Giving Back

இன்னா திரக்கப் படுதல் இரந்தவர்

 இன்முகங் காணு மளவு

"Feeling compassion is not a pleasant feeling,

till the needy person gets a smile on his face."

~Thirukkural 224                    

The first Hibiscus of 2015 has opened in our home, bringing the blessings of Sri Ganapati and Spring.

This is just a brief update, mainly to plug for a fundraiser I'm participating in.  You see, 4 years ago my cousin, (more like a neice), was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia at the age of 14.  We will call her Vanaja.  Her mother, my cousin on my father's side and very much like a sister to me, (let's call her Manisha) is a single mother of two and she often struggles to make ends meet.  The cost of treatment, even with insurance, was staggering and while Vanaja was in treatment a parent or guardian was required to be present in case of emergency most of the time.  Treatment periods were months long, and as a single mother Manisha couldn't keep a job, care for her other child and still be there at the Hospital all the time.  Of course this is where Family comes in, but Family cannot make legal healthcare decisions on the spot that a parent is able to, and so we were only of so much help.

One might wonder where the Father was.  He was and is battling the heavy fruits of his own Karma, and hasn't been in any kind of mental state with which to care for or support his Family since long before any of this happened.

Having been there for this, and having seen all the families in the ward alongside Vanaja, I had a unique perspective on the singular and unique stresses cancer brings to a family when it is a Child who is affected.  Families can be torn apart by this, and even if they survive the experience and the treatment is successful, they are left irrevocably changed.  It is a very long and often dark road, watching children and infants suffer this disease - particularly your own.

My own family and all the ones there benefited from programs to bring some light, laughter and morale to the patients and their families.  Things as small as ice cream parties for children not allowed to leave the ward because their immune system is too compromised, or big as helping cover some of the costs for financially struggling families; even programs like "Make A Wish" allowing the children to have one dream come true at no cost to the family.  These things are so very important, not only because good morale is important to healing and hope, but also to give some good memories together in the middle of it all.

My family benefited from these programs, and I wish to do something to give back.  So, I have joined in a fundraiser event for one of the key foundations that fund these programs.  I don't know who reads my posts, though I know there are one or two.  I hope that any who do read might help me to give back, either by sponsoring me directly at my personal fundraiser page, or perhaps by passing my link on to friends and family who might be able to sponsor me.  FaceBook, email, Twitter, whatever, please, pass it on, and if you can afford even a few dollars to add to the pool, it would be so welcome. 

Two weeks ago, Vanaja was declared 'Cancer Free'.  It isn't a definitive cure, but it's a huge victory.  She has become one of the most beautiful and graceful people I am blessed to know.

~Love, Light and Blessings

  Om Shivaya Namaha 

Small Things

श्री वक्रतुण्ड महाकाय सूर्य कोटी समप्रभा निर्विघ्नं कुरु मे देव सर्व-कार्येशु सर्वदा॥ 

O Lord Ganesha of the curved trunk and massive body, the one whose splendor is equal to millions of Suns, please bless me to that I do not face any obstacles in my endeavors.
 

Happy Chaturthi and Visarjan!  Ganapati Bappa morya!  Pudhchya varshi lavkar ya!  ^_^

Sometimes it's the littlest things that are the sweetest...

It's something a lot of Westerners coming into Hindu Dharma worry about in the beginning, when first going to Temple and looking for a community to worship among.  We may already have friends and family who are of Indian descent or origin, in some cases they may even  take us to the Temple we end up frequenting.  But there's still that worry...  are we culturally misappropriating, or will we be seen as doing so.  Will we be left out, ignored, or shunned because of the happenstance of our birth this time around, which truly makes us stick out like a sore thumb.  It can be so much harder if you are a more generally solitary and retiring person, socially awkward and anxious even among friends and family, and going to Temple alone. 

Like most Westerners coming into open worship for the first time, I tend to avoid days with crowds and stay in the back of the group, taking my turn at Aarti or other things only after most others have gone first - especially elders and children.  Except on rare and special occasions I don't wear a Tilaka unless a Pandit or someone else puts one on me, I often don't feel I have the right to wear one on my own and don't wish to draw any more attention than I already do.  Being raised Western, I was taught that is it extremely rude to not look someone in the eye when they are speaking to you, but being female I have found this gets me into some trouble on the rare occasion people talk to me - especially as I am not accompanied by a male.  This is because it's usually been older men who speak to me, for some reason, and in my exuberance at being acknowledged by someone mixed with the high energy of the Temple, I tend to become overly enthusiastic and babble.  It never occurred to me until one such person started becoming too familiar that my happiness and Western cultural habits might be interpreted poorly...

Some of it is generational I think, I haven't had such an experience with Indian men of my generation or younger, but the older generations seem to forget the norms of the culture they're in as easily as I forget the behavioral norms of the culture I am joining in order to worship Sri Bhagavan among others.  The problem is mine only, though, as this is their space where they can meet together as a cultural community, and they are very kind to allow me to come into such a private and sacred space and join them.  But it adds a whole new level of anxiety as I must carefully watch my own instinctive behavior and retrain myself in how I act in these places.  I look at it as a part of my Sadhana:  a lesson and practice in remaining Present and Mindful in all situations, controlling my actions, thoughts and speech.  I am getting better.

Still, there are always those that will suck their teeth and murmur around me in Hindi, assuming I don't understand a word - but I'm learning Hindi so I am starting to catch some things.  There are always those that walk right in front of me in a line, as if I'm not there.  It's sad because if anyone asked I would have them go ahead of me anyway.  But again, it is part of my practice:  humility and deference to others.  Any feelings I might have about such happenings is only my ego, which needs to be controlled and then set aside.

Of course that means any feelings are ego, and so the joy I feel at the little gestures of acceptance and inclusion must be included in this.  Still, such simple things can feel so intensely nice, and I wonder if anyone on the other side stops to realize how significant such seemingly small things can be to those of us who were not born into Dharma in this life, but had to find our way to it.

Those that are usually present on Monday evenings, the Trustees, the Pujari and ceremony Emcee all recognize me now, as well as some others who come on the days that I do if there is a festival.  They try to make sure I'm included in things lately, for instance inviting me to take a Tali Plate and participate in the Monday evening pujas everyone was doing during Shravan month.

These last ten days the Temple had Sri Ganapati staying during Chaturthi.  Last night they held their Visarjan.  We had already held ours at home the day before, I had assumed the Temple would have held theirs on the Sunday as well, so was a little surprised but very happy to see.  I had intended to leave after Aarti, but found myself pulled into the Visarjan procession circling the central mandap and floorspace.  I knew the energy that would be there, but it still surprised me.  And then I noticed that with each circle around, the Murti was being passed back to another person or family in the parade.  People who had already carried Bappa were starting to filter out of the parade and stand watching, so as the Murti neared my position I tried to slip out to stand with the others, feeling that I didn't have a right to carry Him in this group.  I hadn't been there for the Sthapana puja and had only been to one other day while He was staying, and I still don't wholly feel like a part of the community.

My attempt to slip away, even among a clapping and singing crowd, was noticed and foiled.  To my surprised embarrassment, there were the Trustees and Emcee gesturing and then gently pushing me back into the line, telling me I had to carry Him.  I tried to explain I wasn't worthy, but noise, language barrier and whatever else, they insisted that they were waiting for me and it wouldn't be complete if I didn't.  This ended me near the very end of the line, and I somehow ended up carrying Bappa in the last circle of the parade and then all the way from the Mandap to the separate room where the water had been prepared - there is no body of water near the Temple, so the immersion was indoors.

Final pradakshina of the tub of water was done, singing, to allow those who prepared the prasad to carry Him too, and then immersion was done by the Temple children.  It left me feeling warm and glowing, for a small time truly feeling a part of the community.  I don't know if I can ever communicate how grateful I am for that little gesture, that small thing, which was more of a gift than I think they realize.

Chaturthi last year was a time of such gifts and joy.  Chaturthi this year was no different.  I sincerely wish and hope that everyone else's Chaturthi was too.

ऊँ गं गणपतये नमः

Om Gaṁ Gaṇapataye Namaḥ

~Pranam

Rishi

Om Namah Shivaya Gurave

I know how all of this up until now sounds.  My family on both sides are mostly A-Type Logical thinkers, most of them are Mathematicians, Scientists and Teachers, with the occasional Doctor and Lawyer here and there.  I have always had as much of an affinity for the Sciences as I have for the Arts and for spiritual pursuits.  The last 9 years of this life especially, I have been very focused in the modern sciences.  So believe me when I say, I know exactly how the last few posts sound to a scientific and/or skeptical mind.  But it's all true, and I've even left out some of the stranger details as they weren't really pertinent to the exercise.

With that in mind, this last post closing the series covers a few of the events in the last year that might make the previous posts look reasonable by comparison.  There have been times when I have needed the touchstones of my spouse and family to reassure me I wasn't losing my mind - and because they don't have faith and consider all these events to be simple coincidence, they have been very reassuring when they tell me they believe I am fine.  For myself I believe in some coincidence, yes, but I feel strongly that after a certain point or a certain number of "coincidences" in a row, and/or a certain level of improbability of an event happening, one must accede that perhaps there is no coincidence in some events all.

As the saying goes, God speaks to us all the time in many ways, but you only really see and hear it if you open your eyes and ears.  Having had my eyes and ears opened when I didn't realize, or had forgotten, that they were closed, I have a whole new appreciation of that adage...

The last twelve months has been a journey full of gifts, but I will write here about the first set, which were the defining events that brought me back to Sri Bhagavan's feet.

I love to travel whenever possible. I love to experience other countries and cultures, particularly ancient ones.  I have had a strong desire since I was a teen to travel to India, I always felt that once I did I would find something wonderful and important there.  Again, I know I'm not the first to have had that conviction, nor am I the last to find it to be true.  As I wrote in my last post, we were given one of the greatest gifts I have received in this life, in the opportunity to travel to and across Mother India in a way we would never have been able to on our own.  We were given the chance to go places and experience from a position that one can only do when traveling with people who are native to the cultures and cities you visit, rather than from a tourist perspective.  Given it was still a privileged perspective and so not so comparable to the lives of the majority of the population, but it was still very different than the vantage a tourist would have had.

There were several interesting events leading up to the trip, but this particular tale should probably start with a good friend who I will call 'M' and an invitation to go to a musical I have always loved and hadn't seen in well over ten years.  She was offered the tickets for free, they were excellent seats too.  Her husband had no interest, so she asked me.  This was about a month before we were to travel.  The musical in question was "Cats".

I mentioned earlier that during the year leading up to our trip our old lady Lillith, (aka. Lilly or Bunny Bear - cats always have 3 names, after all), was deteriorating in health due to old age.  Some think it strange, but we count our adopted feline friends as among our own family, as close to having children as we will come in this life.  If we had a dog or any other animal, we would think the same way.  I once had a snake and a tarantula, and I considered them the same.  My spouse draws the line at those species without legs and a spine, but I don't.  I'm that person that will pick up a spider or an earwig and take it outside to a safe shelter in the yard rather than harm it, when at all possible.  I have felt this way since I was a child, all life is equal and sacred, regardless of our somewhat questionable assessment of their level of cognitive ability or self awareness.

It's easier to become attached to those creatures that have clear personalities, who are definitively recognizable individuals to the senses of our limited, Human bodies.  Those who interact with you daily become fixtures in your life and home, and you miss them when they're gone, just as with any Human.  Seventeen years is a long time to have someone in your life every day.  We kept trying new treatments and hoping to see an improvement in Lilly, we even saw small responses on occasion - I think maybe we saw them more often that actually happened.  But the fact is she wasn't really sick, she was just old.  And her old systems were starting to shut down.  Nothing could stop that.

I didn't really think about it when M asked me if I wanted to go to the musical.  It's one of my favorites, though I hadn't seen it in a very long time, and that was really all I thought of when I accepted, even on the way to the performance.  What stuck in my head as soon as the character of Grizabella limped onto the stage though was her iconic song, "Memories".  It's an interesting song, really.  On the surface it's steeped in grief, worldly emotions and experiences and their passing.  But it's also about letting them go to pass on to rebirth and renewal and become something new, about seeing past an individual's exterior, material appearance.  It seems at first like a dirge for the loss of the material, but ends up a celebration of soul, creation and life, though certainly from a more Western perspective.  Anyway, that was when I knew that Lilly wouldn't be with us for much longer, but I didn't suspect she would leave us quite so soon.

The song stuck with me, even after she passed.  It traveled with me to India and replayed in my head everywhere we went.  I wasn't grieving for her but for myself, and I knew that, but I couldn't help it.  After all that time, it felt like a piece of my own self had been ripped out and left bleeding.  But it couldn't have happened any other time or way, because it was that very pain that made me reach out with everything I had, and left me open enough to perceive the reply.

The day after her passing, I lit incense and a candle, gave flowers, and prayed to Sri Ganapati for the first time.  I asked him to remove any obstacles in her way and to watch over her passage to wherever she was going next.

When we arrived in India it was the beginning of Ganesha Chaturthi - not something we had intentionally planned, we realized the timing after the tickets were bought.  We attended several pujas in our first week in Hyderabad, beautiful, colorful and powerful.  Each time Lilly's name was the first and last prayer in my mind.  When we began traveling across the states, city to city, we visited many beautiful and old temples.  I bought arcanas for my family, and she was always the first I named.  I asked Sri Lakshmi Narayan in many forms to look out for her, and petitioned Sri Hanuman to protect her, over and over again, and that song still played in my head.

Then we landed in Indore and drove to Ujain.  We knew we were going to another big Temple, but we didn't know which one - we were pretty much off the grid so couldn't check our plans, and the group was traveling in different cars.  We were largely being dragged along to one beautiful surprise after another by that time.  We assumed the Temple would either be Jain, as I knew we would be seeing a couple while there, or a Vishnu Temple as all but one Temple had been so far.  But this was completely unlike any Temple we had been to yet.

We were handed bowls full of offerings and lead through corridors underground, and then literally pulled into a chamber packed with an impossible number of people for such a small space.  Monks pulled and pushed people along and all one could do was follow the flow, like a human tide.   When we were pushed up to the front of the center of the circle, I suddenly understood where I was.

I had only once, ever, seen a Lingam, and that had been just a day or two before, from a distance in a market next to a different Temple - we were largely kept clear of those markets so rarely stopped at any.  I wondered at the time why they were selling such strange looking mortar and pestles at a Temple - I had no idea what I was looking at.  Remember, I had never been introduced to Shaivism, every Hindu ideology I had learned about was Vaishnava - and every temple we had gone to in our journey until now was also either a Vishnu Temple or a Hanuman Temple.  This still surprises me when I think about it, it seems extremely unlikely, but it's the truth.  It's almost as if these things were hidden from me until just the right moment...  thinking about it now, it was Mahakaal after all.

When I saw the Jyotirlingam at Mahakaaleshwar I immediately and instinctively knew who and what it represented, and was suddenly very happy.  The Pandit or Monk seated at the edge of the Yoni smiled in an encouraging and familiar way I hadn't seen at any temple yet, though maybe he was just amused to see a couple of goris in the crowd.  LOL  I handed him my bowl.  He guided me through the offerings and abishek, and they felt familiar.  The energy in the room was far more than just the human mass surrounding us, it was calm in the midst of chaos, and the touch of the cool stone was like nothing I could try and describe.  Then the Pandit handed me back the bowl with the prasad, and I was pulled away and out of the chamber.

I stood staring at Nandi, who I hadn't noticed earlier, surrounded by his own mass of devotees.  Here was something else I had never seen or been introduced to, I didn't know his name at the time, but He felt familiar and right.  Something fundamental had shifted but I didn't know what.  My mind had been a completely calm blank while in the sanctum, and I realized I hadn't petitioned Sri Shiva for Lillith's well being.  I had a feeling He probably knew, but still...  I walked over to Nandi to touch his feet and stroke his back.  People were leaning in to say things into his ears, so I did the same and whispered Lillith's name, in my heart asking that if possible she be granted Moksha, but if not possible then at least a wonderful life where she might grow significantly towards that, in her next time around.  I felt much better, and turned to follow my friends up the tunnels and ramps to the surface.  But the day wasn't over, there were two more Lingam shrines and a lovely temporary pavilion for Ganapati during Chaturthi.

There are four *three (edits at end) Lingam shrines at Mahakaaleshwar, from what I understand.  One is only open once or twice a year during special holidays, so we didn't visit that one.  The third and last one we saw looked to me to be the largest, and if the Jyotirlingam had a powerful effect on me then this one knocked me flat out.

I still don't really know what happened, and I've stopped trying to analyze it.  We walked into an ante-chamber room made of cut stone, yet was full of light from windows in the ceiling and tops of the walls.  It seemed brighter and whiter than the light outside.  People were seated on the floor along the sides of the chamber and occasionally people would come in and walk up to the edge of the sanctum and either go in or pray and then bow in respect and turn away.  Inside the sanctum was a mass of activity and the most sonorant, resonant chant going on that I had ever heard, something similar to the Gyuto Monks only maybe not so deeply voiced, a bit faster, and more powerful.  The constant motion was of many people washing and washing and washing the Lingam in all kinds of things, sweeping and swirling them over and around the stone in synchronized motions, creating a visual effect of something like a whirlpool all over and around the Stone.  I had a momentary thought of a similarity to the accretion disk around a black hole.

The chant seemed to boom through the room, it gripped me from inside and made me vibrate in the same way you do when standing next to a loud bass woofer at a concert or club - or next to the bass percussion section of a Drum Corps.  I drifted closer to the lintel of the sanctum, mesmerized and drawn in, and the room around me faded into the background.  I didn't dare go any further, but stood right there in a kind of daze, watching, I don't know for how long.  I'd never felt anything like it in memory of this life.

When time came back to me, (sorry, pun really not intended), I realized I must have been there for a while and my party had probably moved on and I should catch up.  Still dazed, I backed away and turned to go when a old man in saffron robes of the style the Monks there wore, and who seemed authoritative, gripped my arm and stopped me.  In halting English mixed with Hindi he asked me sternly if I knew what I was looking at, who it was in that chamber.  I couldn't find words, the chant was still throbbing through the chamber, I could only nod and make soft noises of assent.  He explained it was God, Time itself, the Beginning and the End of all things.  Again, I could only nod, I felt dizzy and like electricity was crawling over my skin in pricks and zaps.  His grip on my arm was tight and I think if he had let me go right then, I would have sunk to the floor.  He said a few more things in an accent too thick for me to grasp - or perhaps he wasn't speaking English at all - and asked me again did I know who it was in that chamber.  I tried to give a coherent answer, I don't really remember exactly what words I said, but they seemed to please him.  He gave my arm a squeeze and released me with a kind smile that seemed almost out of place after the last few moments.  He joined his palms and bowed to me with an "Om Namah Shivaya", and went back to where he had been sitting.

When I stumbled back into the courtyard it seemed both far too bright and still dimmer than inside the ante-chamber, and nothing looked very real.  I felt for a moment like I was in a paper diorama or something.  It was difficult to orient myself.  I could still feel the echo of that chant in my chest and every hair on my arms and neck were raised.  But I felt giddy, inexplicably happy, and lighter than I had in longer than I could remember.  Still dazed and grinning like a fool I went looking for my friends.  When we talked later, none of them had felt what I did with that chant.  My friend, who was quickly becoming like a sister to me, did feel a light thrum and enjoyed it, but that was all.  Apparently no one in our party had experienced what I had.

Days later I would say that it felt like I had walked smack into Sri Bhagavan Shiva Himself, and He had touched my shoulder and smiled.  I stand by that assessment, it really did feel that way.  But regardless of if it was true, many things changed for me once we left that Temple.  My faith was revived and renewed.  I still knew almost nothing about where we had been yet I knew with a certainty that I had finally found the name to my faith and the form of the Divine that I had spent so much searching for.  But it was only when I had completely stopped searching and just lived that events brought me to Sri Shiva's feet.

I was lighter, happier, more relaxed and far less tense.  It was a few days before I realized that now the song replaying my my head wasn't "Memories" anymore, but a classic Shiva Dhun I had downloaded and listed to a few times before our trip.  I didn't know all of it, but it seems I knew more than I realized.  I was humming it outloud at times.  I had been under so much stress up until our trip, and much of it dogged me through our travels, but after that it was gone.  The calm centeredness and happiness which fell on me at Mahakaal stayed with me.  I noticed some of this, but I didn't realize the full extent until we came back from India and I was back in my daily life.  I began learning and practicing immediately, eventually putting together a puja room and altar.  I feel and see god speaking to me every day.  Over the winter, which was a bad one this year, I had absolutely no seasonal affective disorder, which I always have.

But these weren't the greatest gifts from Sri Shiva.  That came in two parts, the first on our last day in India and the second a few weeks after we came home.

I had a conviction that I wanted a statue of Hanuman.  I also wanted a Nataraja, but I had the same problem with both, I couldn't find one that "felt right" to me.  Then, our last day we were in Mumbai at a shop a few hours before our flight.  Like every store and shop all over India, they had a radio playing music: Hindi, Marathi, Bollywood, Indian music, not a trace of western music anywhere we went.  At the shop, I was looking a a Nataraj wondering if that one might be good to settle for, when I saw the Hanuman statue.  I put down Nataraj, picked up Hanuman, and the radio started playing "Memories".  I do not kid.  I hadn't thought about that song in more than a week.  My spouse, about as close to being an Atheist as one can get without flat out disbelieving the possibility of some kind of Deity somewhere, also heard it.  It was real, and it creeps her out thinking about it now too.  Of all the things she's managed to dismiss in one way or another, this is one she hasn't been able to.

Apparently that really was the Hanuman.  So a little freaked out, we went to pay for our items and confused the poor guy asking him about the music, then headed off to catch our flight home.

When we got home, the first thing we did was pick up Lilly's ashes.  I cried, but the pain wasn't as terrible as it had been.  I resolved I wouldn't adopt again for at least 6 months, I just didn't think I could bear it and I wanted to heal.  But something I had said for some time was that when the day came, I wanted to adopt a male, preferably a Maine Coon mix if possible - but you often don't get choices when you adopt from shelters.  Anyway, I didn't plan to do any such thing for quite some time.

Then, a couple of weeks later, a colleague of my other half contacted us about a friend of hers who had rescued a cat from the street.  But the cat had a lot of energy and they had an old dog and a small apartment, so they couldn't keep him.  He was healthy, neutered, and had all of his shots, they weren't asking any money, just a good home.  But, they had been looking for weeks and it seemed no one could take in a cat.  She asked if we might be interested.

I wasn't really so into the idea at first, but was intrigued that it was a male and young, and the rescuers were asking only for a good home after all the care they had paid for - not many people are so altruistic.  It also seemed strange that there was no one able to take in such a well cared for and young cat, there are almost always several interested parties...  So we asked for information and his name.  It turns out he is a Maine Coon mix, grey like Lilly was though he is a grey and black tux tabby.  His name?

Maharishi Ganesha Yogi.

We call him Rishi for short.

His rescuers, who named him, are neither Indian by heritage nor Dharma practitioners.  He immediately liked us the first time we visited to meet him, standing in our laps and purring and then lying down between us.  It appeared he was meant for us.  The following weekend we went to pick him up and bring him home, and he walked right into the carrier the moment it was on the floor with the door open.  Anyone who has had a cat knows how rare that is - his rescuers were as surprised as we were, it was not something he had done before and it's not something he's repeated since then.  He is incredibly gentle, sweet and funny.  He's also very, very clever, but then he is a Coon mix after all.  And, funnily enough, he likes to stay at the bathroom the door, just inside the threshold, when someone is in the shower.  If you close the door on him, he will stand outside and cry.

He has helped so much to heal the hole in our lives with laughter and joy in the last year.  He is a true gift and I am grateful beyond words.

Om Namah Shivaya.

This concludes my attempt at this exercise, one given by Sri Gurudev Subramuniyaswami to analyze where you have  been and what brought you to Sri Shiva, to be certain you truly believe this path with conviction and release any old systems that may still have hold on you and potentially cause confusion and conflict.  One day if I enroll in the course that Sampradaya offers, these posts might be useful in completing that assignment.

I've learned a few things about myself in doing this.  Hopefully others who might be curious about me might one day read this and learn a little about me as well. 

Pranam, and if you made it this far, thank you.

*edit -  So there are three main Lingam shrines in Mahakaaleshwar mandir: Mahakaala, Omkareshwar Mahadev and Nagachandreshwara.  each is directly above the other with Mahakaal underground and Nagachandreshwara at the top.  Nagachandreshwara is only open on Nag Panchami, and we were not there on that day.  Also, after thought, I remember the temple I had the most powerful reaction to was not in the main Mandir, but on the same commons ground in the complex and just across from the entrance to the Omkareshwar Mahadev entry.  Nandi sat on a high column before the entry to the ante-chamber.  I have no idea what that Temple was, but I'm going to try and track it down.  I will post when I do.  =)

**edit 10/17/14 -  I am pretty certain I now know the Temple.  It appears to be Karkoteshwar Mahadev, which seems to be the only other Lingam shrine within the Mahakaaleshwar compound walls.  There is also the Shaktipeetham, but I know that we didn't see that because the exterior structure looks nothing like where we were, which didn't have any steps up before the entry, and the Shaktipeetham doesn't have a Nandi outside.  Karkoteshwar Mahadev is the place a lot of people go to help remove some serious planetary Doshas, particularly Naag Dosha.  I do not have that Dosha, thankfully, but perhaps the darshan I had there has helped with others I may have...

Fin.

First in series

Second in series

Third in series.

Bottoming Out

I am hoping to have this series finished in time for Chaturthi,  (next week, yikes!), as it's something of an anniversary of several things.  I also don't want to let this sit without an update again for so long, I hope to do better about keeping this journal.

Not a whole lot changed for me in the next five years or so.  I didn't go searching to learn anything new and for a long time didn't practice anything except living and making a life for myself.  Upon graduation I decided to stay in my home area instead of pursue a career because my paternal grandfather became very ill and the family wanted to care for him in his own home until no longer possible - but that meant everyone would have to chip in.  Family means a lot to me, and the choice was an easy one.

Having spent most of my life up until then studying and learning, I decided it was high time I had some fun and something of a social life.  I got my bartender's license and over the next five years began to work as a free-lance bartender at clubs and events.  Eventually I landed a regular position and became the night supervisor at a good pub and night-stop in the city.  I did well and had good fun, but eventually this lifestyle started to wear thin.

During this time I was able to travel a bit more from time to time, mostly in the Americas this time.  I did end up learning more about Mayan and Aztec cultures, but not because I set out to.  Eventually though, it helped to reawaken a sense that I was missing something.  That and one of my Roommates who was heavily into Hot Yoga - a version of Yoga Asanas as only exercise, and excellent exercise at that, which was quite a fad at the time.  She got me into it too, and I began to realize I was missing many things from when I was younger and wondering what had happened.  I felt as if I didn't really know who the person who had been living my life the past several years was, I didn't really recognize her.

Then the first of two major events changed things.  I was in a bad accident, I am told I was technically dead for a short time.  I didn't have any visions or near death experiences, and that didn't bother me.  But, I was a different person once again, I felt almost renewed when I was released from the Hospital.  It was like what had died was the lost person I became after graduating college.  I didn't so much have a direction, but I knew I would find it as long as I made changes and pushed forward - a conviction I hadn't had in years. I changed a lot of things within the next 6 months: my career track and most of the people I associated with, and within the next year after that my spouse and I planned, purchased a home, and moved.

5 years later I got very sick.  It turned out to be food poisoning, but not a kind that would make most people ill with more than what would feel like a 24 hour stomach bug.  It took stronger hold in me because of something else that was happening, which I had been ignoring.  Swelling joints, decreased mobility in general but worse on some days, poor sleep and chronic aching.  Illnesses on and off where I never had problems before, and then this food poisoning infection that put me on short term disability until the doctors could figure out what was keeping me so ill.  Once that was treated and some symptoms stayed, I was sent to a Rheumatologist.  I still see him today.

It was no longer possible to work the crazy schedule I had been, in fact doing so was making things worse.  But my employer decided that meant they should demote me and cut my pay, but still have me do the same job.  So I found a new job.  I applied my skills and experience and a good reference from a nice peer and once again began  a whole new career in clinical research, and at a higher rate of pay.

I had always enjoyed the sciences, particularly physics, but it wasn't a direction I had been encouraged to pursue in my teens and as a  young adult.  Now I was finding a new joy in learning not only the scientific field I was now working in, but also in reacquainting myself with Physics, which was a whole new field by this time.  I put more into this new direction than I had put into anything in the last ten years.  I put as much energy into embracing and learning in these areas as I had put into my search for the name of my faith when I was younger.  In this time I also got married and traveled back to Cincinnati for the first time since I was 12 to visit my now declining maternal grandfather.  And in my time in that job I also met one of those people who is immediately familiar, like an old friend or sibling, and we became good friends.

While in Ohio, I spent some time with one of my cousins - second eldest on that side after me - who I also hadn't seen since I was a child.  He and I used to be inseparable when we were together, it was amazing to see him grown and with a partner of his own.  We went out to dinner and spent some time in the town center walking through shops, when I stopped and stared at a statue...  Sri Ganesha.  I hadn't seen him in some time.  My cousin noticed and when I turned away he quietly bought the statue for me.  When I turned, I was stopped by the sight of another statue, one that was a Buddhist representation of Sri Shiva.  I felt drawn to it, but I wasn't sure why as this was not a God I was very familiar with.  My spouse, in cahoots with my cousin, quietly purchased that one for me.  I received them as surprise parting gifts when it was time for us to go home.  It was doubly surprising for me because I hadn't been religious or displayed any kind of faith at all since college - a long time ago by then.  But I definitely felt the gentle presence in both images, like meeting an old friend after long absence, and I treasured it.

Sri Ganapati and Sri Shiva had pride of place in our living space back home, overseeing our daily lives.  For a long time I only kept them and the cloth they sat on clean.  As time went on though, I found it was nice to sweeten the house with some incense or scented candle, even a tart or two, which I enjoyed placing before them after wafting some scent in their direction.  In time I grew tired of some of the medications I was being issued and began to learn about meditation as a form of natural stress, inflammation and pain management.  I slowly began to practice on and off again.

My maternal grandfather had always been a travel nut like me, and his favorite animals were elephants.  He felt he identified with them.  He had quite a collection of them from various countries.  I was always fond of them, but I had never expressed that to him that I can remember and there were others who were more attached to them.  But when he passed from this life, his collection was left to me, to my surprise.  I surrounded Sri Ganesha and Shiva with them, creating something of a setting for them.  It felt like the perfect place.

Over the next few years my other half, a vegetarian since young adulthood and a staunch disliker of most foods and the lack of variety in the Western vegetarian diet, began to discover Indian cuisine and start trying new recipees and suggesting new restaurants - this was also partly driven by no longer being near a great little Dhaba we had lived close to for years, and partly by an Indian grocery opening near our home at the time.  From there we both began to learn about and be drawn closer to the cultures and idea of great Mother India.

Eventually we tired of the City, (something I never thought possible), and moved out to the suburbs to be a bit closer to nature.  It wasn't an easy move, but it was a good one.  And then, my new yet old friend, who also happened to be Indian, invited us to come to India and stay and travel with her.  It started with an invitation to a wedding, but the wedding was in just a few months so there was no way we could manage it.  She understood but insisted we come the following year instead and insisted she would be insulted if we didn't.  When saving for such a huge trip in only one year became problematic, she insisted on helping us.  And in the background she and her sisters were quietly planning an amazing trip across the country for us all.  I have no idea what I ever did to deserve such a friend or such incredible generosity, but I am incredibly thankful to whatever incarnation generated that seed, and too grateful to my friend for words to describe.

The year passed before we knew it and the last few months leading up to our departure were a whirlwind.  Over the last several years my offerings to Sri Ganesha became more frequent and intentional, and in that last year I began to finally practice meditation again on a regular basis.  My spouse looked up and began playing a Ganesha mantra quite often.  We both learned it and began singing it when there were troubles involving our trip - for instance with our visas.  Always it seemed to help.  It was the first Hindu mantra I learned.  I looked up and listened to a few others, but that was the one that really stuck with us, perhaps it was what was needed just then.

During that year, our oldest friend, our cat Lillith, was deteriorating in health.  She was very old for a cat, I had adopted her only a few months after graduating college.  It had been 17 years, and she had been with the both of us through everything.  She was a mothering personality, always somehow knowing when someone wasn't feeling well - physically or emotionally - and ready to curl up and cuddle and purr them to sleep.  We didn't see the extreme progression of it at the time, you just don't see it as readily when you live with someone every day.  I look at the picture of her from the first post in this blog, and I am shocked at how sick, bony and old she looks.  She didn't look that way to me at the time, but I see it so easily now.  We were very worried about her because we had a feeling she wouldn't survive our month long absence.

We needn't have worried, as it turns out.  The Lord of Timings was looking out of all of us I think.  Perhaps especially her.  I won't rehash that post and its story, but I will say it felt like she was letting us go.

I found out after we returned home that the Statue my cousin had gifted me with so many years ago and which stood watching over our small family all that time, is a representation of Mahaganapati and is also Dakshinamurti.

Om Gam Ganapataye Namo Namaha.


(To Be Continued...) 
First Post
Second Post  

Getting Lost

It's been far too long since I've made a post.  Sometimes it seems Life and Time have a fun way of conspiring with each other to ensure you have plenty of one or the other but rarely both. Summer is always a busy season, especially in recent years, full of visits with family and friends and good weather to get out and enjoy nature and take care of home maintenance and improvement projects.  I had hoped things would be a bit different for me with this blog, but this time of year becomes a mostly "off the grid" time for me, when I'm not at work.

And of course this year there have been a few extra things vying for my time and attention too, there's usually something.  Making sure to keep time in all this for meditation, study and prayer has been difficult.  I can't say I've been wholly successful, it is my first year in nearly 20 years of actively practicing any faith on a regular basis, after all.  I remind myself though that the love of Sri Bhagavan is such that even when deeply 'asleep' and practicing nothing, the simple act of reaching out in the right direction brought a response.  So whatever it is I am able to do right now is enough, as long as I try and continue to grow.  Anything else is is only me judging myself in ignorance and ego, and so I endeavor to keep learning and at the very least I never miss a Monday at my local Temple and keep my Somavar Vrat.

These things are not all that has been holding back this post though.  Often I will think of all kinds of things I want to write about and have all these lines and paragraphs composed in my head, but when I sit down and look at the online document form, or a piece of paper, suddenly it's all gone and I can't think of a thing to say. It's so tempting to ramble off in different directions as well, but I am attempting an important exercise with this series of posts and so I need to stick it out and finish.  I must have stopped and started this post at least a dozen times, and still I haven't been able to finish it.  So, I attempt to begin again:

In High School, (grades 9 -12), I explored the other Abrahamic systems including many of the forms of Christianity.  As I learned about its history, I found myself angry in a way I'd never felt before. A mix of outrage and despair began to form that grew stronger as I learned more, an anger I've only been able to let go of in the last several years.  I read translations of the Talmud, Torah, Koran, the Book of Mormon and various versions of the Bible, read the earliest translations of the Bible I could find, looking for something that made some kind of sense to me.  I read the Books of the Apocrypha, historical treatises on ancient Christianity and its spread, and found myself back in ancient world mythology again, at the roots of the First Testament's Book of Genesis in Babylonian myth - at least, according to the western scholars of the time.

I also began to learn Philosophy, beginning with classic Literature and Drama then moving back to ancient schools of thought and Philosophy.  Both this and my reaching the age of decision in my Father's Church began my own deeper exploration of what those "things I had always known to be true" really meant, in a deeper context.

An Aunt on my Mother's side helped to initiate that introspection.  The Guru that had helped me for such a short time had guided me to several visions, one of which left me with a profound message for her.  That connected us in a way that I had not been able to find with others, as it turned out that she and I share a few basic beliefs that no one else I knew did.  She remains one of the few in my family who have a true and strong faith, and to this day is one of the few people I am close to who I can have any theological discussion with at all, as most won't even consider it.  Without her there at that time I might have fallen into complete despair, even though we only agree on a few points.  We live in different States and I wasn't allowed to talk long distance on the phone much because of the cost.  We only saw each other about once a year.  But after a few short conversations I began to think deeply about the ontological implications of reincarnation and panentheism, (this last is a word I only learned much later).  The most profound of those realizations were the following: 

• It's one thing to believe in reincarnation, and even to believe that each life is a journey of lessons and growth of the soul, influenced by past actions and lessons.  But who is that soul?  Some identify it as the same person who looks out through the eyes of their body in this very birth.  But thinking about it, I began to realize that the "I" which so many people identify themselves with, the personality, experiences and thought patterns of this current birth, is not who any of us really are.  That when these temporary forms die, those things fall away to become a small part of a greater consciousness - the true observer.  And that when we are reborn to the material worlds, that observer who we truly are is masked along with its experiences and knowledge in order to allow us continued growth, unhindered by preconceptions and old experiences, in the new birth.  It's a poor metaphor in comparison, but just like the person you are in this birth is not the same as the child you were when you first burned your hand on a stove or the teenager you were when you had your first crush, the experiences and personality of this life is not "You".  And the person you are in this life - the collection of experiences, neuro-transmitters and neural pathways - will most likely never remember or recognize previous incarnations.  This last seems like simple logic on the surface, easily dismissed, but really think on its implications for a while and you may find it's not quite so simple to truly grasp.

• If there is no Heaven or Hell in the sense Abrahamics teach, then what are those states of grace and disgrace that all belief systems describe?  They are states we impose on ourselves.  If God doesn't judge, that leaves only us to measure our own actions and judge ourselves.  We reward or punish ourselves according to the merits of our own actions and how they affected others and the world around us, in each birth.  And possibly some of these rewards and punishments can be taken between births as well, though that is something none can be certain of.  I didn't realize it yet, but I had hit on a loose description of the basic functions of Karma.

• If we are each a small piece of God, each on a journey of growth and learning, what does this make us to each other and where to we end up when the journey is done?  Certainly not Heaven, since that doesn't really exist as a place in that sense.  I thought about this for some time, and eventually had a vision of a light indescribably brilliant, vibrating is ways we can both perceive in these material forms and in ways we cannot, and on a scale that is inconceivable even when compared to the scale of our small Universe.  The radiance of that brilliance breaks away into motes, rays and sparks which dance across dimensions, some of which we perceive in these bodies as "reality", until eventually they fall back into the radiance of the greater whole.  This vision has stayed with me, even in the darkest years of this birth when I have forgotten other lessons, and gives me a sort of comfort.

Understanding these things, realizing that no one else around me believed or understood them, and being unable to find anything else to really match them helped to fuel that growing sense of being lost and alone that was starting to grow.  It was difficult because on the one hand, inside I felt such love that it almost bordered on pain, but all I could see in the people and beliefs around me was what seemed to be the exact opposite.  But no one else seemed to see things that way.

And then I traveled abroad for the first time.  The US suburbs today are, in general, fairly remarkably insular communities, for all this country's reputation as a "melting pot", but it was so much more so back then.  I had never really been anywhere outside my local town and it's neighboring communities for more than a few days, save for trips to my Grandparents in Cincinnati Ohio and the occasional vacation in Florida as a kid.  I had certainly never spent any real time in the nearest large city to my home, Boston.  Traveling to London and living in the suburbs around it, as well as having the opportunity to easily jump from there to Europe for a weekend was an eye-opening experience.  I was exposed to all kinds of cultures and ideas, albeit diluted in the greater culture of the UK.  And I encountered, for the first time, Dharmic philosophies and beliefs.

Of course, I was a western teenager and London or not, it was the late 80's.  So the closest I came to Hindu philosophy was a brief introduction to ISKON - there must have been other communities around, but this is what was most accessible to me.  Still, it was a wonderful thing to read the Gita for the first time, and find others with beliefs closer to my own than "New Age" Spiritualism.  I finally learned a bit about Sri Ganesha and his significance, as well.  But, I couldn't grasp or accept everything they espoused, for several reasons.  And it was also there that I discovered Buddhism.

For the first time I found a belief system that almost completely agreed with my own.  At first it was a welcome and soothing brilliance, but there was still something missing... an emptiness to it that made it feel incomplete.  Still, I learned as much as I could.  Most of it, I discovered later, was Zen Buddhism, and this became something of a fall-back system for me years later when I gave up my search.  Of course at the time, I thought I had found what I was searching for, it even matched much of what the Guru in my youth had taught me.  The feeling of incompleteness only came later, and it intensified after I returned home to the US and my home town, and found myself once again hemmed into the small and limited culture there.  At least by that time I could drive and get away sometimes.

I couldn't handle the change when I came home.  The isolation I felt was too much for me on top of the culture shock of coming back and the negativity thrown at me by my peers for simply having lived somewhere else.  I was told I had a nervous breakdown, checked into an inpatient specialty hospital and labeled 'Bi-polar' and 'Clinically Depressed' and dosed up with medications - sometimes so much that I could barely stay conscious for "Family Therapy" sessions with my parents.

In reality, yes, I was depressed.  I think most people in my position would have been, and my age contributed as well.  For a long time I completely believed the diagnoses at face value, but I no longer believe I had true clinical depression or bi-polar disorder.  I know people who really are clinically depressed, some are among my close family and friends.  I recognize now that what they have is not what was wrong with me.  But I was depressed, and in that depression I stopped practicing any meditation and mindfulness.  All that was left was anger, a sense of loss, and a growing sense of attachment to the material world around me.

I learned a couple of years later that there is a Buddhist sect that believes that once a seeker has begun on a path and reached a certain point, they must not be allowed to stop until they reach a certain further point on the path.  Apparently, it's a fairly regular thing that some seekers will try and leave the monastery during this time and give up, and when that happens the monks will drag that seeker back to their cell and keep them there by any means, until that person has broken through.  Because the alternative is a slow slide into insanity.

I don't know if this is true or if it is what happened to me, but it feels about right.  If it is, then it was certainly meant to happen, just as I was meant to slowly find my way out of it again.  Either way, I wasn't the same person after I left that place, on any level.  And in some ways I was more isolated than I was even after coming home the first time, though I wasn't told much of the reason for that until after I graduated High School.  I kept the vision of a fresh start in College, in a larger and freer world, in front of me like a beacon and pushed through by force of will.

Once there, I did start over.  I didn't think much about the past or seek to begin practicing again, deciding instead that it must have been a kind of dead end.  Instead I began to look towards the Ancient World belief systems, with a sense that the answers I was looking for were there but lost to millennia of persecution by Abrahamic faiths.  But there had to be places that it had survived.  I got into Neo-Paganism and Wicca, practiced Tarot and learned Holistic healing, joined the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronisms - not a religious group but a good place to learn), learned about Shamanistic cultures and beliefs from all over the world, delved into cultural Anthropology and read the works of the Golden Dawn, Anton LaVey and others.  It was both a mighty step backwards and a chance to learn many very useful things that I believe were necessary for me to learn and which I'd had no chance to earlier.  Much of it fell by the wayside, interesting pursuits but unfulfilling and missing something vital that I still couldn't put my finger on.

Of course in all of these philosophy, anthropology and comparative religion classes, I did encounter Sanatana Dharma once again, and in several forms that were new to me, but once again I didn't feel a connection.  There were several reasons for this, the first being the poor level of information available even at a moderate sized University at the time.  Compared to the rich and detailed information available at our fingertips today, only 20 or so years later, it was pathetic and confused - certainly confusing for me.  The Hindu theology presented was entirely Vaishnava, Shaiva was not represented at all.  I felt no connection to that system of belief, as the end goals were described as very similar Abrahamic belief - the seeker, upon achieving Mukti, would live with God in His city for eternity, sharing His Bliss and Serving Him.  I already knew this wasn't my own belief, so there seemed to be little for me there.  However, I did get to read the Ramayana and selections from the Mahabharata aside from the Gita for the first time. I loved them and wished I could have read them sooner.

We also touched on various schools of Buddhist belief and practice, especially the first school as begun by Siddhartha.  But it was presented as something outside of the greater fold of Sanatana Dharma, and the terminology goals were very confused.  It's possible that I was just not meant to grasp it at the time and the systems were presented accurately, but that isn't how I remember them.  And of course we also studied Taoism, which I quite enjoyed, and Confucianism.  Fascinating, but again, not what I was looking for.

Then in my Sophomore year, the school began offering Tai Chi classes for Dance credits - which I needed for my Fine Arts major.  I remembered how much I had enjoyed meditation, and this appealed as it offered the chance to practice meditation without Buddhism - I was still avoiding it - while also learning some self defense.  I continued the class into the second semester, when I was in a car accident.  I was only a passenger, and most of the damage was to the car and a tree, but I did end up with a fractured sternum.  Still, I went to class and did the best I could, and had a breakthrough - a shock of what felt like electricity from the soles of my feet to the top of my skull which left me a laughing pile on the floor and with a much better range of motion than I'd had up until that point.  I hadn't been able to laugh in over a month, or sneeze or cough or yawn...  the Sensei was concerned at first and then laughed along with me.

The next week I had a followup with my Orthopedic specialist in which they x-rayed my chest to check the progression of my healing.  The specialist was pretty surprised and had to compare films a few times.  He said the injury was far further along in healing than he would expect it to be and couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it.  I was grateful for the better range of pain-free motion, but I was also kind of spooked. I kept up the classes for the rest of the semester, but stopped putting the kind of concentration into the meditation routines that I had before.  I don't think I even realized it at the time.

My Junior Year I jumped at the chance to return to the UK, back in London on a work Visa in the summer and then studying and taking my Internship during the school year.  It was a brilliant time, and in many ways it was like coming full circle.  I still didn't return to Dharma, but in other ways things were as wonderful as they had been the first time I had been there.  And then I came home and the circle did indeed complete as things slid downhill once again.

My Senior year started well but devolved into a morass of confusion and negativity, and near the end I left the campus to live at my parents' home and commute.  I had stopped meditation again, even with Tai Chi, in fact I stopped practicing anything at all.  I even gave up searching, learning and trying to find my path, I ditched it all and turned to material life with a sense of loss and inevitability.  I had become obsessed with the idea of loss of innocence, a concept I had never given much thought to before.  And while many good things happened to me during the next decade, over the long view things were on a slow spiral down into a form of oblivion.

(To be continued...)
First Post in the Story

Religion

I tried to come up with a more graceful title for this post, like "Why Hindu Dharma?" or something, and then I had an interesting and awkward experience the other day.  That experience served to both remind me of something and teach me something new about myself:  I was reminded that I tend to avoid the word "Religion", I associate it with negative things and so tend to couch my own beliefs in more euphemistic terms, such as "Spirituality", in the hope that it's more acceptable to myself and others.  I realized after this experience that this is wrong.  While at one time that might have been accurate, today the strength of my belief is much more than simple "Spirituality"; that using such words now is a disservice bordering on dishonesty to call it anything other than what it is:  Religion.

I've accepted that and have found a kind of joy and peace in it that has surprised me.  I'll explore this more another time though.  This post is really meant to be an expansion on my earlier Intro post, outlining my own wandering journey from the western traditions I was born to in this life, to Sri Shiva’s shining, lotus feet.

This life began being born into, from what I can tell, a fairly religious Christian family.  But then I was adopted.  My Family, who raised me, is an interesting blend like so many often found in the US, especially around the coasts and big cities.  My Mother's family are first generation Spanish (Valencia) and Italian (Naples).  They were raised Catholic, which is the majority from those heritages, but most of them are either severely lapsed and pretty much agnostic or flat out atheist now.  My Father's family is Colonial New England stock by way of northern England.  Suffice to say they were Protestant from way back then, but we're not certain what sect.  Now most of the line is either Unitarian or Congregationalist, my Dad was raised Unitarian.

For those that don't know, these are just about the furthest two extremes of Christianity you can find.  Most are probably well acquainted with Catholicism.  Unitarians are extreme universalists and don't actually care if you believe in the Abrahamic God or not, the services tend to be inclusive of all beliefs and scriptures and they embrace some eastern philosophy in their own way.  All are welcome, though the end goals preached are the same as any Christian faith.  I applaud this, I think it's great to bring people together in understanding and brotherhood, though I think they tend to forget the core beliefs and goals of the eastern thought they have brought in are very different from their own.  This is my background, where this birth began and how my Parents tried to raise me.

Attempts to indoctrinate me into either system of belief met with extreme resistance and sometimes sullen resentment, from an early age.  There are some things I knew with a certainty for as long as I can remember.  These things directly clashed with Christian belief systems.  I didn't have the vocabulary or frame of reference to describe these things I knew very well, but I knew when what I was being told conflicted with what I knew to be true and I couldn’t help but call it out every time.  Here is what I knew as a child:

• God exists
• God is all around us, in everything living and non-living.  In us too.
• God is the warm sun and the sparkle in new snow, God is light and love.  God loves all, no matter what, and doesn’t judge or punish.
• There is no ‘sin’ as Christians describe it, one is not ‘born in sin’ as they believe, we have God in us so we are as perfect inside as God.
• Hell is a Human creation, there is no such place as Christians describe it.
• There also is no Heaven, as Christians describe it.
• There is no real ‘Death’.  The body changes but we remain.  I knew this because I knew I used to look different and live somewhere else, I remembered it clearly.
• Everything, no matter how we Humans might perceive it, is Beautiful.  All things, even the most terrible seeming things, are Beautiful and Perfect and Necessary as part of the Whole.
• Everything is Music, even light is Music.  Everything sings its own song.  The world around us is all of those songs together, all at once.

I couldn’t philosophize or apply logic to these points of knowledge that at that age, I didn’t really begin to explore what any of this meant or why I was so certain until I was around eleven or twelve.  Until then, this was the core of my belief, what I always knew for as long as I can remember, and what I clung to.  I clung tightly, because the views of the people around me seemed so dark, scary and sad and I was afraid I might begin to believe it too.

I questioned and argued with the catechism teachers and ministers/priests.  When I was very young I couldn't express very well why I disagreed, so was often labeled as intractable and stubborn, and frankly I remember being very frustrated with my inability express my thoughts in such a way that I would be heard.  I also knew when I was being patronized and resented it intensely.  Eventually I became so used to being negatively labeled and either argued with or ignored, I preferred to just zone out and stay silent.  My Mom tells a story about how they became worried enough about my silence that they took me to a Psychiatrist for evaluation.  The doctor said I was fine and very smart and that was the end of that.  I don’t actually remember that at all.

The minute I was old enough to choose to be confirmed in the Church or not, I chose (of course) 'Not' and never went back.  I don't think I was the only one who was relieved.  From this time forward began my own search for a faith that matched what I knew to be true.  I didn't stop to think I might not find it, or such a Faith might not exist.  I knew with such certainty that what I believed was Truth that I was also certain there were others like me out there somewhere.

In 5th Grade, I had discovered Western Mediterranean “Mythology” – I use quotes because these were once legitimate religions, but this is unfortunately the vocabulary I have to work with.  I read Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, the Egyptian Book of the Dead, and began to devour everything I could find regarding the Greek, Egyptian and Roman histories and Religious Pantheon Stories – at least, as best as I could find information in my small New England town.

In 6th Grade I made a friend who was Mormon.  This was my first introduction to a form of Christianity that was not one of the three I grew up with.  Somehow it hadn’t occurred to me yet there were others, at least not any that were still practiced.  I borrowed a Book of Mormon from her and went to a couple of their Temple Meetings.  It wasn’t for me, of course, but it began a new path of studying the various versions of Christianity and their versions of Scripture, and then a further exploration of Abrahamic Religions in General.  In the years after, I read more versions of the Bible than I can remember, the Torah and Talmud, the Koran.  I went to different Churches/Temples where I had the ability to go to any.

It was about this time I began to have certain experiences that deeply affected me as well.  I was having recurring nightmares and strange dreams that were almost prescient at times.  Some of the nightmares also carried into waking for a few minutes.  I started sensing things like rainbows around people.  It was weird and a little scary.  Then someone came to me and taught me about what was happening.  I was taught how to dream lucidly and then control the dreams, how to project a protective barrier around myself, and that what I was seeing was auras of chakras, and how to read and control that ability.  He taught me basic meditation and breath control as well, and lead me to several visions.  Today I call that person a Guru, my first Guru, but back then he was simply a mysterious Teacher and Friend.  He left me only a couple of years later, almost as mysteriously as he came.  He said we would meet again someday, I still hope he meant in this birth.  I will write more about him and these experiences another time.

In 8th Grade, not long after Guru left, I met Sri Ganesha for the first time.  I was in the town library, procrastinating from researching a paper I really didn’t want to write by browsing the mythology and spiritualism stacks – I miss libraries.  I pulled out a book, sat on the floor, and a smaller book I had unknowingly dislodged fell from the shelf onto my head.  It was an illustrated Purana, I think.  I don’t know, because it was written entirely in Sanskrit or Hindi, or a similar script, so I couldn’t read it.  Sri Ganesha was on the cover and in a couple of the illustrations inside the book.  I was very taken with him and wished I could read the book.  I got back up and started looking through the stacks for more of that script and ran into what I now know was the Ramayana as well.  The pictures were stunning.  I couldn’t find anything else though, so I asked the librarian.  She told me she thought it was Indian mythology but wasn’t certain and didn’t know for sure what the books were.  She recommended I look up Indian literature in the Reference Section if I was really interested.

So, I looked it up in references and history but mostly found archeological and cultural anthropology texts.  They were interesting but I wasn’t so interested in it back then.  I did find out the God who had so interested me was Sri Ganesha, but not much else.  I learned about the Ramayana and Mahabharata, but there were no translations available in my local area.  The state of information available to a suburban American kid back then was laughable compared to today.  So, my journey continued….

(To Be Continued...)