Subterranean Homesick Blues

Bob Dylan wrote a song called Subterranean Homesick Blues in 1965. Now I knew that song way back when, but I really hadn’t thought of it or listened to it in many years. A few days ago, iTunes created a playlist from the songs in my iTunes library and Subterranean Homesick Blues showed up on the playlist and I became reacquainted with this song.

One particular line jumped out from all the others as I listened to it and for some reason it has been stuck in my head ever since. The line is “…You don’t need a weatherman to tell which way the wind blows…” Well, isn’t that true?

We have ceded our personal power to experts of all kinds and we do it every day. Do you listen to the weather forecast on TV or do you stick you head out the door to see which way the wind blows? Does the priest know your soul better than you know your own? Does the doctor know your body better than you? Does your investment banker know your needs more intimately than you?

Think about this for just a minute. I have been thinking about that line for days now and I think it is very profound when taken from the perspective of our own power, knowledge, or intuition. So many times, I turn to my doctor to tell that I have a cold and that I need to rest. My body told me that, but I didn’t hear. It takes my doctor to tell me what I already knew.

I suppose that the roots of this are in my past. I have struggled with insecurity for years. As a child, I had no personal power. Children generally have no personal power. In a healthy and nurturing environment, as children mature and grow they attain increasing amounts of say so over their personal being. However, in unhealthy atmosphere a child ‘complies to survive’ and never is fully actualized. Complying becomes a way of life. We rely on the priest to save our soul, the banker to tell us what to do with our money, the doctor to keep us healthy and the weatherman to tell us which way the wind blows.

Take back your personal power. Look within and find the answers, they are there all ready, just look and see them.

I traveled all the way to India to meet God. I felt that if I were in a place surrounded by spirit, doing spiritual things, meditating, going to Darshan and sitting on a marble floor for hours at a time, I would meet God face to face. I didn’t meet God, I didn’t have a great spiritual awakening. What I got was a sore back from sitting on the temple floor for hours at a time. It was a little disappointing… until I heard Subterranean Homesick Blues. I don’t need the weatherman to tell which way the wind blows, all I need do is to open the door and look for myself.

All I need do is to look within and God is there. God has always been there. God is my granddaughter’s laugh, in my dog’s eyes, in the clouds, the trees and anything else that I could possibly see. I don’t need a priest, guru, book or anything else. Perhaps a little guidance from a learned source is all I need.
Sometimes I come to a spot on the road that branches off in different directions and I am unsure of which path to follow. In those times, perhaps, a teacher or advisor would be helpful. We all need a little help occasionally. But, no one needs to tell me which path to follow in the end. What I truly need is to listen within my myself, breathe and sense my way, to feel the way. All paths lead to the same place in the end; it is the journey that changes. So, ultimately it doesn’t really make a difference which path I take. I will get there eventually. I will find my way home. I don’t need a weatherman to tell me which way the wind blows.

Reflections of India

I am back from India. It was a difficult and trying journey and no pleasure cruise… that’s for sure. Yesterday I was telling people at hospice about the trip and as I was speaking I realized that I didn’t sound very positive and I’m sure they think that I didn’t have a good time. While that’s true, it wasn’t a pleasure cruise, it was the trip of a lifetime. There was nothing alien or foreign to me. I felt like I was home from the very first moment when I stepped off the plane.

My sense of familiarity could have come because physically India and Israel share similar attributes in architecture, climate, and attitude. But, beyond that, I felt like I had come home. I feel that I have spent many lifetimes in India. There was a sense of karmic debt being paid, especially in Varanasi and on the Ganges. I did a pooja with the help of a priest to honor my ancestors and that small ceremony helped fulfill that debt. I had a sense of closure while it was all happening. However, it was only upon reflection later that I realized that there was a deep sense of completion and a closing of the circle to the entire event.

The Taj Mahal is the most beautiful man made thing I have ever seen. It is pure perfection and inspiration. It is balanced. The marble glows. It is everything that I thought it would be and far beyond. I loved it even though it poured for much of the day.

Varanasi was my favorite part of the trip. Varanasi is crazy and chaotic. I have never seen so much commotion and chaos on the street. Horns are blaring, cows are everywhere, rickshaws, dogs, ox-drawn carts, motorcycles, pedestrians, commerce, trucks and cars… all on a street that is no more than a side street here. At first, I wanted to run back to Delhi, I felt a sense of panic being trapped in this riotous traffic. It took about a day for me to settle down and to realize how incredibly normal this was for everyone around me. I settled in. Soon, I came to enjoy it and to feel a part of it all. Even when Martha and I were almost run over, it seemed like fun.

Indians have a sense of karma that pervades everything. They first and foremost want to do no harm, so if a cow is lying in the middle of the road blocking traffic, everyone finds a way to go around the cow. No one moves the cow. This is where the cow needs to be and they will allow it to have its destiny. If the cow gets killed then it was its karma and the karma of the person that killed it. No one will harm anything else intentionally or out of frustration… it just is as it is. I found this to be Indians most endearing quality. Let it be sums it up.

While in Varanasi we took two boat rides on the Ganges, both in the early morning. One as a tour and one Martha and I just rented the boat and went out. I loved both of them, but especially the one that we took with our lovely boatman, whose name I have forgotten. I may have forgotten his name, but I will never forget him. He was a marvel. His English was poor, but his energy and spirit was perfect. He worked like a horse, when he had to and coasted when it was at all feasible. He took us all the way across the river, which was really hard to do given the breeze and the current. He was playful, splashing Martha when she balked at getting into the water. I would not go in. But, Martha bathed in the water and was blessed.

I loved that boat ride because we were in a part of the river that tourists don’t go. There were only Indians bathing, and being in community with each other. I know we were the anomaly, yet they accepted our presence just as they accept the cow in the road.

The Shiva temple was amazing. Again it was chaos. Worship happens so fast that I found it difficult to garner a sense of spirit in the fray. People flow into the temple, they pour milk over the Shiva Lingam, place flowers, touch the lingam, touch their heads, lips and heart and move on. Fast, fast. Not more than thirty seconds elapsed. To my Western mind that is used to quiet and thoughtful meditation and prayer it seemed more like being hustled and jostled. Indian women can compete with any linebacker in the NFL, they can move mountains if they want to be in the spot that you are in. So, my milk got dumped before it ever made it to the Shiva Lingam, my flowers never hit the mark and I couldn’t understand what the hell was going on anyway. It was just too fast. The deep sense of spirit that I hoped to feel was not to be realized. I never found God there and I was sure I would.

What I learned primarily, is that God is with me no matter where I go. I need look no further than the tree outside my window, in the eagerness of my dog or in the mirror to be in touch with the Divine. Yes, of course, God is in India too. But, I did not need to travel thousands of miles to go look for him, he is here, right now and never leaves. All I need to is to breathe and I am there. Spiritual journeys are journeys into self. Journeys that never need go anywhere. God is with me… always. And God is present in every moment, whether it is sitting in my own backyard or getting pushed around by Indian women that want me out of there way, God is there.

So, India was all that I thought it would be. I found my karmic home. I loved the people and the cows and the chaos. God was with me. But, I love being home too. I feel so blessed to live here. As the astrologer said, ‘You were very saintly in your past life and you earned much good karma for the life you live today.” I feel blessed that my karma is good and that I live the life I live. Like Dorothy said in the Wizard of OZ, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”

That being said, I’m already planning my next trip to India. Next time, Dharmasala and the Himalayas and Jon is coming with me…

Anticipation

Anticipation. Anticipation blocks us from direct experience and keeps us from fully feeling our emotions. This is my lesson today.

I have been anticipating all the trials and difficulties of my trip to India and it has blocked the joy and the excitement I feel about this journey. I am releasing anticipation and I am replacing it with joy and excitement as my time to travel draws near.

Sure there will be difficulties, but that is part of the experience… it is part of the fun of travel; meeting new challenges and finding your way through. It has been my experience that some of the most rewarding and memorable times have been in the middle of a wrong turn or a missed train. It’s part of the fun. Therefore, I am remembering my sense of humor and releasing the thought of difficulties.

I will experience India, in whatever form it takes. I will savor each moment and know that I am blessed.

Almost There

I leave for India in four days. This trip has been in the planning now for about eight months. It is becoming a reality and I have to say I’m terrified. I am afraid of getting sick and being so far from home away from my husband. I’m worried that Martha and I won’t get along or that the trip is too arduous for me and I will look old and foolish. I’m scared to death of the heat, the dirt, the bacteria, and all those people! Billions of people constantly swirling around me. Normally I don’t do very well in crowds; how will I handle India?

I am also afraid of so much holiness, the prevalent and all-inclusive nature of spirit in every aspect of India and daily life. I’m not sure that I am capable of living such an existence. I’m not sure that any American with separation of church and state drilled into our heads from the moment we enter kindergarten is ready for the spiritually that is India.

What happens if I am deeply affected by it all? What if I change? Who will I be if I am no longer me? It really frightens me.

Then there is the practical and sentimental aspect of my fears. I am going to miss my husband. We are constant companions and the thought of being half a world away from him for a month hurts. I will miss him deeply. I know this and I know that I will be counting the days until I come home again no matter how wonderful this trip is And I will miss my daughter. Yes, she is my daughter, but she is far more than that, she is my friend. I trust her with all my secrets (not that I have too many, but I tell her everything.). We have such fun together. She is my angel. Then there is Izzy, my granddaughter; will she remember me when I return? I don’t ever want to see the shyness that she directs towards her other grandmother directed at me. We are buddies and I want it to stay that way always. Izzy is two and she is a wild and crazy woman. I love everything about her. I love how experiential she is, everything is new and exciting. She approaches everything with wild joy and abandon. I hope she never loses those qualities. She is perfect.

Those are my egoic fears and worries about this trip, but then there is the excitement of going. India! Exotic and unlike anything else on this planet. Deeply religious and spiritual. Spirit is steeped in every facet of life. Home of Gandhi and Mother Teresa. Land of monkeys and elephants. Sacred cows and piles of cow dung. The Ganges. The place where Buddha attained enlightenment. Gurus with huge egos and hopefully consciousnesses to match. Bollywood and Aruyeda. Poverty that is unfathomable and yet spirit runs through it all. This is what I want to see and be a part of even for the one short month that I am there. This is why I signed up to go on this voyage. To experience India.

How it will change me I cannot say, but I am sure that I will be changed by this coming month. As soon as I circle around to thoughts of how will I be changed all my fears kick in again and the whole cycle starts again. Therefore, I will be glad when all the thinking will end and the experience begins. India is truly almost mine.

Shimmering Light

Sometimes I wonder if it’s me or them? Well, to be honest, many times I wonder that quite often. How can people be so self-assured? How can anyone know that they are absolutely right? Are they brilliant or just arrogant?

These are the questions that I ask myself all the time. Is it me or is it them? Well, the answer is probably that’s it’s neither or maybe it’s both. It is more than just possible that their position is just empty bravado in a lame attempt to hide the same insecurities that I possess or perhaps, it’s my own insecurities that make them seem so self-assured. Who knows? I don’t, that’s for sure.

Since moving away from ordination, I have no clear picture of what lies ahead. I don’t think I want to marry people, baby blessings seem a little beyond my comfort zone. I am drawn to doing funerals, why I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because when a love one dies the family left behind is vulnerable and I know vulnerable and I would be able to offer comfort from that place. But, beyond doing funerals, I don’t think my ministry lies in that kind direction. I see myself as a teacher of people along the path. But, isn’t that arrogance to think that I actually have something I can teach?

I am in the waiting place. I am waiting for direction and my vision to be made clear. How long I will wait, I do not know. But, I am content to wait for now. Perhaps I will put out a few feelers to see about getting a funeral or two, but I will also sit and listen with all my heart.

I heard God’s call as I sat in the woods the other day. I was surprised to learn that God’s voice isn’t loud like thunder, but rather it was the soft sound of the patter of chipmunk feet on the dirt near the stream. It was the shimmer of light reflected from the stream on the trunk of the tree. It was the dance of the birch leaves in the sun as the breeze stirred. And it was the darkness created by the overhanging boughs that hung precariously over the water’s edge. One little bird was happily jumping into the shadows and back out again, God’s voice was there too.

God speaks to us through these experiences if we are still enough to listen. The other day I listened. I saw God in all I saw. I saw God in me and I realized that whatever I do from this day forward is God’s work. All I need do is to allow myself to abide in God. To surrender and let it be, stop trying to have it all make sense. Ministry is in the little things. It’s in smiling at someone who catches your eye. It’s in holding a dying old woman’s hand and telling her that Jesus loves her and is holding her close. Reminding her that she lived a good life and did the best she could; even when you don’t really know what kind of life she led. It is about kindness.

I may never be a great preacher on a pulpit, or a guru with tons of followers, or even a marrying minister, but I can be kind. And that is the place in which I am waiting.

The God Hole

Emptiness. We fear it. Constantly, we run around and try to fill the empty places; in our homes, in our mind, in our bodies. We smoke to fill it. We drink to fill it. We do drugs to fill it. We shop, work, play endless video games to fill it. Instead of filling this void, we should run to it.

In the emptiness is where God is hiding.

One of my teachers in seminary called it our “God Hole.” I love that. God Hole. It is the way that God communicates with us; it is where we return when we die. It is the space in between our spaces. We all have these empty places, but we fear them. Because we fear the unknown, and in this God hole we know nothing for sure; we are nothing. Can you think of anything that terrifies you more than to be nothing?

In meditation, I try to reach that place all the time, but I loose consciousness before I get there, because if I allow myself to go there, I will see that I am nothing. I am a thought or an idea in the mind of God. I am a manifestation of this thought. Is that what I’m trying to say? I’m not entirely sure, because what I am trying to convey is beyond rational thought and beyond the rational mind.

For many years I have known that if I am struggling with something, like painting, all I need do is to take a nap and the inspiration will come. Come from where? It comes from my God Hole. I have to get out of the way of me, for me to receive this inspiration. My ego, our egos get in the way of our God Hole all the time. Our ego needs to be something, to have autonomy, to make a difference. Our egos enable us to get up in the morning. Without an ego, we would all just sit in bed, if we had a bed. Without an ego we wouldn’t care about anything. Therefore, we need our ego, but, our ego keeps us separate; from each other and from God.

In reality, we can never be separate from God because we are all walking around with this God Hole that keeps us permanently attached to the source of our being. We are never separate from each other either. We are one being. Our God Holes are all connected directly to the Divine. Each of us is playing a part in the name of God.

There seems to be patterns in everything in creation. The veins in a leaf echo the veins in my hands. The cells of my body are like the stars in the universe. Atoms are much like solar systems. Patterns that are successful are repeated and redesigned for different functions. There is a symmetry to the universe, if we understand one pattern then perhaps we might understand more of them. I don’t know, maybe I am just talking through my hat, but it seems to me that if God uses a delivery system like veins in a leaf and then uses a similar delivery system in our bodies, then perhaps there are other delivery system that we might understand.

One pattern that we all share, at least here on earth is the breath. All of life breathes. It is an exchange of air, good air in, bad air out. It’s universal, right? There is a pattern to out breath, much like the waves of the ocean; yet no two waves or breaths are a like. Right now… all of the earth is breath. It is a great wind. The Navajo have a prayer about the breath and the wind. How each has always blown, our ancestor breathed until they died and we have continued their breath. I like that imagery.

We are God. We are the physical manifestation of God. We are connected directly to God through our God Hole. The next time you reach for a bowl of ice cream or spend two hours playing Slingo, ask yourself if you are just filling your God Hole to keep from feeling this void. Next time try to sit with the emptiness and see if you can perceive that small still voice within.

I woke up this morning and the reality that school is all but over and now what hit me like a ton of bricks. I will be ordained in a month. Me a minister, it seems strange and scary to even think about it. Feelings of deep unworthiness cling to me. Their tendrils are in every pore of my being.

My classmates seem to have it all together. Their sails are set and they are going to do great things, but I am trapped in all my old stuff. Isn’t it amazing how you can work and struggle to get past all of this crap and then in the blink of an eye it all comes back to smack you in the face? This morning it seems insane that I am going to be a minister… a minister of what… to whom? My days are filled with caring and cooking for my father. There is so little time for me. I move through my day from one task to the next and it seems that I can only steal a moment or two to do for me. Sometimes a shower is all the pampering I receive.

I haven’t posted for a while because since February I just haven’t had the time. I know that is just an excuse and I am whining, but the truth of it is that life took hold of me and wouldn’t let go. I spent six weeks with my father in the hospital and in a nursing home and then the past month juggling appointments with doctors and visiting nurses passing through all day. It has been busy. The good that has emerged is that we are closer and I have compassion for him now, which I never did. He wasn’t a very good father, he let me hang while my mother treated me so badly. I always resented that. He stood by and did nothing. But, that is the past and I don’t dwell there anymore. He loves me and I love him, and somehow our history just makes it all more complicated and yet more poignant.

In the midst of all my personal drama with my living situation, I managed to volunteer at Hospice and I love working there. I think I will stay for some time. I have a patient that I minister to, Marjory. She is a little old lady, not as old as my father, but far more frail. She is dying. I read the bible to her and I talk of Jesus with her. Each time I go I need to explain who I am and that’s okay. It’s not about me, is it? It’s about her. I love going to her, she gives me peace. I pray that I give her something too. I am going to see her today, I promised that I would read the Sermon On The Mount to her the next time I came.

Beyond my whining and deep feelings of insecurity and unworthiness, which I have come to know as my biggest block to enlightenment, life has been good. Jon is changing jobs, for the better, I hope. The money isn’t quite the same, but hopefully we will gain in peace and more time together. We bought a boat, which will probably end up being an albatross. Projects are not our strong suit, but time and time again, Jon thinks they are. I like where the boat is and we have a great slip, so at least it will be a place to go and enjoy the sunset. I’m glad that he has something to intrigue him.

India is becoming a reality. My visa is on its way. After Mercury is out of retrograde, we are going to purchase the tickets. Martha and I are planning on coming back as enlightened Barbie dolls. We are going to wade in the Ganga at Benares, stay at Sai Baba’s ashram, and meditate in a cave with a dead Hindu saint. How can we not be enlightened? I am terrified, repulsed, excited and thrilled to be going.

So, change is in the air; ordination, boats, jobs, dying people, Mercury is in retrograde. What does it all mean… I haven’t a clue. I know that all I can do is live my life moment to moment. My ministry will unfold as it is meant to unfold. Hospice holds the promise of being something more. Perhaps I will be a dean’s assistant next year, I applied and I think I will be accepted. I want to keep my connection with One Spirit, for me it is a life line to a community that I ordinarily wouldn’t have. I minister to Marjory, and in a fashion, I minister to my father. For now it is enough.