ at various times during this campaign season. And Barrack Obama reminds us of the improbability that the son of an impoverished sheep farmer from Kenya and a poor white woman from Iowa could rise to be the third candidate still left in the race for president. The lesson for us in our world ashram is clear: never give up. We will stumble on the spiritual path—often, and sometimes very hard. We will rise to great heights and fall to the lowest depths. The sages tell us to get up, shake off the dust, and go on. The only way our Journey ends in failure is if we don’t get up, or turn around and go back.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Of Presidents and Popes

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime,” said a Master-Sergeant at Andrews Air Force base, “to see two of the most powerful men in the world together.” The Pope and the President walked toward a waiting limousine as onlookers cheered.

I cheered too. Pope Benedict is the first foreign dignitary to be ‘picked up at the airport’ by Bush in the seven years of his presidency. I cheered because political authority briefly showed humility before spiritual authority.

I was with a devout Catholic man yesterday during my hospice rounds. I asked him what he thought of the new Pope. Randall said, “Well, he has to be tested first.” And then he added, “But he sure dresses well.” We certainly seem to be in a time of testing for world leaders, both political and religious. While our leaders continue to impress with the trappings of political and religious power, we long to see them pass the ongoing tests of integrity and vision which confront a divided human race.

I was glad to hear that President Bush will be discussing interfaith dialogue with the Pontiff. This issue may be much more important for the world’s future than the two men’s disagreement over the war in Iraq. And I was happy to hear the Pope addressing the sex abuse issue. Pope Benedict XVI heads a Church which claims over 1 billion adherents. President Bush heads the most powerful country on the planet, and is called ‘the leader of the free world.’ The President and other politicians have said that ‘radical Islamic terrorism’ is the greatest enemy to peace in the world. Some Muslim leaders have declared that Western arrogance and materialism (supported by Christianity, in their opinion) is the ‘great Satan’ which threatens world peace and a God-centered civilization.

Who is right? Who is wrong? Leaving aside such polarizing questions, perhaps we should ask instead, “Who’s willing to take a risk?” “Who is going to risk offending their own congregation or voters by stepping across religious and cultural lines to talk with ‘the enemy’? The Islamic Saladin and Christian Richard-the-Lion-Heart met centuries ago, risking the condemnation of their followers. They met, not only as hard-line representatives of warring religions, but as two human beings at a crossroads in history. Their risk-taking resulted in a long period of peace in Jerusalem.

It has been said that this Pope’s predecessor and Ronald Reagan collaborated together to help bring down the Berlin Wall. If current religious and political leaders can humble themselves through collaboration versus condemnation, perhaps they can begin the process of breaking down the very dangerous walls of mistrust between believers of different faiths. These walls are not made of stones like the Berlin Wall. They are much more calcified walls—walls of dark history and retribution, terrorism and crusading, betrayal and abuse. They will not fall as swiftly as walls made of stone.

Popes and presidents, rabbis and imams, gurus and pastors. May they each risk taking a brick from the dangerous walls which divide us, and thus honor the God who has given inspiration to prophets, saints and founders of a multitude of faiths and civilizations.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

My Grandmother's Gift

Last night I dreamed of my maternal grandmother for the first time in years, maybe decades. She had come out with a beautifully cooked meal for me before I was to leave on a long trip. I cried tears of appreciation and respect for her gift. Waking up, I thought of the multi-generational support which is available to each of us from our family lineages. My grandmother died over 30 years ago. I remember her as a hard-working, often smiling and always strong woman who balanced out my charismatic, idealistic grandfather with her practical concern for their extended family. At family gatherings, she was the foundation that held the celebrations together. Whatever individual aspirations she may have had earlier in life, she had sacrificed to create a safe, happy and inviting family environment for her children and grandchildren. That was a real gift to me. It was my first experience of the joy of being with a group of diverse yet loving people who cared for each other on a deep level. Later when I lived in a large spiritual community, I often hoped that someday I could be in relation to each ashram member like a brother or a sister, just like it was growing up at our family gatherings. God being our common Source, we are all brothers and sisters at the deepest level. Indeed, we can only feel the profound peace and joy of being 'at home' in this world when we can relate to everyone as brothers and sisters. My grandmother's gift allowed me to feel what that is like. In this way, she is one of my great ashram teachers. Her gift helps me to know intuitively how far I have come and how far I have to go to find spiritual community and universal family within the great diversity of the world.