Dear
Friends, [this is NOT the relfections article; that is the blog preceding this one......go down to 'older posts' or click on http://www.hrimananda.org/search?updated-max=2017-03-20T11:26:00-07:00&max-results=3]
I’ve put together in one blog article the series
of spontaneous emails I sent to the Ananda Community residents in Lynnwood and
to our staff at the Ananda Meditation Center in Bothell. I’ve done some editing
but not much. Because I only dared send these to a few close friends, I thought to paste them all together and post 'em for whoever dared read them. The blog, as such, is long but rather than a series of articles
each day. Read as you feel. It’s simply too much for to add pictures, so,
instead here’s a link to photos: https://goo.gl/photos/RCpAPdF1haZuFaWf6
Hriman
Pilgrimage Begins – Trip to Puri
Friday,
February 24 – Monday the 27th No pilgrimage to India can be the
same as another. Perhaps we change; perhaps India changes.
We've had a very
harmonious group, notwithstanding many have not met each other before. From
Will and Wendy from Ananda Michigan (Lansing), to Angela Muir from San
Francisco, to recent YTT graduate Sabrina Hamilton and her boyfriend, Aman,
(adopted from India), to Helen Moran from Bellingham, Joyce Eleanor in
Kriya Prep training, we have a disparate group of souls.
And yet nothing unites
people more strongly and more quickly that a shared openness to the presence of
God in their hearts, lives, and on earth at those special "worm
holes" that descend from eternity!
Yes, good food, exotic
surroundings mixed with the familiar (ATM machines, hotel lobbies, and
airports), make for a yin and yang spicy intensity that forms bonds in shared
experiences.
The airplane trip over
was wonderfully boring and familiar airplane stuff...a 14.5 hour flight
can either "fly by" or "hang-over" the earth. Meaning
it was happily uneventful. The very brief stop in Dubai gave us a chance to
descend from the glaciers of Greenland and, the snow clad peaks of eastern
Europe, Turkey to the vast brown desserts of Iran and Saudi Arabia. We left
Seattle and headed north for Canada and Greenland. Somewhere east of Britain we
descended in a straight line over Scandinavia, Russia, eastern Europe until we
reached hazy Dubai.
The 3.5 hr flight to
Kolkata was a cake walk after a 14.5 hour marathon. Barely had time for a cup
of coffee!
Kolkata immigration
was our first experience of India's relatively new online 30 day visa
system. Though the airport is brand new and modern, the process was medieval.
Partly too few officers, partly the process requires photographing you and
fingerprinting you on machines that, well, don't function well, let's just
say.
I think for many of
our souls the dusk drive through the streets of Kolkata were something of an
eye opener. The bus was very, very quiet.
Hotel group check-ins
are always a test of patience: "we were fresh from the plane, a figure of
speech, merely: we were dog tired."
We had dinner right
away and right to bed. I didn't get past my emails and unpacking (yes, I tend
to putter: let's see where best to put my extra Vitamin C) and into bed until
midnight or so. About 30 hours up. Sleeping on an airplane is, for most of us,
yet another euphemism for a cricked neck, bleary eyes, and a bad hair day.
It was a little after
5 am that I awoke with “boing!!!” My meditation: in front of my 6th floor
window as the sun rose over Howrah Bridge was shockingly blissful. I felt as if
the vibration of Master (Paramhansa Yogananda), Sri Yukteswar, and so many
great saints poured from the outlying districts where they lived like a
bliss-carrying mist. (Yes, the air was so thick you could see it and the sun so
red, you almost couldn't.)
That day, passing over
minor details like a fabulous breakfast, a heart welcoming opening get
acquainted, whats-your-story satsang, we visited Mother Teresa's convent where
she lived and died. To say it was special would be trite but true. Tears came
to all, both from inspiration and overwhelming compassion. For me standing at
her room with its tiny writing table and crude bed in which she died was a deep
experience.
On a Sunday busloads
were pouring into the tiny shrine, chapel, courtyard, and tomb. People from all
over the world where the "sacred heart" of Jesus resided both in her
and in those she served, the poorest of the poor.
Monday was a travel
adventure back to the airport. The flight was shorter than the drive to the
airport and the interminable check in and boarding.
Bhubaneshwar is not
quite tropical but certainly exotic. To change our money (probably thousands 27
x $250 avg.) stopped in middle of town at a statuary shop that was worth a stop
by itself: Nataraj's, tiny paintings, deities from Buddha to Rama all sizes;
hand carved in stone......any way: take your turn: the money changer asks how
mucho mucho you wanno and with a flick o' the wrist out comes 1,000 rupee notes
in a flash.
Before that we stopped
at an eye-popping hotel (same chain as ours in Puri) for our lunch. It was exquisite
and our pilgrims were in fine and high spirits. We were surrounded by beautiful
art work amidst a tropical paradise bubble.
Nonetheless, by the
time we reach Puri in darkness, hot and humid, our puppies were too pooped to
peep. Somehow we sat for another meal before collapsing in bed, trying to
adjust our air conditioners.
After unpacking, I
traded rooms with Angie who had an allergic reaction to what was s'posed to be
her room. I didn't notice a thing; I guess I was comatose already. Using trash
cans I schlepped my junk down the hall and re-commenced my puttering. It's serious
business arranging one's things as if for a permanent stay. It was rather late,
again, and the sun pops up like an irritable rooster so there I was, sleep
deprived (again).
But of course what you
are waiting all this time patiently reading is to hear about our first retreat
day. 6 to 8 pm yoga and meditation; went beautifully. After breakfast we had Mr
Toad's wild ride: none of the pilgrims had been given a warning or a hint
(beyond the prospect of meditating at Swami Sri Yukteswar’s ashram) of what they
had to experience first :and they loved it! Hanging on for dear life in 5 or 6
auto rickshaws buzzing through Puri swerving and honking and being honked the
whole way!
Immediately after that
we had to shift from the utmost rajas to the deepest sattwa guna arranging
ourselves around the little mandir where Swami Sri Yukteswar’s body is buried
in lotus posture in the sands below the mandir.
Our time there wasn't
long: about an hour of meditation but for a very mixed group it was just right.
For me, I felt able to go deeper than ever. It was absolute stillness that
characterized the experience. Yes, it was hot and even noisy, for the dear
ashram is engulfed by apartment buildings gazing down upon like larger than
life grouches sitting on the haunches.
But we entered our own
world.
Now I take a break
while some are off on a shopping experience. We reconvene on the beach at 5 pm
to energize, chant and meditate. Dinner of course follows while rest pursues to
sleep once again.
Tomorrow AM we go to
the beach instead of our sadhana room. We will greet the rising sun with sun
salutations,gayatri mantra and meditation.
I hear it's snowing
there in Seattle. A contrast I simply cannot conceive beyond the words.
Joy to all,
Hriman and all the
souls on our journey
On to Puri
Monday,
February 27th: We were up bright and early in Kolkata and out
the door on our bus to the airport for our flight to Bhubaneshwar (sp?).
Airport time is all hurry up and wait but we eventually got on the plane and
flew less than 1 hour to Bhubaneshwar.
There we boarded our
bus and stopped at a nearby hotel, a cousin of ours here in Puri (the Mayfair
Heritage) where we had a wonderful meal but even more we enjoyed the tropical
gardens, the amazing works of art, and time together.
Bhubaneshwar has a
nearby white tiger reserve and another reserve nearby for elephants. Had I
known that in advance I would have attempted to schedule visits this week. It
is also a city of temples. A smaller city and a less populated stated (Odisha,
formerl Orissa) it is generally clean and tidy.
We stopped at a statue
store where we exchanged bazilliions of dollares and were much impressed with
the beautiful carved statues. Some folks bought some carry-able items.
Then on to Puri which
we reached after dark, very tired. Checked into our rooms and had a dinner no
one needed.
UP early tomorrow to
begin our 6 day retreat with yoga, meditation, our first visit to Karar Ashram
(Sri Yukteswar's).
A few minor
discomforts here and there but the spirits are high and folks are really
getting to connect and enjoy each other's company.
Blessings and joy to
all,
Retreat
to Puri – Sunrise/Sunset Meditations
February
28 – March 1st : Last night, and then again, this morning we moved to the
beach for our sadhana.
Each at sunset or
sunrise.......the hotel, the Mayfair Heritage in Puri (look it up on the
internet), puts out plastic chairs and a large tarp on the sand. Last night we
energized to the setting sun; chanted and meditated. It was still light but
growing dark quickly and afterward we sat and enjoyed the coolness of the end
of the day (no, we don't have snow).
Vendors of conches,
rudraksha beads, and stones are a bit of pest but the hotel staff acted a bit
as bouncers. A few pilgrims waded into the delightfully warm ocean, headless of
what might seem dusk.
This morning up before
5 a.m. and out to the beach, Murali led us in sun salutations in the near
darkness but growing light by the minute. Then we chanted and when the sun
finally made his appearance we stood and chanted the Gayatri with Swami on
Murali's cell phone with a portable speaker.
We meditated, then,
and afterwards many went in for a refreshing swim: given safety and comfort by
those who stayed with their things and kept an eye on them. There were some serious
crasher waves out there but those who swam loved it.
So, off to breakfast;
then later we go to Ananda Moy Ma's local ashram to meditate and meet the local
Swami; we may peek in the crematory grounds next door (last night on the beach
at sunset a parade of people marched by up the beach beating a drum and
carrying a body on a stretcher. Some eyes opened wide.)
We will visit the
street where the famous and ancient Jagganath Temple can be found and admired:
the city's version of the Space Needle. One of our members, whose name I must
keep secret owing to the NSA, is going to attempt to crash the temple by
walking in pretending to be a devout Hindu. [Note: she later decided not tol] Likely
she will be expelled but this person is determined to affirm certain
principles. Search on Jagganath Temple, Puri India; it's pretty awesome.
In former times the local king and royalty would pull enormous chariots holding
the dieties through the streets in atonement for whatever.
Did I mention that
yesterday afternoon certain persons went out for a shopping spree and had a
grand 'ol time.
Some little
discomforts here and there. But all is well.
Joy to ya'll........
Retreat to Puri: Ananda Moyi Ma’s Ashram &
Jagganath Temple
Wednesday,
March 1: Was
very rewarding.
But the day started in
the pre-dawn darkness. Murali led the group in Sun salutations on the lawn
adjoining the beach. I went ahead to prepare for the beach meditation that
followed.
On the beach Murali
led us in reciting to the accompaniment of Swamiji's recording the Gayatri
mantra. I did a few chants on the harmonium and we meditated in the cool
morning with the thunder of the ocean right there and the rising sun upon us.
It was truly blissful: between AUM as sound and AUM as light........
Afterwards, many went
swimming: the water here is so warm it doesn't matter when you swim. The waves
are real crashers but no one was dismayed.
Then showers and
breakfast and off we went in auto rickshaws to Ananda Moyi Ma's ashram.
Some months ago Bhakti
discovered that there exists a Ma ashram in Puri. To our knowledge no one was
aware of it. It's in an older part of the seaside town: extremely narrow lanes;
many decrepit buildings but we did find it.
Murali had previously
(from America) phoned the swami who resides at the ashram a while back to vibe
the place out as to whether appropriate for us to go, visit, and meditate
there.
It was the real deal:
off the shelf Indian ashram! Nothing modern or westernized about it....
We had to walk through
narrow lanes crowded with cows, dogs, people, bikes and motorcycles: all
beeping, honking, mooing, talking at once; walking past little stalls selling
everything imaginable and few things not.
Near to the ashram,
and as Murali warned us, were the crematory grounds. Though nothing like
Benares, Puri is, nonetheless, one of the places in India where a Hindu feels
blessed to die there, or at least be cremated there. What was happening at the
moment was such that we didn't feel to enter the grounds. It was midday; hot; crowded
and family was there with a body doing what they do.
But such grounds are
considered sacred just as one feels a special grace at the birth of a death of
someone. As they say more or less here: here (at death and at the cremation)
the karmas go (as in go to the astral to find fruition perhaps in future
lives). Karmas as opposed to kriyas, that is (kriyas being acts that nullify
past karma.)
Ma's ashram a block or
two further was an oasis of serenity. It was adequately clean and tidy, though
ironically no woman's touch was evident. Ma's last stay there was perhaps 1979.
The Swami was
delightful. He spoke in Hindi with Murali though he had some command of
English. We plied him with questions through Murali. His story is a charming
one; we'll reserve that for some future occasion. [Though Ma was still alive,
he had an insight of vision of Ma that said wait for her to initiate him.
Before her death and because he couldn’t go to see her due to financial issues,
she came to him in vision to initiate him. The devotees at Haridwar accepted
his story later when he went there to live and be trained; later, he was sent
to Puri and has been there, what, some 17 years.] He tells the story in an
interview Murali found on YouTube!
We meditated deep in
silence together with him. Ma's room is now a little shrine/altar. We had to
climb first up and then down darkened hallways to get there: cool in the
relative darkness and also feeling very sacred and still. Everyone was deeply
touched. Spontaneously people came to him and had their photo taken. He was
charmed and each time wanted to see the photo! Very innocent and childlike; the
real thing, I'd say. With a toothy smile that would charm a cobra (we haven't
seen one yet).
We left reluctantly
but uplifted, almost (almost) speechless. I staged a photo of me pulling Bhakti
out through the front gate as if upholding my promise to her husband, Bhima,
that I would make sure she came home to Seattle!
The trip into the
center of town to the gigantic, ancient, impressive and stern Jagganath Temple
was harrowing in that it was intense, confusing, and hot. We had a run in with
a temple guard (rickshaws not allowed near the temple). A parked motorcycle
toppled over onto Aman's foot. The group was separated for a while and the journey
was too much for Rashida though she made it. Temple street is awash with people
and that's nothing compared to festival times.
Our guide, Bijaya,
talked about the temple: 7000 priests run it; non-Hindus strictly prohibited;
100,000 meals served each day.
I think we are all
relieved to get back to the hotel. I was crisped and slept 3 hours straight.
There are almost nonstop workshops with Murali; trips to the nearby Ayurvedic
clinic for massages and consultations; 3 squares a day in luxurious banquet buffet
style; sadhanas morning and night and in between. Fairly intense but surrounded
by so much on every level.
This evening, under
the stars and next to the pool, magically lit, Murali regaled us with bits of
Indian history on the theme of how plurality (Indian religions) differs from
diversity (Judeo-Christian-Islamic) and how that underlying acceptance of
plurality has influenced Indian culture; how also, America was founded on
principles of plurality (oneness: all men are created equal), Hence a deep and
abiding relationship between the two countries exists as Master described and
predicted.
All are happy, even
those with tummy issues and many friendships are being born.
I need to hit the hay;
the sun dawns early (really?).
Have a great day. Our
group wants to propose auto rickshaws by Uber in Seattle. You think?
Tomorrow: we visit the
ashram of Sanyal Mahasaya: direct disciple of Lahiri. Near to that is the
residence of one of the Hindu "popes," the Shankhacharya of Puri,
Gowathan Math....this is where Swami took his renunciate vows.
Joy!
Retreat to Puri: Sanyal Mahasaya
Thursday, March 2: There are statutes (murtis)
located at the ashram of now deceased Sanyal Mahasaya. Sanyal was quite young
while Lahiri Mahasaya was still living. His spiritual stature, however, was
already recognized by Lahiri himself.
Though, like Lahiri a householder, Sanyal later in life moved to Puri and established his residence there, now an ashram.
Though, like Lahiri a householder, Sanyal later in life moved to Puri and established his residence there, now an ashram.
The center statue is of Lahiri; Sanyal is to the
left and Sanyal's wife to the right.
We took turns going into this tiny, tiny room where a portion of Lahiri's ashes are also kept; there we could pray briefly but otherwise meditated in the covered patio that is connected to the room.
We also took turns going upstairs into the residence where Sanyal and his wife's bedroom remains intact; there also to meditate and feel the holy vibrations of these great souls.
A wonderful surprise awaited us; two, actually: the one, a bit hard to take; the other, a great blessing
As to the first: a nearby residence was playing Bollywood tunes at a volume worthy of Bollywood. Our guide, Bijaya, asked them to nicely knock it off for an hour (which, gratefully they did, thus removing the high intensity base thumping that threatened some whose hearing had little scope for further loss).
But the other was that Murali and our guide arranged by happy serendipitous grace to have what is the resident pujari (priest) conduct a puja ceremony for our group. This was an event Murali and I had wanted on our agenda but couldn't so easily arrange from afar.
The kindly Swami did it up right: puja, arati, all the bells and whistles. It was very touching and special for our group. 4 years ago there was no resident pujari nor any temple for that. Turns out this pujari, a kriyaban, had what can only be called a vision of Lahiri who told him to move there to the ashram to do this function. (His family has been for many generations the priests for the local royal family in that region.
We took turns going into this tiny, tiny room where a portion of Lahiri's ashes are also kept; there we could pray briefly but otherwise meditated in the covered patio that is connected to the room.
We also took turns going upstairs into the residence where Sanyal and his wife's bedroom remains intact; there also to meditate and feel the holy vibrations of these great souls.
A wonderful surprise awaited us; two, actually: the one, a bit hard to take; the other, a great blessing
As to the first: a nearby residence was playing Bollywood tunes at a volume worthy of Bollywood. Our guide, Bijaya, asked them to nicely knock it off for an hour (which, gratefully they did, thus removing the high intensity base thumping that threatened some whose hearing had little scope for further loss).
But the other was that Murali and our guide arranged by happy serendipitous grace to have what is the resident pujari (priest) conduct a puja ceremony for our group. This was an event Murali and I had wanted on our agenda but couldn't so easily arrange from afar.
The kindly Swami did it up right: puja, arati, all the bells and whistles. It was very touching and special for our group. 4 years ago there was no resident pujari nor any temple for that. Turns out this pujari, a kriyaban, had what can only be called a vision of Lahiri who told him to move there to the ashram to do this function. (His family has been for many generations the priests for the local royal family in that region.
Retreat in Puri: Totapuri’s Ashram
Friday,
March 3: I
can't keep up with all the photos and videos being pass around by our pilgrims
on our cool app, WhatsApp. I even have a friend in Germany who was just here
with the Italian group sending me cool discoveries they found.
I'm a bit overwhelmed
in the communications department. Plus with wi-fi and cell coverage both spotty
and slow I could be up all night processing these wonderful things for you, my
friends. So, forgive me!
Our retreat schedule
has spaces which we need for rest but overall you cannot escape the intensity
of India and our various outings to deeply spiritual places; add to
that the special and touching interactions with fellow pilgrims; hotel staff
and people we meet everywhere; and finally the special internal and external
personal experiences.
One cannot describe
sufficiently sunrise and sunset meditations on the beach; morning chanting of
gayatri as the sun rises, e.g. Meditations to the roar of the ocean but a
hundred yards and with the early morning or sunset gentle sun upon you.
Today's outing was
two-fold: the second a surprise as only India can offer.
We drove through some
of the poorer sections of Puri, away from the ocean to find the ashram of
Totapuri. If you don't know who he is, I don't have the time or energy to
explain. There were monkeys all around: don't make eye contact with monkeys and
don't think about them either. You think I'm kidding????? Hah! Then you DON'T
know monkeys like WE do!
There's a large banyan
tree on the grounds where he gave various people samadhi. We took turns
meditating "inside" the tree. His tomb is there also (I now suddenly
don't recall if cremated or buried). And his bedroom. He was a giant of a man:
dreadlocks, enormous very powerful.
We sat outside the
burial mandir on the marble porch and meditated and I did a few chants on the
harmonium. Seems Bhakti and I are basically "it" on the harmonium.
Bijaya, our guide,
showed us various fruits on the grounds, including cashew, wood apple (Bel
fruit), mango trees (no fruit until May).
On the way back we had
the inspiration to stop at an ashram temple of Chaitanya: one of the great
reformers and influencers in Hindu history who lived in Puri. A real Krishna
devotee. Beautiful temple.We participated once again in vary traditional puja
and arati with the priests there.
All 'round were
monkeys again. Bhakti had to secretly eat a banana though one of them caught
wind of it before she finished, but she escaped unharmed, protected, no doubt
by Chaitanya himself.
The grounds contained
a lovely orchard and a swimming pool for the monkeys who were diving, swimming,
and well, let me just say it, monkeying around. There were sweet young Krishna
cows for everyone to pet and moo over, too.
Several Americans
showed up obviously dressed as gopis replete with all the devotional attire and
movements. An Indian woman told us a story of someone who
de-materialized right there on the altar and who could still be
"seen". Didn't know what to make of it.
I'm fighting some
stuff and am a bit weakened but joyful. Though I could have easily remained in
my room and slept longer this afternoon, I had an appointment at the Ayurvedic
clinic nearby that Murali had researched. Not only is the clinic the real mccoy
(I don't know any mccoy's, do you?), but it turns out the Dr. Treated Swamiji
some years ago and the man who gave me my massage was from Italy and they all
know Shivani, Swami and many others. For reasons unknown to me, they would not
let me pay for my consultation and massage. Dr. Deba Prasad Dash!
He said my body is
like a piece of wood and that when I get back to Seattle I need to get massages
from time to time. Hey, Padma's been saying that for years! I told them both
that and they laughed. I came back covered in oil: even had the drip treatment
on the forehead. WOW. I had an oil hair do that fortunately no one took a
picture of.
It's only 8 pm but I
am fading fast.
Joy to ya'll.........
Retreat to Puri: Return to Karar Ashram
Saturday,
March 4:
Dear
Friends,
This morning we went
back to Karar Ashram (Sri Yukteswar's ashram). It has become completely surrounded
by large apartment buildings, some still under construction. It was cacophonous
today but by a stroke of grace as I left my room I reached for my headphones
and meditated the entire time in a corner undisturbed.
Between Totapuri - an
extreme nondualist-- and Sri Yukteswar - a strict gyani -- my meditations have
been extremely focused and concentrated on stillness. The deeper it goes the
more it morphs into expansiveness without condition of any kind. It begins with
bhakti and soon sheds thought, conditions, definitions, mental
motions........deeply refreshing.....all things like heat, flies, noise vanish!
Most blissful and I feel rejuvenated. Murali had to tap me to say we had to
leave as they close the place at noon.
At the last minute,
after lunch, I decided to go on the road trip up the coast to Konark: the Sun
Temple. It was a beautiful drive up a relatively quiet beach side road
surrounded by forest, orchards, and quaint farms and cottages. I think the
drive one way was less than one hour and it was nice to get out of the town a
little bit.
The Sun Temple is, I
believe, a Unesco World Heritage site and we enjoyed it. Over run with stalls
selling stuff and vendors hawking stuff, it was, nonetheless, an impressive
16th century massive temple, partially in ruins. Carvings everywhere, from the
erotic to the sublime. Overall very impressive though not for its spiritual
vibrations. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed the outing and even the drive up the
coast through gentle forests and alongside lovely beaches. Perhaps someday
Ananda can have an ashram just outside of town.
Tomorrow is Sunday.
Our agenda is quiet: a satsang in the morning after sunrise meditation. Re
packing for next week's adventure in Kolkata visiting all the highlights of the
Masters.
Joy and blessings,
Hriman
Conclusion to our Week-long Retreat in Puri,
India
Sunday,
March 5: In
the pre-dawn darkness as we do sun salutations or energization on the lawn that
leads to the beach, the chatter of the birds is deafening. What they all talk
about so early is beyond me; besides, they all talk at once. Perhaps they are
describing their dreams to one another. Whatever the conversations are,, they are
quite animated. To speak to one another, we humans practically have to shout in
the darkness.
The light appears
steadily like the ticking of a clock: relentless and unhesitatingly. The
mystery part is when precisely will the red orb suddenly appear from behind a
bank of distant at sea grey clouds. If the cloud bank offshore is light, the
sun can appear ten or so minutes earlier than if the bank is closer to shore or
thicker. Thus we worked out a system of alternating chanting with pranayam so
that at the first hint of the appearance of the Sun god, we leap to our feet
and begin reciting the Gayatri mantra with hands folded. Murali's cell phone
and portable speaker bring to us Swamiji's voice booming above the breakers
just 50 or more yards from us.
Today our schedule was
very light; at the moment, 4:30 to 6:30 p.m., Murali is conducting the last of
3 afternoon intermediate yoga workshops. At 9:30 a.m., our daily gathering
satsang, he gave a previously postponed lesson in Sanskrit: pronunciation and
grammar.
Then we segued into
gathering everyone's input as to the previous 5 day retreat. Overwhelmingly the
input was positive. Some helpful tweaks were suggested. The key activities were
many but morning sadhanas alternated between an indoor yoga sadhana (as one
would have at, say, the Expanding Light) (giving me personally some solid kriya
time in my room) and sunrise sadhana described previously but including
meditation.
Our 9:30 a.m. satsang
begins with Keshava describing where we are going that morning and why, along
with logistics.
This week, we went
twice to Sri Yukteswar's; Ananda Moyi Ma's; Sanyal Mahasaya; Totapuri's; and
Chaitanyas; and, the Jagganaught Temple.
Typically we are back
in time for lunch near 'round 1 p.m. Then rest time for the afternoon. One afternoon
included the 1 hour drive up the coast to the Sun Temple. Other afternoons
alternated with the 2 hour intermediate yoga workshop. 4 afternoons included
sessions at the nearby Ayurveda clinic where we met, to our enormous surprise,
the doctor who had treated Swamiji in Assisi, knows Shivani and many others
there. The first afternoon included an outing for shopping.
Others went in search
of statues; others, yet for Vedic astrology readings.
Two nights under the
stars and by the beautiful pool Murali gave lectures
on Indian culture and the history of yoga.
Somehow we had to
"stomach" three squares each day: a herculean task worthy of, hmmm,
Hercules?
Fact is, however,
almost all had some stomach ailments, though none were serious. This slowed
people down, but just a little!
Now, another early
morning on Monday but for the purposes of catching our plane in nearby
Bhubaneshwar: destination: Kolkata. There's no one pronunciation of this city,
but here's one: Coal-cut-a.
Most of you will know
this week's agenda: Tuesday, Mahasamadhi DAy is Master's house on Garpar Road;
not sure yet of timings but Hassi's house; Daksineswar; Serampore; Badhuri
Mahasaya's; shopping; and so on!
Well, duty calls: a
lime fizz with Keshava who just flew back from Kolkata after attending a
wedding for one of the descendents of Master's brother, Ananta, in Serampore.
I have more to tell: a
wild rickshaw ride invitation to the driver's little home and family that was,
while crazy-risky, very touching for the 5 ladies who said yes.
Joy! Hriman-ji
March 7 – Yogananda’s Mahasamadhi Commemoration
Day
Tuesday,
March 7: What
a day we have had! If only pictures and words could suffice. I asked two of the
pilgrims -- each whose spouse is NOT on the trip -- "How will you EVER
describe and share this experience?" None of us had a real answer.
We bussed to Master's
house (4 Garpar Road) this morning. After a brief wait we were ushered upstairs
where Somnath and Sarita Ghosh greeted us. They remembered some of us from
their visit in August 2015. They were very sweet and heartfelt.
We chanted for a bit;
talked about the house and about the mahasamadhi event. Then, with an
occasional chant, we took turns meditating in Master's bedroom; the room where
Babaji appeared to him on the eve of his departure to America in 1920, and in
his upstairs attic room.
The hushed silence
felt more like the air we breathe: more like our natural medium of mind and
expression....than something we had to "put on." No one wanted or
needed to speak. We drank in the silence like a parched traveler in a desert
drinks water at an oasis.
After some time, I have
no idea how much time but perhaps 1.5 hours, we went upstairs to the kitchen
and dining room where the family served us a fancy and tasty "box"
lunch: neatly arranged boxes (the size and shape of a large box of chocolates)
with a complete Indian meal inside! Very convenient; neat; and easy
to eat.
Somnath regaled us
with stories, including stories of the ouse itself; the neighborhood and
incidents from Master's youthful life, and the lives of his father
(Harekrishna) and grandfather, Sananda. The original painting by Sananda of
Babaji is there along with many extraordinary paintings and photographs,
including the year Sananda lived in Puri designing and building the mandir
where Sri Yukteswar is buried. Ah, the stories! Wish I could have recorded them
and in some cases even understood them.
We left refreshed in
body and spirit. Our destination was Dakshineswar Temple.
Owing to construction
we could not drive into the parking lot with our bus. Our walk through the hot,
dusty noisy and busy streets of Kolkata, near the banks of the Hoogley River
(aka the Ganges), and through the dusty haunts of the poorest of the poor in
lean-to's, shacks, and homes of branches and leaves was an adventure in
remaining centered and alert.
At last we arrived at
the temple grounds. Leaving most everything we carried outside under the
supervision of Bijaya's "man," Uttam, we entered the grounds. It was
not especially crowded today and the weather, though warm, was pleasant enough.
We chanted in the
portico opposite the Kali temple and deity doors: near the same pillar where
Master had the vision of Kali on the chapter on converting his brother in law.
A crowd of appreciative locals gathered around us.
Then, armed with gifts
of flowers we each made our way and presented ourselves before the image of
Kali that so often appeared and became real for Sri Ramakrishna, Master and
others. I made special offerings: one for Karen Sherman's mother; and another
for Padma's birthday, March 8.
We received the red tillak
mark afterwards.
Some wandered around:
there's a Krishna temple next to the Kali one and 12 small Shiva temples:each
with a different aspect of Shiva!
We took turns
meditating in the room where Ramakrishna lived: surrounded by pictures of great
souls of his day, including Babaji, Master Mahasaya ("M" the author
of the Gospel of Ramakrisha) and so many others famous in their day.
We walked down to the
Ganges below the giant car and railway bridge that spans the Ganges in hopes of
taking a sunset cruise on the Ganges but alas it didn't work out. Instead we
watched the sunset, took photos, and relaxed.
Our walk to the bus
wasn't as long as earlier in the day but the drive home in commute hour was
more than an hour. By the time we arrived at our hotel, well after dark, around
6:30 or later, my bladder was almost gone and a migraine had formed.
I went right to bed
after a much needed shower and woke up just now to write this to you!!!!!
Tomorrow, we bus 2
hours up river to Serempore. Another time; another story. BTW among the lush
tropical banana trees, monkeys, and more, it is NOT, repeat, NOT, snowing.
I don't think any
words can describe the sights, sounds, scenes, and smells of Kolkata. I can't
even begin to do so for an ordinary drive across town. It's simply
unbelievable.
Yet, the traffic is surprisingly
disciplined. More so than in other Indian cities. Yes, it's true:
Kolkatans OBEY traffic lights and largely drive in their own lanes provided
your view of a lane is a fluid one.
I skipped dinner I was
so exhausted. Many others went out and gamboled about town to nearby cafe's and
restaurants. The prior night a few of us went to Chutney's: a banquet of dosa's
of every description. Padma would have died and gone to heaven.
I guess I'd better get
some (more) sleep.
Joy!
To Tulsi Bose’s Home: Secret Temple of Kolkata
Thursday,
March 9: We
had a morning sadhana which was only energization and silent meditation; not
the only one we've had but it was the longest and quietest. The others were
sunrise meditations on the beach and the meditation length was perhaps a half
hour in length or maybe a little longer.
This one being in one
of the Lalit Grand Eastern hotel (orig built 1840) was quiet and very still and
lasted over an hour in silence.
That might sound odd
to some of my friends but a pilgrimage trip to India with a group of
nearly 30 people poses some logistical issues and a few philosophical ones.
Logistically hotel meeting rooms are extremely expensive worldwide at 4 to 5
star hotels. One morning even here in Kolkata we found shards of tile
everywhere and workman hammering away in our room designated for yoga and
meditation! (They went away and we put sheets on the floor: standard operating
procedure).
For another, any
outdoor or more local venue, such as a temple, is always noisy; often a
trashed, and likely to be surrounded by curiosity seekers, crowds and any
number of serious distractions.
For another, many of
our pilgrims are new to meditation; some new to yoga itself;
But lastly, the
quasi-philosophical part, we are here to be still and feel, absorb and give
back in devotion the vibrations of these grant saints and holy places. It is
not a time to be emphasizing meditation techniques, unless one's trip is
oriented specifically that way. Our trip was oriented more towards hatha
yoga.
Even in our typical 30
minute meditations some pilgrims left early.
Not being one who
takes yoga classes or is actively deepening my practice of hatha yoga (which,
at home, is short and simple), I took advantage of many mornings to have my
accustomed longer kriya meditations.
We had a leisurely day
today. Sadhana as described above ended at 8:45 a.m. (from 7:15 a.m.); then
breakfast; then on the bus closer to 11 a.m.
We drove back to
Garpar Road but not for a second visit to Master's home but for a visit to his
boyhood friend's home: Tulsi Bose. Tulsi is long departed from this world. Even
his son, Debi Mukerjee, is now gone. But Debi's wife, Hassi, survives along
with her son, Manash, and his wife. Manash and wife, Mo, live in Chennai where
Manash works in the I.T. world. His mother, Hassi, often visits for periods of
time there.
What is so special
about their house? It is a living temple to the spiritual greats. Over the last
100 and more years, Yogananda, his guru Sri Yukteswar, their many related
gurbhais and disciples, the wife (then widow) of Sri Ramakrishna, Kebalanada
(Master's Sanskrit teacher), Ananda Moy Ma, and other illuminatos too numerous
and distant from us to describe have visited there for satsang, rest, food,
chanting, meditation and samadhi!
This living temple
cannot be found on any map or web site. Yet it is a treasure against time.
Already high rise apartment buildings, just like in Seattle, and in Puri
(surrounding and enclosing Sri Yukteswar's ashram), are beginning to rise and
will eventually over shadow homes like Masters and Tulsi's built around
1880.
Thanks to generous
members, including from Seattle, Hassi's home is secured for the future both by
extensive and ongoing renovations but also by having been purchased by
Ananda India, with retained life estate held by Hassi.
There really is
nothing like it, except, of course Master's own home around the corner.
So we chanted;
meditated; shared a meal; and heard stories for several hours. We arrived in
another monsoon-like rain but by the time we left the air was clear and cool!
We got to hold an iron
trident: given by Babaji to Lahiri; Lahiri to Sri Yukteswar; and SY to Master;
Master to Tulsi for safekeeping. Other relics are held in a museum at the Pune
retreat center in Swamiji's home; others yet have been sent to the Shrine of
the Masters at Ananda Village.
We sat on the beds
once used by Sri Yukteswar and by Masters. We sat and meditated; later ate, in
the tiny room where some of these saints were seen levitating; others, in
samadhi at other times.
We can't begin to
share the depth of bliss, sometimes expressed as laughter but more often as
silent, inner communion that we experienced.
The era of the 19th
and 20th century great gurus, itself an expression of former ages, is rapidly
vanishing. Almost no one lives who can personally testify as to meeting them.
Only now we can tell stories but they are still close. But time is moving on.
We are deeply grateful
for a glimpse into the eyes and hearts and the living presence of these saints
and masters.
Upon returing to our
hotel, many of us went out for strolls and shopping. A group went to Kolkata's
famous and infamous shopping bazaar (not unlike Istanbol). Nearly pestered to
death by hawkers, and bobble-eyed by endless saris of outrageous color schemes,
and everything for sale imaginable, and almost getting lost walking home among
the blaring horns and densely crowded sidewalks, we are at last ready to pack
our bags for Delhi--after dinner at Chutney's: a haven for dosa fans.
We will be at the
newish Ananda Center near central Delhi for a few hours: 8 or so people leave
their Delhi hotel rooms at midnight to catch a 4 am plane on Saturday morning
that will return them to Seattle by Saturday afternoon: chasing the sun all
day.
While, arising at 4 am
the rest of us will be bundled onto a train in the old and mystical Delhi
training station for Kathgodam: the terminus for our bus ride up the mountains
of Himalaya for the hill station of Ranikhet: gateway to Babaji's cave.
Wish us luck. I'll
email you a dosa.
Joy and blessings, Hriman
Friday, March 10: I've been up all night, mostly owing to getting 7 pilgrims off
top the airport at 1 am, after some ticketing drama. It's now 5 am and the
train to Himalaya doesn't leave for one hour so we are sitting in silence in a
darkened bus waiting to go to the platform.
We arrived at the Ananda Center south of downtown Delhi
yesterday (March 9). The center is large and incredibly beautiful and
artistically Done. They are all ready packed on Sundays for their service.
Weather here is cool and rainy, as it was in Kolkata. No
complaints, though heading to the mountains suggests we will find things chilly
and slippery!
We are on the final leg of our gloriously inspired and fun
pilgrimage.
Today we are joined by some 24 Indian members
for whom any opportunity to travel to the Himalaya is popular.
Signing off, all aboard!
Hriman
Saturday,
March 11: We had a wonderful evening at the Ananda
Centre in Delhi last night (Friday, March 9). A tour and dinner and a
satsang with a send off to home to 7 pilgrims. I think I said all that
all ready.
Seems to me the last I
shared was in the pre-dawn darkness waiting on the bus before entering the
Delhi main train station.
It was biting cold
standing on the platform for over a half hour but the train was precisely on
time. Pulling smoothly out of the station at 6 am.
The much bally hooed
air conditioning was of no use. I and Murali had been up all night, choosing
to use the time for meditation. So I tried my best to nap on the
train. Will, Wendy, Angie, Bhakti and I sat around a small kitchen table,
W,W, and I facing the other three with our backs to the direction of the
trains movement. So you can imagine just how conducive to deep rest it
was. And here I am typing this report after 9 pm.
After leaving the
Delhi metro area we traveled through farmland including rice paddies, all
green.
There was much that
was not picturesque, from garbage, to coal, to slums.
We chatted, read,
napped and regaled ourselves on the glories of train bathrooms. One
marked INDIAN (a squatter), the other western, both poor
choices.
They served breakfast
and then lunch, in that order. No more need be said.
At last the foothills
came into sight and soon we were on our busses chugging up the steep, narrow
and precipitous Himalaya roads. With every turn it became more beautiful, fresher,
more picturesque, more silently imbued with the breath of saints and sages. I
reconnected with our guide from past years, Mahavir!
It began to rain, then
pour. It got colder. Buses have no heaters. We stopped at a awesome
ashram, the home of Neem Karoli Baba, guru to the American baba ram Das. Thing
is we have to take our shoes off: bare feet on the icy and slippery outdoor
tiles. Brrrrr.
Soon we invaded the
roadside tea skip for Chai and deep fried pakoras. Back in the bus for two
hours of treacherous mountain climbing.
Murali read from the "Autobiography
of a Yogi" and Bhakti and I alternated playing chants on harmonium,
weaving with every twist and turn off the bus.
I'm frozen so will
stop now. I don't even think I can handle a hot shower lest the water
freeze on me before I dry. What's a couple of days hiking, on buses and
trains without a shower? [I DID take that hot shower but no sooner had I turned
off the hot now becoming cool water and my body began to shiver all over
again!]
TOMORROW 8 am to
Babaji's cave. Will he come? Will the sun shine and the mountains be wreathed
in glory?
Joy to you,
Hriman
Climb to
Babaji’s Cave
Sunday, March 12: Yesterday it was rain, hail,
wind and near zero temperatures here in the mountains at Ranikhet. We were all
trying to be positive. Going up to the cave in near freezing rain without the
right gear was a prospect no one dared voice.
This morning dawned brilliant sunshine. Though still cold,
temperatures rose rapidly. We departed at 8 am for the two hour journey to
Dronagiri mountain.
The drive through mountain villages, orchards, farms, rice
paddies and terraced fields rising high up was buoyed by rising hopes.
Soon Dronagiri came into view. Something magical happens on the
mountain. The farms are neat and tidy, their homes brightly painted. The pine
forest glistens with an astral light.
Our hike up the hill was at first in and around quaint farms,
with goats, herders, children, and signs of peaceful domestication.
Then the trail turns sharply upward into the forest. The Gogash
River, really a stream, is temporarily dry.
In groups of 12, we take turns meditating in the cave. It is
rather cold inside the cave today, though the sun outside is healing and warm,
but diving deep into the silence of Babaji and Lahiri s divine presence
banishes all outer distractions. This part remains locked in our hearts or fit
only for verbal expression.
I could go on but it's been a long day and tomorrow we travel
all day by bus and train arriving late evening in Delhi.
We feel greatly blessed by a day most sacred in every way.
See you very soon.
Joy,
Hriman
Monday,
March 13: We have
had a long travel day but most of it was a joy, at least the mountain part.
We rose before dawn to
energize out on the deck facing the Himalayan peaks as they rose to greet and
bless us. It was thrilling!
Then, downstairs to
the sadhana room for meditation; then breakfast in the blazing sunlight and
crisp air and mountain views; naturally photos galore.
Then back onto the bus
to wend our way down and out of the mountains: past quaint villages and
panoramic views.
As we neared the
plains but while driving through a mountain canyon along a river we saw
increasing numbers of (mostly) teenage boys covered in the red and blue hues of
the Holi Festival. At one point, both funny and slightly tense, our bus was
forced to a stop by a band of teens who had placed boulders on the road. The
bus couldn't progress; they more or less surrounded the bus thought with
laughter and taunts. We were stopped for quite a while trying to be patient; our
group had various reactions from concern to delight and we even had convince one
member NOT to open the door.
Finally, the stand-off
ceased and the boulders were moved and on we went. But in every village bands
of people laughed and waved and we reciprocated as they joyously celebrated
Shiva's destruction of delusion.
In said same canyon we
once again stopped at the pristine and beautiful ashram of Neem karoli Baba. In
the glorious sunshine, cool air, we entered a Holi celebration in full force.
Murali demurred from entering the ashram as, being Indian, he would be
easily targeted for getting smeared with colored powder.
But the rest of went on
ahead. A few of our members entered the drumming circle which then morphed into
tribal like dancing, and consequently they were blessed with the Holi colors.
The rest of us attempted or pretended to meditate at the various shrines amidst
the cacophony of (not very musical) chanting and drumming and shouting!
Either way it was
actually a lot of fun and very interesting. I don't know what Neem Karoli
thought of it but I suppose he was pretty tolerant...wherever he is now.
It is a very special
place to stop and his life, made famous by his American disciple, Baba Haridas,
is also deeply inspiring.
For Bhakti's birthday,
it was arranged to have a birthday cake served out on the lawn of a beautiful
hotel near a lake where we stopped for lunch. We had an adventure finding the
hotel, circling through the small lakeside town before finding it.
But we arrived in time
for our long train ride, 5.5 hours to Delhi. Nothing to report train wise
except to ignore comments on the bathrooms and to mention that they serve
airline style meals which most of us consumed though we had no physical need
for sustenance.
At one train stop, we
had just been served our dinner, airplane style. There’s a tray on the back of
the chair in front, like an airplane; it folds down; the steward gives each a
tray with small portions of rice, dhal, curry, chapatti, etc. We hadn’t begun
our meal yet. We were, in fact, still full from our luxury meal on the lawn at
the hotel for Bhakti’s birthday.
Then, suddenly, with
the train still stopped but ready any second to lurch forward, a small boy
appeared on the platform and in our window, only a few feet from us (but
outside the train). He mouthed his hunger as he eyed our trays. We weren’t
really hunger and the site was heart-wrenching. He didn’t look food deprived
nor yet unhappy but he was urgent in his appeal. We couldn’t easily even stand
up with the meal trays down and on our laps. The train could move any second.
What could we do? Several burst into tears or averted their eyes. It was a
timeless moment of anguish for all. It was the most poignant moment on our trip
for a few of us.
It was close to
midnight before I got to bed as being reunited with all of my luggage i spread
it out all over the room. It is still that way as I leave now for one last
shopping spree in Delhi. Looking for a vest just like the one Joseph Phua got
in Kolkata.
We are busy checking
airline tickets because of a big drama that took place Saturday morning when
one of the 6 early departing pilgrims had booked for the wrong day. One cannot
enter an airline terminal without having proof of ticket and passport. We are
busy printing things out.
We have both lunch and
dinner at the Ananda Center to which we simply walk down the busy street to
reach. A final de=briefing satsang before dinner and before that another Murali
induced yoga sadhana.
Then just after
midnight tonight we check out of our rooms; go to the airport, 15 of us, for
our long day's journey home. 4 people leave us at Dubai for other destinations:
Will and Wendy to Michigan; Shanti to Bulgaria; Angie to San Francisco.
Others are staying on
for additional independent touring:Taj Mahal; riverboat on the Ganges and so
forth.
Joy see you soon and
on Sunday.
Tuesday, March 14: Our last day in Delhi was once again mostly a
shopping day. A few wandered down the street for private meditations in the
lovely Ananda Center in the morning. Others came downstairs for a
uncharacteristically relaxed and later breakfast. A few busied themselves on
going on to other destinations in India: Taj Mahal, e.g., and other tours.
Nonetheless, a fairly
large group assembled in a bus for a trip to Dilli Haat: a government organized
outdoor shopping bazaar of stalls carrying Indian products from around the
country. One still haggles and bargains, however and some are better at this
and more comfortable with it than others! The vendors can be a bit pushy, too
but overall the merchandise is vetted for quality and variety. So many
purchases and treasurers were found.
Then we motored into
the posh district of Delhi to a "mall" containing up scale but
otherwise more or less representative features of Indian middle class mall:Khan
market. Again, treaures were found including two human treasurers: Michelle
Phua identified a nayaswami by the blues and it turned out to be Dhyana with
Carpani from the Bay Area! Our own pilgrim Joyce who had left us for a
commercial tour of India was found with her new group in the Khan market as
well.
Nicole and Chad
branched out to visit the Bahai Lotus Temple which later they reported was jam
packed, though beautiful.
After that back to the
Visaya hotel: one or two blocks down the street from the Ananda Center for the
beginning stages of the tiresome but necessary packing.
We take a break with a
yoga sadhana, our last, with Murali followed by a heartfelt gathering of
pilgrims. If there were a theme to the remarks I'd say it focused as much on
friendships as it did on spiritual experiences (as at least expected and
assumed by virtue to the nature of the journey and the places we visited).
At the end of the
sharing Helen Moran from Bellingham revealed that it was her birthday. By
"coincidence" local Ananda members were at that moment arriving with
their 11 year son to celebrate with cake: TWO cakes, in fact, HIS birthday! So,
guess what? Two birthdays. And, we got to have cake BEFORE dinner!
Then the good byes to
Keshava, Daya and staff and trudge back to the hotel for final packing and rest
before our midnight departure.
By 12:30 a.m.
Wednesday morning Delhi time, we assembled in the lobby of the hotel to be
driven to the international terminal of the Delhi airport. We were NOT
accompanied by our guides, neither Keshava, Bijaya, nor even Murali (who today
is taking a 32 hour train ride in sleeping car to Mangalore on the west coast
before going on to his home town of Bangalore).
The airport scene
wasn't too bad though we were confused by certain things in the terminal. We
all got through the long and snaking lines. Some of our pilgrims upgraded to
business class for the return journey today!
In a few hours we'll
be home. Will and Wendy off to Michigan; Angie to San Francisco; Shanti to
Bulgaria. Murali comes home in a week or so and a few other pilgrims return bit
by bit.
Signing off and
preparing for Sunday's satsang: Hriman and the pilgrims.
