Ram Dass Now

Last week I talked about everything being my sadhana. Everything. The next day I found out my Nana has cancer. A few days later, I got the stomach flew. So did my 2 boys.  I felt like fluid was coming out of every possible opening…throwing up…leaking breast milk everywhere…diarrhea…sweat. Let’s just say I did not look my best. I could not use my brain very well (which was probably a good thing), but I did have one thought:

Very funny Maharaj-ji.

He was putting me on. He heard my post, and came back with a “try and make THIS your sadhana!” After I allowed Maharaj-ji into this whole experience, I was able to let go a little bit. As I was bent over the toilet, wallowing in my own self-pity (ooohhhhhhhhhh, this is so haaaaaaaaaaarrrrrdddddd), I would just picture Maharaj-ji smiling at me. At one point, I was even able to become the witness, seeing this intense drama unfold before me. I decided that this was some sort of sick fire-work show that Maharaj-ji was putting on for me. With my 2 children and I throwing up, it was as though it was the finale the whole time.

A real life lesson. I can sit here and read every book made on making my life my sadhana, but the real learning comes when I must apply it. It is relaxing to sit and read and feel all high on life, but when the going gets tough is when the transformations are made.

That’s the problem with being a book addict. I am a spiritual book addict, always thinking that reading the next book is going to get me another step closer to God. I have been doing this with bhakti. Trying to read about it, and really get the method down. I never feel like I can grasp it fully though. I get these bits and pieces, and when I try to piece together how I think I should be doing it, it just feels off. Page 63 came to me at a beautiful time. Ram Dass explains bhakti in 10 words, and it all makes sense.

“You just love until you and the beloved become one”

I can put my books away now. I can slow down now. God isn’t in any of these books. God is in me. By reading as many books as possible, I am not going to get to God any faster. “You’ve got to go at the rate that you can go”. No rush. So lately, when I have a few moments to spare, while I would normally read, I just close my eyes. And I love. I love my husband, my children, my family, my friends, and all of you that I have not yet met on this plane, until we become one. In that, I find God.

Disclaimer – I really have no idea how bhatki works. I’m just figuring it out like the wayward pilgrim I am. But I believe what page 63 tells me “The Way Bhakti Works – you just love until you and the beloved become one.”

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationship with Maharaj-ji. Trying to really analyze it. Trying to figure out what can’t really be figured out. Trying to figure out how I ended up here. I was born the year he left his body, so obviously I didn’t know him personally. I didn’t see the little old man in the blanket or have him pat me on the head. Yet, I can feel something tangible when I think about how I know him. Like most devotees I keep pictures of him in a few places that commonly cross my eyes. Doing so provides me with a vibrational opportunity to grow along spiritual lines that are rooted in love. For reasons I’m still not entirely sure of, he is direct vibrational access to unconditional love. When I look at a picture of Maharaj-ji the first thought that pops into my mind is “love, serve, remember.” It’s as if he’s telling me to make every action an opportunity to practice sadhana. Every conversation can be an opportunity to connect, every drive through LA in traffic can be an opportunity to be more patient and forgiving, every task performed at work can be an opportunity to be grateful for all of Gods abundance.

For me the relationship is based on something like a “level of consciousness, a frequency of vibration, a connection to another plane.” (pg 62). That’s perfect because…it’s funny, I don’t really want anything from Maharaj-ji. I’m constantly dumbfounded that my love for the guru is so based in vibrational love. I don’t ask for things, I don’t pray for specific revelations. I just sit back and let the powerful metaphor of his life envelop me in a place of loving awareness that gives me a chance to be free. It’s amazing when it works and juicy when it doesn’t! The big a ha moments come when I get in the way of the grace and act out of ego. It’s so clear when things are out of sync.

I was raised an intellectual. I was taught that the power to change my circumstances was through a well planned intellectual road map that when well executed would land me in a better place. That understanding the ins and outs of my mind was alone enough to give me liberation. So, this whole business of just loving everyone, simply and purely, sometimes makes no sense whatsoever. Add on this whole idea of loving this little old man in a blanket I never met is even more comical. Here I am at age 37 worshiping Hanuman and Lord Krishna! Me??! How did that happen?

What happened for me was that my game ran out. All of my ins and outs, all of my plotting and planning just stopped working. Once I felt what it was like to be unconditionally loved and cosmically understood I knew there was no other way. Sound familiar?

I am a witness to how Neem Karoli Babas grace is being passed on to the next generation. It may be arrogant of me to say, but I feel that the next generation of devotees really gets to taste the nectar of his teachings. I don’t have the nostalgia of once knowing him or the pain of once losing him. I just have the simple message of how bhakti works. That’s more than enough.

The flame of love is utterly compelling. When the call goes out, we have no choice but to answer. Those of us who heard the call sent out by a little old man in a blanket were pulled to India—some overland through Europe, Afghanistan, and Pakistan, others by air. I flew from New York to London, spent 10 days hitching through Europe before boarding the last of the cheap Arab charter flights to Bombay, which stopped seven times along the way in exotic places like Abu Dhabi and Cairo (during our 7 hour layover, I visited the pyramids). It was a great adventure halfway around the world, a pilgrimage, the infamous journey to the East.

And there we found total fulfillment. Sitting in front of Maharaj-ji, there was no desire to be anywhere else. Oh, there were plenty of dramas. When the fire of love blazes that brightly, any darkness within casts a deep shadow. There were many tears shed while sitting on a rock in the river that flows behind Kainchi; sad footprints left on the holy parakrama—the sandy path that winds around Brindavan; unwelcome thoughts that stuck to our minds the way our breakfast jalebis stuck to our fingers in Allahabad. And yet the time we spent with him was beyond compare.

We thought it would go on forever. After all, he was eternal. That flame of love can never die. Unfortunately, the body that held that flame left us—bereft, heartbroken, scared. What do we now? How do we go on? He was gone, gone beyond. The only way left to be with him was within.

Those devotees who have heard the call and come to Maharaj-ji since he left his physical body found him inside their own hearts and dreams (many through Be Here Now). I so admire their faith. It’s been much more difficult for those of us who were with him. There was such attachment to that body! What could compare to one heart-melting glance in your direction? What lover could match the sensation of his hand lightly stroking your arm? What prize ever equaled touching his feet? What joy sprang up in the heart simply by hearing him call your name!

I may not remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, but those memories of being with Maharaj-ji are so clear that they have kept pulling me within, in search of that “state of total fulfillment.” Through different forms of meditation over the decades, through fascinating experiences of different cultures, through raising kids and delighting in grandkids, through work and play, and through the dark nights of pain and suffering. The longing, achingly well described in every Rumi poem and quatrain, keeps tugging at the heart.

This is bhakti—the path of love that leads to God like the moth is led to the flame. And so we burn.