Self-Help

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Have you loved your Heart this day?
Held it like a tender Child,
Beheld pure Innocence at play,
Shared Its laughter, bold yet mild?

Have you turned your eyes within?
Seeing Goodness spread Its wings,
Breathing deep the cool, soft Wind,
Thanking Love for all good things?

Have you felt Her Lotus Hands
Carress the Child who dwells within,
Bathing It in Amrit sweet,
That flows as joy from Love’s Ocean?

Have you loved your Heart this day?
Have you sung Its Song of Bliss?

Take this moment now to pray
That we may all now share in This.

- Edward Saugstad

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I was visiting friends the other day. Their daughter, who I know since babyhood, just graduated from high school. She is now tall and smart, but just as much a free-spirited child as she always was. She has always nurtured her spiritual ascent, meditating regularly to enjoy the daily inner clearing and centering effect that this inbuilt connection, this sahaja yoga, has on her. Her classmates never showed any particular interest in her. But on the last day of classes, she was approached by the other girls who had been shocked to hear that she was not going with them on the graduation field trip. She was moved to tears when they started crying with dismay at the prospect of never seeing her again. They probably didn’t know themselves why they were so overwhelmed with emotion at this loss. The subtle vibrations that emit from such a person, like a comforting, familiar fragrance, sooth the energy centers and channels in others. This is not a theory, but a well documented phenomena which has been occurring with increasing frequency. I remember when another born-realized toddler made friends with an elderly lady on a return flight from India. Leaning against her knees, he sweetly smiled up into her face, radiating joy and thoughtless awareness. Then he played nearby, sometimes involving her in his games. By the end of the journey, the woman was beside herself with mirth. As they wheeled her from the plane, she was heard to exclaim, “I don’t know what has come over me. I feel so good!”

Such is the nature of the higher state we are approaching – a state of boundless benevolence that benefits everyone, regardless of race, age or social class. Its range of influence is limited by only one factor: human free will. A person with an honest and humble desire to attain freedom from blinding conditionings and misleading ambitions – one who feels, or at least hopes, that there is something more to life than what we’ve known so far – is destined to attain this treasure. It’s easy to reach, but sometimes a challenge to maintain in this chaotic world. At work and school we have to engage our brains in mundane, and often frustrating, routine. And the landslides of thoughts that bury our attention don’t vanish of their own accord when we come home to rest*. This key to freedom from random mental chatter is only ours to use when it once rises from its hiding place at the base of the spine to open the highest door at the top of the head. With minimal daily effort of the newly enlightened attention, you can permanently escape the burdens of the past and future, and settle into the playful present. If this is such a universal principal, why don’t we learn it in school and practice it in the workplace, you might justly ask. This knowledge and technique is now being implemented in many such institutions, but you know what they said about the early inventions of radio and television (and the later innovation of Apple digital devices): amazing, but will they ever be accepted into common use? Sometimes we humans stick to the old familiar and try to ignore the improvements we could embrace. May the essential joy and inner peace become the familiar that we get hooked on, leaving behind the dead-weight and noise that holds us down. Absolute freedom is just a breath away.

(*In sleep we can step out of this mental traffic, but the third state, that of meditation, is by far more deeply nurturing and liberating, in a permanent way.)

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In the morning I was down near the creek. I suddenly heard a deep, dangerous sound like a thunder clap rising out of the earth. I stood still and peered in the direction from which it came. As I watched, just eight or nine meters upstream from where I stood, rooted to the spot, an eighty year old cherry tree cracked in the middle of its wide trunk, and came ripping and crashing down onto my bank of the small river. Then all was silent and sunny again. Although it was rather a sad and shocking sight to see this old, proud member of the forest lying there, fatally broken, never to enjoy the water in her roots and sun and birds in her branches again, I understood that nature had run her course and that the saplings sprouting out of the rich earth nearby would rise up to take her place.

The same is true in the world of humans. It’s not a shame to pass away and be born again as something higher – someone richer in love and experience – but it is regrettable to shatter one’s inner foundations through frivolous free will, thereby scarring the face of future possibilities.

I recently read a reader’s short statement in a city newspaper, written by a simple, sensible woman, pleading for a move to balanced sexual relations between human beings in our modern society. It was a refreshing plea. We tend to be a society of addicts. Whatever feels good is used and abused to extremes until – like a drug whose effects we numb to, forcing us to take more to feel it – it dominates our senses and our true freedom. I imagine that this concerned citizen caught a distinct glimpse of this break down of common sense, and wondered why two people united in mutual, collectively sanctioned love, could not share this sacred and magical experience privately, without hearing and seeing the topic advertised around every corner like a circus event. Not all that is natural and personal should be hung out on your front door. There is sublime dignity, and there are deep, natural guidelines to a thriving existence, rooted inside each of us.

Back in the early twentieth century, someone* came up with an absurd, twisted theory about sexual feelings between children and their parents (recently exposed as being unfounded) and certain followers of this concept, certain of their cause in making sex an open forum (in effect, watering down the potency of this special, intimate act) shouted from the roof tops that, because there are the nazi-like, or old-fashioned minded who try to repress us in natural expression, we must run full speed in the other direction to avoid disaster. The individual and collective damage done in such a misguided venture is mostly subtle, but there appear obvious signs of weakness and decline which we tend to ignore. We, as a race, are very slow learners.

It’s time to adjust to the center and rebuild our inner foundations. The experiences of the left and the right extremes are sensational, but not sustainable, and certainly not constructive in the long term. Maybe we’re conditioned now by politics, believing that the ‘center‘ represents a sterile, diplomatic void where nothing concrete can be achieved. The inner center is actually the source of power and creativity. It is the eternal present, abundant in joy and resonant experience. It is built into our subtle beings, and easily accessible through spontaneous self-realization. There springs the love and innocence that make sex, and all other tender exchanges in a dedicated relationship, fulfilling.

Okay, we’ve tried all the cheap extremes. Now let’s get to the potent essence.

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(*One of his students, Carl Jung, went on to discover more realistic and helpful facts about the human psyche.)

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God dreamed,
And in Her dreams She saw
The Perfect Form
To reveal Her Love:

In soft
And tender, rosy limbs;
In gentle, curious,
Tickling buds;

In plump
And soothing curves that glow
With generous, happiest
Harmony;

With bright
Caressing, sunny eyes,
And ears to hear
What’s pure and dear;

With tiny,
Shiny lips and tongue
Which taste and sing
And breathe sweetness.

Into
One simplest, gracious Form,
The Best from God
Was humbly born.

And with
Each murmur, smile and wink,
The Mother’s Heart
Did bound and leap!

With each
Fumbling, curious grasp,
The Mother’s Voice
Was heard to laugh!

And when
That Child was sleeping sound,
The Mother’s tears
Of Joy ran down . . .

No flower,
No hill, nor moonlit sea
Can match that deep
Serenity.

Those soft
Eyelids, so calm in sleep,
Do lull to peace
The whole world’s grief,

As, cool
And clear, comes from Above,
That heartfelt Sigh
Of Mother’s Love.

– e. e. saugstad, 1996

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Thirty-five summers ago, at the neither-here-nor-there age of fourteen, I picked up my bongos, stuck out my thumb, and followed the long-haired trail of freedom through Western Canada. My middle-class traveling companions and I ended up in the middle of a hippy community in a public park in central British Columbia. One sultry evening, a long, cool black man showed up introducing himself as John Lee Hooker’s brother – they were in town for an upcoming concert. He took out his guitar and played to the awestruck gathering. Unfortunately, I sat down nearby and pounded on my bongos. Despite the gentleman’s encouraging smiles in my direction, my wine-drenched mind just wouldn’t allow me to keep pace. (The following morning, an acutely annoyed banjo-playing hippy, who had also tried accompanying the star guest in the park, threw a beer bottle at me when I picked up my bongos to tap along.) This was my early introduction to a liberal, but not entirely liberating, life-style. I went in and out of hippy circles over the following decade, eventually cutting off my freak-flag (long hair) and escaping out of alcohol and drug abuse. (When my fourteen-year-old son recently put his hand on my shoulder and declared, ‘wouldn’t it be great if we could go back to the sixties!’ I couldn’t keep my lip and eyebrows from curling in honest resentment to the sentiment.)

I didn’t become a corporate executive, military commander or gambling-empire tycoon (I prefer working with my hands – wood is nice), but the wild ways of the beautiful children of nature also didn’t draw my allegiance. It’s funny how life’s many complications actually come out of two simple mistakes: right turns, and left turns. Did you know that your governing nervous system is made up of a distinct left and a right side? I say governing, because we’re normally victims of our pendular moods – domination of the left and right sides of our brain (ego and superego). There’s also something very important and little understood called the para-sympathetic, which automatically animates the various functions of the body. After self-realization, this benevolent caretaker glides in, like a first-class customer service, to make life more fulfilling. From this point on, you become your own *manager, gravitating always to the optimum *center, for maximum efficiency and enjoyment. (*not to be confused with corporate manager, and political center!)

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(more…)

Mumble, mumble – write, write – headscratch – scribble, doodle . . .
Oh! There you are. So nice of you to drop in. I’ve just been jotting down some mental blogger notes. How did writers prime the pumps of their inspiration before the advent of Blogging? The distant, wobbly promise of publishing in a book or magazine and, maybe, having it read by someone couldn’t really have been enough to draw out all those precious waters of literature, could it have? Speaking of water, could you just pass me that glass of it over there? – yeah – thanks . . . Ahhhh, that’s better. YOU are indispensable

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By the way, if today happens to be your birthday here’s a little present for you . . .

(it’s just one mouse click away)

Natural Innocence, like absolute Love, is the very foundation of life. It can’t be destroyed, only clouded over in one’s awareness. There are those who would accuse Innocence of being a limiting state that should be grown out of. In fact, it is of the Essence, and a priceless asset to every living thing. It is the fragrance that makes life worth living. If its light is smothered in us, we lose the vitality, the spark of joy, that fills our life with meaning.

I’ve worked on city streets and seen old children, working in the sex trade, hanging on corners with shriveled skin and hollow eyes, like burnt tree trunks in a once lush forest. There are religious organizations that would have us live in states of guilt and darkness, or of egoistical pride and fiery aggression, and the world seems to be run now by ravenous corporations bent on monetary profit at any sacrifice. Most of the daily bad news that bombards us is the result of, directly or indirectly, the decline of Innocence. But Tagore wrote: “Every child born brings the message that God is not yet discouraged of men.” We’re (still) in luck.

Innocence lives in each of us, and supports us, emanating from our Mooladhara center and our heart. We love to hear a child laugh (if we’re not too stressed); to see a puppy play, or the sun rise on a landscape, and sometimes we miss that certain something that seemed to have died in us when we left childhood. It didn’t die, and it is easily unearthed. There’s a simple experience that can be reached effortlessly by any human being, that allows that essential light to shine powerfully inside of us. It’s not a pay-for formula or a trick of the mind. It’s something built-in and it’s waiting, like a present on your birthday. It’s time to open it.

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One fine morning, down the street,
An elephant I chanced to meet:
“Good day,” I said, and trying to pass
Spoiled my shoes in the dewy grass.

(For he filled the sidewalk, where
He stood without a thought or care.)

“Excuse me sir, I’m late for work!”
I shouted up, a bit berserk.
“If I’m not there by half-passed eight
“I’ll loose my job for being late!”

(But he pretended not to hear
And simply smiled from ear to ear.)

“What’s wrong with elephants these days?!”
I cursed, my liver now ablaze.
“Don’t you watch the stock-exchange?!”
“Time is money! Life is change!”

(He waved his ears and gave a yawn
And nodded to the rising sun.)

“I’ve sweated all my life to be
“Important in the company!
“No elephant will make me stop
“My ardent race to reach the top!”

(With his trunk he picked a rose
And pushed it up against my nose.)

“Listen here you thoughtless brute,
“Perhaps you think you’re being cute,
“But you’d better face the fact:
“You’re holding evolution back!”

At this remark he seemed to grow
And over me, a shadow throw;
A shadow cool and comforting . . .
I wondered what was happening.

Just then I noticed in his eyes
A clear blue depth, like endless skies.
And did, or did I not there see
All life, all hope, all destiny?

Suddenly I seemed to wake
And gave myself a good, strong shake.
“What is . . . where am . . . how did . . .?” said I.
“Where is that god who made me cry?”

(Then wiping tears from both my eyes
I stepped back in great surprise.)

For there before me on the walk
A little child stood looking up.
With head just slightly to one side
He sweetly watched my melting pride.

(I felt embarrassed by his gaze
Which read me like the sun’s pure rays.)

With smile playing on his lips
He quickly turned, and off he skipped.
Was it my heart that, by his whim,
Ran that day along with him?

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That was a long, long time ago.
And though today I’m gray and old
I feel that child within me still.
And gratefully, I always will.

- Edward E. Saugstad, Cambridge, summer of ‘87

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The human heart is a highly underestimated instrument. It’s quite famous for pumping blood – sometimes uncomfortably fast or slow. It is indirectly responsible for countless love songs and romance novels. It is the source of unforgettable emotional stimulation, i.e., the ecstatic falling-in-love, and the somewhat less agreeable heart-break (falling-out-of-love). And it is universally notorious for the part it plays in the guaranteed end, when, with dramatic finality, it stops, to usher in the mysterious state of death. But what do we really know about our precious hearts?

Without getting too esoteric, there is a simple way of getting to really know your best friend, that rhythmic pal in your chest that channels life and love. The first important step is to establish the actual connection with your self. That sounds like a lot to do, especially if you’ve read countless spiritual self-help manuals. In fact it is easy, quick, and infinitely enjoyable, and happens spontaneously when a certain benevolent energy, designed and provided exclusively for that special purpose, eagerly rises from the ’sacred bone’ at the bottom of your spine to the fontanel bone at the top of the head. But don’t take my word for it; try it for your self. (For the Web-disoriented, that was a hint to click on the underlined phrase, try it )

Now, once you’ve gotten to that all-important link (no pun intended) with your self through the awakening of kundalini and it’s subsequent ascent up to the sahasrara chakra, there opens up for you a whole new realm of hither-to unexpected possibilities. You will inevitably find, through the simple, regular practice of sahaja yoga meditation, the proof in the universal pudding that you are much, much more than you ever guessed you are. As the limited human attention steps out into the endless fresh air of pure, unlimited Spirit (as your kundalini spontaneously opens the seventh center at the top of your head), an amazing thing happens. Your heart, a normally clouded mirror, starts to clear and catch more reflection of that joyful sky or sea of absolute love that, although supporting all life, is usually just beyond our perception. Through the carefully designed instrument of your central nervous system, your spiritual modem, you get a first concrete glimpse of the Divine Internet. Don’t be surprised to discover that there is no noise and chaotic chatter there: that connection will fill you with beautiful Silence, the source of all creativity. And That is your very own.

Oh, yeah – this was supposed to be about joy and emotional intelligence. But reading about joy is about as en-joyable as being told about a delicious club sandwich – it just doesn’t hit the spot. Joy has to be lived – and emotional intelligence inevitably follows. Try it. You’ll love it.

(Spirituality = Inherent Joy. It is not a commodity to be bought or sold or in any way controlled by a third party! It can only be a direct connection.)

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