A picture of surrender for Jonx.

Hi everyone. This talk about surrender has brought me back out of the woodwork. I lived in the ashram from ’73-’83 – with that little break in ’76. I lived the life of surrender to rawat. I walked in old shoes until they distorted my feet. I went without medical and dental care. I wore mostly second hand clothes. In 1979, while living in the Berkeley ashram I wrote this poem about Bhilni and sent it to rawat. He then began to talk about Bhilni, and held up her story as the ideal of devotion. He had a copy of this poem hanging in his Malibu palace.

While I was doing without, he was pissing cognac into his gold plated toilet. I gave everything of myself to what I believed to be the greatest incarnation of God ever to walk this Earth. And when the ashrams no longer made enough money and no longer served rawat, I was discharged without so much as a thank you for having given so much.

Jonx, how DARE you say that there was ANY room for interpretation as to what surrender meant!

Karen Kirschbaum

Bhilni's Poem

I live in a hut at the edge of a clearing
In summer the brook almost runs out
The autumn leaves are dry as I sweep the walk
Waiting for You
I didn't notice the years, but one day
The still waters showed gray hairs and a withered body
I live in the corner of this hut
The rest, O Lord, is Yours
The plums are ripening just now
And the blackberries
Again I will test them for sweetness
And set the table for You
Is it this morning?
Maybe this noon
When the sun is mellowing
Or as the stars poke out of that blue You make at the edge of night
Will I hear Your step?

I light a small fire, make your tea, sing Arti
Comb out my braid and offer You my meditation

One day You will come
Hot and dusty, or bitten by the wind
You will find me ready to receive You

Bhilni says, Oh foolish world
I would trade this life for no other
My heart burns a hole through the sun