transformations

Finally, the inner peace has arrived. It has been slowly creeping in since the holidays . . . and it has taken the efforts of a herculean giant to hold onto . . . but day after day it continues.

Baba Ran is a regular runaway, for those unaware. The tenor of my life has been so intolerable at times that I simply close the door on certain things and escape when needed. Baba always brings me back to clean up the messes I try and leave behind . . . and this time is no different. This time, the disasters are so enormous in my life that all I can do is laugh. As of today, I face financial difficulties like never before, problems with the law, a never ending dispute over the care of my daughter that just gets more outrageous by the minute, a mishandled divorce, a mishandled romance to be . . . on and on and on. Last night I found myself briefly in a jail cell singing "swing low, sweet chariot" and "don't worry be happy." What else can you do at a time like that?

Strangely, though, the peace of mind continues despite the challenges. I said to myself yesterday that I was starting at such a deficit at this point, but for the first time in years I actually have a future plan that feels wonderful and exciting. How odd to be at my worst possible state ever, as far as society goes, and to be looking so forward into the future with hope. I set myself the challenge of "how high can I get from this low starting line?" There's nothing here but shoe polish, really, but I'm singing a good song. That is the craziness of the "faithful," I guess. When there really is NOTHING left but God . . . He finally starts smiling upon you. How grateful I am for that, today, considering that I was sobbing continually about a month ago.

New ideas for the future include a decision to actually seek a publisher for my novel. I am inspired to complete it in Africa . . . and as part of that decision, I would like to begin anew in my old career as a desktop publisher, graphic designer, and publishing coordinator. I have met so many wonderful writers along the way . . . and if I can sell my novel & poetry along with a series of "unknown world artists" from Africa and beyond, I will be so happy. I'm in negotiations with a gorgeously handsome literary agent from Nairobi . . . so we will see what happens. :-)

Sing a song for me, if you can. Show tunes especially appreciated.

Baba is excited about this

WHAT CAN I PLACE AT YOUR LOTUS FEET? Bal Natu At the home of M. Ramalingeshwar Sastri, who was usually referred to as "Baba Sastri," owing to his penchant for constantly talking about Baba and interspersing his talks with Sanskrit slokas, one of the family members asked Baba, "My Lord, Baba, what can I place at Your lotus feet, other than my own heart? What else can I give you?" This question seemed to kindle a divine light in Baba's eyes and with an aura of love illuminating His face, Baba conveyed, "Give Me what is not Mine! Everything is Mine, except Myself; Myself is for those who love Me."   GLIMPSES OF THE GOD-MAN, Vol. 5, p. 146 1987 © Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust

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Infinite Names for God

In a world of excessive noise and confusion, one must really remember the truth of the matter. EVERYTHING is God, EVERYTHING comes from God, and EVERYTHING has a purpose. Even supposed evil and tragedy.

Never fear that the Masters of the Universe are truly monstrous or unkind. The Masters of the Universe are only as masterful as they are capable of being. It takes a giant of monumental proportions to convince a "master" of his trade that he may have something to learn. It is only the one or two among them who are humble enough to admit that they themselves are only *tools* in the game of Creation, and never masters of it.

Be brave. Be strong. Have faith.

Shalom.

In the Words of Ivy Duce

SUICIDE AND PAST LIVES Part Two Ivy O. Duce Most people of the western world pooh-pooh reincarnation because they have no memory of past lives. As a matter of fact, lots of small children do have such memories, and they are listened to attentively in countries of the East. Also, their parents do not scoff at their invisible playmates and label them "imaginary". Usually the memories fade somewhere between the ages of four and seven, and they no longer see those on the astral plane. When they retain their psychic perception, they have a difficult time in school and at home because of the scoldings and ridicule to which they are subjected. It may take some years before they realize that their friends and parents do not see what they see, and this can be a bewildering experience also. It is a far more merciful plan that we do not remember our past lives for we probably could not function as we should. The book of our life has its pages filled with good deeds and bad deeds, with successes and failures, all connected in some way with other people. When we give up the physical body and go to live in the astral world, we are given time to sort all this out and assess what the accounts of our life's ledger show in the way of debits and credits. We go through our days so fast here that we seldom take a real look at ourselves, our behaviour and motives, and can remember little of what happens. But it is all stored in our minds, and "over there" we watch the movie film of our life-span unwind. Some of the scenes are happy, some funny, some miserable. In making a beef potroast, after the meat is cooked the cook keeps the liquid boiling until only the real essence remains for the gravy. So the essence, the real meaning of all our experiences, is packed down in our subconscious where it remains for our next life. The ego has its roots in the subconscious. If we died in a hideous fire, we may in our next life show some fear of fire but we will not have to remember the agony. If our cousin happens to be someone we cheated or injured in our past life, we will not avoid him but will inevitably make it up to him, because the law of karma demands that we balance such things. By the same token, we may regard as luck something wonderful done for us, but it will represent another debt due us, paid by someone. There is no such thing in life as getting something for nothing, and nothing that happens ever happens by chance. St. Paul talked about "whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." There are several kinds of karma. For instance, every now and then some person, usually young, will commit a violent deed and when asked why he did it will reply that he does not know. It seems to be as inexplicable to him as to the public. We are never destined to murder or commit suicide or such deeds. However, if we build in a feeling of hatred and a desire to murder somebody, or to burn down a house, and keep thinking about it long enough, in time this desire becomes ripened and the result is that when the holder of it incarnates in a new body, all it takes is some incident to trigger off or set vibrating this deep-seated desire-thought and suddenly he goes berserk. He will have to pay the karmic penalty for his behaviour, even though he had not consciously intended such a deed in this life, because that is the only way it can be wiped from his consciousness. WHAT AM I DOING HERE?, pp. 26-28, Ivy O. Duce 1966 © Sufism Reoriented Inc.

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Be the change you wish to see in the world

Here's a brief synopsis:

• Learned to "keep quiet" at a young age . . . to be "seen and not heard." Safer that way.
• Got really good at faking being happy. Got confused about what love really was, because I pretended so much.
• Married really badly at 24 years old.
• Upon birth of my first child, at 33, I finally woke up to what a miserable existence I was leading.
• Started a heartfelt search for meaning. Turned to religions and spiritual teachings for help.
• Continued to remain silent . . . regardless of emotional changes and growth, I did not reveal the lessons of my heart to my "family." Safer that way.
• At 44, under intense pressure from my heart and deteriorating mind, I exploded in anger against society and my family. For over a year, I have been fighting an intense war of criticism toward people who thought I was happy with them.
• Now, I am done. It is time to seek peace within myself, and let others deal with whatever they need to handle without me. Praise God.

According to Buddhist teachings, one must strive to "be the change you wish to see in the world." I have been doing this all along . . . "turn the other cheek" (yup) . . . "seek ye first the kingdom of God" (yup) . . . "suffer the little children" (yup) . . . "love thy neighbor as thyself" (yup) . . . "learn self expression" (yup) . . . "fight the good fight" (yup) . . . and, now, finally "seek peaceful existence amidst the turmoil." Absolutely time, and SO ready.

Happy 2011.

Christmas Day at Starbucks

There's something so comforting about a mocha latte on Christmas Day.

I worked at a Starbucks, briefly, a few years ago, and, at the time, endured my brother's screed about the "corporate coffee shop" and the evil monotony and far-reaching greed that lies therein. But, my experience as an employee, as well as the many years I have spent as a patron of Starbucks, has engendered within me a true a appreciation for the loud espresso machines, jovial college students, low playing music (CDs on sale at the front!) and overpriced but uniquely delicious drinks and treats. It's a great hangout for me on a off-kilter Christmas . . . and my Christmas cheer has finally returned. Free wi-fi, comfortable arm chair, cool jazzy Christmas music, yummy stuff to eat & Derek reading quietly while everyone else is very LOUD . . . just like home!!!

In this moment, I want to send all my love to Mashe and my new friends worldwide . . . wishing you a wonderful day and a prosperous and beautiful new year. I'll drink a cup to Elorm Beenie, a wonderful poet and storyteller from Ghana, on the publication of his first book . . . out very soon. Boomshot to Mr. Cross!!! Much love to Ras Chuma, Rosanna Silvestro, and Rasta Reuben . . . my new friends in Jah's love & reggae one-ness. Facebook has been such a great way to meet some wonderful people and continue the work of sharing our love for God in whatever ways we find uplifting. A season of happiness is at hand, and I am hopeful that our world will know peace at last.

My loneliness of yesterday has finally blossomed into an awareness of how I always feel this time of year . . . when I remember the lessons of childhood and smile as every year rings them more and more true. Jesus truly does "love the little children, all the children of the world." Once again, I sing along to the 70's coca-cola advertising jingle, and renew my wish "to see the world at once, all standing hand in hand." I await the "Peace Train" and the "Mother and Child Reunion" promised to us so convincingly by the folk & soul singers. I was too young for Woodstock & the "summer of love" . . . but I joined the revolutionary peace activists in my heart at a very young age & will never let that hope die.

Thank you, Baba, that I found my holiday spirit finally and can remember the truth of what this day really means to me. Forgive me, friends, if I have felt sorry for myself while so many others suffer. Let's keep love, hope, forgiveness, and peace, first and foremost in our hearts . . . now and forever more. And, remember, when you are feeling down, there's nothing better sometimes than a good cup of coffee.

in the beauty of the season of Christ

For so many years, I lived for this time of year as if it were the only thing that mattered in life. Every year, I started Christmas shopping in July . . . saved and scrimped to put as much under the tree as possible . . . plotted and planned surprises for my daughter and other members of my family . . . baked all kinds of cookies and had volumes of food for visitors on Christmas Day. I would exhaust myself in my efforts to make this holiday special and to create memories for my daughter that would last a lifetime.

Today, in the wake of family troubles that have left everyone that I ever loved estranged from me, I am alone on Christmas . . . for the first time that I can remember.

I am using this opportunity to remember Baba and His exhortation to make our spiritual lives more meaningful and less ritualistic. I have been celebrating this holiday in a traditional way for a long time, but it never lost meaning for me. In fact, my favorite part of Christmas has always been that moment on Christmas Eve, when all of the packages are wrapped, and all the food is ready to be reheated in the morning, and everyone but me is in bed, and it's just me and the beautifully lit tree . . . sitting quietly together in prayer. It's the best part of Christmas. Just me and Baba, talking together as usual, and admiring our efforts in the name of people we love . . . needing nothing for ourselves but each other.

The sadness of my isolation this year cannot be denied. I'm troubled that my family rejects me, I am lonely for my daughter, and I am missing the usual hustle and bustle. But, as always, Baba is with me, smiling and patting my head. "Silly them," He says. "We know better, don't we dear?" And, today, I am putting my heart down at His altar . . . right next to my beautifully lit tree . . . and refusing to feel alone on my special day with Baba.

I'm reminded that Jesus was really born in April sometime, and that our Christmas traditions have grown out of Celtic and Anglo-Saxon solstice celebrations, and that holidays everywhere are a mishmash of cultures and traditions. There's nothing so inherently special about December 25th that it can't be looked at, reasonably, as just another day in life. Baba used this kind of thing to break down the egos of so many die-hard "religious types" among his followers . . . keeping most celebrations simple and avoiding any outward show for the sake of an audience. Funny to be an American, among all the Christmas lights and crowds, and to give up my usual display and expense of effort . . . but something I feel called to do this year, as painful as it feels.

Tonight, I will pray for peace in the world and light my candles. In Baba's name, I will rededicate myself to honest living and hope for a good future for all of us. As I gaze into my tree, which has always reminded me of the vast Universe full of twinkling stars, I will remember the beauty of simplicity and grace . . . that a Christmas cookie is really only a sweet, and not the only way to show love. In a time of world change and hardship, it's far more important to deal with life's honest lessons, and to let a hurting family spend some time alone to think about how they should really treat each other, every day.

God bless us, every one. Enjoy the holiday and be blessed. Amen.