We can create mandalas anywhere, to trace or walk, to calm or intend change… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
The borders of the world are swiftly evaporating as we swirl ever so rapidly into our One World family. This transformation has been heralded by the diaspora of formerly-cloistered knowledge and practices of the world’s most ancient spiritual traditions.
Tibet is a regular at the White House now, in the form of the Dalai Lama’s chats with the President. Mindfulness has infiltrated into the core of brain research at major universities and is at the heart of modern psychotherapeutic treatment. The technologies of the Upanishads and the wisdom of the ancient Hindus is available in most adult ed programs, and in storefronts in most cities in the world, in the form of yoga practice. The energetic medicine of the ancient Chinese, in the practice of acupuncture, is now covered under most health insurance plans. The knowledge and methods of the Shamans of Ancient Mexico are readily available, to anyone seeking to deepen their energetic evolution, through the published works of Carlos Castaneda.
The age of exclusive godly gurus and saviors is over, at least in projected form. Even the Catholic Pope admitted to his human frailty when having to prematurely retire. The Dalai Lama’s successor is dubious; Carlos Castaneda ended his shamanic line; India is steeped in desecration of the feminine, and China has forgotten the I Ching.
The legacy, the deepest gold of these ancient fading traditions, lies in their technologies, offering pathways to the soul. These methodologies, stripped of their proprietary and ritual wrappings are now available to anyone who chooses to engage in their practices. It is true that we still need teachers and guides as we experiment with these ancient practices. For instance, Kundalini, the powerful instinctive energy that lies coiled like a snake at the base of the spine in all of us, once activated, can wreak havoc with the central nervous system, such as triggering a physical recapitulation that may confusedly land one in the emergency room! It is wise to proceed with caution and seek out experienced guides and helpers for these practices.
But, by and large, our greatest guide is our own resonance. The teachers and teachings that are synchronistically drawn to us and resonate with our own energy are most likely to be trusted. We are all guided now by our own inner Naguals—the title afforded, in earlier times, to the leader of a shamanic party. No one else’s rules or resonances necessarily apply to our own journey. And that journey can take many different roads.
Many people value the concept of meditation. In fact, it’s at the top of many a New Year’s resolution scroll. Most, however, find its actual practice daunting or frustrating. When TM, Transcendental Meditation, was the rave in the 1970s, Dr. Herbert Benson, in his lab at Harvard, discovered the Relaxation Response, a simplified, demystified 10 minute practice that achieved the same physical and emotional benefits as the ancient esoteric mantras of TM. There are many simple roads to meditation, like washing the dishes with full mindful presence.
A calm walk on a simple path… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
The ancient Tibetans and Navaho Indians used sand paintings of mandalas to heal and commune with deep spiritual forces. Carl Jung had his patients paint mandalas to connect with the healing support of their own deep unconscious during analysis. When I seek such a connection, I will simply walk slowly in a circle, then in a square, touching four points of that circle. In this simple gesture the energetic pathways to the deeper self are opened. A calm walk on a simple labyrinth can facilitate a similar experience.
The other day, Jan offered a recorded hypnosis to easily shift awareness and access deep calm from the sacred within. Hypnosis is one of those ancient practices: “En arche en ho lógos (John 1:1);” “In the beginning was the word.” And with words we construct our worlds and commune with our deepest spiritual forces. When we choose our words wisely, the words we take in and the words we exhale can invite in benevolent and compassionate energies to support and guide our journeys. It’s all in the word. A simple calm word can change the structure of water and what it does to us; it can become healing balm.
Partake in the simply sacred with the guides and practices that resonate. Trust your inner Nagual. Peace.
A man was angry all the time. He drank every night to numb his anger. He wanted to change so he decided to meditate. His intent set, he got up early in the morning, took a shower and sat at his desk. Before long his consciousness left his body, taking him out of his apartment and the city he lived in. It withdrew further and further from the earth. Soon he was in outer space looking down at the world, seeing it in its entirety as his awareness expanded and expanded. He entered infinity and experienced the endlessness of it and the knowledge that he was part of it all, that all life was energetically connected and infinite. When he returned to his body he was a changed man, his perception of life and the world transformed forever. Even so, he knew that in order to hold onto what he had learned, to keep experiencing himself as infinite, he had to shed his anger. Even though he had experienced the light, he knew he still had to face the darkness within.
Not everyone has such an experience when they sit down to meditate for the very first time, but many meditators eventually have this same kind of experience, the experience of the self as energy, interconnected to and a part of all energy. During such experiences the issues of the self pale in comparison to the ecstatic experience. If we are to truly evolve, however, the angry man was right; we must face our darkness.
Last night I dreamed. I was traveling on a train beside the ocean. There was a voice speaking throughout the dream, instructing, chanting a calming mantra, saying that meditation must happen all the time. From the train window I could see a small island with a Greek style temple on it not too far from the coast. I could see that it was possible to get there and I desired to go, but each time I saw the temple the ocean was churning up gigantic waves, fierce and threatening. Many times throughout the night I rode this train. The scenario was always the same. I’d hear the voiceover, see the temple and wish to be on it, notice the dark and threatening waves impossible to traverse. I’d get off the train and enter a large hotel where a gathering was taking place. A lot of people were there, walking around, keeping their energy to themselves, not talking or interacting. Everyone was meditating where they were. I did the same. Outside the vast windows of the hotel I could see the churning ocean and the temple on the island. The voiceover still said the same thing, “Meditate all the time.”
When I woke up, I knew that the message in the dream was that in order to get to the temple we must endure the struggles that we are faced with, the darkness within—the churning ocean. Just like the angry man who wished to change, deep inner work is necessary in order to attain and maintain the transcendent experience—the temple.
During my recapitulation this was exactly what I learned. In spite of the most amazing experiences that literally cracked through reality and presented me with the most stunning view of my life and the world, I knew I still had to face my deepest secrets and challenges if I was to have full access to my energetic self and be able to actually live as the changed being I was working so hard to become. Having a deep and meaningful spiritual practice was as important as doing my recapitulation and, in fact, became the perfect companion to the shamanic work I was doing. It was essential to the entire process.
I am eating… I am only eating… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
The true work of recapitulation is reconciliation with the fragments of self, healing the wounds of life, and even lifetimes, so that the true self, the spirit, may finally take its rightful place as the true self in the world. The goal of my recapitulation was to find the means to live from my deeply spiritual self all the time. I could only do that by giving that spiritual self a practice that was as deeply meaningful as the recapitulation. And so, my lifelong practices of yoga and meditation deepened as a result, becoming the prefect companions to my shamanic work.
I encourage everyone to develop a spiritual practice. If you desire to fully experience and embrace your spiritual self, to live as a changed being, from that place of deepest truth, then a spiritual practice is imperative. A spiritual practice will accompany you through life, bringing you constantly back to experiences of yourself as an energetic being, bringing fulfillment of our deepest interconnectedness. (In fact, if everyone was doing a deep spiritual practice all the time our world would surely change, but that’s another blog!) Meditation, as instructed in my dream, can be done all the time. It’s simple and everyone can do it. It doesn’t take equipment or a gym pass. It only takes mindfulness.
For instance, right now I am sitting and writing this blog, but I am also meditating. I am writing; I am only writing. I am mindfully focused only on writing and honing the message of this blog. When I get up, I will focus on getting up. Perhaps I will say: “I am getting up now. I am walking away from my computer. I am breathing. I am walking.”
These are mindful messages to the self that cancel out the constant thoughts that circulate and defeat us. At the same time that I am doing this mindful thought-erasing activity, I am also mindful that at another time I will examine those other thoughts. I will find out where they come from, how they came into my head, who said them to me, and why I still carry them. I will face what is dark and disturbing within myself, mindfully, just as I mindfully remain present in my daily life, focusing on everything I do throughout the day. To have peace of mind, I must constantly and mindfully work on myself. But to remain a balanced and present being, sometimes it’s appropriate to have a calm mind, and at other times it’s appropriate to pay attention to the mind and confront our issues and thoughts. As our mindfulness practice grows we become better able to manage our minds and maturely handle what comes to challenge us.
I am drinking tea… I am only drinking tea… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
A practice of mindful meditation is the perfect way to gain balance. To periodically shift our thoughts away from negativity, we simply state what we are doing, over and over again. As the voice in my dream said to me during the night: we can meditate all the time. We might say: I am sitting at my desk working now. I am eating now. I am reading now. I am driving now. I am walking now. I put my foot down, I breathe and I walk, one step at a time, mindfully. I am walking.
A mindfulness practice offers the opportunity to gain balance and calmness even in the midst of turmoil. If we do it often enough, we eventually do it without even thinking. We can turn off bad thoughts by introducing mindful thoughts.
I am good. I am writing. I am breathing. I am love. I am sending you love.
There’s always a reason for the wall! – Photo by Chuck Ketchel
I channel a word, a word that sets in motion the challenges and inspirations for the day ahead. We see it reverberating throughout the day, its significance hard to miss. Sometimes we post these words on our Facebook page, as a Soulbyte, a simple and concise thought or idea that will hopefully be helpful, or sometimes we post words from other sources of wisdom. It has always been my intent to use my channeling ability in a way that is helpful to others, and so I have been looking into expanding what I am doing.
The process of learning to speak rather than write the channeled messages has lately been foremost in my personal exploration. Several impediments have arisen, one being my controlling mind, which by the way was yesterday’s word! Control is different, I learned, from discipline, which was the followup word to control. Control is what the mind does, making us think we are in control, but in reality we are not. Nature is really in control. How we work with what nature presents us with takes discipline. Today’s word, impediment, naturally arises as we consider what it means to give up on the idea that we are in control of anything. The truth is that we just can’t control what happens to us, but we can look at what is presented to us as a teaching tool, offering us the opportunity to change and grow.
As soon as I hear the word “impediment” a huge wall immediately appears in front of me. I am like the little mouse in the Leo Lionni picturebook, Tillie and the Wall, wondering what is on the other side. I am sure that I must get beyond the wall. My first instinct is to get over, around or under that wall, letting nothing get in my way. But if I sit and meditate, if I get calm, I begin to realize that the wall, the impediment is there for a reason. I’m supposed to learn something from it. It might just be that I’m supposed to take a momentary pause, not rush ahead but bide my time, sitting in the tension of my enthusiasm until the time is right. When the time is right, suddenly the wall disappears.
At other times, the wall is there for a very good reason. It’s saying Stop! Don’t go this way! It might also be there as a guide to learning discipline, the other word that is so helpful as we learn to navigate life with awareness. As we let go of control and face impediments we must utilize discipline. It takes discipline to enact intent, whether it’s intent that we set for ourselves or that has been set for us by nature and the unfolding of life. Sometimes we are fully aware of this intent, at other times it may take us a while to figure it out, even years or lifetimes.
Anyway, back to my own process. I intend to evolve my channeling into a new format. I’ve gotten so comfortable with the writing format, almost complacent, and my evolving self feels inhibited by it, wants to change, to become available in a different, more flowing way. Hopefully, in the not too distance future, you will be able to listen to the messages from Jeanne. In the meantime, I have some personal impediments to work through, so the wall I am facing at the moment is not just a pause wall, but also a teaching wall.
Discipline the wandering mind… – Photo by Chuck Ketchel
The problem is that, as a synesthete, my brain activates several senses at the same time, so that when I channel as I have been—by writing—more of my brain is occupied and thus happy. When I speak a channeling, that other part of my brain, normally busy with writing, wants to be involved. Often it offers helpful images, but lately this other part of my brain has been interfering, inserting its own agenda—thinking, assessing, and judging! It’s been annoying the heck out of me, so I’m devising new ways to keep it occupied so the messages come through totally pure and unadulterated. It’s a process and a good one for me to be challenged with. So, for the time being, I face my wall. I sit in the shadow of it, learn what I must, and bide my time, knowing full well that when the time is right that wall will disappear and the way will be clear to proceed.
If I could only discipline my synesthesia! But that, I have to accept, is just the way my brain naturally works! You see, nature is really in control, but there are ways to work around it! Oh, and by the way, the little mouse, Tillie? She applied discipline to her wondering, dug a hole under the wall, and discovered that on the other side were other mice, just like her. What once appeared so mysterious and foreign was really very familiar, but the work she had done in getting to that place was well worth it, opening a pathway to new interactions and expanded life. This is what we too learn as we face our own walls, our impediments and challenges, our inhibitions and complacencies. Once we slow down and face our fears and desires, in the true reality of life as a never-ending process, we discover that we are right where we need to be, surrounded by the energy of nature in constant motion, asking us to get busy and dig a tunnel to new life!
I’d been swimming along when I decided to stop and look around. All of a sudden I noticed that things had changed! – Art by Jan Ketchel
A couple of months ago, I wrote a blog called Silent Meditation, about my experiences in the presence of a female guru. I had gone to the silent retreat seeking to jolt my yoga and meditation practice to a new level. Now, two months later, I am beginning to string together the unfolding of that intent, coming in many forms of support—in dreams, in continued practice, and in the never-ending experiences of life.
The female guru was known not only for her teachings but also for her singing of the sacred mantras of India. From the time she was a young child she had been recognized for her unique ability. During the meditation session at the retreat, she put on some music and instructed us to focus on the vibration as we silently chanted our mantras and sought inner silence. She hoped that we would find her voice pleasing.
I have always meditated in silence, so it struck me that we would be listening to music. But as I thought about it, I realized that in my weekly yoga class there is always music. There is even a specific vibration in one song that rattles my bones, or at least that is how I experience it. Every time I hear it, the sound vibration seems to enter my body and go right into my teeth and bones and before I know it I’m vibrating. It’s not unpleasant at all, though it has always felt a little strong to me.
The music of the female guru was beautiful, the vibration extremely pleasant, and I found that I could connect to it. Unlike the sound vibration of the music of the yoga class that I also connect with in a different way, her music melodically flowed right into my physical body. I noticed how my muscles and skin responded by going completely relaxed.
Since that silent retreat, I have listened to music during my own practice of yoga and meditation. I’ve tried a few different types of music—drumming, chanting, and melodious singing, as well as other styles. I have settled on the chanting of a Buddhist monk, a man, who like the female guru, was recognized in his youth as being especially gifted in the singing of the sacred music. The vibration of his music strikes in yet another place, right in my heart chakra, matching the energetic vibration of my own heart. His vibratory energy soars right through my organs and then takes me with it, out of my body and into other worlds.
As I look back on these three experiences of musical vibration, I am struck by the three responses I experienced within my own body self. First, there is the skeletal vibration, which I experience each week during yoga class, representing the core of the physical body, the strengthening of which ensures physical stability. Secondly, there is the vibration of the female voice, much like a mother’s soothing touch that my muscles so responded to. The training of the muscles enables physical prowess and fluidity in this world. Thirdly, I find the vibration of the male voice, the Buddhist monk, so deeply penetrating that my heart and emotions immediately respond. Here, in the organs of the body, are the other aspects of the physical self that require honing if a spiritual practice is to be deeply meaningful, fulfilling, and freeing.
As I study these three experiences that have so aligned with my intent to strengthen and deepen my spiritual practice, I am reminded of dreams unfolding simultaneously. One Sunday night, a few weeks ago, I dreamed of a tall man in tails and top hat, the Master of Ceremonies at a three ring circus.
The first night I dreamed of him, I asked for advice. He told me that the first order of business in achieving a balanced spiritual practice was to get the physical body in tiptop shape. This I see as aligning with the yogic vibration of physical prowess. He also encouraged good eating habits and moderation in everything.
The second time I dreamed of him, exactly one week later, also on a Sunday night, he instructed me in establishing a firm spiritual practice and sticking with it. This I see as the meditation practice as encouraged by the female guru, which I have been deepening.
The third time I dreamed of the Master of Ceremonies, last night, I asked for more advice. “Teach me something,” I said. I dreamed of a woman I had known a long time ago. She told me that her mother had died, but that she was always with her, that they connected all the time. This I see as the awakening of the heart chakra to the truth of our vibratory existence, the kind of experience that I have every time I meditate with my chanting Buddhist monk. He takes me soaring. I am one with the vibration, the vibration is one with me, I am one with the energy of the universe.
There are many roads to the sublime… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
When I woke up this morning, I knew that the Master of Ceremonies had shown me the third ring in the three ring circus of this life, as we endeavor to reconcile our human/spiritual dilemma. The third ring of a balanced spiritual practice is to recognize that we are all comprised of energy and, as such, we are fully capable of existing in many realms simultaneously. It is our job to strengthen our awareness of this and open up to it. It is what the Shamans of Ancient Mexico teach as well, that we are primarily beings comprised of energy. We come from energy and we will return to energy. In the meantime, however, we must bear the tension of navigating life in the physical bodies that we inhabit.
Our job is to become aware of our energetic abilities and find a practice that will train us in the use of all that we truly are comprised of. The Shamans of Ancient Mexico offer the Magical Passes. I have always found yoga and mediation to fit my inner vibration most compatibly. There is music, there is art, there is dance, there are sports, and all kinds of other activities that can lead us to experience the transcendent. Joseph Campbell speaks of running track when in college and twice having experiences of the sublime, when he achieved complete and total alignment with the energy of the universe that he just happened to be flowing in at the time. We can enter the flow of such energetic alignment by happenstance, or we can train ourselves to enter it volitionally, as I work to achieve in my own spiritual practice.
As my vibratory experiences with three types of music point out, if we are seekers, if we are open and aware, we will eventually discover just what strikes the right chord with our own vibration. And then the universe will join in our endeavors and help us out in a myriad of ways. It may take some time to discover just what the right vibratory chord is. I stumbled upon what I needed by opening to some new ideas and challenging myself to have some new experiences.
By setting the intent to find our way to our energetic selves, we open the door to going beyond the three ring circus of life to vibratory experiences in other worlds. In fact, it was what the female guru was suggesting as we listened to her music. She was asking us to connect to the truth of our energetic reality. It is the key to everything, to the mystical and the mysterious, the awareness that we are first and foremost energetic beings, vibratory beings. Whether we exist in the here and now, or whether we have passed on into other dimensions, our connection to everything is energetic.
I thank the people who teach me, my dream teachers, the people that have intersected my life, the seekers who teach about another reality beyond this so solid one. I am thankful for all that comes to me, for all that I experience, energetically and otherwise!
I attended a silent meditation retreat some weeks ago. I am not ordinarily a retreat kind of person. I am not a group person. I am a loner, but occasionally I find that going outside of my container offers the opportunity for new vitality and renewed commitment to my path. For me, it was to be a day of stalking, for I was leaving my known world and entering into an unknown world. I would have to be appropriate. Proper attire was required, white clothing, modestly covering arms and legs. Yoga and meditation, as well as teaching, would be part of the day long retreat. I stalked from the moment I got up in the morning and dressed. I followed the rules, arrived on time, ready to begin.
Things did not happen according to schedule. No one was ready for the arrival of the retreat attendees. We had to be patient. As we stood about, some attendees chanted softly to themselves, others practiced yoga, preparing themselves for the day ahead. I walked the grounds of the retreat center, calmly and slowly, already in silent meditation. Talking seemed unnecessary and inappropriate. I exchanged a few nods.
Three ravens flew into some trees ahead of me. I stood and watched as they landed, as they ruffled their feathers, and as small white down loosened and slowly fell to the ground. I heard more rustling and noticed a couple more ravens sitting on nearby branches. I saw more white down flutter to the ground. Suddenly, I became aware that I was surrounded by ravens. Out of the darkness of the leaves the shapes of perhaps fifty or sixty ravens appeared, materializing a few at a time, as if by magic. Raven energy, I thought, the scavengers who pick away at the dead, transforming empty carcasses into something new. Not a bad omen, I thought. I wondered what the day would bring. New life, new energy perhaps?
I walked slowly among the birds as if walking beside the ocean, the rustling of their feathers, like the sound of gentle waves washing upon the shore, accompanying me. I walked in a large circle, respectfully passing by the ravens several times as I waited for the retreat to begin. Eventually, the doors opened. Leaving our shoes at the door, we entered the coolness of the building.
Eventually a yoga instructor emerged. Pranayama, breathing, was followed by a series of chakra and meridian opening poses. I was quite at home, but it was an experience to do yoga in a room filled with perhaps 60 or more people. I began to experience a gentle energetic vibration as the session progressed, as creative energy coursed through all of us. The yoga ended with shavasana, as we all stretched out on the floor and sank into calm relaxation.
Chanting followed, in Sanskrit, which is foreign to me. I can chant some simple mantras, and my personal yoga practice involves personal mantras, mostly in English. Suddenly, however, it seemed as if everyone else in the room could speak the language. All of the other attendees were chanting away with gusto, the beautiful syllables flowing off their tongues as the room filled with vibrant, lilting energy. I sort of hummed along, but I realized I was an outsider, that most of the people at the retreat were seasoned and dedicated practitioners of a specific yogic path, used to satsang, used to group energy, used to practicing together. But even though I was not a member of this greater community, I felt welcomed into it, and there I was, as I mentioned, stalking.
In stalking, one allows the circumstances to dictate the process, even as one makes the initial decision to stalk. In alignment with my wish to have a personal experience, to see what happened, I had embarked on the day, and so I was open and receptive, perhaps a little too much, for as the chanting grew louder, I began to vibrate even more than I had vibrated during the yoga session.
I realized that I was taking in the energy and that perhaps it was too much. I stopped chanting. As good as the energy in the room felt, I could not accept any more of it. It was group energy, and a lot of people thrive on it, but I do not. I am not like the ravens who live in flocks; I am a solitary bird. And so I was relieved when it was time to take a break before the first meditation session began with the guru.
Soon the guru appeared, a tiny woman, revered by the many practitioners who had come to be in her presence. I knew little about her. I have never felt the need of a guru, but I sensed the deep affection that filled the room as she entered and took her place. She was serious, her energy almost heavy, as if she had to bear the weight of adoration and she was uncomfortable with it. This assessment of her proved true, for later it was revealed that she preferred not to be revered in any way.
Many eyes look back at me… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
Without further ado, she guided us into pranayama and then meditation. Meditation must be preceded by pranayama, and end with pranayama, she said. Do Yoga, pranayama, meditation, pranayama. Duration, one hour, she stated, as we began. If negative thoughts arise, she said, say your mantra, whatever it is, five times, then silence. Negative thoughts, mantra, silence. One hour.
Thoughts immediately arose. Is that a negative thought? I’d ask myself. Or is it just a thought. Does it matter? A thought is a thought. Mantra, what mantra should I say? Okay, I’ll say that: Mantra, five times, silence. This became the mantra I said as the meditation session began. “Mantra, five times, silence.”
Fifteen minutes passed. My legs hurt. I heard other people moving about, shifting on their cushions, some quite loudly. I carefully moved one leg, then the other, stretched them out for a time. I pulled my knees in and hugged them for a time. I got back into sukasana, sweet pose, with legs crossed. Another fifteen minutes passed. I knew how many minutes had passed by my body, from my years of sitting in meditation. I knew that soon, in the next few minutes, I would level out and not feel a thing, that by the time 45 minutes had passed I’d be floating, effortlessly present in my body. It happened as expected. It was then that I received this mantra: Look into your darkness until you see the eye of God.
I followed the instructions. I looked into the darkness behind my eyes, a place I look into often, a place where I have had some of my most enlightening and magical experiences, in my own darkness. I looked for the eye of God. Almost immediately an eye appeared. I saw the eye of the meditating Buddha head that we have at home. I saw the eye of an elephant. I saw the eye of a snake. I saw the beady eye of a mouse. I saw the eye of a lion. I saw many eyes floating in and out of the darkness, coming and going. Eventually I saw a big bright eye, staring right at me. Is that the eye of God? I wondered, and then I saw that it was my own eye staring at me. As if I was looking into a mirror, my own eye held my gaze, and then it was gone. I had seen the eye of God, and it was my own.
I had peeked at the guru several times during the meditation session. Every time I looked she was sitting perfectly still, a slight smile on her smooth face. Her head was tilted slightly, as if she were listening to someone speaking in her ear.
With the meditation session over, the guru softened, the stern look and the heaviness that she had entered the room with released a little as she smiled and joked. After a while, I began to feel like a student sitting at the foot of the teacher and I did understand why her flock tended to revere her as a guru. I became a part of their community once again, just as I had during the yoga session, the group energy like a blanket hovering just above our heads.
The guru spoke wisely, her concerns for the world in alignment with my own, her healing approach similar to my own as well. In simplicity and alignment with nature, with what we are granted naturally we can save ourselves, we can save the people of the world. Her greatest concern seemed to be with what we put into our bodies, with the contaminated food that is found in every American supermarket. “That’s not food,” she said, “that comes from processing plants. Food is real.” With the right foods in our bodies, we can access greater spiritual practice and we can change ourselves and our world, she said. I felt, for the most part that she was preaching to the choir, so to speak, but perhaps not. Perhaps too many people, even those in deep spiritual practice, dressing the part and knowing all the words, struggle as much as those who have no practice and no words to resort to.
We broke for silent lunch. I was thankful for the gift of silence, to sit and write my thoughts, to eat slowly of the ayurvedically seasoned and balanced meal, food for sitting in meditation—no rajas, no tamas, just sattva—nothing that will interfere with going into silence.
The afternoon started with more teaching by the guru. And then a man got up and stood before a microphone. I didn’t quite hear what he said, as he spoke too quickly, but everyone else seemed to know exactly what was happening as more chanting began. Again I could not keep up, although I hummed along for a time, but I had no sense of what it meant. The words projected on a screen in front of us seemed endless. Surely that’s the last of it, I’d think, and then another screen filled with phrases would pop up. Loud and fervent chanting filled the room, with the shrillness of bells ringing, a radiant energy building. Suddenly, I began to feel ill. Would it never end? Everyone around me seemed transfixed, mesmerized. Then it dawned on me that they were chanting the 108 divine names of the guru. What number were we on, surely we’d already done fifty.
Finally the chanting ended. It was evening, close to the time when the retreat should end. Time for a short break, but there was still the afternoon meditation to come. Shaking, I got up quickly. My stalking time was over. I had to go back to being me. I gathered my things and exited the building. I could not stay another second. I had to get away from the energy. How could I feel like that after being in that beautiful presence? I wondered, for I did feel the beauty and dedication of the guru, dedicated to her life’s task, to bring to the world what she had learned in the manner of her ancient tradition. It was her path. It was not my path. I am on a different journey. We all walk our paths, some parallel to others, some joining for a time, but in the end they are individual paths.
I shifted out of my stalking self and headed home… enlightened… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
My stalking self shed her persona as I slipped into my sandals at the front door and walked to my car. Shaking off the too good, the too much energy of other, I glanced over at my pals the ravens. They were still there, fluttering their wings, waiting patiently, but for what? Then I saw the dumpsters. They were waiting for food, to pick over the leftovers from the restaurant, to feast upon the energy. They had been there the entire time.
When I got home and told Chuck about the ravens, his first reaction was to remind me of the shaman’s world where they would be seen as predatory energy, also known as entities. We had produced, as a group, a lot of energy that day and the vultures where there to feed off it. As soon as he said this, it all made sense, it had been about energetic exchange, and I understood why the guru had entered with such a heaviness, as she was carrying excessive energy to feed her hungry devotees. She lightened considerably as the day progressed. But it was too much for me. I could not eat another bite of her energy.
When I left, I was more certain of my solitary journey, of my own vital and vibrant energy being enough, of my own spiritual practice, and my own road to freedom. I drove away, thankful for the experience, for it had indeed shifted me and introduced a new vital energy, just as I had hoped. Yet it also sent me right back into myself, back into my darkness, which was exactly where I needed to be, looking for the eye of God inside.
Now, whenever I sit in meditation, I have a new mantra to focus on, to swish away the thoughts, negative or otherwise: Look into your darkness until you see the eye of God. From the energy of the guru, I pass it on to you. Mantra, five times, silence.
Look into your darkness until you see the eye of God.
