Now 76 and increasingly approaching the expected lifespan of an American male, I wonder from time to time what inscription I would want on my tombstone -- something not quite as goofy as WC Fields' ("I'd rather be in Philadelphia"), but very much to the point. And I think I have it. Just two words -- eight and a half times shorter than a haiku, but hopefully as memorable -- at least for the gravedigger who I doubt I'll ever meet. Ready?
"Thank you!"
That's it. Short and sweet. No wasted words. "Thank you!"
]]>The list of who I'd be thanking with those two words would be a long one, indeed: my parents, my sister, Evelyne (my former wife of 29 years), my two astounding kids (Jesse and Mimi), my amazing friends, my coaches, mentors, and teachers, Rumi, Hafiz, Kabir, Rilke, Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, The Beatles, Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen, Pavarotti, Duke Snider, George Carlin, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Buddha, Jesus, Krishna, Hanuman, Muhammed Ali, Martin Luther King and so many more.But the person I'd thank first would be Prem Rawat, my soul's friend, my heart's song, my glorious guide on the path of life.
I met him 52 years ago when I was 24 and he was just 13, but I feel like I've known him forever. Indeed, a single glance from him, a word, or smile has taught me more about life than any book I've ever read.
Why would I thank him first? Because he has shown me (and continues to show me) what comes first, that which is, was, and will be -- the nameless, formless, spacious essence of life -- the place from where gratitude (and everything else) originates.
If I had a mirror in my attic covered with the dust, he'd be the one to blow the dust away so I could see my reflection or, better yet, he'd remind me I had the power to blow the dust away myself.
I thank him for his wisdom and his relentless commitment to do everything in his power to be of service to humanity. I thank him for his stories and the way he tells them. I thank him for his extraordinary ability to shine a light on that which is truly worthy of my attention, care, and love. I thank him for his overflowing kindness. I thank him for his humor. I thank him for showing me what it really means to be alive -- not just exist -- eyes open, mind open, heart open. Indeed, I attribute, to him, the lion's share of my ability to be grateful and to express that gratitude.
His words have comforted me, soothed me, inspired me and brought me back to square one on the chess board of my life. I thank him for his patience, love, listening, resilience, tenacity, presence, and divine irreverence.
There are so many scriptures that have been written, so many poems, and songs of praise that expand on this theme, but what it all comes down to can be summed up in two words: "Thank you!"
So thank you, Prem. Thank you for being who you are and doing what you do, making it so much easier this time around for me to be who I am and do what I do.
PremRawat.com
TimelessToday
TPRF.org
Prem Rawat photo: Courtesy of TimelessToday
]]>If you are a lover of music, life, possibility, aspiration, soulfulness, hope, peace or joy, Stuart Hoffman's new song, "Us All" is most definitely worth a listen.
The vocalist on the song is the very soulful Lisa Frazier -- a powerhouse who has performed or recorded with the following notables: Boz Scaggs, Ziggy Marley, Bobby Womack, Stevie Wonder, Jennifer Lopez, Rick James, Ray Charles, Eddie Murphy, and George Duke.
The song came to Stuart on October 7 -- Day 1 of the Israeli war -- after reading a despairing online post from a dear friend of his.
THE LYRICS
We're lost off course
Need a correction
Too much loss
Of all that's precious
Such a cost.
We're here for a moment
And then we're gone
Can't afford to get our signals crossed.
The scars were imposed
The lies that were told
The trauma that we carry
still takes hold
still takes hold
Please bring your kindness
Please bring your laughter
Please bring your wisdom
O my Lord
The same power... breathes us all
The same power... breathes us all
The same power... breathes us all
The same power... breathes us all
Please bring your kindness
Please bring your laughter
Please bring your wisdom
O my Lord
The same power... breathes us all
The same power... breathes us all
The same power... breathes us all
The same power... breathes us all
This pre-existing force -- tidal, volcanic, and uncontainable -- is the raw energy inside a human being that activates the ancient quest to experience what life is really all about.
And because the full expression of this unquenchable energy can be profoundly uncomfortable and crazy-making, most of us find a thousand ways to mask or distract it.
Bottom line, we end up looking for love in all the wrong places and wonder why the experience our heart aches for all-too-rarely reveals itself.
For want of a better word, let's call this state of questing "thirst" -- a state of being so compelling that no words are needed, no rituals, or proof. When you're thirsty all you want is water. That's it. Memories of past water-drinking experiences will not suffice. Nor will beautiful photographs of water or impeccable explanations of its molecular structure. Only water itself will do.
In the so-called "outer world," it is not difficult for a person to quench their thirst. A turn of a faucet will usually suffice... or proximity to a water fountain... or the town well.
But the thirst I'm talking about is not that easily quenched. The faucet may exist, but not the handle. The well may exist, but the bucket is nowhere in sight. Something deep within us, deeper than the shale of our self-invented life, seeks something beyond time and space -- why wolves howl at the moon, birds sing for no reason, and lovers do not want the morning to come.
]]>And here it is: peace-seeking people should somehow, always be in a state of bliss, oneness, equanimity, and gratitude.
Nice concept, wrong universe.
Yes, of course, all of us are capable of the above -- a most worthy aspiration. But to assume we should always be there (and that there is something wrong with us if we're not) is just a bunch of BS. Even the Dalai Lama gets angry.
Big-time enlightened beings have bad moods and bad days. Shit happens. We are all human beings. And all human beings, no matter how committed they are to experiencing the highest states of consciousness have a tendency to get into their heads from time to time.
This is not a problem. This is life. The problem happens when we think it's a problem and then affect some kind of smiley face, bobblehead doll "beyond it all" persona.
The following story from my own life speaks to this phenomenon.
Two years ago I was invited to be part of a team of people to facilitate online Zoom break out sessions as part of a training program that Prem Rawat was putting together. Our role was a simple one -- to provide a safe haven for participants to express themselves and process what they'd been experiencing after listening to Prem.
The standard protocol for kicking off our weekly meetings was for the coordinator of the project to facilitate a "personal check-in" process -- one that gave each of us a chance, in 30 seconds or less, to let the rest of our teammates know how we were doing.
If you've ever been on a Zoom call, the visual for this should be well-known to you by now -- a few screens of "video thumbnails", along with each person's name, in small type, beneath their image.
At this particular session, I noticed that at the bottom right-hand corner of the screen was Prem Rawat's thumbnail -- a placeholder photo of him and his name. I thought this was a very nice touch and a simple way for everyone on the team to remember who our client really was.
In a way, Prem's photo at the bottom right hand corner of the screen felt like setting a place for Elijah at the Passover table. No one actually expects Elijah to show up, but it is a respectful thing to do and an effective way for everyone to maintain a bigger perspective.
One by one, the project coordinator asked each of us to check in and let the rest of the team know how we were doing. The answers were fairly predictable -- usually something like, "I'm very happy to be here today" or "I'm feeling really grateful" or "I'm so thrilled to be part of this wonderful project."
When it was my turn to respond, my answer surprised me and everyone else.
"I'm feeling cranky," I said -- which was absolutely true, even though I realized it was not the kind of response likely to make my teammates feel all warm and fuzzy.
For some reason, at that specific moment in time, that's exactly how I was feeling. I wasn't feeling blissed out, grateful, happy, appreciative, or peaceful. I was feeling cranky. So that's what I said.
There was a bit of silence after that and then I noticed that the photo thumbnail of Prem at the bottom right hand corner of the Zoom screen was morphing into his actual face. Like the rest of us, he was on the call and, apparently, had been listening to the proceedings for a while.
Noticing this, the facilitator graciously welcomed Prem and gave him the floor.
"Still feeling cranky, Mitch?" was the first thing he said.
"Not at this particular moment," I replied with a laugh.
That moment was a memorable one for me. It confirmed something I had always known in my bones, but didn't always live full out -- that all I needed to do was be myself, that I wasn't here to perform, pretend or be anything I'm not. On the contrary, I'm here to be as real as I am, even if that includes admitting, publicly, my own less-than-ideal state of mind.
Here's the reality: Sometimes I'm blissed out and sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I'm grateful and sometimes I complain. Sometimes I'm savoring each breath and sometimes I'm just blowing my nose.
One of the wonderful things I've learned from my relationship to Prem Rawat over the years is "I am that I am." I don't need to pretend, perform or promote. I don't need to be a model of anything. Too much pressure. Not real.
All I need to do is be myself.
With the practice of Self-Knowledge as my bottom line, I always, eventually, return to my true nature. I may have ups and downs along the way, but I always return to core of my being.
Though my parents tried their best to love me (allowance! grilled cheese! dog!), I was certain I came from someplace else very far away. I felt like an orphan.
It wasn't that I was unhappy. I wasn't. I just felt displaced.
As I grew up and translated my boyish sky-prayers into a more classical spiritual quest, I began to notice a pattern in the books I read. Beyond the jargon and the all-too-common habit of implying that their way was the only way, a central theme was emerging -- the home I was looking for was within me.
My unquenchable thirst to have the experience of arriving was not going to be a matter of traveling to exotic places. It was going to be a matter of finding home inside myself.
]]>Well, of course there is more than one string --
we're talking about balloons,
multiple, not singular.
lighter-than-air-transportation devices.
They may seem to be words, but they are actually balloons.
Go for the ride!
Wherever you end up is the right place to be.
It is! And you are!
Always remember that
and the way butterflies move in a breeze,
and, please tell me, kind madam or sir,
how in the world did butterflies ever get created in the first place
and am I still expected to pay my taxes?
What if I forget my name and wherever I go
gardenias spring up all around me,
hoping as only gardenias can hope,
that one day the one they call the "Master"
will find his way there for no particular reason,
he being completely "of the moment" or perhaps I should say
(and please forgive me if I mess up the translation,
but it goes a little something like this:)
"You were made in the image of God.
You were, you are,
of that you need not have any doubt.
As you are you are."
How great is that!
How simple!
"As you are you are."
I may have to make a t-shirt with those words on it.
Nothing has to change with you!
You don't need to get better
or work smarter or be worthy of anything.
As far as I can tell, you are worthy of EVERYTHING,
though it's always useful to
remember George Carlin's perspective on it:
"If you had everything, where would you put it?"
And now, one last thing before I take my leave:
the best book I've read in quite a while is
Hear Yourself: How to Find Peace in a Noisy World
by Prem Rawat.
So much love! Heaps. Tons. Buckets full.
What Rumi, Hafiz, Mirabai, Kabir, and YOU,
on a good day, are plugged into full-tilt boogy,
walking the high road home to the essence of who you are.
Welcome to the fountain of laughter and tears, my friends,
welcome to remembering and forgetting
and then remembering again,
opening like a lotus
or a clenched fist
or a window.
And with that, dear brothers and sisters,
daughters and brothers, wizards, fools, home run hitters,
flash back Frankies, and little Joey from Brooklyn, I take my leave.
Yo, Joey, how did you find your way into this poem?
Wait, don't tell me. I know why. I really do.
This massive, bodacious love and presence is who and what you are.
How could you be anywhere else?
Welcome Frankie! You da man!
Praise the Lord! And praise the praisers, too!
]]>The point? It was already made. And everyone already understood. Hmmm... I thought about writing THIS story, but then it dawned on me, how presumptuous that would be, how full of paradox, contradiction, Facebook Likes, Tweets, lists of things to do, copy edits, me, cash projections, reviews, complaint, business, and all the other assorted flora and fauna of life AFTER the story needed to be told. So I took out the garbage, washed the dishes, and walked the dog.
This is not available on Amazon, nor will it ever be. But hey, in the past month I cam across a really good book that gets at this feeling in a really beautiful way. Worth a read (even if there is no time).
]]>Here is the six-minute back story of Hear Yourself: How to Find Peace in a Noisy World -- Prem Rawat's wonderful new book.
]]>Ever since I received the gift of Self-Knowledge from Prem Rawat in 1971, I have been trying, in various ways, to communicate something about the experience he reveals, how the practice of what he teaches benefits a person's life, and what his ongoing role is in the grand adventure of "knowing thyself."
As a poet and writer, I have a high regard for the power of language to convey and evoke that which is difficult to translate. But beyond that, I know deep down inside myself that, ultimately, it is not really possible -- not unlike the way my Zen friends describe the phenomenon of trying to speak truth into existence.
"It's like a finger pointing at the moon."
Prem Rawat has spoken of this phenomenon, as well.
]]>"It's like trying to describe the taste of a mango to someone who's never experienced it."Bottom line, words are finite, no matter how they are strung together or how impassioned the writer or speaker may be at any given moment in time. The menu is not the food. The finger is not the moon.
When it comes right down to it, I take my cue from the Chinese sage, Lao Tzu who once said: "Those who know don't speak. Those who speak don't know.
Hmm... a most provocative quote, indeed. And yet... drum roll please... Lao Tzu SPOKE this unspeakable truth. So... we can either conclude that the illustrious Mr. Tzu didn't know anything about the truth (because he spoke) OR he spoke, anyway, because there was something deep inside of him that needed to be said, no matter how paradoxical or imperfect his expression was.
Inspired by his choice and the undeniable fact that a finger pointing to the moon is better than no finger at all, I am going to take one more whack at this impossible task.
In other words, I am going to take a few leaps, using words as springboards, catalysts, and approximations.
What does enjoying the gift of Self-Knowledge that Prem Rawat reveals feel like?
Like coming home... like being on home base in a game of tag... like landing on Free Parking in Monopoly... like the bridge over troubled waters... like the trail of rice Hansel and Gretel left behind to find their way out of the forest... like Christmas morning... like an unexpected snow day... like finally finding love after looking for it in all the wrong places... like a sanctuary city for all of the refugees inside you... like realizing the promised land is (and has always been) beneath your feet... like being happy for no reason... like falling in love with life itself.
Catch my drift? I hope so.
Of course, each of the above figures of speech are imperfect. Every one of them is flawed.
For the moment, look at it this way: there is no perfect perfume or cologne in the world, but a really evocative scent will move you across the room to connect with the person who is wearing it -- or, at least, LOOK their way.
If any of the preceding has piqued your interest, I invite you to follow the scent wherever it may lead you. Towards that end, I have included links, below, to some Prem-related websites.
Sniff around if you'd like.
Hear Yourself: Prem's New York Times bestselling book
Prem's Official YouTube Channel
PremRawat.com
TimelessToday
TPRF.org
Photo: Courtesy of TimelessToday
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