Living life as 'status messages'

My life is lived in terms of facebook 'status messages' a lot these days. "Hey, this will be a good status message". So I say / think as I live my days. 'So what does it mean to live a life like that?' I asked myself. I realised that my posts were of two kinds, and the answer is different for both.

When my small self posts, there is self-doubt. Was that cool enough for a lot of people to like and comment on? Did I sound intelligent, smart, witty? Was my grammar correct? Anxiety. Expectations. Disappointment. Self-importance. I get consumed by all these, and facebook takes over as my master!

When my larger Self posts, there is clarity. I feel a deep sense of satisfaction from sharing honest questions and insights with the intent of contributing to the collective life experience; life's 'collective experiments with the truth'. I feel tremendous power in making myself really vulnerable for a larger purpose that is beyond my skin, bones and small sense of self.

Of course, the former happens more often than the latter. But being alive to every fb-post opportunity is my sadhana. And the fruit is worth even every failed attempt! :)

Kaliyuga

About thirtheen centuries ago, a young boy named Sankara left his widowed mother taking sannyaasa, much to her dissatisfaction. After many years, he composed the immortal ‘Bhaja Govindam’ where he calls all of humanity Fools! (Mooda mathey!) lost in the illusory world of matter. He went on to say, unapologetically,

“O Fool! Give up your thirst to amass wealth now…
Be content with what comes through actions of the past…
Take no pride in your possession, in the people at your command or in your youth. Time loots away all these in a moment…
Sheltering in temples, under the trees…. And sleeping on the naked ground, thus renouncing all ideas of possession and attachment, to whom will this dispassion not bring happiness?...
Take delight in being with the noble and the holy, distribute your wealth in charity to the poor and the needy…
Wealth is calamitous, thus reflect constantly: the truth is that there is no happiness at all to be got from it…

Pious Hindus play this song over and over in their homes, as if loving to be called ‘fools’ over and over again! They worship Sankara, seemingly with a lot of dedication.

Today, if one did the same thing that he did (left home in search of the truth, following one’s calling), I wonder if one could escape being called irresponsible, selfish?

If one said the same things that he did, even if in a much softer tone without calling anyone names, I wonder if one could escape being called crazy, naïve, ignorant, foolish, crack-pot, arrogant?

May be this is why they call this the kaliyuga!

In any case, M.S.Subbulakshmi’s rendition of Bhaja Govindam is nothing short of divine. If we can actually listen to it everyday, contemplating its deep meaning, there is our prayer to the Lord!

Right here, right now!

We’re hurt everywhere. In our spaces with friends and family. In the organizations we are part of. With our neighbours.

We all claim to know it is an illusion. That the ‘hurt’ does not have an existence of its own. Yet, we wallow in the illusion, hurting ourselves over and over again.

We all claim to know ‘the truth’ about ourselves. That we are not the body or the mind, and that we are pure consciousness that is as large as this universe. Yet, we refuse to step out of the falsehood, and are comfortably addicted to it. We point fingers feeling ‘judged and pushed around’. We shrink feeling ‘guilty’.

We talk about ‘bhakti’ and ‘surrender’ with so much passion and insight. Yet, we refuse to let go of our insecurities about our futures.

All our minds are connected, and our every thought affects every other thought in this universe. Our hurt is hurting the trees, the fish, the birds, the planktons, the soil, and the skies too!

Why don’t we drop this madness? Right here? Right now? Drop it, not because we want to ‘chill out and party carefee’. Quite the opposite. Drop it, because only then can we really see that we have way more responsibility for all of life than we can ever imagine! Drop it, because that is when we can do what needs to be done. Drop it, out of love.

Let’s heal, right here and now. Let us resolve to take a deep breath every time we feel hurt. In the depths of that breath, let’s vow to see the madness and futility of the hurting, to see the truth of the love of the universe embracing us in its arms, to see ourselves stepping out into the next moment, purer, brighter and healed. So we can have the honour of healing whatever allows itself to be touched by us – the leaf, the water, the air, the wounded child.

There is way too much to be done. There is no time to waste. Taking from an old proverb “The best time to heal was many years ago. The next best time is now.”

Can we all jump into life with a sense of urgency?

Why read or write about 'the truth'?

I used to be pretty convinced about the futility, sometimes even the danger, of reading too much about 'the truth about who we are, about God' and all. Futility, because it can be a waste of time and may not add too much value. Danger, because it can become, what they call, intellectual masturbation, and by that become an escape from 'actual practice'! But reading the following powerful lines in the foreword to the book 'Meister Eckhart, from whom God hid nothing' has made me feel differently about it!

"The heart of all ritual is stillness; the heart of all teaching is silence. The mystics of every tradition know this and keep telling us that "those who speak do not know, and those who know do not speak." Yet those same mystics write volumes and volumes. The language of mystics, however, explodes ordinary language. What is left, after that, is silence, a silence that unites.

Language is meant to build bridges. Yet, how often language divides. It divides when we get stuck in concepts and abstractions, alienated from experience. It is a dreadful thing when this happens to religious language, yet it tends to happen in every tradition. This is why we need the language of mystics to blow to pieces the conceptual walls that divide us - long enough for us to get in touch again with that silent ground of our unity in experience. Once we are grounded in silence, conceptual thinking too, will regain its proper function. No longer will concepts be bars of a mental prison, but rather the bars of a musical score - for a music of silence."

Surviving our culture's messages

I’m a survivor of many damaging messages of my culture. ‘Don’t cry’ is just one.
There is the “don’t-climb-you-will-fall” or the “you-are-incapable” message.
There is the “don’t-pick-up-the-glass-you-will-break-it” or the “i-don’t-trust-you-to-be-careful” message.
There is the “shame!-shame!” or the “be-ashamed-of-your-body” message.
There is the “did-you-fall-oh-let’s-beat-up-the-floor” or the “blame-others-for-your-faults” or “it’s-ok-to-take-revenge” message.
There is the “I’ll-supervise-your-exam-to-make-sure-you-don’t-copy” or the “i-don’t-trust-your-honesty” message.
There is the “be-a-good-girl-and-listen-to-what-mama-says” or "obedience-is-a-virtue" or “bow-down-to-authority” message.
There is the “eat-this-or-I’ll-tell-that-doctor uncle-to-put-an-injection” or “threat-is-a-legitimate-incentive-to-motivate-action” message.
And so on..

As I go through my own process of recovery from assault from internalizing many hundreds of such messages growing up, I so want to protect Isha from that painful process. Every time I see someone telling her some crap like these, I panic and react. I need to remember to have faith in Isha’s own intelligence in this matter. I need to remember to have faith in her own process of growing up through these essential evils of our times, while being her strongest support. I need to remember always that by healing my own wounds is how I can most effectively do that!

Slavery of the worst kind

A couple with two young daughters were visiting a ‘Free School’ in Delaware to see if they could both be admitted there. The younger one, who hadn’t yet begun school, had had her choice already made for her by her parents. To be sent to the Free School, that is. But the older daughter, Jane, insisted that she was happy where she was (a mainstream school) and needed no change. She even talked exuberantly about all the reasons she was happy in her school! But, after listening to Melanie, the founder of the ‘Free School’ for sometime about all the freedom that the new school had to offer, Jane started her long list of complaints about her own school. ‘I don’t get this! I’m not allowed to do that!’ and on and on. I was recently reminded of this anecdote narrated to me by Melanie, some ten years ago.

Our modern society is full of people who think they are happy. If you asked them why, they’d probably even list their reasons for their happiness, just like Jane did. “We are happy where we are! We don’t need to change much!!” So we say, while we go about indulgence after indulgence in food courts and ice cream parlours, expensive vacations, shopping in one mall after another, our facials and new hairstyles, long hours watching ‘incredible’ you-tube videos, shifting to flat-screens and furnished apartments, some ‘charity’ here and some there, engaging in ‘feel-good’ intellectual debates with friends over dinners… How do we know we are not fooling ourselves like Jane did?

May be Gandhi’s very powerful quote is relevant here! “We are dazzled by the shining lustre of our chains and look upon them as symbols of our freedom. This state (of mind) bespeaks of slavery of the worst kind.”

Cry if you feel like it!

Accompanied by her 30 year old daughter, my 55 year old aunt came home suffering from great pain in her heart, both literally and figuratively. She was holding back her tears at her daughter's insistence "Amma, don't cry! Don't cry! Is your crying going to help you in any way? Don't cry! Don't cry!" I could easily imagine a situation where, about a few dacades ago, when the little daughter must have gotten hurt or felt abandoned and cried aloud, and the mother must have told her to not cry. She was not to be blamed. She was only telling her mom what she had been told by her then.

I held my aunt's hand tightly and said, "If you feel like crying, please cry! Please cry!" Even before I finished my sentence, she exploded into tears uncontrollably. Her daughter was watching quite baffled by what I had just done. I could see her asking herself, 'What kind of a person would ask someone to cry!!' In the middle of all this, some first aid, massaging, comforting, crying and all, I explained to the daughter why it is helpful to release one's emotions by crying. I don't know how much of it she was able to digest! After a few minutes, my aunt visibly calmed down and thanked me with her tears and a little smile.

Like, all of us, I'm a survivor of many many messages about 'Do's and don'ts' of the collective unconscious of our society, our culture. One of them is 'Don't cry! Be bold', 'Only the weak cry!', 'Good girls don't cry, bad girls cry'. There is also another subtle way to suppress the tears - the one where we are quick to distract the crying child with a toy, a goody, or something! It is the result of our society's collective mandate to "be positive, whatsoever". Plenty of laughters and smiles is a sign of a good person.

But think about this. When someone (baby or adult) feels like crying, it is because they are overwhelmed by a feeling of sadness - from hurt, abandonment, loss, etc. - and they are trying to release it in the form of tears. If they don't let the tears out, what will happen to the emotion? Where will it go? It can either bloat up the 'pain body' that we carry with us everywhere, making us explode in unhealthy ways whenever triggered. Orl like psychologists and physiologists are now saying, they can get stored in our cells as biological memory and manifest as serious diseases and disorders, and sometimes as physiological symptoms which have no apparent diagnosis! Child psychologist Dr.Aletha Solter swears by the fact that, allowing children to cry (with or without any apparent reason), accompanied by compassionate holding and reassuring words, helps them grow up into happy, healthy, compassionate adults. Training them to control their crying because it is 'not the done thing', makes them grow up into hurt, unhealthy adults not capable of much compassion in their hearts. I agree with her not only because it makes intuitive sense to me, but also because I know it from my experience.

I'm a survivor of some 'strange illnesses' without any proper diagnosis. A couple of psychic healers who read my energy told me that it was my childhood trauma that was manifesting as these. I had no (still don't have any!) memory of trauma during my childhood years. I had thought I'd had a very happy childhood indeed. But may be I was a very sensitive child and controlled my tears a lot? I don't know. But once I gave myself the license to cry with a deep acceptance of my sadness, I made use of some opportunities to cry, to wail it out like a baby. It is not the kind of crying, where you wallow in the pain telling yourself 'Oh poor me! Look at what's happened to me. How miserable I am! This is unfair. This is terrible!' This kind of crying can add layers of dirt to cut through, when you are ready to begin your healing. The crying I am talking about is a very different kind, where you feel so empowered that you have no need to wallow in your pain anymore; so confident that you are ready to tear off the happy-face mask; so in touch with yourself that you don't need to hide behind masks. I have found it most empowering and healing when I have looked at myself into the mirror while crying, sincerely asking "Who is feeling the pain? Who is crying?" questions that the mystic Ramana has taught me to ask of myself. These questions that I ask as I look into those glistening red eyes, as I savour those salty drops sliding onto my lips, hold the magical power to healing and liberation from the suffering. With practise, the ease with which we cry this way increases, and the need to cry itself comes down. Until one day, we are all smiles and laughter. The kind that is real, and that springs from the pure joy of being, not from the happy-face mask that we have trained ourselves to wear.

No complaints!

When I felt angry and frustrated that I was not getting enough,
I decided to count my blessings.
But there was so much to be grateful for, I gave up on the counting!
The sun was shining brilliantly on me.
And the grey sky was blessing me with its gentle showers.
And the moon was lighting me up with its soft light.
And flowers were sending their fragrance my way.
And the gentle breeze was whispering love in my ears.
And children and babies were smiling at me with their innocent eyes.
And friends were offering to get me water.
And strangers were lifting my luggage for me.
And my food cupboard was always filled with wholesome, tasty food.
And family was sending their prayers and wishes to me.
And my mosquito net was keeping me protected at nights.
And ….
I stopped and realized it would be a crime to ask for anything more!

it's another wasted day!

it's a silent moment.
i begin to look inwards.
fingers move restlessly, reaching for the cell phone.
"how could i put off calling my friend any longer? i promised her a long time ago!"

it's a silent moment.
i begin to look inwards.
feet move and walk me upto the kitchen.
"i need a sweet, some comfort food! i've had a long hard day."

and on and on until
the body gives way pleading for rest.

it's a silent moment.
i begin to look inwards.
eyelids twitch.
i worry about my friend's divorce!
i am ashamed at how i behaved at the meeting today!
i wonder how i can be more loving with my maid!
i am excited about the yummy thai dinner tonight!
i am impatient that my friend does not really understand me!
i am guilty about forgetting mom's birthday yesterday!
i am stressed out about an unfinished article that i believe can help save the world!
i plan for visiting the beach in the evening for some quiet time.

the day ends drenched in wave after wave of emotion filled action.

another wasted day passes by
making the count 12,362.

God must be a really patient one,
for God has been waiting,
never giving up on me,
tirelessly gifting me with a fresh moment,
moment after moment for eons,
having faith in me
believing 'may be this one will be taken seriously?!'
never exhausting his supply of fresh moments for me!

waiting for me to leave the madness and end my suffering
waiting for me to die and leave,
so God can take my place
so God can
see through these eyes,
listen through these ears,
touch through this skin,
speak through these lips,
work through these hands.

it's another wasted day!

Two warnings before the story

Anthony de Mello warned me twice before I started to read his stories from 'The Prayer of the Frog'.

The first one on his back cover says this. "It is a great mystery that though the human heart longs for Truth in which alone it finds liberation and delight, the first reaction of human beings to Truth is one of hostility and fear. So the Spiritual Teachers of humanity, like Buddha and Jesus, created a device to circumvent the opposition of their listeners: the story. They knew that the most entrancing words a language holds are, "Once upon a time..." that it is common to oppose a truth buth impossible to resist a story. Vyasa, the author of the Mahabharata, says that if you listen carefully to a story, you will never be the same again. That is because the story will worm its way into your heart and break down barriers to the divine. Even if you read the stories in this book only for the entertainment, there is no guarantee that an occasional story will not slip through your defences and explore when you least expect it to. So you have been warned!"

The second one in the introduction inside says this. "Since each of these stories is a revelation of Truth, and since Truth, when spelt with a capital T, means the truth about you, make sure that each time you read a story you single-mindedly search for a deeper understanding of yourself. The way one would read a Medical book - wondering if one has any of the symptoms; and one's friends are. If you succumb to the temptation of seeking insight into others, the stories will do you damage."

I am just realising how we give in to the temptation of wanting to get insight into others' lives, and fix them! How easily we get into the mode of finding fault with the way the tileman has laid the tiles "Can't he get such a simple thing right?", with the sister-in-law who was rude "How could she speak like that to me!", with the employer who didn't acknowledge our presence "Surely, I was not hiding behind a wall! He could have smiled at me if he wanted to. He has a problem!" and on and on... Anything that will distract us from looking within.

A sample story: "A great religious persecution broke out in the land and the three pillars of religion, scripture, workship and charity appeared before God to express their fear that, if religion was stamped out, they would cease to exist. "Not to worry," said the Lord, "I plan to send One to earth who is greater than all of you". "By what name is this Great One called?" they asked. "Self-knowledge" said God. "He will do greater things than any of you have done."

Happy Reading! :)

It's black, it's white!

Roughly the time when we start philosophising, most of us get introduced to the there's-no-such-thing-as-good-or-bad concept. It happened to me when I was in college and it remained a cool thing to say, a sign of 'being progressive', for a few years from then on. At the same time, I also remained bewilderedly confused about it. Because though the concept sounded cool, it was not my reality. Whether I liked it or not, I was putting things into 'Good' and 'Bad' boxes, almost every waking moment.

I survived that great confusion for years without any resolution. The way I used to deal with it was to greet everything with a pleasant smile on the outside, saying 'After all, everything is grey!', while in the inside, continuing to live in a state of turmoil.

I now see a lot more things as black and white. Whatever entrenches me in the illusion of separation from the source is 'bad' and whatever frees me from that illusion is 'good'. These days, when I cannot decide whether something frees me or entangles me, I don't name it gray. Instead, I leave the decision about whether to call it black or white for later.

I am more at peace with the labeling because I now realise that it is not the labeling that is bad, but two things about it. To label things based on the conditioning of our minds is madness. To develop aversion to the 'bad', and attachment to the 'good' is even more madness.

To be aware of both these madnesses and then label in equanimity not only does not entrench me in more bondage; I realise that it is quite essential to find and experience the truth.

Judge me!

We've told each other many times those magical three words "I love you!"
So, can we exchange blanket licenses to judge each other,
anytime, anywhere, on anything?
And share our judgments with each other
with all the compassion we can manage to muster?

Then, I'd feel safe with you and your judgment of me.
And then you can feel safe with me and my judgment of you.
So, I mean, can we exchange our 'safeties' with each other?

In that safety, I'd be encouraged to discover my blind spots.
And then you can discover your blind spots too!
So, I mean, can we exchange our 'discoveries' with each other?

In that discovery, I'd feel healed and free, and be more able to love.
And then you can feel healed and free, and more able to love too!
So, I mean, can we exchange our 'healing, freedom and loving' with each other?

Ping me!

Are you disappointed that I don't give all of myself to listening when you want to share your thoughts with me?
Hmmmm...

When you feel something with all your being,
when your little toe and the ridge of your nose scream,
when your cells wake up to the soft light inside you and sing,
when your DNAs dance to its music,
when your hair stands up and you have goose pimples,
when your spine straightens up,
then ping me.
I wouldn't want to waste my time changing
or even bargaining with the auto guy.
I'd want to be there faster than I can,
soaking up all that you have to share - joy or sorrow!

I'm tired!

I am tired
of social commentaries
of unsolicited advices
of rules, prejudices, judgments and defenses
of small talk about the Chennai heat
of armchair complaints and criticisms
or even nuanced debates
of ideas about how to fix everything that is not working,
yes, everything including global warming, deforestation, violence, communalism and corporate crime.
EVERYTHING except ourselves.

If we cannot be silent, can we at least look into each other's eyes deeply and listen to our noises?

If it's hard to cry or sing together, can we at least have some real conversations about our insides?

When you complain...

Eckhart Tolle says "See if you can catch yourself complaining in either speech or thought, about a situation you find yourself in, what other people do or say, your surroundings, your life situation, even the weather. To complain is always non-acceptance of what is. It invariably carries an unconscious negative charge. When you complain, you make yourself a victim. Leave the situation or accept it. All else is madness.

My anger

Please, please don't take responsibility for my anger.
It is my sole responsibility;
solely my inner work.

But if it throws light on an unwholesome space inside you
where your unwholesome words and deeds were born
that might have triggered my anger
then, please take a look at that.
That, and that alone, is your work.

Please don't let my anger become your master.
Let it be at your service.

Hurting, healing

Saying "How could he have...!" can be hurting.
Seeing 'how he could have' can be healing.

Connection

I yearn to connect with you -
my silence with yours,
not my noise with yours.

Receive thy noble guest

I was reading Eckhart Tolle's 'Stillness Speaks' and paused at this beautiful line that struck a chord in me.

"When you receive whoever comes into the space of Now as a noble guest, when you allow each person to be as they are, they begin to change."
I haven't known anyone else closely, except Dilip, who did this with such grace!

Still and Quiet

As a child,
when I danced through the streets,
I was told to 'be still';
when I laughed out aloud,
I was told to 'be quiet'.

Oh, what a different world it would be,
if only we all stayed truly 'still and quiet'!
Instead,
we are all frozen and bottled up,
exploding all over the place!

Oh, what a joyously painful challenge it is,
to open up and come alive,
to thaw and melt,
to flow like a gentle stream,
surrendered to and guided by the terrains of life
into the vast ocean of the divine
to be immersed in its stillness and quietness
blissfully and eternally.