Christmas with Ramana Maharshi and Swami Vishwananda

When the teachers at the Gujarat Ayurved University, where I’ve been attending a three month Introductory Course in Ayurveda, announced that we had 10 whole days off for Christmas, my first thought was to celebrate it at Ramana’s ashram and take Swami Vishwananda along. (Swamiji had told me that it’s hard for him to get around right now, due to his failing health). So I emailed him and the ashram to arrange for a stay. Swamiji and the ashram gave their gracious consent. I was allowed to stay from the 25th till the 29th and Swamiji, the same. (Swamiji later informed me that he felt uncomfortable staying away from his medical support system for so long, so he would come for one day and then leave; okay)

It was a journey that was not for the faint of heart. I finished a full day of classes and then along with another student, headed for the overnight train from Jamnagar, Gujarat to Ahmedabad. Nice on paper, but in reality the beds were really hard and we were both freezing. We had not planned well in the warmth department, Stefanie and I, so it was a sleepless night of cold rocking. Our 11:20 pm train arrived in Ahmedabad at 6:30 am and we were then whisked away by a rickshaw; (the one for 150 rupees, as opposed to the 400 rupee one) to the airport. We each boarded our separate planes and I flew off to Bangalore where Swamiji met me at 11:45 with a taxi, the driver, Guru Murthi and Satisha (Swamiji’s disciple and companion). Seeing Swamij again was wonderful and the conversation was filled with divinity and friendship during our journey. We made the 4-hour drive in good time; the goal was to reach there in time for the evening puja at 6:30. By Ramana’s grace we made it in perfect time.

We rushed right to the temple, not stopping at our rooms; Guru Murthi maneuvering through the hundreds of cars in the parking lot in front of the ashram. We could feel the vibration as we walked up to the temple and were drawn, not only by our divine intention, but also by the magnetic quality of Ramana, the chanting, and the love and devotion of the thousands who had come here for the same purpose; we were not alone in wanting to celebrate the birth of Christ with Ramana. The hall was resounding with both an inner silence and a deafening devotion. It was a beautiful and uplifting experience.

After the puja we waited in the huge line of devotees for our dinner. Both dining halls were packed to overflowing and devotees were served in the tradition of this great saint, a simple meal of rice and dal on the floor on a handmade plate of leaves pinned together with small pieces of wood the size of toothpicks. Swamiji and I, because of his health, ate at a table. I gave thanks for Ramana and his gift to us all and for his deep, but simple teachings of humility that he lived so eloquently. Those gifts and traditions remain still, for us all to experience. We then retreated to our rooms to unpack with an agreement to meet in about 20 minutes in Swamiji’s room for sweets (he comes prepared)…

The next morning the stress of all the travel and not sleeping the night before, caught up to me and I slept through the first puja and breakfast. Guru Murthi came to fetch me in time to slip me into the dining hall through the kitchen; but it was hours before I forgave myself; eventually Ramana’s grace descended upon me and I moved forward.

Swamiji took me to meet the President and then we piled into the car and proceeded around Arunachala. Swamiji had suggested that we chant the chant for Aranachala without stopping. We chanted the whole time we drove around the sacred mountain, singing it’s simple but powerful chant; never stopping. It truly was uplifting. When we arrived back at the gate of the ashram I, and Swami Vishwananda could barely speak. We all met in my room and then he ordered his driver to fetch chocolates to celebrate the occasion, which he did. When Guru Murthi returned, Swamiji spoke this beautiful prayer “ Today happens to be Christmas; Holy Christmas Day. We have come to the place of Tiruvannamalai, which is a Holy place for us and where thousands and millions of people are coming and paying their devotional prayers to Aranachula and Saint Ramana Maharshi. I offer prayers to the almighty, Jesus Christ, Krishna, Ram and all the Gods of the Universe on this occasion, with my beloved friends: Sister Phyllis Victory, Satisha, and Mr. Murthi. Join me in this prayer: I pray the almighty to make everyone to have divine consciousness. Light the lamp in their hearts to become the divine lamp and be divine. We are privileged to be here on this Holy occasion in Ramana ashram. Glory to Sri Ramana! Glory to Sri Ram! Glory to Krishna! Glory to all Saints and to all Rishis! Let our hearts be sweet with these chocolates. Om Sri Ramana, Om Sri Ramana, Om Sri Aranachula. Om Om Om!”
We ate the sweet chocolates and then Swamiji, Guru Murthi and Satisha left for Bangalore and I remained at the ashram.

For the next three days, I am happy to report, I did manage to make it up for early pujas and spent my last three glorious days there mostly meditating in the great hall and the small room where Ramana lived and taught.

The question of “Who Am I?” resonated deeply in my being the whole time I was there (and continues) and I kept thinking, in that great, silent hall and in the small room where Ramana lived, that the greatest devotion one could pay to any teacher, is to put into action the words that they have shared. The question remains with me.

My Winter Porch

Here's what keeps me sane in Jamnagar in the hostel. This sweet tree has been blooming for weeks now. It has the most beautiful, subtle fragrances that fill the porch. Kind of it to bloom in the winter. The mirrors that hang from clothespins on the line help to bring the plants a bit more light and are dazzling to watch in the afternoon.
I am so grateful to have this small garden.

good news/bad news

Well, I certainly have been putting off posting this, but I feel a responsibility to report all of the facts (according to Ayurveda).
It's about destroying the North American myth of salads and raw vegetables. I've asked the question several times now to about five different teachers when I began to suspect the answer to my question, as it was welling up inside of me and I couldn't NOT ask it anymore. It went something like this: "Are you trying to tell us that we should not eat our vegetables raw?"


"Yes, that's what we people/Ayurveda believe..............................................................................and that's because we believe that they are too hard to digest. Fruit is okay, but not vegetables....................................(long pause)....................................you need to cook your food very well in order to digest it properly. Improper digestion is the cause of all disease", (they said for the 100th time). "And, not only that but you must only fill 1/3 of your stomach with food, 1/3 with water (sipping throughout the meal) and 1/3 must be left empty, so that the agni (fire) can be ignited with the vata (or air principle) and the process of digestion can begin."

We were all shocked. What will I tell my grandson and his mother and father who are eating carrot sticks and celery? I even taught them to eat their vegetables...We were all thinking we were so healthy (or were we?)........

SO!, now that you're already cooking with ghee, and putting those 2 drops of melted ghee way up your nostrils at night, and eating 111 year old honey and one year old rice, I'm sure you can handle just one more teeny weeny little change.....

What's the good news? At least you have another point of view and if you love dilemmas (as I do), you will not be disappointed.

Birds chasing the worms at Bhai Kaka

Learning to post photos

Here is a photo of Sarvadaman Patel in his experimental greenhouse from last weekend. I have to go to class so no time to figure out how to get the right picture with the right story.

Problems

These wonderful people have taught me how to use a new word. "problem"...It is said with such detachment that you would think they are saying "peanut butter".

It all began when Lucie and I hired a taxi to take us to Ahmedabad from Jamnagar last weekend. "It's a five hour drive" the travel agent told me when we learned that there were no seats on the overnight train (our first choice) to Ahmedabad and you might as well take a taxi and be comfortable. ;-)

Lucie had agreed to join me in an adventure. (Lucie is a woman who is also taking this three month course in Ayurveda and is from Quebec.) When we got to the travel agent's office he said to us "THIS Friday?" as if he hadn't known it was the same date he tried to get us tickets on the train. Oh, that will be a problem. (the words drifted by my ears as a soft murmur). You see, it's the wedding season and all the weddings have to be completed by December 12th (we won't even go there) and it's also a Muslim holiday and Saturday is one day we give our drivers off, because none of them want to work. But I know the magic of Ganesha and I was already unzipping the secret compartment of my coin purse and with my probing fingers, feeling for my friend who has gotten me out of tight jams before. I felt the hard metal of my tiny friend and constant companion and brought him out of his resting place and placed him on the desk. I told the travel agent calmly, that I was sure he could find just the right person who would be willing to take us. Yes, he made a few phone calls and found Rafiq, a young Muslim man who was eager to work. We made a few sacrifices ourselves when we accepted a driver who could speak no English (no problem) and did not know Ahmedabad very well. No big problem. We knew that they usually stop and ask directions along the way anyway...hmm, so off we went at 5:30 on Friday night, with a phone call to Sarvadaman Patel, the bio dynamic farmer in Anand (who I learned about in the documentary "One Cow, One Man, One Planet"), and who had agreed to give us a tour of his farm on Saturday morning. Plus we had a reservation at the House of MG in Ahmedabad; a five star hotel. What could possibly go wrong? I can hear you laughing... YOU know it's India.

Lucie and I chatted the whole way there and occasionally looked out the window. The terrain was very similar to Jamnagar. We arrived in Ahmedabad with very little drama; despite the fact that our driver had to stop about 20 times to get directions. He would stop, go one block and then stop again. Getting back into the car he would reassure us by saying softly and confidently "no problem". Till the next block...

Eventually we made it to the House of MG and were delighted when we walked into our suite at the top of the stairs. It had a sitting room with two chairs and a swing that was twice as big as my hostel room. This room opened to our real room which had two twin beds, a desk with a wi fi connection, a large screen TV, a DVD player and a bathroom with HOT WATER...We were in heaven. There were two full length mirrors and I realized that I had not seen my whole body for a month. Small things you notice about your life...

The next morning we were out the door by 7:15 because we had been instructed to be at Bhai Kaka (the name of the bio dynamic farm in Anand) by 8:30am so that we could have a proper tour. Problem...We arrived at 11:45 am after stopping 37 times. along the way. Finally when we were 1 km from the farm the car refused to start. Even then, the driver was confident and said "no problem" when I was ready to abort and jump into a rickshaw. We all pushed the car and it started and we arrived at the farm.

The farm was absolutely wonderful. Sarvadaman and his wife Meena were like old friends and we talked for hours before we could even get off the porch. Their porch (and swing) looked out over their lush green fields. There was a quiet elegance about their place and you could tell that as much time went into admiring as working. They told us many stories of Peter Proctor and how he was keen to work and resisted the countless invitations from Sarvadaman to have afternoon naps. Poor Sarvadaman would give in and go stir some cow manure into dynamic water, longing for his afternoon nap. Only after many years did Peter finally succumb to the joys of an afternoon snooze.

Meena's garden, one which was filled with flowers and freshly mowed grass was "off limits" to Sarvadaman and his acreage was "off limits" to her. It seemed to work for them both as their relationship was easy and loving; the kind that you feel you can take deep breaths around. Meena cooked us an incredible organic lunch made with delicacies from the garden. At last it was time to view the gardens; 20 acres of bio dynamic plants. I couldn't wait...Lucie took pictures and even a video when three boys were walking a hand plow that also planted seeds in soil that was so soft it "was" like the butter Sarvadaman had talked about in the documentary. Lucie took off her shoes and walked in it and I followed. The soft brown soil gave way under my feet and was like nothing I had ever walked on. It felt alive and healing and I just knew that anything that was planted there would happily grow.

We walked the gardens for hours, watching workers running after the wild peacocks; chasing them away and then picking vegetables for the market that Sarvadaman and Meena opened on Sundays. We asked if we could buy vegetables and seeds (an order that we had made up in Jamnagar from our eager classmates who knew we were coming). Sarvadaman started the flow form for us and I sat in the shallow pool, cooling my feet as the dynamic water swirled about my feet. It was one of my favorite parts of the day. By the time we got back to the house the workers had put together 6 boxes of vegetables for us. We packed them into our car and drove off happily in our taxi (that had started easily), with our vegetables, fruit, full bellies and new friendships. I felt that if we hadn't left when we did, I never would have left; I was so comfortable.

We still had one more day in Ahmedabad before heading back and I suggested that we hire a rickshaw and complete our errands in 10 % of the time. I also suggested that we take the driver along and ask him to be our bodyguard; just a slight change of job description. That way he wouldn't feel hurt or useless and we really could have a bodyguard (not that we needed one). It turned out to be a brilliant solution as the rickshaw driver gave Rafiq a guided tour of the city, taught him shortcuts and we got to arrive at our destinations in record time.

Around 3 pm we began to feel that it was time to head back to Jamnagar, so we packed up and drove off into the sunset, feeling rested, renewed and happy. We were about three hours into our trip when we heard Rafiq say "PROBLEM". Oh oh, that was a first. The usual ease that accompanied that word was missing, but still it just slipped out of his mouth, drifted into the air and was gone. The car slowed to a stop about an hour short of Rajkot. Lucie and I got out and sat on what seemed like a small temple and I wondered what God had in store for us. The night was warm, cars were zooming by, the moon was almost full and there were two bright stars shining through the branches of the tree above us. A few motorcycles were turning at the intersection where we were sitting and the dark crossroad felt like it emptied into a small village. Then we heard the CRASH...A large truck that was coming from the road that crossed the highway on the other side was hit by one of the zooming cars on the highway. I asked Rafiq to call the police, which he immediately did (we needed no English for that) and people from the village began to pour onto the highway. The driver was not hurt, and the car was immediately surrounded by about 20 or 30 young men. The driver of the truck pulled behind our own crippled car and went to join the gathering scene. We sat watching it all unfold; wondering if we were to have any part in the scene, being eye witnesses and all. At one point I found a man who spoke English, told him we had seen the accident and if we were needed we could be found on the bench under the tree. He never returned, nor did the police. No problem we were told. Was it karma??? This might remain one of those burning questions...

At one moment (Scott would have loved that moment; I did) the energy shifted. The tension in the air dissolved; we could feel it across the highway and now the attention slowly shifted TO US... Men began to gather around and miraculously the women came to sit next to us. It was a nice balance and we were silently grateful.

Rafiq summoned us as we were told that the bus that had pulled in front of our crippled taxi was owned by the same company as the taxi and was waiting for us. The carpet was getting ready to fly...We were effortlessly lifted up and out of that scene and into the next (with our suitcases, but WITHOUT our 6 boxes of vegetables). We were seated on the front seats of the bus with the driver and his buddies. Their laughing, animated voices carried us high above the traffic until we got to Rajkot and then along with the bus load of wedding guests from Ahmedabad, we got off the bus and into a waiting car. We had no idea who they were, those three men who were in the front seat, but thought "no problem" we can trust this magic carpet and besides we have Ganesha in my coin purse if we needed to bring out extra help.

The two men got dropped off somewhere in Rajkot and Lucie and I were delivered back at our hostel in Jamnagar at midnight.

The next day the 6 boxes of vegetables and the rest of our treasures arrived at our hostel, the plants a bit less than their vibrant selves, which had no doubt been driven there by Rafiq. And the problem? Well, it has drifted back into the ethers, waiting for the next soul to reach out and catch it.