June 29, 2009
Mozart on Love

"Neither
a lofty
degree
of intelligence,
nor
imagination,
nor both together,
go to the
making of
genius.
Love, Love, Love.
That
is the
soul of
genius."

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 07:19 PM | Comments (1)

June 27, 2009
These Two Universes Walk Into a Bar

Photo/Text

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 10:41 PM | Comments (0)

June 24, 2009
Wright Brain Thinking

OK. Break time. Park your left brain and get into your right. I mean Wright, as in Steven -- a truly funny fellow I once ran into while jogging on the streets of New York City.

If the following jams your mind, good. You've been thinking too much anyway. Like I said, it's time for a break...

"Everywhere is within walking distance if you have the time."

"I was a peripheral visionary. I could see the future, but only way off to the side."

"For my birthday I got a humidifier and a de-humidifier. I put them in the same room and let them fight it out."

"I bought some batteries, but they weren't included."

"I intend to live forever. So far, so good."

"I like to reminisce with people I don't know."

"I invented the cordless extension cord."

"I saw a subliminal advertising executive, but only for a second."

"If a word in the dictionary were misspelled, how would we know?"

"What's another word for Thesaurus?"

"I stayed in a really old hotel last night. They sent me a wake-up letter."

"I think it's wrong that only one company makes the game Monopoly."

"I was trying to daydream, but my mind kept wandering."

"I watched the Indy 500, and I was thinking that if they left earlier they wouldn't have to go so fast."

"You can't have everything. Where would you put it?"

"I went to a restaurant that serves "breakfast at any time". So I ordered French Toast during the Renaissance."

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:34 PM | Comments (1)

Give Up Anger, Fear, Guilt, and Doubt

More
Photo

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 01:52 AM | Comments (2)

June 21, 2009
Entering the Sweepstakes

When I was a kid I used to enter Sweepstakes all the time.

Here's how it worked: I'd be flipping through one of my parent's magazines when I'd see a huge, double-page spread with lots of smiling people having just won a NEW HOUSE! or a LUXURY YACHT! or a FABULOUS VACATION FOR THE ENTIRE FAMILY!

I couldn't believe my eyes.

I mean, how difficult was this going to be? All I had to do was fill out that little magazine form or write "Burry's Chocolate Chip Cookies" on a "reasonable facsimile" 3x5 index card.

And the fine print said I could enter as many times as I liked. Dude, how could I possibly lose?

Oh, that feeling of walking to the mailbox and dropping in my stack of 25. And even if I didn't win, second place was a cool $50,000. God was good.

I never won a thing.

In a curious way, this LIFE AS A FABULOUS SWEEPSTAKES concept has had its hold on more people than just me as an 11-year old.

From what I can tell, lots of my fellow earthlings keep filling out those 3x5 index cards and dropping them into the mailbox -- but instead of "Burry's Chocolate Chip Cookies" they're writing "Soul Mate" or "Financial Security" or "Drop Ten Pounds.'

OK. So there's nothing wrong with entering contests. But it's not the contests I'm talking about. It's the belief that there's something to win that's going to improve our life in a truly meaningful way.

Here's the deal, Monte:

You've already won the SWEEPSTAKES! And that big OVERSIZED CHECK with all those fabulous zeros after the "1" -- is actually being delivered to your front door every moment of the day.

All you have to do is answer the knock.

Really! I'm not kidding. You've already won! Sail on that yacht!

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:41 PM | Comments (1)

June 20, 2009
Life Is Like a Pinball Game

Life is like a pinball game. Well, maybe not. But for the sake of the next few minutes, let's stay with the pinball metaphor. OK?

I mean, the whole playing field is tilted, right? And no matter how talented you are with the flippers, or how many bells you ring or lights you flash, that shiny, silvery ball eventually finds its way down that little black hole.

GAME OVER!

For some of us, this inevitable moment is like death -- the ultimate bummer. All those cool sounds and lights? The high score you spent so much time racking up? Gone. Gone. Gone. In their place?

"Player #1" standing there, moaning about the game maker and their own lame attempts to manipulate the flippers like a champ.

Well... for what it's worth, I believe there's another way to look at this -- a second option, if you will (and even if you won't) -- the kind of option where the real game begins when that silvery ball disappears down the hole.

And what kind of game is that?

A game that requires no flippers, no beeps, no bells, no lights, and no score. This game is tilted, too, but it's tilted in your favor.

You win! And the only thing you have to do is be.

OK, so maybe this metaphor doesn't completely hold up. But so what? What does it matter if pinball isn't the perfect metaphor for what I'm trying to say? What is?

No word, no image, no painting, no poem will ever be enough to describe the game that is waiting to be enjoyed when we turn within, really let go, and realize we've already won...

Curious? Click here.

Or here. Or here. Or here.

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 09:06 PM | Comments (0)

June 18, 2009
What You Are Looking for is Within You

"There is more to life than you can ever imagine. What you are looking for is within you and, if you want to find it, I can help."
-- Prem Rawat

Pretty simple, eh?

You're looking for something (peace, love, fulfillment) and there's this person named Prem Rawat (aka Maharaji) who says he can help you find it. Hmmm...

No charge, no club to join, no secret handshake.

Find out more

Photo

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 08:59 AM | Comments (0)

June 16, 2009
How Precious Life Is!

Watch this extraordinary video about an 11-year old boy who not only remembered a past life of his, but blew everyone away with hard-to-deny proof. Open your mind and your heart to the possibility.

And half way around the world: Unmistaken Child

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 04:34 PM | Comments (0)

June 15, 2009
Sweeping the Path

As a middle class American male with a healthy dose of resistance to household chores, the broom has never been one of my favorite tools.

While I've certainly appreciated its timeless design and universal appeal, the act of sweeping has always felt like somebody else's job.

This belief radically changed for me one fine Spring day in 1980. That was the day I got word that my teacher, Maharaji, was coming to visit the house I was living in -- a funky old dwelling on Detroit Street in mile high Denver, Colorado.

Clearly, my housemates and I weren't ready. The kitchen was dirty. The bathrooms were a wreck. The lawn needed mowing. Mucho stuff needed to be done.

My task? To sweep.

Grabbing a broom like some kind of over-caffeinated Clint Eastwood on steroids, I pushed open the front door, surveyed the scene, and got busy.

The porch was a piece of cake. A few flicks of the wrist, a few energetic downward strokes in both directions and I was done -- leaves, twigs, and dust sailing over the edge onto the waiting lawn below.

Now it was time for the front walkway.

A sweep to the left. A sweep to the right. A sweep to the left again -- me a human metronome in tune with something beyond time. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

I paused to view my handiwork. "Not bad, not bad at all," I thought to myself.

But though the porch and walk were much cleaner than before, my increasingly perceptive sweeper's vision was seeing things it hadn't noticed just ten minutes ago: a pebble stuck between cracks, a rusty bottlecap, a flattened piece of wax.

Whoosh to the left. Whoosh to the right. Whoosh to the left again.

It felt good getting ready, good preparing the way for the man who, nine years ago, had shown me -- in a heartbeat -- what life was really all about.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

Ta da! The porch was clean! The path was clear! All was right with the world! But wait! The sidewalk, in front of the house, was a complete mess. Bits of paper were everywhere. Plastic spoons. Shards of glass. And dirt, dirt, dirt.

Obviously, I had more work to do.

Whoosh to the left. Whoosh to the right. Whoosh to the left again.

I closed my eyes. I took a breath. I opened my eyes again. But wait! The road in front of the house was a wreck -- the very same road Maharaji would need to cross if he parked his car on the north side of the street. Cigarette butts, oil spots, and leaves were everywhere. My hands began to twitch. My mind began to race. Wherever I looked, nothing was ready to receive him. Nothing was good enough. The world, it seemed to me, was one gigantic mess.

I wondered how far onto Detroit Street I needed to sweep -- how far I needed to go to prepare the way. At this rate, I might never come back.

And then, like one of those moments I used to read about in Zen Buddhism books, it hit me.

It wasn't the front porch that needed sweeping. It wasn't the path... the sidewalk... or the street. It was me. I was the one that needed to be swept -- swept of my clutter, swept of my assumptions, swept of whatever junk stood in the way of being able to receive my teacher in a way that was clean.

I didn't need to sweep the porch. I didn't need to sweep the street. I didn't need to shine my shoes... or cut the grass... or buy a suit... or lose five pounds... or iron my shirt... or paint the house... or wash the car... or buy a dozen roses. I could, of course, if I wanted to. I could if these things really needed to be done. But something else -- much more central to my life -- was going on.

And that something was me getting ready for Maharaji -- the one whose gift of Knowledge had, long ago, opened my eyes and my heart.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 06:09 AM | Comments (3)

VIDEO: The Perfume of God

This is absolutely stunning, exquisite, buoyant, alive!

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 01:20 AM | Comments (0)

June 14, 2009
TPRF Awarded 4-Stars for Excellence

The Prem Rawat Foundation (TPRF) has just been awarded a 4-star rating from Charity Navigator, America's largest independent evaluator of charities.

According to Charity Navigator, "Receiving four out of a possible four stars indicates that your organization excels, as compared to other charities in America, in allocating and growing your finances in the most fiscally responsible way possible."

Congratulations to all the fine folks at TPRF for their commitment, integrity, and high standards of service!

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 07:09 PM | Comments (0)

June 12, 2009
Lao Tzu Speaks

"The foolish man
is always doing,
yet much remains to be done.
The wise man does nothing,
yet nothing remains undone."

Tao Teh Ching

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 04:23 PM | Comments (0)

June 08, 2009
Words of Peace Global.org launched!

This just in! A beautiful new website, www.wopg.org, featuring the message of Prem Rawat (aka Maharaji) has just been launched.

Elegantly designed, easy to navigate, the site has something for everyone: excerpts of his talks set to music, webcasts, Words of Peace TV listings, photos, news reports, downloads (video, audio, music, print), updates on humanitarian initiatives, poetry, interviews, info about The Keys, and a very cool photo gallery of people who've attended Maharaji's events.

There's also a great feedback feature that allows you to offer suggestions about the site and/or vote on other people's suggestions.

Here's how the site describes Prem Rawat...

Prem Rawat is a man of singular vision and clarity. He is a teacher with a core message: the peace people are looking for is already within.

He has dedicated his life to the dissemination of this message and has spoken in person to millions of people on six continents.

His words are translated into many languages and are now accessible in most countries via TV broadcasts and video, in print and online.

Whatever the language or the medium, the message remains the same: there is a very practical way of getting in touch with the peace that already exists within each person, and world peace begins with individual peace.

Words of Peace Global

Sample of downloadable pdfs:
Download file

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:43 PM | Comments (1)

June 06, 2009
Love Is Simple

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 08:33 AM | Comments (0)

June 05, 2009
Knock Knock Knocking on Heaven's Door

As I write this, I am sitting in the home of my 94-year old father, in West Palm Beach, Florida. His house is new, but his body is not. "Like a worn out car," he tells me ten minutes ago as he sorts through his evening pills, looking for just the right combination to help him make it through the night.

Riding on the fumes of my own imagined immortality, I'm sitting at his kitchen table, cotton swabs, like yarrow stalks, everywhere.

His oxygen comes from a machine, his caregiver from an agency. He tells me the same stories I've heard a hundred times before, but tonight I do not interrupt. He needs to talk... and I need to listen.

I ask him about the happiest day of his life. "The birth of my two children," he says. I ask him to tell me the name of his father's father, but he cannot remember.

He tells me he wants to cry, but can't.

Sleeping pill swallowed, teeth removed, he invites me to his bedroom to watch the ritual of his night-time aide adjusting the tubes and the pillows beneath his swollen feet. He tells me in a raspy voice, "I want you to see what lies ahead."

He takes another breath. Barely.

I have no idea how I will die. Or when. I have no idea if my loved ones will be there with me or someone from the night shift. All I know is this: No matter how old, decrepit, or alone I may be at the time, I will die a happy man.

How do I know this? Simple. I've already experienced what I came here for. I won't try to name it here, because I can't. But suffice it to say, it's the source of all love, all peace, and all gratitude.

And the one who revealed it to me can reveal it to you.

I want that for my father, at 94. I want him to feel it -- to let go to the power of love.

At this stage of the game, it's a long shot he will, but what do I know? God can enter at any time. Grace can change a life in a heartbeat.

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:48 PM | Comments (0)

Being Shown the River Where the Fish Are Swimming

It has been said that it is better to teach a man to fish than to give him a fish.

So true.

And yet, how much better would it be to show a man the river where the fish are swimming?

This has been my experience of what Maharaji does.

If you're thirsty, he takes you down to the river where the cool waters of life, filled with all those fabulous fish, are flowing.

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 12:50 AM | Comments (0)

June 04, 2009
The Paradox Supreme

Here is the paradox supreme:
What you want you have
and what you have you want.

What you call the path
is merely the way to this understanding.
Do not worry about the next step.
You have already taken it.

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 08:56 PM | Comments (1)

June 02, 2009
The Joy of Heckling

If you talk to a thousand people who are (or have been) students of Maharaji, you will get a thousand different impressions of who he is and what he does. Your guess about the accuracy of their perceptions is as good as mine.

But if you really want to know the answer, you will need to have your own experience, while being mindful of the words of Anais Nin, "We don't see things as they are, but as we are." Allow me to be more specific.

ACT 1
When Maharaji was 16, he married -- not to an Indian woman chosen by his parents, but to a 24 year old American stewardess. This troubled some of his devotees -- especially those who had chosen celibacy as part of their path to enlightenment. How could Maharaji get married, they reasoned. Marriage was so mundane... such a distraction... so unspiritual. And so, when Maharaji said "I do," a bunch of these folks said "I don't" and split the scene...

Other students of Maharaji had a different response. They thought his marriage was cool -- more proof that he was totally free of concepts -- a liberated move that only deepened their love and respect for him. His actions, they concluded, were a kind of divine permission to do the same. And so they did. Got married, that is.

Still others, with no absolutely no desire to stop practicing Knowledge or settle down with a soul mate, had yet a different response. They sent wedding presents. They sent gardenias. They sent roses and cards and effusive telegrams.

Me? I was happy for Maharaji, wondered what kind of gift I should buy, figured I couldn't afford it, and did nothing -- thinking my long distance thoughts would somehow be enough.

ACT ll (three years later)
As far back as I can recall, Maharaji used to conduct "instructor conferences" -- intensive retreats for handpicked groups of his students on how to best represent him in the world. Like many of his students, I wanted to be invited -- not only for the sheer joy of being with him, but for what I imagined was undeniable proof that I was "getting somewhere" with Knowledge.

Eight years passed. My love for Maharaji and Knowledge continued to blossom. Not once, however, was I invited to attend.

And then, out of the blue, one unofficial day -- VOILA! -- I got the word. "Get down to Miami, Mitch, you've been invited to an instructor conference... but not as a candidate -- as a guest."

A guest? Now I was really confused. I mean, Maharaji was inviting me, but he was also not inviting me. Huh?

I went.

For three days I sat in the back of a large conference room and watched Maharaji, like some kind of improv laughing Pied Piper Buddha, in perfectly creased pants, bring everyone to a place of exquisite attention, learning, and relaxation at the exact same time. A magician he was. A conductor of joy. A man on a mission.

And then, before I knew it, the conference was over. Or at least I thought it was over. It wasn't. There was one more thing still to come -- a "Celebration Dinner" (something I envisioned being a kind of modern day last supper.)

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the dining room were the champagne bottles -- one on each table. "This is gonna be interesting," I thought, amused by the fact that 98% of the people in the room were abiding by the "ashram diet" and hadn't had anything stronger to drink than a smoothie in the past few years.

Someone led me to my table. It was next to Maharaji's.

Feeling suddenly mid-western, I surveyed the room in a noble attempt to figure out what I was supposed to do -- how I should act. Clearly no one had a clue. Things were just happening. There were no reference points, no sign posts, no correct courses of action -- only the sound of corks popping and a palpable wave of joy.

Good guest that I was, I raised my glass and drank, occasionally sneaking glances at Maharaji like some kind of wide-eyed tourist.

The next thing I know, he's asking if anyone has a good joke. There's the usual self consciousness... the pregnant pause... then someone stands up, mounts the stage, and begins. The joke isn't funny, but it breaks the ice. In a flash, someone else mounts the stage, only this time the joke is a lot better and X-rated, to boot. I look at Maharaji to note his reaction. He is laughing. Of course he's laughing. The joke is funny! A third person gets up. Then a fourth -- each joke raunchier than the one before -- and everybody crazy with laughter.

At the telling of the fifth joke -- fueled by the champagne and three days of being with Maharaji, I shout out a heckle like some kind of wise guy from Brooklyn. Irreverent. Unrehearsed. And way funnier than the joke itself.

"Who said that?" Maharaji asks, looking in my direction.

"I did, Maharaji," I say.

Maharaji laughs and points at me, "One point for Ditkoff!"

Now here is where all logic breaks down... where what I am about to say may seem as strange as my son's fascination for Pokemon. I got completely ecstatic. In a blink of the eye, a major concept of mine had evaporated and I felt infinitely lighter. After years of trying oh so hard -- in oh so many futile ways -- to have my "special," timeless, sacred, holy, cosmic, blissful, meaningful moment with Maharaji, I finally have one -- and it's for heckling an aspiring yogi at a dirty joke contest.

Go figure.

ACT lll (18 years later)
Just six months ago, I read an account of this very same event by someone who was also there -- someone once very close to Maharaji. This particular fellow described the contest accurately. The only thing different, from my recollection, was the conclusion he drew. For him, the contest was inappropriate, off-putting, poorly timed, and in bad taste. For me, it was perfect, divine, liberating, and transcendental -- exactly what was needed for that particular group of people on that particular night, so focused on the "path" that they had forgotten to smell the roses... or accept themselves for simply being human.

Looking back, it's fair to say that I learned more in those few moments about life -- my life -- than I did from years of meditating and reading holy books. A Red Sea parted. For me, it parted. Not for that other guy. He had a different experience. He tells a different story now. Which, of course, is his right, but does not make him right. That's just one of the amazing things about this life. We all see it differently -- based on where we're coming from at any particular moment in time.

The benefit of having a living Master? He makes it infinitely easier to be coming from the place that recognizes how absolutely beautiful this life really is -- in all its profusion of forms. And I thank Maharaji, from the bottom of my heart, for all the extraordinary ways in which he is helping me realize this miraculous experience every single day of my life.

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 07:09 PM | Comments (7)