Sorry, No Rituals
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 03:57 PM | Comments (0)
June 22, 2023The Relaunch of PremRawat.com
If you google the word "peace" you will, in less than a second, be presented with 2 billion ways to learn more about it. I'm sure many of them will take you to great places -- informative, engaging, and inspiring articles and websites that dive deeper into this most important topic.
One of those links will take you to PremRawat.com, a newly refreshed and redesigned website that is worth at least a few minutes of your time.
There you will discover a wide variety of videos, podcasts, photos and articles that elaborate on the work and message of the person for whom the website is named -- Prem Rawat -- a man who has dedicated his entire life to helping people connect with a genuine experience of peace within themselves.
Maybe you've heard of him and maybe you haven't. It doesn't matter. If you are interested in self-discovery, joy, love, gratitude, peace and the experience of living fully in the present moment, there's a very good chance you will find his website well worth the visit.
"Be in that beautiful place. Enjoy. Be conscious. Be aware. And take full advantage of the time that you have." - Prem Rawat, Cape Town, South Africa, May 28, 2023
Hear Yourself: How to Find Peace in a Noisy World
Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)
Photo by KOBU Agency on Unsplash
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 07:01 AM | Comments (0)
June 17, 2023Inspiring Cows
"Practice," it has been said, "makes perfect". Practice, indeed, is how human beings translate theory into action. Practice is how any of us get good at anything.
Of course, there are a million of ways to practice. In a group. Alone. In a cave. In a gym. In your mind. Online. Off the wall. With a teacher. Without a teacher. The sky's the limit and even then there are pilots who can help. The following story is all about practice -- a version of it I never imagined I would try.
Here goes:
Some years ago, I was living in a commune on a 600-acre cattle farm in Virginia. We were three couples, two cats, and one child in a five bedroom house. We called ourselves "Ananda Household" (at least that's what it said on our checkbook), ananda being a Hindi word for bliss -- our go to word of the moment because all of us were students of the same teacher who, among other things, was helping us awaken to the source of bliss within ourselves.
Or like, whatever.
Towards that end, once a week, we would have "satsang" in our living room -- "satsang" translating as "company of the truth" which, simply put, was a gathering of inward looking people to share, spontaneously, the timeless, non-denominational wisdom of the soul.
The six of us, inspired as we were, would do our best to advertise these gatherings to our local community, but because our home was 12 miles in the boonies there were many evenings when no one, other than the six of us, would be sitting in that living room.
And while these gatherings were always inspiring, I began to feel like something was missing -- that something being people other than us to share this good news with -- even if my high school English teacher told me never to end a sentence with a preposition.
Not more than a few days after this somber feeling began to arise in me, we got word that one of Prem Rawat's Mahatamas from India needed a place to stay for a week and we were the chosen ones.
Wow! Whoa! Whew! We were psyched -- a chance to host a holy man, someone much further along the path than any of us. Cool!
And so we prepared with great rigor -- spotlessly cleaning our guest room, picking fresh flowers, and buying a whole bunch of Indian spices.
On the day of Mahatmaji's arrival, even though he was tired from his travels, he joined us for dinner and shared some stories from the Mahabharata before turning in for the night.
The next night was satsang and we were thrilled to have, in our midst, a genuine devotee -- someone way more tuned in than any of us -- the real McCoy who, we knew in our bones, would be way more inspiring to a roomful of people than any of us local yokels.
The room was set. The flowers were on the alter. The incense was lit -- me positioned at the front door to escort what I imagined would be about 20 people, arriving a few at a time, into the living room.
No one showed up. No one. Not a single soul. As usual, it was just us -- the six householders (one child asleep) and, tonight, Mahatma-ji, smiling from ear to ear. And while the evening, as I recall, was enjoyable, I couldn't help but feel we had missed an opportunity to fill the room with people likely to have an experience of a lifetime.
Did I mention that no one showed up?
The next morning, Mahatma-ji, sensing my state of mind, invited me to join him for a walk. And so I did. As we strolled the country road, I confessed to feeling disappointed at the lack of "turn out" at last night's gathering.
"What do I do, Mahatma-ji, when no one shows up and I have so much, within me, to share?"
"Talk to the cows," he said, pointing to a field of Herefords to our left.
This was not the answer I was expecting. Talk to the cows? Really? Talk to cows? Giving satsang to animals seemed totally off-the-wall to me, maybe Mahatma-ji's misinterpretation of something he read in a scripture -- but we kept on walking, Mahatma-ji and me, the sound of mooing all around us.
A few days later it was Mahatma-ji's time to leave town and so he vamoosed just a few hours before our nightly satsang in our nightly living room. Guess how many people showed up? None. As in zero. No one.
And so, the next morning, after breakfast, remembering Mahatmaji's advice to me, I went for a walk on the same road we had trekked just days before, cows to the right of me, cows to the left of me, cows everywhere I looked.
Clearing my throat, I sidled up to the fence and let it rip.
"Dear brothers and sisters," I began, "what a beautiful life this is! How fortunate we are to be alive at this precious time. And for what purpose? Why are we here? What is the purpose of life? To know ourselves. To experience the divine self. To feel gratitude for simply breath alone. To find the peace that passes all understanding."
And on and on and on I went.
The cows, it seemed, were enjoying what they heard. Herd! Their tails wagged. Their ears twitched. And some of them walked towards me. I realized course, it was possible that it was just the sound of my voice that animated them, or maybe the fact that anyone at all was standing at the fence -- maybe someone with a carrot or an apple.
Indeed, it was possible, I guess, that I would have gotten the same response from reading the phone book or reciting Canterbury Tales in Middle English. But in that particular moment, none of these thoughts mattered. And why they didn't matter, was because I was experiencing something totally beautiful within me -- something way beyond cow or human psychology.
My heart was opening. My mind was still. And I could feel the beautiful choo choo train of love soaring through me, destination unknown -- not to mention a huge dose of ease, freedom, flow, goodness, gladness, grace, and gratitude.
I was, you might say, practicing -- getting into the zone of letting the spontaneous expression of my inner being come roaring through me -- uninhibited, unannounced, and uncensored. Practicing, yes! Not performing. Not trying. Not impressing. Just practicing -- whether or not a single cow twitched an ear, wagged a tail, or mooed -- most of them staring at me as if I didn't even exist.
PremRawat.com
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Photo #1: Lomig, Unsplash
Photo #2: RookieLuva, Unsplash
Photo #3: Alex Azabache, Unsplash
Photo #4: Jakob Cotton, Unsplash
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 06:25 PM | Comments (1)
June 06, 2023The Name Game
I first heard about Prem Rawat in 1971. He was 13 then and known as "Maharaji." I was 24 and known as "Ditty." A long-haired, seeker of Truth, I was astounded by what this young boy from India had to say and how he said it, stunned by his clarity, wisdom, and ability to engage my attention in such a heart-opening way.
Now it is 52 years later. He is 65 and I am almost 76. I am still astounded by him.
In the early days, I used to refer to him as a "Guru" -- a Hindi word that translates as "the dispeller of darkness and the revealer of light."
I liked that word a lot. It had a nice ring to it and satisfied my need to think of myself as a deep soul on the spiritual path.
But soon I realized that word carried way too much baggage, conjuring up stereotypical images of the East: incense burning, saffron robes, and little red dots on the forehead.
My experience of Prem was none of these. But it didn't matter what I thought. The real deal was how my family, friends and neighbors related to the word and, if they didn't, the word "Guru" had to go. And so it did.
Realizing I needed a better way to refer to him, I moved on to "Master." I liked that word a lot, especially since I experienced Prem as someone with a whole lot of mastery. And besides, I reasoned, the concept of "Master" was known to many people.
Hey, there were Master carpenters, right? And Master musicians. And Master chefs. And Master mechanics, too. Using the word "Master" to describe someone with extraordinary abilities was not hype or a con job. It was both fitting and accurate.
Be that as it may, I noticed that the word sometimes made people uncomfortable. For example, they assumed I was referring to a person who thought he was superior to the average bloke -- someone who wielded mastery over others.
This was not my experience of Prem. No way. Not then. Not now.
But hey, if my choice of the word "Master" created doubt and fear in the minds of others, it was time to let it go -- or at least only use it in the company of people who were not triggered by it.
Which brought me to the word "Teacher" -- a descriptor, which, for most people, was far less polarizing than Guru or Master. Everyone, somewhere along the line, has had a teacher, no?
Then again, for some people, even my closest friends, the word "teacher" carries negative connotations -- old memories of boring Professors or cranky elders giving too much homework.
OK. No "Guru", no "Master", no "Teacher". Hmmm... anything else in the thesaurus?
Well, then, how about "Guide" -- a word that's about as non-threatening as they come -- simply a title for someone who helps you get to your destination. Is that such a bad thing? I don't think so. Unless, of course, it conjures up are images of slick tour guides quoting robotically from prepared scripts and extending their hand in your direction for a tip.
Bye-bye "Guide".
Which brings us, I guess, to the increasingly popular "Friend", or more specifically "The Friend", a phrase the Sufi poet, Rumi, often used to describe Shams of Tabriz, his ___________ (fill in the blank, folks).
Personally speaking, I've always resonated with the word "Friend", not just because I love Rumi's poetry, but because everyone knows how important it is to actually have a friend -- someone you can count on, someone who's there when you need them, someone you are so connected to that even if you don't see that person for 10 years it feels like no time has passed.
Then again, when most people think of "Friend", they usually assume it's someone you have lunch with regularly or text five times a day. Since none of these behaviors come close to describing my relationship with Prem, I guess I'll need to retire that word, as well.
For the past few years, it has become very fashionable to refer to Prem as a "Global Ambassador of Peace." This makes a lot sense to me, especially since his work is global, his message is about peace, and the position he takes is a very respected one. All true, except for the fact that many people associate the word "ambassador" with a political stance and Prem is, in no way, a political person. His message goes far beyond nations, ideologies, and governments.
Most recently, I am hearing the word "educator" or "peace educator" being used to describe Prem.
Hmm... very intriguing.
An educator, as I understand it, is a person who facilitates the process of learning, making it easier for people to acquire knowledge, skills, values, and develop their full potential. And its etymological roots are quite compelling, going all the way back to the 16th century Latin word "educare", meaning "to bring out or lead forth" -- which, for me, describes a huge aspect of Prem Rawat's value -- his ability to bring out, in people, their innate thirst to learn, grow, and experience the best of life.
Could it be, that after 52 years of looking for the perfect noun for Prem I have found it?
For some people, the answer is YES. But for others, the word "educator" is just too mental -- conjuring up an overly intellectual person in a book-lined office thinking about "pedagogy" or government grants. And while, it is true that Prem does have an approach to his work -- his approach is not "pedagogical", not lockstep, formalized, pre-cut and dried. No, his approach is way more organic than that. More emergent, spontaneous, and in-the-moment.
So there you have it. Seven imperfect nouns -- Guru, Master, Teacher, Guide, Friend, Global Ambassador of Peace and Peace Educator -- none of which really describe Prem Rawat.
When it comes right down to it, perhaps Shakespeare said it best: "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
In the end, the words used to describe Prem Rawat are secondary -- descriptors -- but not that which is being described. The menu, not the meal.
What's more important than the words is the impact he is having -- the way that he and the tools of Self-Knowledge he teaches are helping millions of people around the world live fuller, more peaceful and fulfilled lives.
Water? It doesn't matter what you call it. When you're thirsty, you drink.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 07:21 AM | Comments (0)
