It's All About Love
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 09:02 PM | Comments (0)
October 21, 2008Falling in Love?
There's a phrase in the English language that makes no sense to me even though I've used it hundreds of times: "Falling in love."
Falling? Really?
Certainly there must be a better way to describe one of the sweetest feelings a human being can have. Falling isn't exactly the word we associate with great experiences.
The stock market falls. The temperature falls. Civilizations fall. Adam fell from grace. Nobody in their right mind really wants to fall.
Falling is all about coming down, descending.
Love, on the other hand, is an elevation, a rising, a being uplifted.
Then again, if you stop to think about it, the phrase "falling in love" makes some sense -- because the act of falling ends in "hitting bottom."
The phenomenon is all too recognizable. You meet someone special. Your heart opens. You're flying, you're free, you're feeling no pain -- not unlike the feeling of weightlessness that comes from falling.
Eventually, however, the falling ends. You land. Hard. The object of your devotion, proves less than unconditional. Their attentions drift. Their flaws become apparent. And so begins the painful process of falling out of love.
But it doesn't have to be that way.
There IS a love that is unconditional. There is a love that only gets better with time -- a love that neither disappoints or disillusions.
Human beings have been searching for this love from the beginning of time.
That's what Maharaji talks about. And that's what he reveals to those who are truly thirst to experience it.
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October 19, 2008Love in 60 Seconds
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October 17, 2008The One For Whom It All Makes Sense
I have written a thousand poems for you
that have never left my room.
They fill the pages of notebooks stacked high on a shelf
no one can reach.
Orphans they are, beggars afraid
they are not noble enough for the King,
would never make it past the guards.
I make a vain attempt to dress them up,
disguise their ridiculous origins,
but still they smell bad.
There are times, late at night, however,
when they think I'm asleep,
I can almost hear them talking to each other,
conjuring ways to make it to your court.
Oh, the arguments they have! The barroom brawls!
Some of them actually think a shower and a shave
is all they need.
Others insist on practicing, all night long,
the perfect way of greeting you.
There is much to be said for these backroom bards,
these arm wrestling vagrants from another world.
Indeed, if I was dead,
my ambitious biographer, after paying his respects
and asking permission of my dear, sweet wife,
would borrow them just long enough to search for pearls
and find the perfect turn of phrase, the verse,
the sudden storm of brilliance
even my harshest critics would have to praise.
He'd think of clever titles for the tome,
describing, in his carefully written way,
the "man who left his muse too soon"
or some such thing that might make you wonder
why I never gave these poems to you --
the one for whom it all makes sense even when it doesn't.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 08:29 PM | Comments (0)
October 03, 2008Some Might Call It Dancing
Some might call it dancing,
I call it stumbling closer to God,
the unrehearsed
falling forward into love
as if the world was tipped.
Operatic in my cells,
lunatic for life,
I am taken to the place
where dancing is
infinitely less about movement than being moved --
for when the world is tipped
and we, drunk to our eyes
in love's ballet,
are willing,
there is nothing not dance,
no one not dancer,
no place not stage,
no breath not a standing ovation before God.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:07 PM | Comments (0)
September 30, 2008Thirst Quench Thirst
Hello... You can hear nothing but the sound of my voice.
You are lovingly placing your cursor over the hotlinked phrase below, clicking once and buying at least one copy of my new book of poetry, Thirst Quench Thirst.
Do not concern yourself about whether or not you actually like poetry, read poetry, or have ever heard of me. Those concerns, while certainly understandable, are beside the point. Sometimes you just need to trust your instincts. Like now, for instance.
Some of the poems in this blog are excerpted from the book, so if you're still not sure, simply scroll around and read.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention, the book is only $15.00. At 72 pages, that's only $20.8 cents a page (1/18th the cost of a Starbuck's Frappucino). Such a deal!
Still need proof it's worth the money? Click below and check out the reviews:
Thirst, Quench Thirst evokes a memory of the deepest longings of the soul. Reading Mitch's poetry reminds me of what I already know, but often forget." -- Joan Apter
"This poetry has touched the deepest recesses of my heart." -- Dermott Philpott
"Mitch's poetry touches a universal human longing; the ache for internal connection to the divine. He speaks in a personal, simple, accessible way about things that are ancient and deep." -- Erika Andersen
"Most great love poetry baffles the mind, but delights the heart. And great love poetry cannot be written without great love. Mitch Ditkoff's poems are intoxicating." -- John Adorney
"This is the kind of nourishment that penetrates to the core of Divine Love, and if deeply imbibed, its sweet nectar can be savored for a lifetime." -- Jamie Delay
"Mitch mixed the most profound -- almost indescribable -- with the kind of simplicity that somehow manages to capture a feeling. Lovely stuff!" -- Candice Wilmore
"This book of poetry, delightful and charming, takes me right to the heart of the matter gently, often with wonderful humor! I read and re-read these poems just to take the ride." -- Kim Greene
"Not bad, but buy this book anyway so I can get a higher allowance." -- Jesse Pouget Ditkoff
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 05:23 PM | Comments (0)
September 24, 2008The Temple of Your Heart
I just came across these inspiring words from Maharaji on innerlink.tv. A timeless message, indeed...
"Look in you. Look in your heart. And you will find the truest essence of your existence. Look within you and you will find the most beautiful waters. Look within you and you will find your solutions. Look within you and you will find your answers. Answers to which you don't even have questions to yet.
The holiest of all scriptures that ever will be, will be in the temple of your heart."
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 12:11 PM | Comments (1)
September 17, 2008The One Minute Seeker
In days gone by, classic "seekers" had to endure a ton of trials and tribulations to find what they were looking for. They walked across deserts. They fasted. They hunted for the One in faraway places.
No more. Those days are over. The game has changed. Things have heated up, big time.
Now, that which you are looking for is looking for you. Your inner questing for something timeless, pure, and full of love has been responded to.
Really.
Click here to find out more.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 10:01 AM | Comments (0)
September 11, 2008What You've Liked So Far...
Since the launching of this blog on April 1, 2008, I've posted 168 items that have been viewed thousands of times. Of these, ten have risen to the top as the most viewed. Here they are:
1. When You Walk Into the Room
4. Home Base
7. This Thirst
10. Someone to Call
If you have other favorite postings or would like me to address specific topics not yet addressed in this blog, please let me know. Your feedback helps. Thanks!
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 12:38 PM | Comments (0)
August 15, 2008At the Threshold
A few years ago I found myself standing in my closet, madly searching for clean clothes in a last minute attempt to pack before yet another business trip, when I noticed my 4-year old son standing at the entrance. In one hand, he held a small blue wand, in the other -- a plastic bottle of soapy water. "Dada," he said, looking up at me, his eyes wide open, "do you have time to catch my bubbles?"
Time? It stopped. And so did I. At that moment, it suddenly made no difference whether or not I caught my plane -- I could barely catch my breath. The only thing that existed was him and that soulful look of longing in his eyes.
For the next ten minutes, all we did was play -- him blowing bubbles and laughing. Me catching and laughing, too. His need was completely satisfied. His need for connection. His need for love. His need for knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that absolutely everything was perfect just the way it was.
He is 13 now. His bubbles are digital. But his need is still the same. And so is mine -- and yours, I would venture to say. Scratch the surface of our differences, remove the cultural masks, and all of us -- regardless of age, religion, politics, gender, or astrological sign -- are seeking the same thing.
And this "thing" is a feeling -- a feeling of contentment, a feeling of peace, a feeling of deep freedom, fearlessness, and joy. Spiritual practitioners have been attempting to name this feeling for centuries, but ultimately it doesn't matter what it's called.
This sweetness is the place all journeys end. My son's took him across the living room to the threshold of a closet. Yours will take you other places. But no matter where it takes you, one thing is for sure -- what's moving you has moved millions of others since the beginning of time. Yours is an ancient quest. Primal. Tidal. Pure. As basic as breath itself.
For the moment, let's call this driving force "thirst" -- the innate quest each of us has for meaning, love, and fulfillment. Why poets wait beneath a moon for words. What dancers feel before they leap. Why birds fly halfway around the world to the place where they were born.
This thirst is not the same thing as "desire." Desire is wanting what you don't have. Thirst is wanting want you do. Desire assumes the emptiness you feel can be filled by getting -- as if the world was a giant puzzle and all you needed were the pieces. Thirst assumes nothing. It's all about being -- not getting or having.
The good news? You don't have to go to the Himalayas to find what you're looking for. You can start today, wherever you are. The pilgrimage you need to take is actually quite short -- merely the distance between your head and your heart. That's the so-called path.
Your guide on this journey? Thirst. All you need to do is feel it. And if you don't, then at least want to feel it. And if you still don't, then at least want to want to feel it.
Pretty simple, huh?
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 06:56 PM | Comments (1)
August 10, 2008The Gift
The gift I bought for you today
is not inside the box.
It's in the opening.
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August 02, 2008Remember this Feeling?
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July 30, 2008A Thimble's Worth
People ask me what it was like
being with Maharaji five days in a row.
Here's what I tell them:
It was like spinning around in a monsoon, thimble in hand,
trying to catch the rain.
Every time I noticed my thimble was full,
I opened my mouth to sing,
but my mouth filled up with water.
I gulped, I drank,
I bailed my boat of joy.
Somehow,
in between the tidal waves of love
and my odd little habit of trying to understand
what in the world was going on,
I heard what he said:
"Get wet! Get wet!"
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 10:18 PM | Comments (0)
July 29, 2008There's a Saint Louis, Missouri... Why Not a Saint Francis?
If you happen to be feeling overwhelmed at the moment, unappreciated, neglected, ignored, unloved, unsettled, diminished, disappointed, disillusioned, disgruntled, or just plain dissed, the following words from Saint Francis -- spoken over 800 years ago -- may be just what the doctor ordered.
By the way, you don't have to be a saint to get the value. Just a human being.
THE SAINT FRANCIS PRAYER
"O Lord, make me an instrument of Thy Peace!
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is discord, harmony;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light, and
Where there is sorrow, joy.
Oh Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life."
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 09:13 PM | Comments (1)
July 28, 2008A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words
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July 05, 2008Give Everything You Have
Give everything you have,
and after you have given,
give what's left.
After you give what's left,
give what remains.
After giving that,
give the feeling of having given.
After giving the feeling
of having given,
give what you get
for having given.
Then give again,
never stopping, always giving.
And should it come to pass that you forget,
forgive yourself immediately.
Then begin again,
giving everything you have,
and after you have given,
give what's left.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 08:41 PM | Comments (0)
June 29, 2008HEART OF THE MATTER Readers Chime In!
On June 18th I posted my "34 Reasons Why I Like Being With Maharaji."
At the end of the list, I invited Heart of the Matter readers to add their own reasons -- why they like being with Maharaji. Nine people responded.
Thanks!
Click the link below to see what was added to the original list...
WHY YOU LIKE BEING WITH MAHARAJI
35. I always leave loving myself a little more.
36. I feel my heart come alive.
37. I wake up from the core of my being.
38. I feel like the luckiest person on earth.
39. I realize how much I've missed him.
40. I forget about everything I've missed out on.
41. The silence within me is breathtaking.
42. I get cleansed of the dirt of the mind.
43. I get to laugh a lot.
44. I get to spend some time with the best friend I will ever have.
45. I am in awe at consciousness and clarity.
46. Feeling unconditional love.
47. Feeling in my heart what is divine.
48. Feeling the Master's grace and bliss.
49. Even my physical pain goes away.
50. Feeling how, in our hearts, we're all the same.
51. I am transported back into the ocean of joy, love, and strength dwelling within me. Fearlessness presides as magic, filled with gratitude, resumes as my guide.
52. Magic fills the air and my heart and the hearts of others! I love seeing the Light in their eyes and the smiles on their beatific faces!
53. It's incredibly great being around a lot of other people who are also feeling 1-52.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 07:11 PM | Comments (2)
June 28, 2008A Stroke of Insight
This 20 minute video is extraordinary. It's the story of a brain scientist, Jill Bolte Taylor, who had a severe stroke and, in the process, experienced the true essence of who she was. She makes a compelling case for the choice we all have -- separateness or unity, struggle or peace. Well worth watching. In the words of an old song whose name escapes me at the moment, "You are not your body, you are not your mind..."
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 02:46 AM | Comments (1)
June 27, 2008This Kid Has Not Yet Memorized His Social Security Number, Nor Does He Have Any Problems. Ahhh! Freshly Falling Snow!
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 10:06 PM | Comments (1)
June 21, 2008May I Stay Here Forever
May I stay here forever
in this perfect place of peace with you --
the sacred space between in breath and out,
the final coming home,
timeless moment before the need
for anything has risen,
Buddha enjoying his late afternoon nap
with no one around
to extract any meaning from it.
First, there is a breath,
and then, there is a second.
This is how I begin my
long walk with you by the water's edge,
cool white sand beneath both our feet.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:41 AM | Comments (0)
June 10, 200834 Reasons Why I Like Being with Maharaji
This past weekend I attended a two-day event with Maharaji at the Palace Theater in Albany, NY. As always, I enjoyed the experience immensely.
On the way home, I started thinking about why, specifically, I enjoy being with him as much as I do -- and how I might describe these benefits to others, especially those intrigued by Maharaji's message, but not totally sure if it's really for them.
Well... at the risk of trying to explain the unexplainable, here goes:
34 Reasons Why I Like Being with Maharaji
1. I breathe more deeply
2. It becomes very easy to savor every moment
3. I stop judging myself and everyone else
4. Time slows down
5. I listen from a still place inside me
6. I feel like I'm dancing when I walk -- or at least, gliding
7. I laugh uncontrollably
8. I cry tears of joy
9. I stop worrying
10. I like what I see when I look in the mirror
11. I have a lot more fun than usual
12. I experience timelessness
13. Everything seems perfect just the way it is
14. I let go of being self-conscious
15. I feel like I'm being massaged from the inside out
16. I move in tune with a hidden music
17. I see how peace is possible for the entire planet
18. I feel like he's talking just to me
19. I am grateful for everything
20. I want to serve
21. I feel whole and complete
22. I feel a vast spaciousness
23. I live in the present moment
24. Everything is profoundly simple
25. I rededicate myself to the practice of Knowledge
26. I stop trying to improve myself
27. I lose my need to gain anyone's approval
28. I am content
29. I come from my heart, not my head
30. Life feels like a party
31. I let things come to me -- and they do
32. I feel more authentic
33. I realize I have no problems
34. I feel like I'm totally home
PS: Feel free to add to this list by posting a comment -- your own "reasons" why it's good being with Maharaji.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 08:56 AM | Comments (8)
June 03, 2008The Book I Wanted to Buy My Mother
For many years I wanted to buy a book for my mother -- a book that would explain everything... what I hadn't or couldn't explain since I had been old enough to notice my mother wasn't all that happy and, Lord knows, I wanted my mother to be happy and if not "happy" per se, then at least aware of what it was that made me, her son, happy -- the "thing" that for so many years she thought was a phase I was going through and, even worse, some kind of heartless rejection of her and her way of life.
Yes, I wanted to buy my mother a book that would explain it all -- the whole "New Age thing," the whole "Guru thing," the whole "it's OK that I don't eat your veal parmagiana any more because I'm a vegetarian thing." Somebody must have written it. Somebody must have noticed the market niche of "mothers over 60 who worry why their high performing sons have gone spiritual."
And so, I went looking for this book. Like some people look for God. And though I never found it, I did find some reasonable facsimiles. Cleverly titled books displayed by the check out counter, conceived by marketing geniuses who somehow knew my need -- the need a son has to make his mother smile and nod her head approvingly. The book that would keep my mother company during those long nights when her husband was working late and her children were asleep and there was nothing good on TV. The ultimate self-help book that would remove her worries, her doubts, and her exponentially growing fears of thinking her son had gone off the deep end for "receiving Knowledge" from that young boy from India.
I wanted my mother to know how beautiful life was and how simple it could be to experience that beauty. I wanted her to know there was something timeless within her, something beyond the stress of aging and the clipping of coupons. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted to buy my mother a book that, like the tooth fairy, would deliver some proof that love was the name of the game... and that (bite your tongue and spit three times) the act of "receiving Knowledge" from Maharaji was as natural and healthy as chicken soup.
A year ago my mother died from a four-year bout with emphysema. During my six-day stay with my father after the funeral, I discovered the books I had given her all these past years. Most of them had never been opened. Like some strange mix of Stonehenge rubble, they lay in piles all around the house... on her night table, on her desk, stuffed behind cookbooks, in the garage. Some, when you opened them, still had that new book crackling sound. All of them had this fortune cookie like quality -- like no matter what page you turned to, some kind of bite sized wisdom was waiting.
I don't think I was sad she didn't read them. Just disappointed. Or maybe it was more like resignation -- the kind teenagers feel when they realize their parents just don't get it.
Looking back, I realize now that no book would have been sufficient to have given my mother -- even if she lived long enough to read the book that I will eventually write. No. I wanted her to have the experience the books were describing, not the description of the experience. As my teacher, Maharaji, has said many times, if you are thirsty, you need water to drink, not the description of water.
Ultimately, that's what Maharaji's offer is all about: helping people find the water -- the naturally occurring well of well-being inside us all. It's something my dear, sweet, canasta playing, veal parmagiana making mother would have definitely appreciated.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 07:53 AM | Comments (0)
June 02, 2008Long Before Words
Being of the Jewish persuasion, I'm not exactly the kind of person given to confession, but allow me the ecumenical luxury of confessing at least one thing in this first paragraph of what may well turn out to be the Mahabharata of blog postings:
Writing about Maharaji is not easy.
It's not easy for a few reasons. First off, what I want to say existed long before words -- long before nouns and verbs and the leaky vessels we construct to float our shaky boats of babble. Secondly, words are approximations of the real thing at best. Like menus, they indicate something's cooking in the kitchen, but they are are not the food itself. And thirdly, the dog ate my homework.
I don't know how it works, but there are decades of my life I can barely remember, but seconds with Maharaji that remain a vast eternity, indelibly impressed on my heart like some kind of rock 'n roll Rosetta stone.
I never laugh so hard or cry so long as when I'm in his company. I never feel so good.
The first time I heard about Maharaji, I was both ecstatic and afraid -- ecstatic at the thought I might finally experience what I'd been born for -- afraid that somehow, grand impostor that I was, I would be the only person on the face of the Earth not to get it.
Forget it. I got it.
Yes, that moment happened -- the moment of ooooooh -- the moment of aaaaaah -- the moment of finally coming into my own after years of imagining my own was someplace far away -- in a forest, cave, or future lifetime.
What has he taught me? How to wake up -- and stay awake. How to appreciate. How to feel.
What Maharaji offers is not so much a teaching as it is transportation to the place we've either been seeking our entire life or have given up on long ago -- the place of no judgment, the place of no doubt, the place of no worry, no fear, no problem.
Here! The place of remembering. And what we remember here is love -- plain and simple.
For love is the name of the game, no matter how we play it.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 09:46 PM | Comments (0)
May 20, 2008The 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 (1)
April 29, 2008Time Out for Love
Ta da! Introducing Jesse (13) and Mimi (11), my two kids.
When Jesse was four, I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. "Everything!" he replied, without missing a beat. And then there was the time when Mimi mounted the living room table, raised both hands high overhead and declared, as if kicking off some kind of invisible Olympic ceremony: "Babies... and gentlemen!"
When it snows, they think snow angels. I think shovel.
Thomas Edison had it right: "The greatest invention in the world is the mind of a child."
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 07:44 AM | Comments (0)
February 17, 2008Watercolor
Today I wrote the most beautiful poem in the world,
something so pure I wouldn't mind dying --
the perfect song of praise
hewn from the dark forest of my secret heart.
Not a wasted word it was,
rhythmic, elegant, and holy,
poetry for the ages,
why sages dance,
timeless in its pauses,
with a long white beard and a thousand Santa Clauses
ringing their bells for love.
Yes, I wrote this poem today
or rather, it wrote me,
flooding through my body
onto a singular white page,
which I, amazed at having said it all
and having signed my name,
left, for a moment, on my favorite chair
beneath the willow tree,
then turned inside again and took my leave
to celebrate this unexpected visitation of my muse
by listening, with great respect,
to Mozart in the living room.
I did not hear the rain.
Not a single drop.
It was only later, after dinner, I discovered
the many ways ink drips down a white page
in a sudden, summer shower.
I could see, I think, small patches of blue,
a cloud, a flower, a silhouette,
perhaps a word or two,
my perfect poem now watercolor --
the many colors of my love for you.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 10:32 PM | Comments (0)
February 05, 2008The Big Game
A few weeks ago, I watched the NY Giants beat the Green Bay Packers 23-20 in an NFL championship football game. I watched it with eight friends. As always, we had a fantastic time -- an experience that our wives (no matter how wonderful they may be) have never been able to fathom. Our viewing behavior, to them, is a merely a parody of the American male: two-dimensional, woefully predictable, and absurd.
That assessment, however, was not my experience as I watched the BIG GAME. No way. On the contrary, my experience was noble, ecstatic, tribal, and divine. Beyond the pretzels, popcorn, chips, and beer something else was happening.
At the risk of making a mountain out of a football game, allow me to share a few observations about the experience and, by extension, the experience of millions of men huddled together before the Big Game. In that sacred act of viewing, NOTHING ELSE WAS HAPPENING! Zero. Nada. Zilch. No work. No bills. No back taxes. No car repairs. No war in Iraq. No recession. No primaries. No relationship issues. No cholesterol. No this and no that. Only THE GAME. Pure immersion it was. Spontaneous expression. Presence. Unbridled emotion. Liberated laughter. And the kind of concentration most yogis would gladly trade their third eye for.
What, you may ask, has any of this to do with love, longing, and letting go -- the supposed topic of this supposed blog? Plenty. The state of mind (no, make that state of being), of the BIG GAME-watching, pretzel-munching men noted in the paragraphs above is exactly the state of being required of anyone wanting to have even the slightest chance of experiencing something glorious.
OK. Let's go to the slow motion, video replay of that last sentence: I'm talking focus, friends. I'm talking compelling goal. I'm talking feeling, humor, fun. The experience of uncensored delight. And the realization that anything is possible.
Please don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about the common garden variety trance experience induced by watching TV or a movie. No. I'm talking about the BIG GAME. The "All In" moment. The Full Monte. The No Turning Back. The This Is It. The There's No Tomorrow. And all of it sprinkled with a healthy dose of pepperoni and celebration even before anyone knows the final score.
Yes, I admit, the eight of us didn't deliver anything as a result of watching the BIG GAME -- no output, no product, no proof that we had used our time well. But so what? When you're eating chips and experiencing the Unified Field of Consciousness on the day the Lord rested and time stops as your team huddles in the freezing cold, against all odds, to gather together one more time, focused on the goal and absolutely free of constraint, doubt, and delusion, what is there left to say except:
Giants 23, Packers 20. (And in overtime, yet!)
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 10:09 PM | Comments (0)
