|
|
|
Howdy,
There are several places in my home of over thirty years where artifacts and mementos are quietly on display, and added to from time to time.
Like the fireplace mantel, with the 18th century thangka looming above, thick with family photos (mostly the dear departed), collars left behind by beloved dogs, beaded Haitian bottles, an extraordinary bronze sculpture, incense burners, vase and such.
The sill under the large kitchen window is festooned with more whimsical items, like a glass buoy from Cat Island, two small "perfect men' dolls (that when their chests are pressed say things like "I'm not sure where to go, honey, I think I will stop and ask directions", or "Here's the remote, dear, I don;t need sports to make me happy'), a banner brought back from Oman with goofy photos of the Sultan, Mardi Gras beads with tequila glasses and monkeys, an empty Armagnac bottle of the same year as my wife's birth, a rubber alligator and such.
One shelf in my office is dedicated to an antique wood-carved Ganesha surrounded by a book of my grandfather's handwritten poems, my favorite uncle's watch, a small photo of my favorite teacher of Advaita Vedanta, a human skull, my baby bracelet, a wedding photo, a stop watch, a bobble-headed dog (for no good reason) and such.
I suppose these are 'altars' of sorts, with artifacts and stuff that commemorate important people, influences and events in our lives.
I had a dear premie friend that I fell out of touch with almost forty years ago, but heard he was living outside of Boulder, Colorado. Even with the awesome power of Google, I was unable to locate a phone number or email for him, but I did find an address that appeared to be his. So when I was recently there, I just showed up and found him at his house. it was wonderful to spend time together, reminiscing and getting to know each other again. I learned that he split from Rawat about the same time I did, that he was now close to a Tibetan Buddhist teacher (teaching precepts himself), about his kids, loves, etc.
We were discussing our mutual distaste for Rawat and his culture, and he mentioned that he still keeps photos of GMJ and Shri Hans on his altar. I expressed my surprise, and he thoughtfully explained that whatever happened during that time helped him to learn and grow and was an integral part of his life and what he had become. He felt that it would be disingenuous to pretend these teachers did not help him become who he is and that he did not have some measure of gratitude for them, their lineage and tradition.
The way he explained it in that moment stopped me in my tracks, and I felt some shifting around in me as his perspective sunk in. I saw more clearly the disconnect from myself I've promoted by dwelling on negative feelings about that phase of my life. I sensed how his embrace of ALL that made him was healthy and had allowed him to avoid unnecessary negative self-directed feelings, and thus more easily move on and past.
No big deal, and although a picture of GMJ has not yet surfaced on any of my 'altars', I wanted to share his gentle sentiment that resonated with me.
M
|
|
|
|
|
I would have asked your friend what he thinks qualifies Rawat as a teacher.
My time with Rawat provided lessons in how deluded I could be, how gullible, and what a manipulative bastard Rawat is to take advantage of people in that way.
Shit happens and I would rather accept that as it is than venerate it as an artefact that went into building the present day me. I guess I don't see myself as the result of having followed a meandering but shiny meaningful and path, but I can live with that.
|
|
|
|
13
How long did you participate in the cult?
M
|
|
|
|
Earnestly from age 16 - 21.Less earnestly, but chasing Rawat around the world: 21 - 25 25 - 40, it slipped more and more into the background. At 40, I became enlightened at last, recognising the cult.
|
|
|
|
Thanks for this, I have no photos left and I got a lot of pleasure in throwing everything away.... But I also came to a similar point, I called it 'forgiveness' forgave myself for falling for a narc, being a human being forgave him for being shallow and deluded, cruel and not brave enough to LOVE i don't like the feeling of carrying the past around, so I try not to venerate too much of it, but i do acknowledge from time to time that I didn't get to where I am alone, none of us did.... So I have a daily thing where i extend any feelings of love, forgiveness and best wishes I can muster to a lot of individuals by name, occasionally I include rawat, also other people who have caused me bitter regret that i ever met them. Sometimes he and those others are not included, sometimes i feel myself trying too hard so I dont do it, I dont want to be disingenuous, but when i do include those that I find it hard to forgive, i feel the shift you mean Roark and thats the shift I'm after, because a new horizon starts to open, where old stuff doesnt matter so much the future feels bigger than the past regret is a heavy load , and I'm the only one who can put it down, no one is going to unburden me from it I doubt if i could ever own another photo of him, but at times i have seen that from daily meditation over the years i have honed my skill of focus, which is something to be happy for In general I think its a good idea for me to look for the positive aspects, the negative ones seem obvious, often first and foremost, and i dont get any prizes for noticing or pointing them out.... but when i look for and find something, anything that i can say, yes thats a positive, i just feel better, hey, thats why i got into the cult anyway- feel better now i just allow myself to feel better, sans cult, which has got to be positive progress I have a 95 year old aunt who is always grateful and happy even though she has hardly anything to be happy about in her current moment of health decline. But her heart is full of love and honestly she makes a difference to all who know her even from her hospital bed in her frail state. I admire her and love her and she is teaching me a lot without doing any teaching
|
|
|
|
Hey SuzyQ
It is amazing the love we run into everywhere, like your 95-year old friend, no?
Here, we have been deluged in holiday get-together's this season, and I am blown away with how much love and good will I am surrounded with. Just people...
On the other hand, I never really found the kind of bigheartedness that surrounds me with premies back in the day. Maybe it is just me, but it seems there is a sort of angst in those that continue to gather at his feet (without admitting out loud that is what they are doing). Having to worry about staying in peace is stressful, no?
L. M
Modified by roark at Tue, Dec 26, 2017, 15:52:38
|
|
|
|
13
My own likely story is that GMJ got into the family business so young and under so much indoctrination, I wonder if he ever really had a choice or grokked what was happening, at least for many years. But the march of those northern India-based Hindu/Sikh traditions has gone on for many centuries, sweeping up millions, including us, with him and his father before him as hood ornaments.
I'll agree that Rawat is an unremarkable teacher, but personally, I continue to place a high value on meditation and many aspects of those traditions that I have benefited (and cherry-pick) from.
I know that so much of what I have done in my life is boneheaded, but I do really like where 'I am' now, and it just FEELS better to make peace with my own boneheadedness (and find humor in it), without blaming any one but myself for what I did. I think my buddy took that feeling even a bit further, even reminding himself and paying homage to all that got him to where he is, warts and all. In listening to him, I had to face some of my own unwanted anger that I wasn't aware of, and Allah knows what an angry place this world can be.
M
|
|
|
|
I'm not harbouring ongoing anger towards Rawat. It's all too long ago for me. I rarely think about him, except when I'm engaging here. If I do think about him, I don't like him at all...
I think he was even less than an unremarkable teacher. I don't think he taught anything useful at all (of course, I learned things from that time anyway - just nothing useful I can think of that came from him). I used to value meditation very highly indeed, and did an awful lot of it in the early days. I eventually came to regard Rawat's techniques as useless. The experiences I could get from meditation just came down to sitting quietly, detaching from the internal monologue. No teacher needed. It would take a minute to describe. Less. I've just done it.
I won't be outdone in boneheadedness. I just won't. I have form like you wouldn't believe.
I don't see people so much as discrete individuals any more. (I used to imagine that I'd be whole and complete and fulfilled if I could live alone on a desert island contentedly, needing nothing and no-one - probably I was too much influenced as a child by the Robinson Crusoe series on TV. Self-sufficiency in every way seemed a noble goal!). To me now, society looks more like people soup such is the interconnectedness and inter dependence. So where to lay the blame for foolish things is hard to pin down. Was it me, Rawat, my Dad, his Dad before that? I'm not entirely convinced of the reality of free will. Sometimes it's just soup, the cream-of kind, not even the lumpy kind.
I hate that sentiment, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. As if, with sufficiently broad perspective, it's all good. My neighbours' son died a few years back. They never got over it. They can put on a bright face and laugh and joke, but you always know there's a darkness in there which manifests unpleasantly at times. Next door to them, an old widow. Her dog died - it's all she had. She's very lonely, so I encouraged her to get another. She was afraid the dog would outlive her, or that she wouldn't cope with the walks. I told her I'd help out if necessary - just get yourself a dog. So she did, a little yappy thing that goes out in the garden morning and night and yaps, driving my neighbours nuts. They've fallen out, badly. And now my neighbours have fallen out with me for encouraging the woman to have a dog. I said she has nothing else. They don't care. They want the dog gone.
It could be my fault, the mess. I just didn't want the old woman so lonely. Could be the crotchety neighbours, but after someone's son has died, you can't demand equanimity. Could be the old woman, letting the dog out to bark, but she can only walk it once a day, and it doesn't bark that often. Trouble and strife, easily done, just three neighbours. I don't know where the source of the pain is, who to blame. Just the human condition. Our paths brought us all to this. I feel no homage is due. Scale this up, to the whole street, the town, the county - zoom out. People soup.
I guess I ought to walk the dog, morning and night, but that isn't the level of help I had in mind. I'm too lazy and not altruistic enough for that. And I hate yappy little dogs myself. It's out there now, yap, yap, yap.
|
|
|
|
Interesting post.
I don't use the K techniques either, not for over twenty-five years.
But for many reasons, I think that extended, formal, seated meditation practice presents a completely unique opportunity (and portal). From the time we wake up to the time we fall asleep, we live in the thrall of a continual barrage of sensations, feelings and thoughts that leaves less bandwidth for what goes on within our own 'feeling worlds'. Just sitting down, closing the eyes and staying alert cuts away a huge 'sensorial dialogue' we are having with the world around us. Reining in our free-associative thought flow lessens the automatic recycling of thought patterns that have become 'neuro-superhighways', and allows access to less traveled and more creative footpaths. I am NOT trying to say there is anything wrong with the barrage of everyday experience whatsoever, but just that the currency of attention, if spent differently for small periods of time, can yield some wonderful and unexpected returns.
When memory-based mentation drops away, our internal landscape becomes subtler, more of a 'feeling world'. In that feeling world one can access some stunning beauty, and also seemingly forgotten memories that drive our behavior without us being aware of it (and recognizing unhealthy dynamics can greatly assist conscious change for the better). It does usually involve having to face our 'demons' though, which can be a bit overwhelming. Staying busy is frequently the antidote for having to face what is really bugging us. But at any rate, when you put all religion, myth and expectation to the side, what can possibly be bad with just sitting down and really taking the time to shutthefuckup for a portion of the day (unless it would somehow harm someone else)?
I'll admit that I also use meditation as a tool to access greater creativity, particularly in my work, as the mental 'spaciousness' created by sitting seems to allow the subliminal thought processes in my brain (that are apparently going on outside my field of awareness) to deliver up eureka moments. I read that one of Thomas Edison's techniques to access his creative subconscious was, when he was sleepy, to sit in his favorite rocking chair on a wood floor, holding a spoon in his outstretched hand that rested on a chair arm as he focused his mind on a particular engineering problem. Then, the moment he started to drift into sleep his hand would release the spoon, that would hit the floor and awaken him, and bingo, he would have the answer.
On a side note, I'd like to kvetch about the premie mandate to 'constantly meditate and remember the holy name', that sponsored a shit-ton of zombie-like activity back in the day, as those of us that were trying managed to tie ourselves up in knots attempting to be in two places at the same time (a pretty dissonant approach). I recall trying to speak to a glassy-eyed, noisily bellow-breathing premie, and thinking 'there may just be something a bit off here'.
All sorts of things are called 'meditation' nowadays, but the mechanics entailed in seated, focused meditation makes it a different animal altogether.
On the subject of what we learned or did not learn from Rawat, my own learnings had to do with the entirety of the premie world and the 'spiritual tradition' that I had bought into, not just from what Rawat said and did. Because the world I was learning from was in the direct orbit of Rawat (regardless of what he actually knew or had to teach), it's tough for me to separate the two. Besides, I am not so interested in him as I am in my own inner landscape and how it drives my behavior. But those intense communal dynamics sponsored all sorts of heightened feelings and experiences, and so what I perceived as 'my guru' got extended and amplified by my wonderful fellow kooks. Again, not to give Rawat a pass, just recognizing him as more of the 'hood ornament' I called him earlier in this thread.
Fair warning though: please do not try to outdo me in boneheadedness, you don't know what you are up against.
M
PS Could you convince your neighbor to replace the yapper with another more dignified and age-appropriate dog from a shelter? Or is it too late for that?
Modified by roark at Wed, Dec 27, 2017, 11:07:45
|
|
|
|
Thanks for the thoughtful and indeed inspiring response. You reminded me of the pleasanter and more constructive aspects of meditation. I think these days I come across solutions to problems and creative ideas in the moments when I first awake (especially programming problems - it's sometimes a quite task to implement the solutions I woke up with to the problems I'd gone to sleep with before the ideas evaporate). I have in the last few years gotten into the habit of not doing anything at all. I've stopped goading myself into action and stopped feeling guilty about time I can't account for in obvious results. I think I 'achieve' as much without the ambition to cram my day with intentional activity.
I've just read an description, linked below, of an increasingly common view of consciousness cobbled together by neuro-scientists. I find it very persuasive. I recommend having breakfast first.
The dog is an age-appropriate dog from a home - she didn't want a puppy at her age. The dog seems to just get excited about gulls, crows and rats, and there's always one of those things at least around. She's bonded to it. It's too late to change. There we are. Haven't heard it this morning though, which makes me wonder if she's OK. If it's not one thing.
|
|
|
|
Some of us thought we could uncover the 'Truth' by following Rawat's instructions. I think it looks a lot like this: Chasing the Rainbow: The Non-conscious Nature of Being https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fpsyg.2017.01924/full
|
|
|
|
I will admit I found it a bit hard to read so I'm not entirely sure but I think, more or less, they were saying we do think from the bottom up rather than the top down. Rather lending credence to my comments about knowing when you don't know - i.e. knowing instinctively before consciously, I like to think. 
Re the rainbow effect - my experience is that around the age of 10 is when I became self conscious and I think that is the same for many of us. So again I think that bears out what they are saying about personal awareness being a byproduct rather than being vital to function but it seems a vital part of the process now - you always want that bit of you to feel included.
|
|
|
|
Thanks, and breakfast first indeed! Looks like a great read, likely a weekend project.
Well, regards the case of the neighbor lady, sounds like you acted with compassion and skill, and I hope the yapping tapers off sooner than later.
|
|
|
|
Well they're all pretty old. Someone will taper off soon surely.
|
|
|
|
In case anyone's interested I still have in my
garage, what I wrapped carefully in plastic ten years ago, a 16x20" photo
in ornate gilded frame suitable for hanging, of M in full krishna uniform and
crown semi-dancing up on stage on the field at Amhurst Guru Puja in 1974 with
Marolyn gazing lovingly up at him -- price negotiable. I've offered it
here before. Hoping for a sale someday to recover some lost finances from
my forty years of most all my best energies given to "service"
instead of sensible profit.Â
Or maybe instead someday, to honorably commemorate my meandering
but shiny and meaningful path, the thing will go back up on a wall, maybe on the pagan altar
up on my fireplace mantle, along with ostrich egg and the deer antlers I found
shed high on the cliffs above my place here in the spiritually-antiseptic
natural wilderness around my town... No, that photo's too overwhelmingly
anomalous. But I was certainly still proud of it when M once long ago
took a peek into my living quarters and could see this image of himself as
glorious Krishna commanding the wall space of my tiny rented studio. I
think he actually even by then thought I was a bit balmy to be keeping it so
prominent that way and very déclassé, behind the times of the coming era
as he would shed the blatant crown and accept the more current accolade of
"ambassador of peace" for better business that does more
commerce...or maybe it doesn't sell as well as did the crown.
Roark, I very much like your sense and meaning in the vignette there all about
something like a wholistic memory-field of life wherein the negatives are
acknowledged yet not obsessed, so as to be sanely balanced out into overall
gratitude. (Well done in these troubled times -- these 350,000 years of
primate history.)Â I suppose I can be said to "resonate" with
the feeling. Â But, speaking of resonating with ideas,
I could never quite figure what it could possibly actually mean
to "disconnect from one's self" -- Self, that flickering ever-changing
and temporary phantom [which your zen abbot carefully and excellently
deconstructs, Mike, and...] which everyone gets so tied up in for a quick
50-60-70-80-90 years before vanishing like magic. I guess maybe
a disconnect could happen when you could suddenly or too violently re-invent yourself along
the way without a hand to hold (such as this site serves for many of us who
read here)... now for me seems all coalescing in the river of time are the pagan antlers
and krisha suit, proximity to then distance from the avatar balyogeshwar, the
ostrich egg and lost wealth, exchanging pride for loss, and crown for imitation
ambassadorship, plastic wrapped photo in a dusty garage down here next door to
the wilderness, and all of it, all of a curious lifetime altarpiece apotheosis.
I'll have that egg-nog well corrected with whisky now.... Good Will to
all and Happy Holidays to all our family of curious and sometimes gentle
creatures --Â from tarvuist
Modified by Tarvuist at Tue, Dec 26, 2017, 16:05:37
|
|
|
|
Delightful read O wondrous Heir to Tarvu,
I'll try to wrap my head around buying that photo of yours, but I'm just not seeing wall space for it any time soon. Of course I would certainly have eggnog on my altar, but it doesn't enshrine well.
Yeah, the "disconnect from one's self" reference. hmmm. I guess this refers to selectively trying to carve out or box around something stuffed into an emotional memory file lodged in my 'psyche' (not realizing that doing this with leave either a dent or a bulge that just makes me have to be acutely aware of it from time to time) rather than just pulling the damn thing out, reading through and organizing it and then filing it away properly.
M
(And BTW, I suspect it may be your second or third already)
|
|
|
|
The over/under is 2.5, so you're right on the money line there, big fella. When I moved on my own on Pinetree Drive and 45th, I had a fireplace and an alter, above which I hung a 40x50 real color print of Shri Hans given to me from the Ed D architecture collection. Hans smiling like the sun and squint/laughing (all the way to the bank, but who know then) and banging those symbol wood thingies to a bhajan. Total bliss. Ended up in the recyclables. No storage. Have another on me, Travu. . .. Or stop now. Up to you, finally. We're not sitting by the phone to ring with Marni telling us to stand by for the LOTU with Holiday greetings, like poor kids in cold ashrams in the bleak UK without the Beatles. And hopes that Mum is fine. Maybe a prashad jam biscuit.
Modified by OTS at Tue, Dec 26, 2017, 19:22:23
|
|
|
|
I had a fireplace and an alter, above which I hung a 40x50 real color print of Shri Hans given to
me from the Ed D architecture collection.� Hans smiling like the sun and
squint/laughing (all the way to the bank, but who know then) and banging those
symbol wood thingies to a bhajan.
I always liked him and had
dreams of him being magical, divine, the source of and connection to the
eternal line of perfect masters on earth from the dawn of creation. But I
once saw an old photo in India of him being held up by I think Bihai on one arm
and Charanand on the other, Shri Hans obviously in a final discombobulated
state of cerebral stroke, and I knew he hadn't sat in lotus position for three
days or whatever and then left his mortal body to merge with the infinite -- as
was said in the "Lord of the Universe" movie, or was it "Satguru
Has Come"? ...well I suppose maybe he did anyway merge with the
infinite after sitting in perfect meditation for three days, we don't know do
we. And I thought it was astonishing that he, the embodiment of bliss,
would walk around at a festival and whack people with his cane to secure
himself room to move through crushing crowds, and this ingrained in me
acceptance of his son Prem's tendency to sometimes be rude or harsh to or
dismissive of his loving premies. In the voiceover in the movie, or somewhere
or other, it was told that Shri Hans' premies felt it a great honor to be
whacked aside by him, a magic grace befallen them to be touched like that by
the Master's cane. [Hasn't this been spoken of here before?] There was told of that one
fortunate blessed guy who Shri Hans for some reason always looked for to thrash
again and again, always asking "Where is that guy?"Â ...as Prem
or Sampu recounted sometime, I believe. But I suspect Shri Hans needed to
just kinda punch a way through the crowds for his own safety. I took it to
heart that anything the guy does or says to me is for my spiritual benefit, to
shock and uplift me out of my pit of unenlightenment, even if incomprehensible
or somehow mystically effecting the magic on me. This is a common meme in
spiritual beliefs and disciplines isn't it, or as believed of a kind of magic
that pervades the living consciousness of a beneficent creation. Don't
you often hear people saying that silly kneejerk phrase, "It's all
good." I no longer think things work quite that way. But good cheer
and human warmth and kindness help all the way through, and a good lol at it
all lightens the heart if even ifÂ
disappointingly there probably ain't not nothin' like any such thing as
Enlightenment with a big "E", and probly no big Father of All and his
son patiently waiting over on the other side of St. Peter's gate in a bloody
crown of thorns (It should be missing one thorn as I once saw one of the thorns preserved in the basilica of
Santa Croce in Gerusalemme in Rome, and the signboard INRI from the cross too,
and THE actual finger of the doubting St. Thomas now pretty shriveled and dried up which he stuck in side wound in the stomach of his resurrected returned-from-the-dead comrade to convince himself of the Resurrection -- millions of people have walked through that small well lit chamber at the east side of the basilica in states of relative reverence or just gaping curiosity. There's also the Domini Quo Vadis church at the place on the Via Appia where Peter, or was it Paul, encountered the ghost or was it the actual living Resurrected Christ who spoke to him on that spot in Rome at some later date; there are Jesus' footprints in stone there left in evidence that you can see with your own eyes, but only a copy while the original is kept elsewhere at "San Sebastiani Outside the Walls"... etc etc. 
http://www.reidsitaly.com/destinations/lazio/rome/sights/quo_vadis.html
...nor is there likely a great nobodaddy smiling over everything, nor Abraham to fall back on, nor multitudes of Buddha incarnations, nor any of the great fantasies upheld only by faith -- well we just don't know for sure do we
-- except for there's the warmth of the sun that comes up in the east every day
-- and sometimes it eclipses.
One of my oldest past-girlfriends from our university days this year at an
elegant restaurant in front of a gathering of our friends inquiring about my
time as a premie, asked me if I believe in God. I merely chuckled in
reply and said a simple, "No."Â Later I heard she believes this
is just my psychological reaction from having been in and escaped a cult.Â
Afterwards I thought I should have responded to her, replying, "Of which
god is it you ask my belief, which one?Â
THE old one...or a new one...or what?"
Modified by Tarvuist at Tue, Dec 26, 2017, 22:38:59
|
|
|
|
'"disconnect from one's self" reference. ... I guess this refers to
selectively trying to carve out or box around something stuffed into an
emotional memory file lodged in my 'psyche' (not realizing that doing
this with leave either a dent or a bulge that just makes me have to be
acutely aware of it from time to time) rather than just pulling the damn
thing out, reading through and organizing it and then filing it away
properly.'
Okay. Got it. This is exactly what happened to me at birth. Immediately lost track of my Self. Where is it. Never found it. Birth trauma. I've been disconnected from myself since. It explains my whole life. Everywhere I see advertisements offering to help me find my real self, those life coaches know how. It all falls into place. I have an emotional memory of that birth, the awful trauma of strugglling to be squeezed out. Also maybe explains my excessive life-long interest about that curious little out of the way place half of us carry around. Cynthia this self-ish trauma is why it can seem to you I'm angry at everything. Trauma's now all stuffed into a bulge lodged in my psyche. I AM THAT bulge Mike.Â
Now I'm gonna go do some primal screaming out the window and finally get over it all for good, now I know it's origin. ...or maybe I just need a clyster of colliodal silver now and then. ...turn me blue and I'll become a for-real Na'vi ready for that world in the Avatar film, Pandora, and go there after leaving this one, and I'll worship the goddess Eywa there, instead of our own Navi's uncle here in this vale of tears.
But I don't know...those silver ear drops might somehow conflict with my high gluten diet, and I need lots of gluten in everything every day. I'm avoiding like a plague that deadly gluten-free stuff you see everywhere now pumping up the grocery ticket's bottom line. Gluten-free spring water -- everything. I need gluten in my water. Avoiding everything that's gluten-free saves me some cash, and that offsets the excess I spend on only organic food. But really I need to become all out vegan, and a full ketogenic diet. There are many for whom it works wonders ya know.
Here are photos of guys who used colloidal silver and turned blue...supposedly photos with unretouched color...
But the thing is others who promote using colloidal silver say he didn't
mix his silver batches correctly. He was swallowing silver chloride
instead, and that's how things got a bit weird.
http://www.silver-colloids.com/Pubs/blue-man.html and en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argyria
Modified by Tarvuist at Tue, Dec 26, 2017, 20:23:00
|
|
|
|
My thoughts are that we have an emotional history from inception and even then I think of it as misty beginnings because it's coming out of the emotions of the parents.
I found it very soothing to recognise I have an emotional history because it pegs it down to a time line - it happened in the past.
When I arrived home earlier on today it was to find my cat in a more traumatised state than other times I've been away and she'd been feeling frightened and overwhelmed and now she is lying in my lap so happy and relaxed she's gone all floppy.
|
|
|
|
and I suppose I Am That dent, my friend
Interesting, over a dinner this week, a friend explained that he thought the core of his anxieties was tied to being the second twin to be born, and has suffered throughout his life from that 30 minutes he was abandoned, separated from his twin in the womb. I asked if his twin had similar issues and he doesn't, so I inquired why his twin would not feel similarly abandoned, and his response was that his twin was more preoccupied with his explosion into the atmosphere. Anyway, jury is out on this one, likely forever (and the statute of limitations for saving that particular file may have expired and it got shredded or tossed in the dumpster).
I just have to ask though: how does one really know if turning deep purple is not a sign of radiant health?....
Modified by roark at Wed, Dec 27, 2017, 11:21:34
|
|
|
|
Dear Mr Roark, I have been reading this thread for a few days and wondering how I might respond and contribute (fit in)...its a bit of a crowded field with the enormity of lofty thought and good cheer going back and forth between you, Tarvu and others. (shout out to Tarv, have you read any Stan Grof lately?)
Your posts are often thought provoking, sort of like cerebral termites seeking tasty wood to chew on 
Meanwhile I have been working on a theme for a thread myself, that might discuss the developmental phase of childhood regarding the process of idealization. In simple terms everyone at some time in their life places another person on a pedestal and loves them unconditionally...but a bit too much. And that phase can often be followed by a crash and burn period of devaluation and discard.
It starts when we are separating from our care giver (mother or otherwise) and grandiosity reigns supreme, both in us and our god-like parents. It is my theory that we repeat this superego-shift later in life if the initial entanglement was not put to rest in childhood.
Therefore the worship of a colossal father figure like a guru seems pretty obvious and facile. I have a great article that I will attach later showing the connection of idealization to cult leaders.
But onto the matter of reminiscing and mementos on the mantle. My office has similar themes ranging from rock collections from favorite jaunts, CD's from many genres, photos of my family on vacation, my library on psychedelic therapy, and then my current favorite...a few pieces of fine art. In particular western landscapes in the medium of watercolor.
I mention good art because what motivates me mostly is the need to remind myself that humanity is basically good and as a giant wandering tribe, we are looking for promise and security, love and prosperity. All nice gummy bear sentimints to suck on.
But here's where I diverge from your postulation on altars and tokens of fondness. In the last few months, one of my local TV stations has been showing re-runs of Star Trek. I have been able to watch an episode every night and caught up on the whole series.
One recurring scene and character set-up is a landing party "beaming down to the surface". If you watch carefully there is always Kirk, Spock and Bones and then inconspicuously..one or two foot soldiers or what I like to call "expendables".
So waking up the other morning it dawned on me. Why would I want to give merit, by virtue of a photo, to someone who considered me utterly expendable ?
In the Star Trek story lines, the expendables that beam down to the planet with the regulars, are the first be be eviscerated, and guaranteed sacrificial fodder for the greater good of the script.
I guess I see Maharaji as a once-loved icon, who never really loved or cared for me whatsoever ! Certainly not enough to send a get well card or reminisce about me ? We were all completely expendable to him and he has proven that time and again.
Therefore an image of him caught on photo paper is only worthy of a puff of carbon as it is burned in the merriment of liberation...IMO. On to better things. Best wishes and thanks for the cookies.
Mark B
Modified by Manincar at Thu, Dec 28, 2017, 10:09:32
|
|
|
|
Fuck you Guru Maharaji and the tradition you rode in on, you narcissistic, lying energy vampire! I dedicated my love, time, money and efforts, and you not only acted as though you were entitled to it, you chastised me for not doing more. What twisted rationale could you possible have by claiming you were 'Lord of the Universe' in the first place? And then back off that ridiculous story after you fleeced enough devotees to get all your stuff, and then continue to milk the cash cow fed by myths eaten long ago by hungry minds of your faithful, yada, yada, yada.
OR, there is this:
I love you Guru Maharaji, and thank you for helping me to become what I am, encouraging me to meditate, and for providing an iconic focus on which I could objectify and love the best in myself, at least long enough to realize it was just me all along (regardless of your motives). And thank you for the circle you were a magnet for, the exceptional comrades I learned from, friends met, the opportunity to have my beautiful son from the the woman I would never have met otherwise, yada, yada, yada.
Or both.
Ahhhhhh, cognitive dissonance!!! And hopefully us Sapiens' ability to hold multiple perspectives simultaneously to move the species along.
The thing is, of these two perspectives, he (the actual person that we are not too fond of anymore) sort of disappears in the second perspective, and 'I' get to keep what is rightfully mine while 'he' gets marginalized, thus dis-empowered from continuing to exert any influence on my existence vis-a-vis my anger or any other perceivable psycho-emotional connection. He doesn't know nor would he give a fuck what I think or feel about him anyway. Besides, he's just just a figurehead, a kid railroaded by circumstance into a role beyond any mere mortal, continuing to play the game because he just does not know any better.
Maybe a third perspective?:
I am truly grateful for whomever and whatever circumstances that have led me to what I am and who I love, and I choose to quietly accept and honor all that has been part of this unexpected gift of life.
(just fun with perspectives)
M
PS, on the more interesting topic of termites! In Richard Dawkins' beautiful book 'The Ancestor's Tale, he describes a protozoan that lives only in the stomachs of certain Australian termites, whose job description is to digest cellulose. Although the termite's stomach is about a half a millimeter I think, it's big enough to house a city of microorganisms (which it does). These (protozoan) dudes are propelled through their hometowns (looking for cellulose to chew) by hundreds of hair-like 'arms' that move together like synchronized swimmers, paddling in waves and steering in unison. Upon further analysis, scientists discovered that the paddlers were actually separate individuals (spirochetes) doing the synchronized swimming, with hundreds of individual bacteria doing the synchronized steering! WTF!!! Go termites!! Go creation!! Go evolution!!
PPS: Manincar, probably just too much Christmas candy here
PPPS: maybe I have a future in Hallmark cards?
|
|
|
|
"why would I want to give merit..to someone who considered me utterly expendable?"
yes, I feel like that.
we learn from mishap for sure but I don't want to keep a piece of plaster-cast to remind me of an accident on my window sill.
I just think the whole shebang - religion, god, messiahs gurus and spiritual beliefs in general and all the yodas and the yadas are bananas - a subversion of the one real magic in the world - love.
|
|
|
|
"everyone at some time in their life places another person on a pedestal and loves them unconditionally...but a bit too much."
This resonated with me and I've been thinking about it. Can you really love someone too much?
And anyway, I'm not sure we have any control over love, rather it's more the other way round.
My mother and I had each other on pedestals. It was a long time before I realised not everyone had such a nice mum but we never even wobbled - of all the stuff that happened the thing in my memory is the companionship we shared.
Sometimes it's not an idealisation, an imagination you are loving, it's really the person.
I never worshipped Rawat! I never actually had those feelings, I never loved him as no other.
He never actually inspired me.
I kissed his feet, I gave him money and handmade gifts, I hung on his words. I believed he was 'god in a bod'. I believed that in all sincerity and now I know how fake it all was. I cared for him is the best you could say, it wasn't what I signed up for but I cared for him, he cared for him and neither of us was looking out for me.
In his eyes I'm a patsy but not to me, not in my eyes and not here on this forum. Sincerely mistaken washes away in the tide.
But not the real thing, that stays, that's still there after the tide. just the way it is.
|
|
|
|
Hey Lesley, I think it's quite possible that love and idealization can be separate things. Maybe they overlap at times and I have experienced that.
For me (in the context of life with Rawat) idealization meant a type of blindness, an irrational obedience, a wind shield wiper for dissonance, a reason for self doubt and personal sacrifice, a substitute wisdom, a spiritual fantasy, an unreachable goal.
He stoked and fed this illusion for all it was worth in my opinion. I don't think for a minute that he was coerced into his role. If he was half as wise as he claimed to be, he would have taken a stance like Krishnamurti and renounced his inheritance.
Your relationship with your mum sounds quite different on the other hand. More on the contented end of the spectrum and worthy of some veneration, sounds like. You know it's real by the way you feel, right ?
But I always like it when a post turns poetic, something truish about those words. Like driving home while watching a sunset.
Keep up the good work.
Modified by Manincar at Tue, Jan 02, 2018, 20:11:19
|
|
|
|
by putting on a pedestal I mean you just love them so much they can't do wrong. well they can of course but you always trust them - it was actually very nice having my mum feel like that about me. And even nicer to feel like that about her. Well I think it's always reciprocal or it wouldn't be what it is. You just wouldn't have those feelings. Not deep down.
Yes feelings - how many times did I say to my ex it feels like you don't really like me. I don't believe I could have formulated how I felt about Guru Maharaji as a premie it was so terrifying to feel so utterly insignificant to the one who was everything, it was only in theory not in feeling that he was everything, but I believed it. I really think we looked for any sign of warmth or favour from him. God forbid he should smile at you in the darshan line, now that would make you feel bullet-proof for a while.
so to clarify, I guess I see feelings as being in different strata. Different entry levels into your consciousness. Rawat could manipulate my upper emotions, he could encourage me to trust, have faith in him even. But those feelings are a pale comparison to what you feel down below.
So yes, you know it's real by the way you feel.
Modified by lesley at Wed, Jan 03, 2018, 21:18:33
|
|
|
|
for me - its a hourly thing - this week i realized - that i never went after anything because i was too busy trying to be close to maharaji physically - that was the goal after all - for me.
so i have regret that i never pursued anything in this world and feel slighted by M.
last week i was ok with my past and acceptance reigned true.
so its different perspectives for me - the older i get the more resent i feel and less at peace i am with my past.
of course someone could say something at anytime - and ill have a different truth.
im grappling with being alive in this world and not going after my dreams - because i didnt have any - m was my life at 17 and was still my life at 50 (albeit in a different way)
im 63 now and see everything in a different light now
it was the people who i became lifelong friends with who have mad the biggest positive influence.
|
|
|
|
Thanks for your post philareflection. If there's just one thing i learned from submitting myself to the guru it's that my perceptions created my reality.some people i know have a similar resentment from looking after a family member for years upon years, or staying in the same job for the security of the family. It doesn't really matter....resentment sucks , either way The past is just the past the truth is we are able to take up new interests at this age, or at any time. I am currently learning to sing. I have become aware that i enjoy it. I like to paint and if I kept at it i might be satisfied with something I paint, I tell myself i'd love to go to art school sometime. I dont care too much if i dont get there, if death catches me first, as much as care about the fact that i enjoy the thought of wanting something new in my future. I am knitting beanies at the moment for refugees, found some wool at the second hand shop. I'm enjoying that. I love to look at other artists work because it's inspiring, sometimes more enjoyable for me to just take in a persons expertise, I soak it up, all the colours and the form, its almost as good as if i'd laboured at it myself, or maybe it's better, all the enjoyment and none of the toil? Time doesn't wait, thats the difference between time and you and me, we wait. The other day I was in a RAGE. I yelled at the universal forces at work in my life, I yelled at my repeating patterns, while I was driving to work. I refuse to fucking well wait anymore, I was saying, I'm not waiting for the love interests of my life to catch up to me any more, for life to catch up, for the world to get me. I refuse, I raged and yelled until I was hoarse. Then I got to work and just let it go. SO now I just ride any little whiff of inspiration for all its worth, if I'm inspired to learn to sing i will do it, If I want to go to a region to see it, to walk, to photograph, if i want to write something or even wear something I will just do it, enough with the second guessing! if I want to talk to someone now I just pick up the phone. It doesn't matter in the end if I'm just appreciating the light on the vase on the table or something else 'seemingly' more important, the appreciation and acknowledgement of the pleasure is nourishing in itself. When i hold myself in resentment, and I have done so at different times in my life, (in my marriage, my ex always taking off to be guru-side and not me) I hold myself apart from these small pleasures. When I hold myself in resentment the light on the vase seems it isn't for me somehow, my senses are dulled, all taken up with melancholy and a sense of lack. I really had to turn my thoughts around to get past it but of course it IS completely POSSIBLE to do. After all I woke up from a cult dream/nightmare didn't I? I CAN allow my perceptions to focus on the enjoyment of life, the wanting of something, anything new; heck it could be a new ice cream flavour or a new house plant. I might fancy painting the window sill a different colour or discover a new song on the radio. I might appreciate something old, that i always appreciate again and again If something gives me the tiniest lift I purposely DWELL on it, otherwise it's the alternative, dwell on the imagined hole in my life. There are plenty of people who have never even sniffed a guru toe that feel similar shit things, we all have excuses, but I don't need to argue for my excuses, rather for my inspired thoughts and connections. Bottom line is I will not let some over inflated ego, self appointed god/demon suck the optimism from me. I wasn't wrong to be optimistic then or to have hope. It wasn't love that hurt me, rather the fact that I invested love in some that didn't even know how to care. No need to judge myself harshly, or even him in the end, I don't want him living rent free in my head after all. I'm happy to remind myself every morning that I am free, and that my perceptions will create my reality this day, just like yesterday I'm just happy that I'm not still there.
You still have a life in front of you, let the light you see things in now be one that illuminates all the good in you and in every little thing that you can hear and see and smell and touch and FEEL all the feelings, good or bad and then make a choice to lean into the good feelings, give them more air time, talk about them, tell your friends about the gorgeous tree flowering in the garden, the photo you took with an eye to paint it one day, the poem you read, the bargain you scored, the amazing sound of a recording or the boutique beer you discovered... and leave the rest out... the universe is made of stories, I firmly believe that, my universe is made of my stories anyway, and I will re tell the story of the guru to myself until I have made it into a slapstick cartoon, it will have no more significance than that,. While the light i see bouncing of a multi layered, luminescent petal will be the thing i put on a pedestal today, the experience i put on my altar of perception today so that I can partake in beauty. My cat is a wonderful teacher, once I got another kitten because my boyfriend really wanted it, my darling old cat became withdrawn and depressed and slept in the garage, her fur became all lack lustre and she looked so sad. It went on for months, the other cat got bolder and my darling older cat became sick looking. Eventually I kicked out the boyfriend and gave away the new cat. I thought i had damaged my dear cat friend for life. BUT she bounced back within days. She didn't hold onto the past, she didn't reflect on the months she hid in the garage. She has moved house with me several times and each time she just adapts, accepts, and somehow gets a new lease on life by exploring a new territory, making each house her own, having new favourite rooms or places to sleep. I was amazed at her resilience, but it's not resilience in the way that i think of it, it's not that she holds her past like a weight of time, each day is a new day for her, each time she smells something its as if for the first time, each time she gets a cuddle it is THIS cuddle she feels. I look at her and realise i think too much, I place too much importance on things that hurt and I take for granted all the things that are going right in my life. One of my favourite stories had a scene where a precious ornament was broken by a child, the mother broke the stunned silence by saying " I didn't like the colour of it anyway" It's quite possible for me I've discovered to catch myself before i complain or feel overly disappointed by things to remember that scene and look after my own inner child in the same way, shrug it off and go find something i like the colour of, make a mountain out of a molehill of the things I DO like about my life right now, simply because I have understood that if I can put him on an altar I can put anything there and I can choose it at anytime. If I'm going to have trillions of perceptions to give my attention to ( and isn't that all I was doing, giving my attention to him) I choose now to focus my attention on the many small pleasures of walking barefoot on the grass, or imagining each drop of water in the shower is loving me. These will make up my reality and no bastard is going to tell me he has a copyright on my reality anymore!!!! If I need to feel fierce rage in defence of me feeling better, so be it! It feels better than resentment anyway because it's more empowering to stand up for what I want to feel and declare it LOUDLY. I know what it's like to not know how to want something anymore, because of being so subjugated but those wants and desires are there and they are perfectly natural, enjoy letting them arise to the surface and enjoy getting curious about what they might be. A child doesn't question it's need to feel loved or to have fun and now we aren't chained to a control freak neither shall we Merry Cosmos and Happy No Fear
|
|
|
|
I hope my post was not misconstrued as "im grapling being alive in this world" - Im happy to be alive - i was just saying im not happy because i didnt go after my dreams - because i didnt have any.
|
|
|
|
no not at all - it's just an honest statement most if not all of us can relate to.
I listen to younger folk and they make comments that make me realise they are shelving their dreams because they believe that in old age they won't care, they believe they won't care about sex!!! ha ha. Not doing doesn't mean not caring.
I remember this bloke, we met when he was about the age I am now and I was in my 30's. I still remember the strangled feeling in his voice as he said to me youth is wasted on the young. At the time I was a bit like huh! back off old man, but looking back I see a kindly man who was looking at a zombied young woman who was not getting on with her life.
|
|
|
