| |

Dreams

I entered Union Station this morning to head first to NY and then on to Vermont for the Anusara Grand Gathering for the summer solstice. I admired for the several thousandth time how grand and extraordinary a space it is. As I looked up and around its lovingly crafted vastness, I thought of how we live in the samscaric wake of those who put their dreams, their hopes, and their pride in traveling from one place to another, believing that it was at the next place happiness would manifest. Then I thought, this is home and not just a place of departure and arrival. This grandeur is a space that is part of my every day.

Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

Similar Posts

  • |

    Baksheesh and Brahman

    I spent a few hours this weekend reading Joseph Campbell’s  Baksheesh and Brahman, which is Campbell’s journals from a year in India from 1954-55 (I’m now about a third of the way through).  Campbell writes that he went to India to find Brahman and instead found politics.  He approached his visit from the perspective of a mythologist.  In contrast to Allen Ginsberg and the Beats, who went to India to find God, Joseph Campbell went to observe religious practices.  Although the journals evidence his own perspective and prejudices, he makes cogent observations on the difference between religiosity and spirituality (not all that dissimilar to the distinctions made in the Bhagavad Gita about the difference between rigidly practicing ritual and truly believing).  He also makes very interesting and still timely and cogent comparisons between the relationship of Hinduism and to the then rather new Indian nationalism and American Protestantism to democracy.

    Ultimately, though, it is evident that this year was important for Campbell’s life path and work, as it was for the Beats, and has been for many of my friends who have gone, though not for all.  I think about going to India.  It will be when I have several weeks and don’t have a venerable and ancient cat who cannot be left behind for a long stretch of time.  In the meantime, reading of such journeys can stimulate thought and can be applied to other aspects of my life, though reading and studying (especially in the yoga tradition), is never a substitute for experience.  Just reading of spiritual experiences, but not doing the practices to open the door to one’s own experience is like reading cooking or gardening books, but never going into the kitchen or the garden.


  • | | |

    Kuan Yin (At Eastern Market)

    Last Sunday, when I was at Eastern Market to get apples and pears, I saw a small, painted wood statue of Kuan Yin.  I have been attracted to this one of the 330 million gods and goddesses for some time.  Her primary attribute is compassion. She is said to be a female Chinese metamorphosis of the Buddhist bodhisattva Avalotikeshvara, who, according to some, is an emanation of the Hindu deity Shiva.

    She had a price tag of $70 around her neck.  It was too much, especially since her hand and foot looked like they had just broken off in transit.

    Still, I was attracted to her.  The vendor, who is from Pakistan, came over to talk to me, asking me if I was interested.

    “Too high,” I said.

    “What would you pay?”

    Knowing it is holiday season, and the vendors really need to do well to survive the winter, I suggested $45, thinking it was really too much, but I very much liked the impeccably serene expression on her face.

    “You have bought things from me before,” he said.  I’d bought a couple of older rugs from him last Spring, at which time he had chatted with me for a while and showed me a picture of his chosen guru.  “You are a divine being; I will give her to you for free.”

    “I bet you say that to all your customers,” I replied.

    “Everyone is divine, yes,” he said, ” but you are different. You know it.”

    Somewhat overwhelmed by this, I thanked him for the honor and took out my wallet.  I had $42 and change.  “I will pay $40.”

    I paid him and walked her home unwrapped in my arms, thinking it will be hard to live up to his expectations.  Who better, though, to remind me to relate to others, always recognizing their inherent divinity (whatever that might mean to me or anyone else), than the goddess of compassion?

    Where the wood was raw from having been broken, I rubbed the edges with ash from Chidambaram temple (that I happened to have in the studio), so that the breaks would not visually distract, and one would only notice the sweet face.

    image

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.