The Awakening of Waking Up Early

One of the greatest gifts I have received from the great art and science of Ayurveda is connecting with the abundant blessings of nature early each morning. Ayurveda is all about restoring our harmony with nature. In Ayurveda, we understand “nature” as both the macrocosm (the wider world we inhabit), and the microcosm (our internal world of thoughts, emotions and physical sensations). Ayurveda teaches us that we are eternally connected to one another and to our universe at large. Therefore, in understanding our innermost nature, we can gain a deeper understanding of the nature of the world around us.

The ancient rishis (or sages) from India spent entire lifetimes living in remote woods to learn directly from Mother Nature some of her most jealously guarded secrets. From the depth of their meditations, they discovered that there are three gunas, or qualities, that pervade the entire universe.

Tamas guna can be best characterized by the triple Ds (that we DON’T want!): darkness, depression and denial. Tamas is like a thick covering that veils the world around us with a dark, heavy cloak of negativity. Tamas is essentially inertia. It governs the realm of the unconscious mind and is responsible for addictions and many criminal activities.

Rajas guna is connected with action, passion and motion. We need this guna to counteract the force of tamas. Rajas, however, out of balance, can cause anger, violence, anxiety and ultimately exhaustion, which naturally leads into tamas.

Sattva guna is the quality we are all, consciously or unconsciously, seeking. Sattva guna is associated with clarity, purity, peace, balance, harmony, health, happiness and universal love. Ayurveda, Yoga and Vedanta (a profound system of spiritual philosophy) explain that the nature of the soul encased within each being is sattva. The true nature of even the darkest criminal is sattva.

One of the best ways I’ve learned to counteract depression, connect with nature and increase sattva guna in my own life is by waking up early. Rising during what is called as brahmamuhurta (between 4-6am) helps destroy the twin demons of rajas andtamas. This is because brahmamuhurta has been known by Yogis since time immemorial to be a spiritually elevated and charged time when sattva guna is dominant in the universe.

Ayurveda and its sister science Yoga teach us how deeply are lives are interconnected with the sun’s cycles. We are all solar powered creatures, and thus, we learn from Ayurveda the importance of sleeping early (ideally by 10pm) so that we can rise early to greet the sun. The sun (called “Surya” in Sanskrit: the ancient Indian language of Yoga and Ayurveda) is a symbol of the strength, light and power of one’s own soul. Every morning since ancient times, Yogis have performed various rituals honoring the external sun, as it reflects the eternal, which is really internal – the soul within is what we seek to connect with in this life.

My Ayurveda teacher Shunya Pratichi Mathur pours water from her balcony in an ancient ritual she performs each morning to honor the Sun. She learned this ritual from her grandfather while growing up in India and has taught it to all of her students at Vedika. I have been practicing it daily since August and can feel the powerful impact it has on my mind, body and emotions. (Photo courtesy of SF Chronicle and Vedika Global.)

In the Indian spiritual tradition, we believe that the purpose of our human birth is to realize who we really are – which is this eternal soul, as reflected by the light of the sun. Waking up before the sun, to prepare to greet the external manifestation of our eternal, internal soul, is a wonderful way to connect with the light within ourselves. Connecting with our own light enables us to start to see and connect with the light within others – and thus the beginning of heaven on earth! We begin to see that no one is our enemy any longer – only a reflection of our true selves. A paradigm shift begins to occur, over time.

For those who may be feeling inspired to start waking up early, but are intimidated by the idea of rising between 4-6am (I was!), I would recommend transitioning in stages. Sudden, dramatic change is generally unsustainable – so start slowly. Try going to sleep 15-30 minutes earlier tonight, so you can wake up 15-30 minutes earlier, and keep steadily working your way back.

I receive so many blessings and continue to feel a deeper part of myself awakening from rising early each day that I can’t ever even imagine going back to my night owl life. I thus would love to invite you to join me in this exciting journey of awakening from waking up early.

For more life-changing practices and insights, be sure to explore the wealth of wisdom offered through Vedika Global’s website. If you are in the San Francisco Bay Area, you are also warmly welcome to attend our Sanghas (gathering of like-minded spiritual seekers) on the last Sunday of each month, to benefit from our clinic and sign-up for the transformational 2-month, one or two year programs Vedika offers. We at Vedika are also in the process of offering online classes – so do stay tuned for more soon!

Wishing you all abiding health, harmony and happiness.

 

Songs of the Body

This was written as a tribute, ode and a love poem to the spiritual practice of hatha yoga (the yoga of asanas, or poses). Though I can no longer have as intense of a physical practice as I once did, due to a chronic cracking joint condition, my love of yoga has certainly transcended my body and become part of my day to day, minute to minute, breath to breath existence.

The body sings many songs

But only for those

who’ve learned to listen.

Listen.

Listen deeply.

Listen, and you just may hear

The way the back bends

and how the heart extends

opening fully, as wide as the sky,

can you hear its beautiful melody?

Young Salaam Balaak Trust students opening their hearts in Chakrasana near New Delhi's Pahar Gang Train Station

Listen.

Listen deeply.

Listen, and you just may hear

The sweetness of surrender

closing oneself, inside oneself

Folding forward, head humbly bent

onto the knees, is what is meant

Listen.

Listen deeply.

Listen, and you just may hear

The ocean of devotion

Tremendous

letting go

Of emotion.

Listen.

Listen deeply.

Listen, and you just may hear

The absence of fear

that is near

when you see someone

who stands

on their hands.

Listen.

Listen deeply.

Listen, and you just may hear

The silence that

survives

in the stillness

of each song.

 

From Sinner to Saint: Reflections on “The King of Mathura”

Tataji teaching history at Vedika (photo courtesy of www.vedikaglobal.org)

I recently had the very good fortune and honor of helping edit the English translation of my Ayurveda teacher’s father’s play. Shri Daya Prakash Sinha, or, as students of Vedika (my Ayurveda school) call him, “Tataji” (an affectionate way of saying “respected grandfather”), is a celebrated playwright, a former Indian government officer and foreign diplomat, passionate historian and a leader in the field of contemporary Indian arts. The play is called “The King of Mathura.” It is based on the mythological Krishna legend, in the current context and sensibility. Telling the story of Lord Kamsa (who essential personifies the devil), the Prime Minister of India loved this play, which is also the subject of graduate and doctorate study in universities. I wrote some reflections on the personal significance of the play for me, which I thought I’d share with my blog readers:

On the surface of the play, we see Lord Kamsa’s rise and fall as a dictator, the demonic face of what Carl Jung would call “the shadow side” of humanity. As with any book, however, it is never wise to judge solely based on a cover. A high compliment, I think, to Kans’ character development is the way his multi-dimensionality shines through. Despite his ruthlessness, cruelty and destructive nature, I could feel great compassion for the causes (karma) of Kans’ deep despair. We see Kans as a vicious, barbaric, monstrous force of nature. The very personification of hatred, anger, jealousy, lust, doubt, insecurity and especially the great fear that are the true cause of all evil in this world and beyond. It is actually Kans’ profound shame, stemming from his own victimization at the hands of his father, combined with the way patriarchal society conditions us to view masculinity, that create his agony. He, as Joan Didion once wrote, makes up the bed of lies that he alone must sleep in.

“The King of Mathura” is, to me, a meditation on the many manifestations of the human ego. Each character mirrors different layers of Kans’ deeply disturbed soul. As he reflects after murdering his wife Queen Asti:

“You are free! Your soul, tender like the early morning dew, has been released to the eternity of the infinite sky…I have not murdered you. I have only murdered that counter-ego, which my ego could not brook, be it of wife or friend, sister or father. That had to be destroyed.”

This line speaks deeply to the nature of human conflict. We feel vulnerable in relationships because of what each person who comes our way reflects back to us about our own natures. But, as the poet Rumi has written, we must:

“Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.”

What we admire most in others reflects back what is most admirable in ourselves. What we can’t stand about other is what we cannot stand about our own selves. We often fail to see this, however, which is how the seductive veil of maya clouds our perceptions and blocks us from the ultimate truth, that there is no separation on this earth. We encounter none other than our own Self in the disguise of ‘another.’ What a tool for transformation we have in our hands, each moment of our waking lives!

In the context of Mathura, there could be no Krishna without the presence of Kans, or Kamsa. As light cannot exist without the backdrop of darkness, a saint often emerges in the presence of sinners – or in a sinner him or herself. As Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras commence:

“Now, this is yoga.”

Now, as in something had to have happened before one can become a perfect vessel for the elixir of spiritual knowledge to work its very special magic. A crisis. The kind of earth-shattering experiences that cause one to come to his or her knees, crying out to God for deliverance to a realm beyond that which we are presently able to perceive.

I have had the privilege of seeing many a prisoner face this turmoil, bringing light to the brilliant possibility that even the worst of sinners can, too, transform themselves into saints. As Ashoka the Great did. It is only in fully accepting our helplessness that we can actually receive help, and then be able to give help. As the seed of the lotus flower is planted in the mud at the bottom of a dirty, dark pond, where it is difficult to see the sun, so, too, does the beginning of beauty often grow out of the darkest depths of despair. On the nature of the lotus, I have written a poem:

“The Lotus Blooms“

The lotus flower

blooms in adversity

atrocity

animosity

For there is no greater power

than that which comes from a

shower

of struggle

strife

and sorrow

The lotus never forgets

the possibility of tomorrow

Rather than mope,

The lotus is the essence

of Hope

Despite the difficulty, the lotus get grounded, and its shoot sprouts, in search of the glorious sun (symbolizing the ultimate truth of the eternal, divine soul). The lotus flower knows that blooming is its goal and that the struggle to reach the sun is simply part of the process, of which the pure beauty of truth is the result.

I myself was moved to serve prisoners as a way to transform myself and thereby be released from the internal prison in which I have long been held captive: inside the conditioning, false perceptions and negative emotional reactions of my own mind. I can see how the crises I have faced in my own life have opened the doorway for deeper realizations to emerge, which have begun to free me from the iron shackles of my own ignorance and denial.

Kans can clearly see his father’s cruelty, but he cannot connect his own killings with the lecherous legacy of his lineage. Like so many inmates I meet, he cannot get past his perception of himself as a victim. Full of feelings of rage, (stemming from fear), he, to borrow the biblical metaphor, seeks to remove the speck out his brother’s eye, all the while unaware of the large beam that blocks his own vision of the truth.

We are the living composite of the universe: part flower, part shark and tiger, ape, tree, cloud, dog, part bird. We have it all within. Any characteristic that we see in nature, we can also find within ourselves. That is why we can, as Muhammed Ali once said,

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

While Kans can clearly be blamed for harming all those nearest and dearest to him, it is Kans himself who truly suffers the most – a lesson we can also learn from the life and death of Adolf Hitler, and of any modern-day suicide bomber. As Kans insightfully asks:

“Is every murder a suicide?”

We are both predator and prey – one and the same, eternally.

Kans’ own brother, Pradyot, the personification, or, one could say, the child of lust, fears not even his own death due to his ability to see the truth that eludes Kans to the end. Because he lived as Kans’ slave, Pradyot’s taking of his own life could be considered the most dignified suicide the world has ever known. Fully cognizant of his own impending ending, he finally takes something in his life – his death – into his own hands.

Kans’ life, however, has never been in his own hands. Krishna’s flute echoes throughout the play, as a constant tragic reminder to Kans about the loss of his childhood innocence. Swaati and Asti’s bodies are compared to flutes, symbolizing the widespread objectification of women in the background of patriarchal society.  Swaati astutely remarks:

“I felt that despite your large body, you were just a child, innocent, unprotected.”

While Kans, clouded by the fog of his lust, thinks that what he wants from Swaati is a lover, what he really needs from her (which she picks up on) is a mother. Swaati follows her statement with a profound question:

“Is the womb of a woman the core of her being?”

Our mother is our first teacher. As it only through receiving a human birth that one can become free from the endless cycle of birth and re-birth, it is only the one who bestows us with life who can possibly help us transcend its limitations, sufferings, the inevitable ups and downs. Maya, who is prakriti, or nature herself, is the provider of illusions; it is only in piercing through the illusions that one comes to know the truth of one’s own being. Like Lord Ganesha is the remover of the obstacles, but also the provider of obstacles, Mahamaya (as a form of Lakshmi) both blinds us in delusion – and has the power to free us from all delusion. God as Mother teaches us to embrace suffering, so that we may see our true Self, which transcends all sorrow. A mother is, after all, the very embodiment of suffering. As Mahatma Gandhi once wrote:

“Ahimsa means infinite love, which means infinite capacity for suffering. Who but woman, the mother of man, shows this capacity to the largest measure?”

Mahamaya and her partner Lord Ganesha are great because without illusions to pierce through, and obstacles to overcome, we could never access our deepest reservoirs of strength and power. As the lotus flower blooms in adversity, no beauty emerges without some struggle.

While it is implied that Kans ultimately meets his demise at the hands of Lord Krishna, I understood the play’s conclusion as the sweet sound of liberation: the soul’s return home, to it’s own Self. Rather than getting killed by Krishna, I felt that Kans ultimately became Krishna. The “King of Mathura’s” conclusion seems to be a nod to Shakespeare’s “Hamlet,” in the sense of the

“heaps upon heaps of innumerable corpses, underneath them, buried deep…one corpse. The corpse of Kans.”

In destroying the mirrors reflecting back layer upon layer of Kans’ illusions, there is nothing left for Kans to destroy. Brahma thus picks up what Shiva has left behind and I understood that Kans essentially has no other choice but to surrender himself into the hands of God, in the form of Lord Krishna. The sound of the flute, the source of the sweetness at Kans’ very vulnerable core, poetically drowns out the last sounds of Kans’ protests and resistances to his destiny as the true king, the Lord himself.

In Kans we can see both aspects of the ego: the self-denigrating side of the King who cannot get past his father’s insults (that Kans is effeminate, etc.) and the self-aggrandizing Kans who sees himself as the

“Most powerful, the bravest of the brave, the brightest God Shri Kans.”

It is only in being forced out of his false perceptions of himself as an immortal being, a God, that he can truly become immortal, that Kans can merge with and become Lord Krishna himself. It is only in making ourselves small that we can truly become great. Humility is India’s most important value that I believe the world can greatly benefit from understanding properly. To understand, after all, we must stand under. Far from its frequent association with humiliation, true humility is a sign of the greatest strength. Gandhiji has said that

“Ahimsa is the soul force.”

Humility, then, is the sole force.

Lady Ruth, as she is known, was my first American yoga teacher, whose dharma talk during my first American asana class, about the sacred link between spirituality and service, reignited the spark of yoga first lit by my family in India (photo courtesy of www.jivamuktiyoga.com)

My first American yoga teacher, a celebrated painter named Ruth, is an embodiment of the sole force of humility. She has written a beautiful essay:

“How to Become a Master”

Vita Raga Visayam Va Chittam – PYS 1.37

“The color of a Saint’s mind tints the color of the devotee’s mind, when the saint’s mind is the object of concentration.”

“In olden times and up to the present, when artists wanted to learn how to paint, they started by copying the paintings of the masters who had come before them. Paintings are thought to be worth copying when all of the different elements are cohesive, belong together, support and enhance and balance each other, and create harmony and depth of feeling. In copying such great work of art, something of what makes that work of art work perfect is transmitted to the copier. An artist can study a painting by looking at it, reading about the artist’s life, and the time in which he/she lived, but those actions won’t reveal what is revealed through copying. It’s like an attunement between the two artists, the one who made the original and the one who copies, even if there are centuries in between them. The connection is bigger than the two individuals. It is mysterious and awesome and holy and timeless. The artist, as originator and copier, contains everything. He or she can channel anything because they believe they can. Through faith, practice, discipline, effort and grace, and most importantly humility, the artist bows before the work he copies.

In olden times, and up to the present, when yogis wanted to reach enlightenment, they copied their teacher. They emulated what their teacher ate, how much they slept, when they meditated, what the nature of their thoughts were, how they showed kindness toward others, what holy books they read, what holy songs they sung, how equanimous they were in the midst of ups and downs, how saddened they were by the suffering of others, and how happy they were in the presence of the Lord.

The yogi noticed how the great teacher harmonized with nature and the animals, how the great teacher’s voice was so soothing, and how the great teacher’s eyes sparkled. And if the yogi copied the lifestyle of the great teacher with humility and sincerity and a desire to serve, and if the yogi had no selfish motive, or at least yearned not to have a selfish motive, worked hard not year to year, or week to week, but minute to minute not to have a selfish motive, gradually the yogi and the great teacher would become one.

Master Patanjali was one of the greatest yoga teachers, a master from olden times. He saw how to bring cohesion and harmony into the world. He knew how to channel the old masters all the way back to the oldest masters, and how to join hands with them. He knew how a human being could be useful in small and in big ways, practical ways and holy ways. In short, he knew how man could finally reach his potential, how the bud could flower, how man could become God.

Let us study the Yoga Sutras of Master Patanjali. Let us work with a playful spirit. Let us bow before Master Patanjali, and surely something substantial will sink in.”

I bow before the lotus feet of Shunyaji, who is like Lakshmi, of Tataji, whose very name is a beautiful reminder of the candle of compassion, of Babaji, Badi-Babaji, and the rest of the family members who continue to light the lamp of Vedika’s long lineage of love. May the flame of this fire burn far and wide, for the benefit of the whole world.

With my reflections (which included drawings of lotus flowers and lotus feet, hummingbirds and butterflies), I wrote Tataji a card. I bought the card from Australia this past December. It is made by Aboriginal artists and sold by Better World Arts:

“Better World Arts is a social enterprise working with empowering business models to provide real economic and cultural benefits to Aboriginal artists and their communities. The Cross Cultural Projects combine the fine art of Aboriginal people with the traditional craftsmanship of artisans from Kashmir, Peru and Tibet to produce rugs, cushions, ornamental lacquer boxes and jewellery, enabling traditional communities to retain their cultural heritage. Better World Arts’ social inclusion work has assisted artists to open their own Ngura Wiru Winkuku Indigenous Corporation in Adelaide where regular arts, health and education programs are run from their studio space. The studio provides support for artists to practice art and handicrafts, as well as other important cultural activities.”

The name of the artist who designed the beautiful yellow card I gave Tataji is Rama Sampson, an elder of the Aboriginal South Australian community. The story of his painting has its roots in Aboriginal mythology. The story contains many stories; it is, in fact, one big story.

After thanking me for my translation work, Tataji gave me a blessing, saying

“Now, you, too can write about mythological legends, in the current context and sensibility.”

I shared with Tataji about a screenplay I had began writing some time back about a little girl named “Lakshmi,” who I had met in India. I had been fascinated by the fact that though this little girl had been badly abused (as so many girls and women in India, and throughout the world are), she was named after the most widely worshipped Hindu goddess of wealth. This led me to dig deeper into exploring my Indian heritage and roots, which has been an adventurous, exciting and very beautiful journey. I can see how I have not only learned more about Hindu mythology, but actually encountered many of its figures, in the form of Krishna, Kamsa, Kali, Lakshmi, Saraswati, Mother Mary, Shiva, Parvati, Ganesh and so many, many others, in my own life, and in my own self.

The creative transmission I received from Tataji’s work and presence has reignited in me a sense of responsibility to continue writing “Lakshmi.” It is not “I” who has began writing this screenplay, but rather I can see how this project is truly being written through me, through my life experiences, my joys, sorrows and the many mythological characters who have blessed me with their presence. It is not something I intend to complete in the next month or year. Rather, it has become a very real force in my life: a tool for my transformation, something that constantly reminds me to connect with only the divinity that resides within myself and each ‘other’ person I encounter. It has been my way of taking the responsibility of being very conscious and aware of how I am writing my life story, and making that my offering to God.

Now that I have the blessing of such a wise elder, I feel the weight of my writing responsibility on my shoulders, along with a strong sense of support for the healing potential it contains as a medicine story, for myself, and all ‘others,’ who are actually my own Self. Tataji departs today back to New Delhi, with these sentiments:

To My Dear Tataji,

I want to express my deep and sincere gratitude to you for giving me this opportunity to serve. Though I could not properly answer your question as to my profession, I have understood my dharma as fully utilizing whatever gifts have been loaned to me to serve those who sincerely wish to transform themselves, while being a bridge between East and West. Helping edit the English translation of your provocative, radical and deeply spiritual masterpiece fit seamlessly with the way I have understood my life’s purpose.

This play was precisely the sort of inspiration I was seeking when I asked you to send it. Our Indian mythology is indeed so rich with spiritual medicine the whole world is starved for. I can see how many powerful ancient archetypes have already played out in my own life and feel even more responsibility to continue to pay attention to all that comes my way, to record and reflect on my own experiences so as to make them my offering to humanity. To make my life my message.

Your presence at Vedika during the first five months of my studentship has been an auspicious blessing for which I consider myself most fortunate. I feel a great connection with your writing and spirit and trust that your departure will not signify the end, but rather just the beginning, of our communication.

With Abundant Love

and Gratitude,

Your Granddaughter

 

Liberation Emerging from Limitation

I recently began studying Ayurveda, a complete system of medical science from ancient India. As a homework assignment, my teacher asked us to write down all our current limiting beliefs about ourself. She said to write each one in a different color pen, with circles around each of our limiting beliefs.

It was truly an exercise in vulnerability and fearlessness. I have such a strong connection with my teacher that I often find myself wishing she would not share so much about me and my experiences in our classes, until I remind myself she’s not talking about me, but her own self! I don’t know that I would have been brave enough to bare as much as I did on paper if it hadn’t been for her willingness and courage to be so open and vulnerable with us first.

The lotus flower is a beautiful example of liberation emerging from limitation. Though its seed is planted in the mud at the bottom of a dirty, dark pond, where it is hard to see the sun clearly, the lotus root gets grounded and its shoot sprouts in search of the sun (symbolizing ultimate truth). The lotus flower knows that blooming is its goal and that the struggle to reach the sun is simply part of the process, of which the pure beauty of truth is the result.

Because I have so many limiting beliefs, I took some creative license on my assignment and drew flowers, with the center of each of my flowers representing a specific category of limiting beliefs. I wrote my beliefs within each petal. I had to write them as small as possible so they could fit into the petals. I ensured that each of the flowers was symmetrical and that the balance of colors complemented one another nicely. I spent a lot of time on it, as I have more limiting beliefs than years of age. I drew five flowers total. Five in numerology is known as the number of freedom, expansion and change.

On the back of the page, I drew two more flowers. The two flowers are green (a color often associated with healing) and pink (a color symbolizing feeling). These two flowers are not filled in. They represent the emptiness from which fullness emerges. My teacher, in fact, goes by the name “Shunya,” which is short for “shunyata:” the central philosophical concept of Hinduism and Buddhism of emptiness.

“Emptiness signifies that everything one encounters in life is empty of absolute identity, permanence, or an in-dwelling ‘self.’ This is because everything is inter-related and mutually dependent.”

I wrote the following reflections on the back of my assignment for my teacher:

I was quite puzzled as to why you would ask us to make such ugly beliefs look beautiful. I suppose that’s the work of healing, though. Making the invisible visible, turning darkness to brightness, our burdens into beauty.

Many of my limiting beliefs have been and still are liberating, at certain times and in certain contexts. I suppose it is only the sources of our contraction that can contain within them also the potential for our expansion. Such is the mysterious nature of the universe we live in.

I trust that this exercise is an important part of the soul work of self-realization: being present with whatever comes without running away or hiding from ourselves, accepting paradox and learning to choose more wisely.

One of my favorite quotes on self-realization and awakening spiritual consciousness comes from Dr. Govindappa Venkataswamy, founder of Aravind Eye System in India:

“When we grow in spiritual consciousness, we identify ourselves with all that is in the world. So there is no exploitation. It is ourselves we are helping. It is ourselves we are healing.”

My attempts at trying to figure out others’ behaviors and characteristics have always been limited. When I start to look within myself, infinite answers, not constrained by time or space, slowly begin to reveal themselves. It is only in understanding the microcosm (jivatman) that we can come to know the macrocosm (paramatman); to know ourselves well is to know the inner workings of the whole world. We and the world are one. There is no separation.

Doing this exercise also reminds me of what my first American yoga teacher Ruth wrote in “The Guru’s Breath Count:”

“We have all these fixed notions about ourselves and about others. Breaking down our fixed notions is the guru’s undertaking, while encouraging us to accept change, impermanence and difficulty. The challenges in Guruji’s yoga class totally exhausted our acquired strength. This is how we found our innate strength. Our innate strength is our real strength, but we’ll never find it if we don’t work hard. This is why whenever Guruji made things harder, he’d say “Now, easy!”

The way of the teacher is never an easy journey. It involves seeing things that are hard to see, to accept them even while working to change. And then to show others their way through the most difficult, exhausting – and important – journey one can ever undertake: the journey deep inside one’s own self, where we come to know the traveler, the travel guide, and the road traveled as one and the same. We become who we really are on this journey, which is all that is.

 

Rhythm of the Heart

This poem is dedicated to the true meaning of Yoga: the union of the individual soul (jivatman) with the universal soul (paramatman). It is a celebration of the process whereby a person comes to know and see him or herself in the heart of all other beings: the end of the false belief that we are separate and the beginning, one could say, of the life in and of the soul, which knows only unity and solidarity with all that is.

Open heart

awakens

Jesus is a beautiful example of a Yogi whose sacred heart led followers on the path of forgiveness as a gateway to true inner freedom, unity and peace (photo courtesy of 1800sunstar.com)

to its part

Pounding

Beating

and Breathing

deeply

Connected to

the Source

there is no greater

force

Rhythm and rhyme

combine

So sweet

it’s sublime

Separation is

the only crime

Truth unfolds

in divine time

Though a star

appears as far

as the sky

is high

Like the Moon and Sun,

You and I,

We are One

 

“The Danger of Being Good”

I recently received an email thread from a friend of a friend contemplating an article published by the Indian newspaper Tehelka: The Danger of Being Good. This young man’s fears of the cost of doing good inspired some further contemplation over many of these questions as I deepen my commitment to serving young prisoners in America.

Dr. Ariyaratne's life work demonstrates how, for all those in danger by doing good, many are also protected in fulfilling their life's purpose.

I really resonate with this idea of gods and angels protecting one’s journey and reflected a bit on this in a recent blog I wrote reflecting on a recent potentially dangerous situation I faced while teaching inmates: Freedom from Fear. I recently, in fact, met a powerful spiritual teacher whose name literally means “angels,” who wrote a message wishing me protection for fulfilling the work I’m doing in the book she gifted me with.

But the impetus to serve is something written somewhere deep inside my DNA, I believe, and as such I feel that so many have supported me in defining the way in which I will carry out my calling. I want to be able to serve for a long time and so am planning to hire transformed inmates to engage in direct service, to take myself out of the line of fire soon and decentralize my service work, to continue the ripples longer.

On protection for carrying out one’s deepest calling or purpose, I think often of the archetypal character of Arjuna on the battlefield in the Bhagavad Gita (Gandhiji’s favorite book and guide for his life mission). Arjuna does not want to fight because he is afraid of what will happen to him and especially his family members and friends if he does, as he could end up killing them. And yet, it is Arjuna’s dharma (duty or purpose) to do so. In fulfilling his destiny, Arjuna is protected on his path and receives help from totally unexpected sources. I think this is the way it is for many on the spiritual path. I think faith is a huge prerequisite for any path of service and that strong spiritual grounding in a power bigger than oneself is necessary for wishing to serve others.

In Vedanta philosophy, sankalpa shakti, or the strength that comes from the clarity of one’s deepest intentions, is essential to manifest external service. Otherwise, we end up succumbing to sankalpa vikalpa, which causes us to fall into the trap of self-doubt and lack of clarity about the reason for one’s very existence.

I believe that clarifying one’s deepest intention and purifying the mind and heart to manifest it are so important because I feel that the spiritual purpose of this life is really to develop the kind of strength and compassion that would enable one to bless the one who would harm him or her, as Gandhiji did before his assassination. It is really no wonder he lives on in the hearts and minds of so many – dying in such a way elevates one’s soul to the next level of evolution, whereas carrying hatred and negativity in our last breath causes our soul to go to a lower transmigration.

Micro-finance expert and President of BRAC USA (the largest NGO in the world that works in many war-torn countries) Susan Davis said to Nicholas Kristoff in a blog he wrote with advice on working in insecure or Taliban areas of Afghanistan:

“Care. Don’t be afraid. People one serves are one’s best protection.”

I’ve experienced that in juvenile hall. As so many of the youth really appreciate what I am offering them, they want to protect me.

Fear of death is the ultimate fear – and the root cause of all its manifestations. Once we really face that fear, we can learn how to truly live. I feel very fortunate to have made my peace with death and wrote about that in another blog: Life is Like a Ferris Wheel.

Contemplating the end of our life, I think the question of what sort of human being we have become is a potent one. Do we want to look back and see ourselves as people who stood up for what we believed, for what was right, for the Truth? Or do we want to look back and see ourself as a person who constantly lived out of the fear of what was possible? We don’t know when we are to go; all we can control is how we choose to show up in each moment. No matter how long one is blessed to live, life is short and I believe we must make the most of whatever good qualities and abilities we have been given to serve others.

We live in such insecure times – I think the best thing we can possibly do at this time is to cultivate courage, inner strength and security through spiritual practice and remember that others are part of us, no matter how it may look on the outside. As Martin Luther King, Jr. once famously spoke:

“Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.”

I feel it is the call of our time to find ways to express the courage to care. Our very future depends on it.

 

Thank You, Rain

I recently had the good fortune of meeting Dr. Angeles Arrien, a powerful Native American spiritual teacher, healer and anthropologist who wrote “The Fourfold Way: Walking the Paths of the Warrior, Teacher, Healer and Visionary.” In it, she reflects on the season of Winter:

“Many native peoples attribute the way of the Warrior to the direction of the North, the home of Father Sky, and all birds and winged creatures. Winter is the season that is most attributed among some shamanic societies to the direction of the North. Winter is the season for incubation, gestation and consolidation.

Although Winter does not universally entail ice and snow, each hemisphere has its own Winter season of rest. During this season many indigenous societies complete that which is unfinished. Winter is the season for reflection and contemplation. It is considered to be the best time to prepare for the renewal and healing that are provided in the season of Spring. When we are tested, it is important to embrace our challenges with the dignity, power and grace of the winged ones.”

A beautiful double rainbow that formed over Los Angeles on Dec 24th, 2010. A rainbow is created from two laws of physics: reflection and refraction. A double rainbow is formed by two reflections inside a single raindrop. A reminder to me that the joy we feel from reflecting on and thereby transforming our sorrow doubles when we share it with others. (Photo courtesy of http://www.topnews.in)

I used to really dread the oncoming of the winter season. I despise cold weather and miss the sun when it goes into hiding during this period of the year. Though I no longer have to contend with heavy snow and ice as I did whilst living in the midwest and East Coast, winter on the West Coast is now a time of abundant, chilly rainfall. I have always, and continue to use winter as a time for hibernation, rest and reflection and indeed feel it will be important to prepare for the transformations and new beginnings I feel are in store for me this Spring.

My high school drama teacher Mrs. Sanders once said “You can’t get the rainbow until you’ve had some rain.” We can’t experience the beauty, vitality and light of spring without the dreariness, despair and darkness of winter. If springtime is a time of new beginnings and rebirth, then winter must necessarily be a time of death. A time of endings. And of wisdom: of ourselves and of others.

While I don’t now love the winter, I have learned to respect it for all the learning it has to offer me. I honor winter for teaching me the powerful lesson of letting go – making room for something new to grow. On rain, I have written a poem in tribute to the current weather pattern of my winters:

Thank You, Rain

Rain washes

gently away

pain, vain

and sorrow.

Rain serves

as the sacred gatekeeper

of tomorrow.

the sky cries

rain drops

as the pain dies

into something new.

From rain, the

grass grew

The seeds a flower

did sow

have begun to grow

into sweet fruits.

Thank you, rain,

for the beauty of the

rainbow!

 

Freedom From Fear

A lot of people really wonder how I, as a naturally soft-spoken and compassionate young woman, manage to effectively reach hardened juvenile criminals, and secondly, why I would even want to do such a thing? “Isn’t it dangerous and scary?” they want to know. Yes to the first question. And until early last month, I would have said “no” to the second.

Up until last month, I have not had any scary situations arise, though I am working in a dangerous environment. The only thing I’d really had to contend with in teaching until than had been politely warding off inmates’ requests for romantic involvement with me, which was a lot easier for me to do than one might imagine.

Last month, I asked if there was a word my student inmates would like to use to help re-focus their attention when it inevitably went astray at times. In hindsight, I realized that, though democratic, this refocusing method was not the best option for this population.

“I’ve gotta word,” one inmate replied. “Rip.”

An ordinary English word, I wasn’t too struck by this choice, but did notice the rather surprised and uneasy expressions on the other inmates’ faces at this fellow’s selection.

“Rrrrrrrip,” he repeated a few times throughout the class.

The line staff/guards asked me how the session went. I told them it was a good first class of the cycle. Because the staff are so supportive, they wanted to know if there are tools I shared with the kids that they can use to help the inmates refocus and behave better. They wondered if there might be  a word they could even use. I shared how one of the kids came up with a word in class.

“What words was that?” one staff member asked.

“Rip,” I said.

“Do you know what that means?” another staff member looked me directly in the eye, very alarmed. His disdain was easily apparent.

I didn’t know, and soon learned that “rip” is a brand new gang code word for a victim of gang-rape. Probably a play off of my name as well. The staff apologized profusely to me, promising that would never happen again as they scolded the inmate whose idea it was to use this language.

For the first time since beginning to work with this population, I felt fear at the possibility of what the usage of the word “rip” could mean this inmate wanted to do to me when released. My mind began imagining the worst. “My God, why on earth have I chosen to work with such dangerous and callous criminals? I could get badly hurt doing this work. Am I really crazy?”

For a few days, I was ready to quit my work with inmates altogether. Until I realized what doing so really meant: allowing myself to become a prisoner of my own deepest fears. The only way to be free was to transform my thinking pattern and subsequent approach to those I work with.

Predators of all sorts don’t like to work too hard to attack their prey. That’s why it is always a good idea to first avoid the risk of coming into close isolated contact with one (in juvenile hall, staff are always with me), to not be afraid and to demonstrate this fearlessness in one’s demeanor (and subtly at the level of one’s thoughts). If needed, one must fight back physically (for which I’m learning self-defense). If I decided to never return to juvenile hall, I would have sent a message that I could be easily thwarted from the powerful mission I’m on by my fear. I strongly believe that fear is the most debilitating of emotions, and must be addressed first and foremost on a spiritual path. Fear will always hold us captive.

My personal motivations for wanting to do this work have been to grow stronger as a teacher and person and to protect women and children victims of violence, both of which predicate my demonstration of courage, clarity and conviction. One of my personal goals is to live as fearlessly as possible, to really live fully.

So this challenge was (as all obstacles are) my golden opportunity to cultivate courage in the face of fear. At best, fear can be very practical and helpful, because it protects us from vulnerability to danger. My main fear in this situation was having any inmate try to find me when released and harm me in some way. So I decided to change my name to protect my identity and lessen this risk for future students I work with.

Kali in all her power and fury

I meditated on what I would change it to. It quickly became clear to me that Kali would be the name I’d tell the youth I’ve legally changed my name to. Kali is an extremely powerful Hindu goddess. She is the embodiment of Mother Nature, who cleanses away the old with natural storms and fires to make the ground fertile for new life. Kali is a ferocious goddess. She has many arms that all carry swords and is typically depicted destroying a demon, with her enormous tongue stuck out. Kali is the symbol for the human struggle for self-mastery. Her destructive aspects represent our ability to slay the inner demons that exist in us all: hatred, anger, fear, jealousy, etc. With Kali’s help, a spiritual aspirant is said to be able to transform powerful emotions like anger into constructive energy with which to take courageous action.

I returned to juvenile hall the next week with a new name and a stronger sense of my purpose: that it is not about what I say or what I do, how I look or how I dress, but who I am that really matters and can inspire change. I opened the class by stating, in a strong and very firm tone of voice:

“I am aware that men in our culture like to assert their machismo by treating women badly, and how they think that brings them power, popularity and social prestige. And I’d like you to know that you can go ahead and leave all that conditioning at the door.

When you come here, I expect that you treat me and everyone else in the room with respect. If you wish to talk back, make rude jokes, call anyone hurtful names or talk out of turn, I will give you one warning and then am not afraid to send you out of the class. I have never had to do this and hope to not have to but am perfectly comfortable with doing so if it becomes necessary. You will then be welcome to come back next time, as long as you agree to respect everyone here.

There are many other things I could be doing with my time, but I chose to spend it here with you because I believe that though you are incarcerated, the mind is its own prison. I believe that you can come out of this prison without even freedom from bars through the practice of meditation.

And by the way, I wanted to let you know I have legally changed my name to Kali.”

“You legally changed your name?” they were surprised. “What are your parents going to say? How can you do that? How can I legally change my name?!”

“You want to know more about Kali?” I asked them. “She is an Indian goddess – I am also Indian. She has many arms and legs and is carrying swords in all her many arms. She is ferocious and has her enormous tongue stuck out. She is slays demons, which represent anger, fear, hatred, jealousy and all the things that get people locked up into prison.”

In the fall of 2010, I had the good fortune to meet and touch the feet of (a sign of deep respect in the Indian culture) Dr. Kiran Bedi during a local award dinner honoring her achievements. Dr. Bedi was India’s first woman police officer and prison warden who won the Magsaysay Award (Asia’s Nobel Peace Prize) for transforming Tihar Jail (the most notorious prison in Asia) into an ashram (place for personal development). She told a story about how she led a march of all-male police officers with a sword in her hand. She ended her march by meeting and saluting Indira Gandhi, India’s first and only woman prime minister to date, with her sword. Like the goddess Kali, Kiran carried a sword, representing her great fearlessness and triumph in enabling the good in criminals to prevail over the evils they committed through giving them opportunities for personal transformation at Tihar. To meet Dr. Bedi was to symbolically be passed this powerful sword. To serve young prisoners, I have first had to transform my own inner demons into strength to protect myself. This has given me the power to lead juvenile inmates through the fire of transformation. Having inmates call me Kali has been a constant reminder to me to be strong, forceful and direct when necessary, to have extremely clear boundaries, expect – and demand – respect. Being called Kali has been an effective way for me to call upon this powerful goddess’ transformational energy in a place and at times when I most need it.

While outwardly, I am working to help criminals come out of prison, inwardly I am empowering myself to attain full freedom from the confines of fear. It is my personal transformation that pushes me forward and is enabling me to grow spiritually while serving women and children in a way that addresses the root cause of the widespread violence women face, which is none other than the victimization of perpetrators. Really, the lines between predator and prey are not as clear-cut as they may seem on the surface. So-called victims can cultivate tremendous amounts of violence on the subtler level of thought. These thoughts are usually filled with hatred and anger toward those who have harmed one. Karma teaches that others are harming us because of what we have done to others in our past. If we have caused no harm in this life, however, it’s essential to get out of violent situations and stand up for ourselves outwardly, but to know that we are never really completely “out” of violent situations if our minds are not free from hatred and anger, toward another, or toward ourselves (internalized violence). As Gandhiji said,

“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is an attribute of the strong.”

Co-Director of Partners in Conflict and Partners in Peacebuilding at the Center for International Development and Conflict Management at University of Maryland Dr. John Davies said in “One Percent for Peace: The Real War on Terror:“

“The real jihad is not fought with weapons. The real jihad is to create inner peace, to create inner unity, and slay the inner demons that hold us in separation. That’s the war on terror. Then we really slay terror literally instead of getting caught in this trap of going after terrorists, and thinking, it’s these bad people that are the problem. It’s a complete fantasy and a tragic waste of resources to get caught in that way of thinking.”

One who hurts another hurts oneself the most. But a so-called victim who harbors hatred and  negativity while failing to take responsibility out of fear of what would happen as a result of standing up for him or herself also suffers a great deal. Yes, it seems that developing compassion for oneself and for others (recognizing others as oneself) is the most direct – and difficult – path to peace and freedom from fear.

 

Building My Own Creative Temple

I really benefitted from listening to last night’s discussion on MLK’s powerful passage “Building a Creative Temple.” The passage spoke directly to Arjuna’s dilemma on the battlefield of the Bhagavad Gita, to the war within and the struggle for  self-mastery that each person must wage to live a life that is worthwhile, a life that can contribute meaningfully to the lives of others. The Gita teaches us that we can be our own worst enemy – or our own best friend. We make a choice in each moment whether to manifest our inner sinner – or saint. We carry within us both darkness and its light source. As Pancho pointed out, however, MLK once famously proclaimed

“darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

The Mother once wisely elucidated how:

“You carry in yourself all the obstacles necessary to make your realization perfect. Always you will see that within you the shadow and the light are equal; you have an ability, you have also the negation of this ability. But if you discover a very black hole, a thick shadow, be sure there is somewhere in you a great light. It is up to you to know how to use the one to realize the other.”

I resonated with what Uncle John shared about not being able to connect with the term “sinner” MLK uses in this passage. For me, the roots of this term are linked with the Judeo-Christian view of original sin. I believe in basic goodness and that the spiritual journey is a quest to dig deep enough into ourselves to access our internal essence, which is pure goodness. Uncle John elucidated how taken literally, however, “sin” means to be without. He talked about how those who do harm are indeed without so many things. I believe that a lack of love in particular (not romantic love, but rather agape love that embraces all and excludes none) drives destruction and personal and collective despair. Uncle John continued to express how things like crime and corporate greed are really caused by the breakdown of people’s connection to themselves and to nature. The idea that it is nature, not a person, that does the healing, is very profound, particularly for people engaged in service and wanting to make a difference in society. As Somikbhai mentioned in a recent post, Swami Vivekananda eloquently stated,

“All are helped on by nature, and will be so helped even though millions of us were not here. The course of nature will not stop for such as you and me; it is only a blessed privilege to you and to me that we are allowed, in the way of helping others, to educate ourselves.”

We are only able to serve as instruments for the higher power, manifest as Mother Nature, in all Her abundance and glory, to work through, speak through, love and serve through.

Somikbhai spoke to MLK’s keen observation and awareness of how there is this gap we face in life between the values we hold dear (like compassion, truth and justice) and our everyday actions – and reactions. Rahulbhai shared some very entertaining stories about his mishaps while on the road driving. He talked about how it was a lot easier for him to be compassionate and feel warm thoughts toward the other person he had been in dangerous situations with when he himself was at fault. It was considerably more difficult to generate these same thoughts and feelings toward someone wronged him when he was doing everything right.

I could really relate to Rahulbhai’s experience. Just this past Thursday, I found out I’ve been replaced at my Silicon Valley marketing job by someone linked into one of the company’s partner biopharmaceutical firms and the son of one of the employees. A good strategic fit. I’ve been wary of working for this company from the start, particularly because they did not pay me for the initial freelance work I did for them last year. They created the job for me and felt I did a great job creating and launching their website. They were consistently pleased with my ability to meet deadlines, work efficiently and produce high-quality work. They hired my replacement and transitioned him into slowly taking over my role without telling me (and instead introducing him as someone who would be helping me) in order to achieve their strategic aims. 

Now my replacement suggested I stay on board as a “reliable freelancer” they can assign work whenever they want and expect I’ll do it. I think the fact that I was visibly angry about the situation was very positive and healthy for me. As women, we are so often socialized to be passive and accommodating in so many situations in and out of the workplace. Being accommodating can look like being compassionate and forgiving on the outside. Energetically speaking, however, something very unhealthy and toxic goes on when we repress rather than observe our natural reactions. Many women in particular seem sweet on the surface, but actually act out of a sense of self-hatred, leading to victimization and a negative, destructive spiral effect. Harming ourselves intentionally prevents us from being able to truly help another at the deepest level, as the action is motivated from violence directed at ourselves, which prevents the compassion we might think we are giving to another from being really true and pure. We must do for ourselves what we do for others and vice versa. Compassion for oneself is really the gateway to being compassionate toward another, just as anger toward another is a manifestation of unrest and violence toward oneself. We are not separate.

Alongside my anger at being disrespected and used, I could feel the force of compassion arising within me. It allowed me to be sensitive enough to notice how much, in harming me by suggesting the company use me as a reliable freelancer, the guy replacing me was harming himself, too. I could see how bad he felt and felt compassion for him. In the moment, I told him this puts me in a difficult situation and that I would like some to time to really think about how I’d like to manage it. Even though my face displayed anger, I told my replacement that I know I am responsible for and able to control the way I respond, rather than react to these kinds of situations. That I have it in me to make the best of whatever situation comes my way. We all do.

I am able to accept the situation because I know that this is the way the modern corporation works: with regards to profits over people. I really value human relationships and intend to channel the powerful emotion of anger I feel toward the situation into fuel to propel me further along the plans I have been creating to be of service. I love the question Nipunbhai asked in a recent email: What will it take to create a new corporate framework, rooted in compassion rather than corruption?

I am now planning to contribute to answering this powerful question by going back and stating that I will be happy to consider agreeing to freelance projects as they arise and that I would like them to help me find companies I can serve through teaching yoga. I feel a lot of compassion for corporate folks and want to help them transform their consciousness and develop deeper compassion for themselves and others. To restore the sense of connection with Mother Nature, who as Uncle John and Swami Vivekananda wisely remind us, is the true healer. I never resonated with the idea of charging people for yoga, but think it will be powerful to use the existing model to support the work I’m doing to serve in juvenile halls. And eventually be able to train ex-convict fellows to teach corporate yoga as well as work in the halls, to provide them opportunities to exit poverty and give back after having taken from society. I believe that what makes me, and ex-convicts, powerful teachers is the experience of overcoming obstacles in life. I think corporations and criminals have a lot to offer and learn from each other. Corporate employees can help criminals channel their energy into creative enterprises while (transformed) criminals can teach corporate employees about how to attain self-mastery.

As a naturally calm, compassionate and soft-spoken young woman, the experience of teaching criminals has already transformed me in many ways. I have developed deeper compassion for perpetrators, seeing the victim in each one. I have grown stronger as a teacher and woman by making clear my boundaries in terms of inmates’ desires to have intimate personal relationships with me. Being a fearless person has been my greatest protection. Compassion in this space has been the most important asset, however. Women often try to become like men in order to be seen as strong and powerful. I have found that compassion (a quality traditionally associated with women) is my greatest strength. Even when I need to state my boundaries with these young men, doing so with the intention to serve and care about them has enabled me to become a source of spiritual strength for the inmates. Abandonment and a lack of love are really what cause criminals to lash out in such severe ways. Stating my boundaries while being clear about my intention to serve has been a powerful way to command respect for myself in such an environment. And it works. Inmates are so often so grateful to have someone to care about them. They sense that I am, at the same time, someone to look up to rather than step all over.

One youth in particular who was pestering me with personal questions and desired me romantically was recently surprised at first that I stated having boundaries (as so few women have with him before, including his female teachers). He tried to test me by persisting with more personal questions (even having the nerve to ask me if I’ve been tested for HIV!), but I, too, persisted in stating I did not wish to discuss any of this because it’s important to me to respect my boundaries as his teacher. The next class, this same student behaved very differently with me, thanking me for taking the time to help him and being very respectful throughout class. He also shared how he was able to apply mindfulness in his life when deciding not to give in to the temptation to react to another inmate who provoked him.

“Instead of fighting as usual, I was able to keep my cool, thanks to what I learned about turning to my breath in times of trouble. Now I know there are other options for me besides gang-banging and fighting.”

Knowing just this one previously violent inmate can see options for himself besides fighting gives me great hope. Serving people in this way always renews my faith while enabling me to transform myself in deep and dramatic ways. What comes out of my service efforts, and responding to my current Silicon Valley situation the way I intend to, is less important to me than keeping my heart in the right place. I am grateful for the challenges life presents me with. They give me the opportunity to become so strong that I can one day be like Aunt Mia, by facing gunpoint and the possibility of death with a heart armed only with the powerful force of true compassion. I bless my current situation by having compassion for all those imprisoned by the customs of corporate and criminal cultures as I continue to build my own creative temple, from the inside-out.

 

From East to West – and Back Again

I got a lot out of the discussion on vision-making. I especially appreciated the passage’s reference to the inner landscape, to the importance of cultivating an inner vision to be able to more clearly see that outside ourselves.

The lesson that “life is a journey, not a destination” has come to me in many ways. I first received this message when transitioning to high school.

It is good to have an end to journey toward, but it is the journey, in the end, that matters. – Ursula K. LeGuin

My 8th grade teacher had written this in a world atlas she gave as a gift. No matter how far I have traveled physically, nothing can ever compare to the journey within, the journey deep inside my own self. Like many children of immigrants growing up in western countries, I used to be very eager to please others, particularly my parents. I was a perfectionist in every sense – and felt valued and appreciated for this trait and the results it brought me. In the beginning stages of my life, I was outcome-driven to a fault. The only real purpose of these outcomes, however, was for me to achieve “success,” in the very narrowly defined manner that was prescribed to me by my parents, the culture I was raised in and the predominant western mindset of personal achievement as the ultimate purpose of one’s life.

I have heard a spiritual calling since I can remember, but how easy it is for the whisperings of the soul to be silenced by the noise of the senses! I remember how upset and heartbroken I was when I graduated second and thus did not get to be Valedictorian of my high school class. All my hard work and natural intelligence should, after all, be rewarded and recognized by others, right? Maybe. But why did I need the external validity to prove my ability?

I am so grateful now to the teacher who gave me my first-ever then dreadful “B+,” as it is our mistakes that kindly curtail the real dreadfulness of arrogance and greed, paving the way for the cultivation of humility. I love the metaphor of being a mere instrument for a higher power to work through, like a flute for sweet music to naturally flow through. I really believe that all the gifts we possess are just on loan to us, to be collected at the end of our life cycle, when we will ultimately be judged by how well we used them. Like how the famous parable of the talents illustrates, we must use our gifts wisely, in the service of others. The dedication of the merits of one’s work to a higher purpose, or the divine by whatever name you feel comfortable acknowledging this presence has also been a way to bring awareness to the larger implications of how one’s individual thoughts, words and actions have a profound impact on the collective whole.

The importance of the journey aspect of realizing a vision, whether internal or external, came to me again when I transitioned from high school to college. My speech/drama teacher Mrs. Sanders was my eye in the midst of many emotional storms during my high school years. For graduation, she gifted me with three beautiful presents and a card with a message that served as the beginning of the journey I’ve been on to bridge together two seemingly very different spheres of the world:

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes. – Marcel Proust

Much of my calling has been about becoming a seamless bridge between east and west. My journey has involved a lot of travel between these geographic directions. Growing up in the midwestern part of America, I often made the long journeys from the western to the eastern sphere of the world to visit India. Then I moved to the east coast for college, which led me back to the western part of India, where I originate from. Upon returning to the west, I was inspired to drive from the eastern to the western coast of America. Now I find myself called back to the eastern part of India, the east of the east, if you will, as part of my dance journey. Even within the city I live in, I often find myself traveling back and forth between the eastern and western parts of it, as I used to do in NYC on the east coast.

No new landscapes in the sense that I continue to spend meaningful periods of time in just two countries – and yet the journey has shifted and transformed my inner landscape, with each enhancing the other in countless beautiful ways. The integration of east and west within myself has made me whole and shaped me into the person I am today.

Any time there is the presence of polarity there is, I believe, a real opportunity to transcend the duality and move into a deeper reality of existence. To tap into the powerful force of one’s own soul. I am now so grateful for all the challenges of growing up with such a, in some sense, dualistic background.

The eastern culture places a lot of emphasis on the collective, on the whole. I always find the community aspect of India so beautiful and comforting, something that can easily lend itself toward serving others and encouraging people to become selfless: a wonderful spiritual ideal. My favorite part of Indian culture is the high value of humility: knowing we are but part of a greater whole and consciously ridding ourselves of the many entrapments of the ego. On the downside, however, the eastern culture puts such a high price on blending with the crowd and doing things for the mere sake of filial piety, without so much consideration for the purpose of some of these actions. “Honor” crimes come to mind as one of the severe examples of this eastern emphasis taken to the extreme.

The western culture, on the other hand, values the role of the individual above all else, which gives way to creativity, self-discovery and exploration. The big downside of this is the breakdown of the family unit and collective community as the loneliness that often accompanies high individual accomplishment settles slowly in.

At the very heart and essence of both cultures, however, I do find a fearless quest for freedom. The forefathers of America had a lot in common with the ancient rishis (seers) of India in terms of the ideals sought, with similar fervor and intensity. I bow at Mrs. Sanders’ feet for teaching me to take only the best of the material offered in any context and to leave the rest. Or better yet, apply the best to the worst to serve those who suffer most.

The deep, ancient spiritual values of the East I use as guidance in informing my individual contributions and creativity in the service of those in need. My western upbringing and education provide me the freedom to follow my heart to realize the ancient spiritual ideals of my eastern heritage. A compass I have found valuable in guiding my journey, both within and without, is whether my thoughts, words and actions are in harmony and whether the poorest person could benefit from them. Do my thoughts, my words and what I do, in any given moment, actively serve others, or have that potential? When the answer is no, I know it is time to change course.

My desire to dedicate my life to the service of others, and the service of the timeless universal values of truth, freedom and wholeness has certainly raised conflicts within my family life. The more committed I remain to my mission, however, the more I have been able to invite my family to join the incredible journey – and the more they have accepted the invitation. It has been scary at times to follow my vision of my life, rather than my father’s vision of me as a businessman and my mother’s of me as a traditional stay at home wife and mother, a caretaker. Embracing the opportunity in polarity has, however, been a great gift and gateway to creative possibility.

Teaching meditation in juvenile hall makes for a most interesting intersection of the eastern and western and masculine and feminine aspects of myself (photo courtesy of MBA Project)

I now see myself making the best of what I’ve been given by bringing together my business background with my passion for social service by creating a comprehensive teacher training program for prisoners. I envision it as a “spiritual boot camp” of sorts, to transform prisons into places of personal development, as Kiran Bedi had done in Tihar Jail in New Delhi, India. The program will be modeled after incredible work the Insight Prison Project has done in San Quentin, with rigorous yoga, meditation and writing sessions as well as group processes designed to help criminals address the root causes of their crimes.

I believe in the potential of this work from the transformations I have been privileged to witness and be part of in juvenile hall youth, whose support I have enlisted to develop such a program. One inmate last week was particularly open and shared how the thing he – and so many – need is unconditional faith and support to make change possible. Role models. Community. Continuity. I have assigned him and a couple other youth to reflect more on what such a program would ideally look like for them. Several kids have given their contact info to be part of leadership training when they exit the hall, which will be an important component to develop alongside the in-prison work.

I plan to deepen my involvement in Silicon Valley: the heart of entrepreneurship, to create a corporate wellness program that will help another high-stress population relax, focus more deeply, work more efficiently and have more peace of mind and happiness. Payment for this program will cross-subsidize the prison work. Like prisoners, who cost the government millions of dollars each year, corporate leaders are incredibly powerful – to provide them tools to transform their thinking to include stakeholders rather than mere shareholders in decision-making could have profound implications on the many lives big businesses touch each year. To deepen the connection between corporations and criminals, I also plan to seek out business leaders who would like to serve as mentors for prisoners interested in entrepreneurship. Many prisoners have or presently run illegal operations – imagine the potential for the economy if their entrepreneurial talents could be channeled into ethical enterprises! As such a big part of the ultimate sustainability of this project will be what happens to these people when they leave prison, I want to make the creation of social enterprises and socially responsible companies integral to the entrepreneurial aspect of the prison training, to encourage them to create ventures that can benefit victims and perpetrators of crime in society.

Though this is certainly not the route I would have ever imagined traveling growing up, I am so grateful for the many ways my journey has come full circle, allowing me to offer the diverse experiences and background I have to such meaningful and necessary work. To the West, I am grateful for the freedom to be able to do such radical work. And to the East, I bow down deeply at the opportunity to be a mere instrument to serve the needs of others, knowing that, as Lilla Watson once said,

If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.

The ultimate reason for my desire to serve prisoners – and anyone else for that matter – is because I see just how deeply my fate is interconnected with the lives of others. As Dr. King has proclaimed,

Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you are ought to be.

Like that, service to another is really service to my own self. I have already grown in infinite ways through my journey, which has closely connected me with slumdwellers, shelter children, corporate professionals, prisoners, public and private high school students in NYC and OH, young social entrepreneurs in NY, homeless youth, drug addicts in CA, the elderly and more. Despite the differences in the forms these people have come in, I am always able to see a reflection of myself in each population and really each person I meet. As a young, female child of immigrant parents, I feel tremendously fortunate and grateful for all the opportunities and gifts my parents have given me and see service as the most appropriate venue to be able to pay forward all I have received to others who suffer. From East to West – and back again.