Dear Love,
Are You Black? No. Not blue either, though... Fiery bright Red? Sometimes. Burning flames. Embers ignited. Licking clean all misconceptions about You...
I think You might be Green. Like the buds I saw on the trees while walking here. Ever new. Always renewing. You.
I've searched. We all do. But You. You don't stay still. Don't wait to be grasped. Crumble at the mere notion of being caged. Won't be named of defined. Yet You constantly refine. Making shiny and bright. A newfound sensitivity to Life.
Are You the light that I saw when she smiled at me? Pleased by my rotund fertility? Are You the feeling of knowing with absolute certainty? That All is just as it should be. Demanding surrender. Hearts that feign tender, know not the infinite power of eternal Love. No pain. No strain. Just is-ness. Below. Above. Within. Without...
Without You, dear Love, could we connect with each Other? Finding ultimately that all Sisters, and Beings, all Brothers. Not Others...maybe Nothers. A-nother. Nothings and Alls. Witnessing my Self as I fall. Falling into You. You will catch me, I know. I ask then for Faith. For the courage to let go.
Dear Love, I thank You. For always being here. Deep inside. In all things. Are You why we persevere? Until someday we fly free (but we already are). Wrapped safe, in Your ubiquitous embrace. What was always near, has never been. So far.
XO,
Shannanananananana
Tuesday, 12 April 2016
Wednesday, 9 March 2016
Lovely Women: Beneath Muscle, Below Sinew
A moment of stillness. In tune with the New Moon as she fills herself up. Again. The whisper of a remembered phrase. "I knew a woman, lovely in her bones." A real woman, courageous and powerful, once said to me that I, yes me, I reminded her of the woman in that poem. I didn't know this wonderful woman well, but she could see me in a way that I couldn't yet see. In this way, poetry allowed me to remember something I must have known all along. About myself. About life. Thank You Zanne <3
Poetry is that expression of Truth that can't otherwise be expressed. The kind that eludes prose and linear thought. And yet, these clouded and hidden aspects of Reality (of sub-reality?) aren't inexpressible. Upon remembering the memory triggering phrase I became inspired and excited! What if a group of people gathered, maybe once every month. Or just once to try it out for starters! A poetry group of sorts. Each person bringing a work that inspires or grounds them, that helps them remember something that easily escapes ordinary thought. A poem that contains the elusive seed of understanding and deep knowing. Sharing with each other so we begin to forget less. And original works too, if that was in alignment. I'd love to gather in such a way. Would you join in?
And then, after imagining such a soul-filled gathering, I wrote this. Quickly and swiftly. A little poem.
"For Zanne"
I knew a woman.
Lovely in her bones.
She was me
And her and you too...
But,
From time to time
She spun clear out of those bones
Preferring the familiar moans
The shrieks, the cries
Of Power misaligned
Out of time...or just in it, squeezed.
"Come back to your bones"
Whispers heard
Far and near
Grounded and centred
Oft remembered and clear
Stay here.
Stay.
Near.
Fear...
Can fly free.
Surrender and let be.
Stay in your lovely bones
Steady like the trees
Ingesting those fleeting moments
That float through you
Singing with the breeze
Grace and ease.
I know a woman.
So lovely.
Right in her very bones.
This is the original poem by Theodore Roethke:
"I knew a woman"
Poetry is that expression of Truth that can't otherwise be expressed. The kind that eludes prose and linear thought. And yet, these clouded and hidden aspects of Reality (of sub-reality?) aren't inexpressible. Upon remembering the memory triggering phrase I became inspired and excited! What if a group of people gathered, maybe once every month. Or just once to try it out for starters! A poetry group of sorts. Each person bringing a work that inspires or grounds them, that helps them remember something that easily escapes ordinary thought. A poem that contains the elusive seed of understanding and deep knowing. Sharing with each other so we begin to forget less. And original works too, if that was in alignment. I'd love to gather in such a way. Would you join in?
And then, after imagining such a soul-filled gathering, I wrote this. Quickly and swiftly. A little poem.
"For Zanne"
I knew a woman.
Lovely in her bones.
She was me
And her and you too...
But,
From time to time
She spun clear out of those bones
Preferring the familiar moans
The shrieks, the cries
Of Power misaligned
Out of time...or just in it, squeezed.
"Come back to your bones"
Whispers heard
Far and near
Grounded and centred
Oft remembered and clear
Stay here.
Stay.
Near.
Fear...
Can fly free.
Surrender and let be.
Stay in your lovely bones
Steady like the trees
Ingesting those fleeting moments
That float through you
Singing with the breeze
Grace and ease.
I know a woman.
So lovely.
Right in her very bones.
 |
| There is a bone in this fire! |
This is the original poem by Theodore Roethke:
"I knew a woman"
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I’d have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek).
How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin;
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing we did make).
Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved).
Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I’m martyr to a motion not my own;
What’s freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways).
Thursday, 25 February 2016
A poème
It's been awhile since I've posted. Maybe since I've done a lot of things. Writing. Creativity. Movement. Dance. Community. Meditation...
We had a conference. It showcased the interaction between our academic and creative works. I wrote this the night before. Maybe it's about my thesis. Maybe my thesis is about poetry.
We had a conference. It showcased the interaction between our academic and creative works. I wrote this the night before. Maybe it's about my thesis. Maybe my thesis is about poetry.
Ma voix, ta
langue
Speak -
Power
Speak -
Might
Man; Woman;
Black; White
Relentless
dichotomy
Of wrong or
of right
Unless
We lie
down.
Meet there
in that oft quoted field
Of…
Émotion.
Intuition.
Je te danse
Tu me comprends
In this
deeper intangible timeless space of the real
I feel you
Reveal you
Unwind you
And peel
you
Raw. To the
bone.
Muscle and
sinew.
À peau de
fleurs
Percer directement
au cœur
To the
depths
Rhythmic
breath
Beating
hearts
Symphony of
parts
Pounding
Resounding
Surrounding
Astounding
Me and You
Et Tout
Tout ce qui
existe dans ce monde entier
All that
intertwines in infinite interplay
Creating
this dance, made new each day
To dance is
to Be
Undoing the
Other
Melding as
One
Only to
discover…
Quoi ?
Cette voix…
Pas le mien…
C’est à toi
?
Ah bon,
Je suis
encore trop tard ?
Une seule langue,
celle de nos corps…
Avec des
échos beaucoup plus forts
Stronger
than words
So often
unheard
But
vibrations ever-etched
Onto souls
are sketched
Ever
changing
Ever new
Always
becoming
Maybe I am.
You
Tuesday, 18 August 2015
Evolution: The Mumm/Mom-O
This is a difficult post for me to write. And yet, I feel it is not only necessary but hope it might just be helpful for others. You see, nobody can really tell you how to explain to your then 6 year old child that their entire life is going to change. To shift. That the little three-person family they have known for their entire existence is going to disintegrate. Yes. Of course, most people say things like: "Don't stay together because of the children." Especially sensitive children. And in my deepest heart I know that my own happiness and well-being directly affects Xavier. That if I can be strong enough, brave enough to live fully from the heart. If I can aspire and genuinely attempt to continuously grow as a person, to embrace the world with open arms and to learn from life's lessons, well, he will learn that too. On the other hand, we could have stayed all together. This, I believe, would have taught him to sacrifice. To settle. To live a life that is ok, that isn't necessarily bad, that has good moments, but that lacks integrity. That refuses to admit the sad loneliness of lost connection.
Years. Literally years were spent in contemplation. In efforts to renew. To fix. To grow back into something that felt like spikes tearing at my soul. It became clear to both of us, to my son's dad and I: "You're right. We really aren't good for each other." You know? A relationship, a good one, I think, should consist of two people who can really hold ladder's up. For each other. I was never able to figure out how to offer a steady ladder and have it received. My ladders looked like the ladders I would have liked...
That's another story. The point is. We knew. It was time to move forward. But still. Nobody tells you how to have that conversation with your kid. How do you explain that, though you do still love each other, that love understands that staying together lessens the love. Mutates it. Stifles it. Hurts, even. "If you love someone, set them free," and all that jazz. But it's true.
I considered for a long time how to have this conversation. Lived in the closet of not voicing aloud what was going on. At one point I remembered Shel Silverstein's work "The Missing Piece Meets the big-O." I even found an animated video of it:
Moral of the story: A triangular wedge is looking for somewhere, someone, to fit inside. To roll with. The wedge, the "missing piece" tries several partners. They all fail in the end. And then "missing piece" meets a big O. "O" can roll solo. Wedge learns from "O" and starts flipping and flopping along. Eventually "piece's" corners begin to round. After much flipping and flopping and bumping and bopping, "piece" becomes and "O" too.
Xavier and I watched the video. Then I said, "You know. When your dad and I met, we were like half-circles I think. We rolled along nicely together. We had great times! We even made you, a little humongous awesome "O" to come roll along! But somewhere along, we started growing. It got harder and harder to roll together. So now we both realize that we need some time to learn how to roll on our own. To get rounded. Centred. And we both love you very very much. But we won't all live together anymore."
He got quiet. He pondered. His life had just been shattered. His bright blue eyes glazed a little. And then he looked at me with deeper wisdom than I can even claim to understand and said: "Mama. You are very wise."
Wise? Maybe. Blessed beyond words? Most definitely. For certain. We live in two places now. He calls my place "The Mumm-O" and his dad's, "The Dad Pad."
I hope you all stay lasting in love and light. That you can keep the love in your family strong and true. If one day you too have to have the most difficult conversation ever, it's ok too. I try, and don't always succeed, to do everything I do with Love as my intention. Acting and being Love. I do think we are all better, fuller, more Love-filled people these days. It isn't always easy, just like life never is. But it feels True. And the rolling along is painful sometimes. Some corners need grinding to smooth out. Fire and brimstone to release those patterns. But life is also beautiful and familiar. The Way is simple and pleasant.
Blessings.
Years. Literally years were spent in contemplation. In efforts to renew. To fix. To grow back into something that felt like spikes tearing at my soul. It became clear to both of us, to my son's dad and I: "You're right. We really aren't good for each other." You know? A relationship, a good one, I think, should consist of two people who can really hold ladder's up. For each other. I was never able to figure out how to offer a steady ladder and have it received. My ladders looked like the ladders I would have liked...
That's another story. The point is. We knew. It was time to move forward. But still. Nobody tells you how to have that conversation with your kid. How do you explain that, though you do still love each other, that love understands that staying together lessens the love. Mutates it. Stifles it. Hurts, even. "If you love someone, set them free," and all that jazz. But it's true.
I considered for a long time how to have this conversation. Lived in the closet of not voicing aloud what was going on. At one point I remembered Shel Silverstein's work "The Missing Piece Meets the big-O." I even found an animated video of it:
Moral of the story: A triangular wedge is looking for somewhere, someone, to fit inside. To roll with. The wedge, the "missing piece" tries several partners. They all fail in the end. And then "missing piece" meets a big O. "O" can roll solo. Wedge learns from "O" and starts flipping and flopping along. Eventually "piece's" corners begin to round. After much flipping and flopping and bumping and bopping, "piece" becomes and "O" too.
Xavier and I watched the video. Then I said, "You know. When your dad and I met, we were like half-circles I think. We rolled along nicely together. We had great times! We even made you, a little humongous awesome "O" to come roll along! But somewhere along, we started growing. It got harder and harder to roll together. So now we both realize that we need some time to learn how to roll on our own. To get rounded. Centred. And we both love you very very much. But we won't all live together anymore."
He got quiet. He pondered. His life had just been shattered. His bright blue eyes glazed a little. And then he looked at me with deeper wisdom than I can even claim to understand and said: "Mama. You are very wise."
Wise? Maybe. Blessed beyond words? Most definitely. For certain. We live in two places now. He calls my place "The Mumm-O" and his dad's, "The Dad Pad."
I hope you all stay lasting in love and light. That you can keep the love in your family strong and true. If one day you too have to have the most difficult conversation ever, it's ok too. I try, and don't always succeed, to do everything I do with Love as my intention. Acting and being Love. I do think we are all better, fuller, more Love-filled people these days. It isn't always easy, just like life never is. But it feels True. And the rolling along is painful sometimes. Some corners need grinding to smooth out. Fire and brimstone to release those patterns. But life is also beautiful and familiar. The Way is simple and pleasant.
Blessings.
Wednesday, 22 July 2015
finding Love, right where You are; or, June 16th New Moon Blessings
It was my last day in the magical realm that is named "Galapagos Islands." So much integration and learning had taken place for me, having spent the last two months spinning according to the rhythm of the equator. And yet, after all this life of learning and laughing; of living and loving, I wondered: do I? Fully understand Love? Am I a hypocrite, believing only in Love and yet, never surrendering to it? Had I yet come to a compassionate acceptance and love of Self? And how could I clearly see? See Me...
Journal Entry
We embraced. Our chests pressed together. Hearts resonating, nearly touching, if only this mass of flesh and bones would dissolve. A beautiful love. As I said farewell, I wanted to declare over and over again: "Je t'aime! I LOVE YOU!" So blessed to meet such a heightened level of consciousness embodied. Not better. Not worse. Different tools, different tasks; same divine light, similar masks. A mirror for me. We ponder the same questions. Have come to similar understandings, are stuck on the same obstacles: "If I know that I AM divine, holy Love, then why can I not yet remain in that state of blissful knowing?"
Hearts blown wide open. All around, within, beyond and all through us, is Love. That is the Reality. And the darkness is there too. Interacting. Gods and Demons. Celine. I will see You again, it is certain. Some lifetime, or this one. You are the deep Love of this spirit journey. Blessed to see. To witness. To Be. I am You; and You are Me. Thank You.
A poem, about Love's unfolding, unveiling:
Journal Entry
We embraced. Our chests pressed together. Hearts resonating, nearly touching, if only this mass of flesh and bones would dissolve. A beautiful love. As I said farewell, I wanted to declare over and over again: "Je t'aime! I LOVE YOU!" So blessed to meet such a heightened level of consciousness embodied. Not better. Not worse. Different tools, different tasks; same divine light, similar masks. A mirror for me. We ponder the same questions. Have come to similar understandings, are stuck on the same obstacles: "If I know that I AM divine, holy Love, then why can I not yet remain in that state of blissful knowing?"
Hearts blown wide open. All around, within, beyond and all through us, is Love. That is the Reality. And the darkness is there too. Interacting. Gods and Demons. Celine. I will see You again, it is certain. Some lifetime, or this one. You are the deep Love of this spirit journey. Blessed to see. To witness. To Be. I am You; and You are Me. Thank You.
A poem, about Love's unfolding, unveiling:
"I Saw Her Standing There"
Early morning. On the pier.
And though, I can't quite hear
Whether she hums or sings
I notice: Her body swings.
Swaying to a rhythm
That my Being recognizes
Though my mind-state notices not
Subtler realms, inaccessible to Thought
She is nearer now
I sense Her somehow
Then She pulls away
Gazing out across the bay
Without thought or preconceived action
Hearts' magnetic attraction
Draws me closer to Her
Suddenly standing; protocol demanding
That I speak:
"How do they get up there?"
I ponder aloud.
A sea lion on a boat
Sitting tall and proud.
"I wonder that too."
French accent shines through.
Where from? I ask.
France and Ecuador.
Shared languages; Spirits soar.
Et on parle français.
J'aime bien ça.
Elle me demande. Je fais quoi?
Je réponds:
Ma thèse. L'intuition.
"C'est génial! Wow."
Merci, sincèrement, pour ta réaction.
Motivé par le même chose, en fin:
"Je veux sauver le monde."
Et elle? Aussi.
Les enfants. L'éducation.
Ils s'endorment. Ici et partout.
"Comment les réveiller?"
Peut-être...
Avec l'Amour.
Corazón. No judgement.
Only Love.
Hearts blown wide open!
Love! Everything.
Plants. Trees. Animals. Ocean.
Demons and Gods. Offer due devotion.
Centre to centre.
Safe now to enter.
We are One.
You are Me.
So beautiful, this reflection I see.
So real. So free.
Darkness, and Light.
Intensely Love-ly.
Wednesday, 8 April 2015
I.I.L.Y. (a poem for my Sonshine)
This boy. He lights up my whole life. He is my Sonshine. In every way. Like that line from As Good as it Gets, it is he who "makes me want to be a better person." I am so blessed. And so thankful.
I wrote a little poem the other day, about when he was totally into acronyms. He loves language and word play. He's punnier than I am!
I. I. L. Y
I love you.
I eternally love you.
sweet face
one sunlit morning
appears before me
without warning
woken from slumber
not by the rays of the Sun
but by the heart glow of the One
who came here to this earth
through MY body!
An embodiment
of Love and
of Light
(and of darkness too; he told me that once)
of Sacred Anger
Ready to fight the good fight
Reminding me
each day and night
That to exist is Bliss.
Joy, our birthright.
Not by denying the dark
Not by shying from the spark
But by diving within.
In.
Internally.
Words and language
Creative delight
He is loving acronyms these days
And he got this one just right
"I have a new acronym! Want to hear it?"
I'm barely awake.
Rubbing sleep from eyes
I gaze on his angelic six year old face
"It's I.I.L.Y."
It rolls off the tongue.
Through his sweet breath, profound wisdom is sung.
"What does is stand for?"
I gently ask.
He learned of eternity at the age of four.
Told me it was amorphous, though he couldn't spell then...
He's now learned even more.
"I internally love you!"
My heart melts.
Again.
Just like every single time that he smiles
Double-dimpled angel-child
Sensitive and bright
Wise shining vibrant light
You are RIGHT! So right
Eternity. Internally.
That's the where and the how!!
I'm so blessed by your being
Each and every NOW
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
Reflections on the Luminous Soul
My laptop is filling up. So I finally ordered those photo albums from when Xavier was a baby. But I needed to find a letter that I wrote to him on his first birthday. Searching through journals. I found it. But I also came across my notes from this one magical Saturday when I was blessed by the presence of Manorama. You might be saying it wrong, in your head. It's softer than that. I was saying it wrong too, in my imagination, before she told us.
I explained in another post that I asked her a question. And that she told me to energize on it to get the answer. I just love this idea, of energizing. And when she asked my name, and I said: "Shanna." She replied, having all the Sanskrit etymology available to her, "Yes. Peace can be very brave." I am only beginning to recognize how much of an impact her saying that has had on me, on my journey to self-realization. Courage. The bravery needed to find peace. Peace of mind. Woah!
Here are some other amazing pearls of wisdom that she spoke, and that I jotted down:
"We are all baby gods, but we don't know it."
"Don't become too in love with an idea; an idea is only a way to feel/know."
"You are NOT who you think you are. You are so much more."
She explained that yoga is about a meeting between the self and the Self and that the mind always tells us that everything we meet is "Other." Learning how to say to the mind: "I appreciate you, but I'll take it from here." Living from a Soul place, rather than from an ego place. Like Ram Dass explained about when his guruji, Maharaji, simply asked him to love everybody. At first he thought he couldn't, but then he realized that the Soul does love everybody. So what is required is to learn how to live always from that place, from the place of the Soul.
Yoga is about knowing the difference. Knowing whether the Self or the self is taking charge. Manorama said that: "Meditation is like dating yourself." And that we should get to know ourselves pa-dei pa-dei (little by little, bit by bit...there is truly no rush).
Remembering that 99.9% of those of us embodied are working things out, which is why we're in body. Kindness. We are already whole. You ARE already your purpose. She quoted Sri Brahmananda Sarasvati as having said: "Yoga is the experience of missing nothing."
Meditation is a practice that leads to communion with God. Silence. It is luxurious, yes, like the shirts say, but more importantly: "God speaks in silence, so in silence we understand." Silence being the absence of thinking, when thoughts subside.
Come to where you are. Here. Now. "You can't breathe in the past. You can't breathe in the future." And karma. Krishna consciousness is this place of no crashing. Yogis fall in love with the steady, unwavering reality. Crash. Not = Krish. Na. But we do have crashes in our lives. Karmic ones. Big and little. These can be seen as blessings. "When the thinking mind can't find an answer to why, then you have an answer to go beyond the thinking mind. In this way, the WHY becomes a cosmic doorway." The cosmic mind is pure energy. It is Bliss. Ananda. Joy.
And she carried a copy of I AM THAT. Hers was black and yellow. She quoted from it: "Where there is peace, there is no mind." Maharaj said that in there. The mind tries very hard to stay in control but it does need rest. Your mind is a beautiful wonderful friend. But it is not YOU. You are not your mind. Nor are you your body.
She said: "If you give it all up, you get it all!" Ishvara pranidhana. Faith. This is different from belief I think. Rumi says, "Faith is a flowing." Faith is an action of the soul. Belief can happen on a mental level. Faith necessitates surrender. It requires that we completely let go of control, of any illusion that we have control. And it feels so so so GOOD! And. It is difficult for me to stay in that place. Why? Energize on that :)
The mind always wants what is new. "Want what you have and have what you want." The trick, the difficult discernment is distinguishing the difference between what you WANT and what you want to want...your arrow will fly true and sure if you aim at what it is you WANT...your Soul wants not always what the ego likes.
At the end she asked us to ponder this question: "What are you taking with you?"
I wrote down: "Peace?" With a question mark. And then in brackets, like this: [Shanti Shanna] ... Yoga is not only union, but peace of mind. Or peace by remembering that we are not our minds. We are indescribable. Beyond language. Knowing nothing.
I am so grateful that you continue to share what you know dear Manorama. Thank you. You have honestly touched me, my soul, more than I even yet understand. It is because of you that I have a copy of I AM THAT. And yesterday I came upon this passage (I especially like it because it says that I am a tree, which is just fine by me):
"Words alone can not take you beyond the mind. There must be the immense longing for truth or absolute faith in the guru. Believe me–there is no goal, nor a way to reach it. You are the way and the goal; there is nothing else to reach except yourself. All you need is to understand and understanding is the flowering of the mind. The tree is perennial, but the flowering and the fruitbearing come in season. The seasons change, but the tree. You are the tree. You have grown numberless leaves and branches in the past and you may grow them also in the future–yet you remain. Not what was or what shall be must you know, but what IS. Yours is the desire that creates the universe. Know the world as your own creation and be free." ('76' p. 330)
But the very line that I came across first, when asking for a message, was this: "Q: I understand that these conversations are to be published. What will their effect be on the reader?"
"M: In the attentive and thoughtful reader they will ripen and bring out flowers and fruits. Words based on truth, if fully tested, have their own power."
Words. Based on truth. Power. Language. Meaning conveyed. I earnestly hope to understand, and to remember that I know nothing. Over and over again. Budding leaves. Vibrant green flexibility. Crispier now, colour filled? Or colour gone? Then back to the earth.
I explained in another post that I asked her a question. And that she told me to energize on it to get the answer. I just love this idea, of energizing. And when she asked my name, and I said: "Shanna." She replied, having all the Sanskrit etymology available to her, "Yes. Peace can be very brave." I am only beginning to recognize how much of an impact her saying that has had on me, on my journey to self-realization. Courage. The bravery needed to find peace. Peace of mind. Woah!
Here are some other amazing pearls of wisdom that she spoke, and that I jotted down:
"We are all baby gods, but we don't know it."
"Don't become too in love with an idea; an idea is only a way to feel/know."
"You are NOT who you think you are. You are so much more."
She explained that yoga is about a meeting between the self and the Self and that the mind always tells us that everything we meet is "Other." Learning how to say to the mind: "I appreciate you, but I'll take it from here." Living from a Soul place, rather than from an ego place. Like Ram Dass explained about when his guruji, Maharaji, simply asked him to love everybody. At first he thought he couldn't, but then he realized that the Soul does love everybody. So what is required is to learn how to live always from that place, from the place of the Soul.
Yoga is about knowing the difference. Knowing whether the Self or the self is taking charge. Manorama said that: "Meditation is like dating yourself." And that we should get to know ourselves pa-dei pa-dei (little by little, bit by bit...there is truly no rush).
Remembering that 99.9% of those of us embodied are working things out, which is why we're in body. Kindness. We are already whole. You ARE already your purpose. She quoted Sri Brahmananda Sarasvati as having said: "Yoga is the experience of missing nothing."
Meditation is a practice that leads to communion with God. Silence. It is luxurious, yes, like the shirts say, but more importantly: "God speaks in silence, so in silence we understand." Silence being the absence of thinking, when thoughts subside.
Come to where you are. Here. Now. "You can't breathe in the past. You can't breathe in the future." And karma. Krishna consciousness is this place of no crashing. Yogis fall in love with the steady, unwavering reality. Crash. Not = Krish. Na. But we do have crashes in our lives. Karmic ones. Big and little. These can be seen as blessings. "When the thinking mind can't find an answer to why, then you have an answer to go beyond the thinking mind. In this way, the WHY becomes a cosmic doorway." The cosmic mind is pure energy. It is Bliss. Ananda. Joy.
And she carried a copy of I AM THAT. Hers was black and yellow. She quoted from it: "Where there is peace, there is no mind." Maharaj said that in there. The mind tries very hard to stay in control but it does need rest. Your mind is a beautiful wonderful friend. But it is not YOU. You are not your mind. Nor are you your body.
She said: "If you give it all up, you get it all!" Ishvara pranidhana. Faith. This is different from belief I think. Rumi says, "Faith is a flowing." Faith is an action of the soul. Belief can happen on a mental level. Faith necessitates surrender. It requires that we completely let go of control, of any illusion that we have control. And it feels so so so GOOD! And. It is difficult for me to stay in that place. Why? Energize on that :)
The mind always wants what is new. "Want what you have and have what you want." The trick, the difficult discernment is distinguishing the difference between what you WANT and what you want to want...your arrow will fly true and sure if you aim at what it is you WANT...your Soul wants not always what the ego likes.
At the end she asked us to ponder this question: "What are you taking with you?"
I wrote down: "Peace?" With a question mark. And then in brackets, like this: [Shanti Shanna] ... Yoga is not only union, but peace of mind. Or peace by remembering that we are not our minds. We are indescribable. Beyond language. Knowing nothing.
I am so grateful that you continue to share what you know dear Manorama. Thank you. You have honestly touched me, my soul, more than I even yet understand. It is because of you that I have a copy of I AM THAT. And yesterday I came upon this passage (I especially like it because it says that I am a tree, which is just fine by me):
"Words alone can not take you beyond the mind. There must be the immense longing for truth or absolute faith in the guru. Believe me–there is no goal, nor a way to reach it. You are the way and the goal; there is nothing else to reach except yourself. All you need is to understand and understanding is the flowering of the mind. The tree is perennial, but the flowering and the fruitbearing come in season. The seasons change, but the tree. You are the tree. You have grown numberless leaves and branches in the past and you may grow them also in the future–yet you remain. Not what was or what shall be must you know, but what IS. Yours is the desire that creates the universe. Know the world as your own creation and be free." ('76' p. 330)
But the very line that I came across first, when asking for a message, was this: "Q: I understand that these conversations are to be published. What will their effect be on the reader?"
"M: In the attentive and thoughtful reader they will ripen and bring out flowers and fruits. Words based on truth, if fully tested, have their own power."
Words. Based on truth. Power. Language. Meaning conveyed. I earnestly hope to understand, and to remember that I know nothing. Over and over again. Budding leaves. Vibrant green flexibility. Crispier now, colour filled? Or colour gone? Then back to the earth.
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