Fifth Sun Initiations

Two September Sundays have provided me with four initiations: two in the Hindu tradition and two in the Q'ero tradition. Both sets were delivered by humble and loving people, one a long-time friend and guru, the others two residents of the Andes.

Taking a pill so I could drive (my first lengthy expedition since right knee replacement) with two unlicensed friends to Beaverton to see my long-time mantra Guru Namadeva. He was in the last stages of cancer. I had been told my Guru was committed "to [his] last breath" to helping others along their spiritual path. A supreme, quick-witted teacher with the proverbial patience of Job, Namadeva held Satsang so we could ask our last burning questions as well as enjoy a few jokes and jibes. Then he moved to another room to initiate eight people, even though he'd not eaten for three weeks and could only occasionally sip water.

The pair of initiations were the Guru Jyoti and Pancha Dasi. The first is directed at realizing one's inner guru as well as becoming a channel for the love of the guru to come through one to bless others. Though I had experienced my upa-guru's energy, the Atman, at one of Namadeva's workshops a number of years ago, I took the initiation hoping I might learn to call forth the upa-guru for myself. The reason for taking the other initiation is self-evident: acting as a channel for unconditional love. The purpose of the Pancha Dasi, among other things, is to awaken one's Kundalini Shakti.

The private moment was an opportunity to say goodbye for now and to receive Namadeva's blessing; "One in Spirit." Namadeva's shradha, held this past Sunday in Beaverton and wherever his students gathered, was a celebration for a Guru who positively touched many lives around the world.

The Q'ero Indians of Peru number only 400 full-bloods. They live above 12,000 feet in the Andes. But their traditions pre-date the Hindu. As descendants of the Lemurians, Q'ero seeded the Lemurian spiritual traditions throughout the Americas. According to Q'ero history, Lemuria sank 26,000 years ago at the time of a planetary conjunction similar to the one we're headed toward about 2012. Atlantis sank 13,000 years ago, the Atlanteans seeding Europe, Africa and Asia with similar sacred teachings.

For information on Q'ero prophecies, check http://www.qerofoundation.wordpress.com/. There you will also find information on the Hatun and Munray Karpays that I and 11 other participants received over the course of a weekend workshop. These initiations had never been given outside of the Andes or under 12,000 feet until this weekend. It was interesting, perhaps significant, that 13 people sat in the opening circle.

Personally, what was most meaningful was that Namadeva appeared to me on Saturday morning at 4:08 a.m. before the workshop. Following his appearance, my kundalini, Satyamama for the Q'ero, kicked five times like an unborn infant. I expect it would have been visually detectable had I been able to see my lower back. By the second of the Karpays on Sunday afternoon, Satyamama had risen, and I sat with my Lakota pipe and Q'ero mesa in my lap, shaking like a Quaker.

As with most of my spiritual journey, a book has confirmed the connection between the Q'ero and the Hindu traditions and much more. Daniel, the workshop's English-speaking leader and translator, says, "[Pinkham's book] is 99% correct." I recommend reading it since it provides the world's pre-history for 2012 and the background for and underlying truth of indigenous religions, including Christianity: The Return of the Serpents of Wisdom by Mark A. Pinkham. If you want to know more about the Q'ero, Dr. Alberto Villoldo has written a number of books about his shamanic training in their tradition.

One of the questions Namadeva asked his students during Satsang was whether we ever thought about our mantra practice as part of a "spiritual mosaic" we are creating. It's certain that this intense Ouroboros weekend following the autumn equinox was the snake's putting its tail in its mouth. It was also a unification of my experiences with a Lakota teacher, the Eagle's flying with the Condor.

Hindu Origin of Christianity

Just finished a quick reading of excerpts from Paramahansa Yogananda's The Yoga of Jesus, a commentary on New Testament quotes and Jesus' message of Christ Consciousness, which is, for Yogananda, part of his own lineage of Kriya Yoga, leading the conscientious practitioner to Self-realization. I recommend this little book and intend to follow up with the two volume set: The Second Coming of Christ: The Resurrection of Christ Within You. According to Yogananda, each individual's task is to realize Christ Consciousness through meditation and the inner journey (a similar journey to that which St. Theresa of Avila writes of--as have mystics of all traditions).

In the paperback, excerpted from the two volumes, Yogananda says unequivocally that the three wise men who attended Christ's birth came from India and that Jesus, from age 14 to 29 was (so to speak) checking in with these spiritual gurus in India. Yogananda also deplores the misinterpretations in the doctrine promulgated by the Council of Nicea and other "power grabs" (my words) by Rome, most of whose exclusivity has led to horrific wars and other depredations in the name of Christianity. (One of my favorite Twain aphorisms: "If Christ were to return, he wouldn't be a Christian.) Of course, the effects of literalism and misinterpretation continue to plague America and her politics today.

The book, published by Self-Realization Fellowship, may be of interest if you haven't already encountered it. I've been blessed with at visit to the East West Bookstore in Mountain View--a place I always enjoy when in the Bay Area.

Give yourself a treat if you've never encountered this comparison between the Hindu path to Freedom and that advocated covertly in the New Testament, in particular Revelations and the gospels of Mark and John. Also mentioned is The Gnostic Gospel of Thomas. Such a synthesis seems to have been part of Yogananda's given task, and he performed it admirably in his parallel text and commentary on The Rubiyat of Omar Khayam. From Yogananda's commentary on the Bagavad Gita, I discovered information that explained some of the experiences of my work with a Lakota teacher over a number of years. The Native American and Hindu traditions, according to The Myths and Gods of India out of Princeton's Bollingen Press, share a similar mythology.

Another book I recently read is Somerset Maugham's The Razor's Edge. Saw the movie years ago with a young Bill Murray as Larry and found it unremarkable, but the book is something else, especially having taught American literature and enjoyed Henry James' "Daisy Miller," though Maugham's novel is thematically more complex. I've never encountered a book in which the author is a character as Maugham is in this one. The author's ironic tone entertains, and Larry's theme was a nice precursor to the Yogananda text.

Though I've not read it in years, Maugham's The Summing Up was one of my favorite little books of philosophy (my aunt's as well). Of course, she sent me Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet, perhaps for graduation from high school. I guess I've always enjoyed the poet/philosopher's perspective.

Knee Post-Op

At just past eight weeks from my knee replacement, I'm doing fine: achieving almost to 120 degree knee flex, going up and down stairs without assistance, losing weight, exercising. There's still some achy pain if I don't rest twenty out of every fifty minutes or so. But, I did manage at six weeks to pack and move from one side of town to the other--cheaper and nicer digs. In fact, I joked with my outpatient PT that he ought to advise all of his patients to move since when he measured my flex it had gone from 105 degrees before the move to 119 degrees at the end of the move.

My recovery has been aided by metaphysical tools I acquired from Alton Kamadon's Mechezedeck Method training. The night before and the morning of surgery, I activated the Kamadon Healing Temple. Thereafter, I activated it each night. Verification that the temple aided me in my recovery has come from comments by CNA's in rehab, PTs, and from a shamanic rock reading. While in rehab, I continually heard encouraging words. CNAs noted that my wound was dry whereas others' might be weaping. My outpatient PT said, "That's the best knee I've seen all year." That's no small thing since my other damaged knee prevents me from attempting some of the exercises. And, when I attended a class in shamanic rock reading, my counselor said of my rock, "I see a temple. It's good."

Just yesterday my alarm clock, which was not set to awaken me, went off at 7:13 a.m. I have a habit of checking numbers that come to my attention. In Doreen Virtue, Ph.D.'s little book of Angel Numbers I read that the Angels and Ascended Masters were helping me in my "healing and manifestation." The piece also advised me to "stay in touch." Nightly, I ask for healing of my knee when I set up the Temple, and I have noted that even though I don't religiously do the PT exercises, my knee's performance has shown improvement at the bi-weekly PT sessions. One night a guru whose workshops I've attended appeared in a white-on-white scene just as I closed my eyes and after I made my nightly appeal for assistance through the healing temple.

Although I am crediting the Kamadon Temple with it's help, the caveat is, as Namadeva (Thomas Ashley-Farrand) repeatedly reminds us in mantra work, that we need to be open to guidance. All metaphysical tools affect the third dimension. Prayers and mantras said by friends, my own use of mantra, and other practices have helped shape when and how this surgery has occurred along with the results. It became clear to me in rehab that I moved to Eugene, in part, to have this surgery performed by Dr. Brian Jewett, an outstanding surgeon from the Eugene's Slocum Center for Orthopedics and Sports Medicine. Similarly, several people whose knees Dr. Jewett had replaced recommended the Lutheran's Good Samaritan rehab care--even the food was good. I was led and arrived because I asked and trusted.

Driven to River Road Hospital before 5 a.m. by Sheila, my good friend and supporter during this ordeal, I felt trepidation but also confidence that the surgery would go well. In part that was because from a woman I spoke with at an art event in the fall to knocking on a stranger's door at 11 p.m. one March night because I had locked myself out while taking out the garbage and needed a locksmith, I heard nothing but cudos for Dr. Jewett. When I asked at my pre-op appointment if I had anything to worry about, he said, "Lots. But, let me do the worrying." When the surgery was over, he told Sheila that it had gone very well. When I heard that I knew that neither he nor his team nor I were alone in the operating room. Having called upon them regularly, I trust that both surgery and recovery have been aided by the Ascended Masters and Angels. After all, the guru who appeared recently is a direct descendant of the Buddha and a king who has renounced his Indian throne in this life, no doubt an Ascended Master.

I trust the Kamadon Temple and those associated with it will see me through the second knee surgery as well. I give thanks to both corporeal and incorporeal beings for their loving kindness.

BP--It's All Connected

On the Jim Lehrer Newshour last night, both a British and an American reporter discussed BP's dividends. It seems that BP pays into a lot of pension funds both here and in Britain. By asking BP not to pay its dividends this quarter but to put the money into clean-up of the spill, some pension plans would be hurt. That concerns me directly. Guess a lot of Brits are emailing their government concerned about this issue as well. The bigger question, of course, is whether BP has the money to pay both for the clean-up and the dividends. The answer is "of course."

Meanwhile, the ramifications of the oil spill do not just involve the ocean, the ecosystem, the wetlands, the shrimpers, the fishermen, and the entire East Coast. The economic ramifications spread like the ever gushing oil to all of us. Looked at from several angles, this spill potentially threatens to take down parts if not all of both British and American economies.

I have already written Congress asking that we drop our 30,800,000,000 + in government contracts with BP. But, can we do something that dramatic without hurting pension plans? Things are so interconnected that the dimensions of this oil spill extend not only into the grasses of the Louisianna wetlands but seep into the safety nets of many retirees both here and in Britain.

All I can ask at the moment is why haven't Costner's clean-up centrifuges been put to work where they can do the most good? Why haven't microbes been jettisoned onto the spills to "eat" up the oil and restore the waters--as advertised--to their pristine condition? Why didn't the Army Corps of Engineers build the sand barriers in front of the wetlands when they had time? And, what has happened to the BP boss who pushed the drilling into the unsafe practice that led to the explosion and fire?

Gven a Senator' s comment that President Obama is "helpless" in this situation, why haven't we had a national, nondenominational weekend of prayer and ceremony across the United States and Britain to stop this spill? Don't we believe in the ability of a higher power to which we are all connected two fingers below our hearts to bring a conclusion to the spill? Our own inner technology may be just what is needed at this point to eliminate chaos and restore order.

The public needs to employ its considerable power, not remain paralyzed by Them and Their failures. If the threat is to us all, we collectively need to pray or do whatever ceremony seems right to end this spill. Things happen first in higher dimensions either with our intention or because of a lack of it. Ancient peoples understood this fact. We have lost it. Energy follows attention. If we collectively put our attention on stopping the spill, we might get the help we seek.

After all, everything is connected by That.

Our Two-front War: A Letter in Opposition

Dear Senator Merkley,

I am pleased with your positions on several issues about which I've emailed you.

One issue remains that concerns me most: spending more money on the war in Afghanistan. Although I understand the complexity of this war that should never have happened and then should not have initially been under-funded and under-manned, I do not believe that more war is the answer.

The Afghan people represent a very different culture, much of which has been destroyed. They have suffered terribly, first from the Russians and now for the nine years of the U. S. invasion. They have also suffered, particularly women, under the Taliban. But, I don't believe that we should spend more money on war, since we have borrowed so heavily from both China and Japan, to finance further destruction of the Afghan culture.

I recently spoke with a young loan officer at a local branch of OCCU. He had served in Afghanistan and, though it may be for reasons different from mine, opposes the wars--as do many former Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan veterans.

War should be the answer of last resort. Diplomacy, economic aid for education and the people of any given country seem to me to be better choices for our tax dollars--if we can truly get such money to the people, unlike so much foreign aid that ended up, particularly in the 20th Century, in the pockets of the corrupt.

Unfortunately, thanks to a conservative Supreme Court, we had the wrong president foisted upon us in 2000 and 2004--two stolen elections and two wars of aggression, which the Founding Fathers would have condemned out of hand.

Please do not vote to fund anything beyond what it takes to withdraw our troops safely and pay reparations to the people of Afghanistan and Iraq. I remember several stories and images over the years: an Iraqi girl living in an open shell of a house who had her leg removed without anesthesia and enjoyed no hope of a prosthesis; a boy who was severely burned and was the only survivor from his large family; a wife and mother whose Iraqi husband was trained in the U.S. but whose car was blown up by one U. S. tank while the husband tried to explain to the crew of another U. S. tank why he was taking his family out of the city--the children in the back seat were afraid of U. S. bombs. Only the mother survived somehow when she was thrown from the car. Then, too, our damaged service members at home need better VA care. By all accounts, many VA programs are underfunded, resulting a lack of proper treatment for our veterans.

Abroad, we owe those whose homes have been destroyed, those who are injured, and for the infrastructure which Haliburton and other contractors failed to provide, though tax dollars were allocated and have since disappeared into no-bid corporate coffers. We especially owe our own troops and their families for their losses and the suffering they have endured.

Would Sadam or the Taliban have killed more people than we are guilty of having killed in collateral damage? Somehow, I doubt it.

Bush left us with a the mess of a two-front war, from which only the corporations will ever emerge as winners. We need to end both now. Our government has no business trying to tell others how their lives should be, particularly when we have been responsible for the damage to and the deaths of so many innocents, including, perhaps, that young serviceman poignantly hugging a giant teddy bear as he sat on his cot before the Iraq ground war began.

As one U. S. mother said, "I sent the Army my son; they gave me back a murderer." Among many American artists, Ernest Hemingway in The Sun Also Rises and Tim O'Brien in The Things They Carried have demonstrated that war destroys lives--both the lives of the dead and the living.

No more, please.

Sincerely,
Terry L. Barber

"Selfishness keeps man blind through life."
Bowl of Saki, by Hazrat Inayat Khan

Commentary by Pir-o-Murshid Inayat Khan:

Christ's teaching that man should be kind and charitable, and that of all other teachers who showed humanity the right path, seems to differ from what one sees from the practical point of view which is called common sense; yet according to uncommon sense*, in other words super-sense, it is perfectly practical. If you wish to be charitable, think of the comfort of another; if you wish to be happy, think of the happiness of your fellow men; if you wish to be treated well, treat others well; if you wish that people should be just and fair to you, first be so yourself to set an example. * Italics mine
____________

Since I've begun receiving the Bowl of Saki quotes with commentary, I' ve been led to interesting insights from the Sufi master Hazrat Inayat Khan and Pir-o-Murshid Inayat Khan, perhaps a grandson of the 20s master. Kahn's teachings are reminders that I recommend as daily exercises in kindness. The insights fit all human action required of us on a daily basis.

I will be away from my blog for about 24 days. In the meantime, I recommend Bowl of Saki for your reflection and enjoyment.

Stieg Larsson's "Girl" Trilogy

I first heard about Stieg Larsson's trilogy, which begins with The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, on Charlie Rose. The Swedish and American editors were discussing Larsson's life and career as a magazine editor and investigative journalist. Although I'd passed the books up several times at Costco, I determined I to try the first one. After passing through The Girl Who Played with Fire, I'm on my way to the most recently published: The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest.

Lisbeth Salandar, the 4' 11'' heroine, has been empowered since the age of 12. Unlike her twin Camilla, Lisbeth takes charge. As a result, she finds herself in a traumatic childhood, controlled by the State and its institutions. Thankfully, they're not all bad, and she eventually finds a champion in her guardian, though his case load and eventual stroke prevent him from doing "the right thing."

Computer buffs will enjoy the technological aspects of the stories. The Swedish editor says that they verified the accuracy of advanced technology Lisbeth and her network of geeks use. Mathematicians will enjoy Lisbeth's exploration of mathematics in the second thriller. I look forward to the final motif in the book sitting on my shelf.

Unfortunately Larsson died (possibly murdered?) shortly after giving his editor the third and final manuscript. There won't be any more stories about "the girl." But, through epigrams citing Sweden's statistics on violence against women that precede each section in the first thriller, Larsson underscores his dominant theme: physical and sexual violence against and exploitation of women. Given the books' popularity, Larsson has opened a dialogue that needs to continue on women's status not only in Sweden, the books' setting, but also has extended that discussion through Lisbeth's year of travels in book two to the entire world. How much more may be contained within the works is speculative as is the possibility that Larsson was murdered, perhaps for what he had written or was about to have published (see Rose interview).

An expose of violence against women has been needed. Larsson has chosen a highly visible method in writing his thrillers. Thanks to the trilogy's world-wide popularity, the Swedish movie and the American version that's in the works, Larsson has written books to "do good," much like Lisbeth's friend Mikael Blomkvist. Like Larsson, Blomkvist is an investigative reporter and editor on a monthly magazine, Millenium, that seeks to expose economic criminals and their crimes. Though Lisbeth scoffs at Blomkvist's use of writing to change the world, ironically Larsson has done just that.

The trilogy delights because of its fast pace, fully drawn characters, and Larsson's masterful writing. Have some time to kill? I can't think of too many other authors who will make that time a supersonic flight.

Knee Replacement is "Like Buying a New Car"

According to the anesthesiologist I saw for a pre-op consult today, the up-side of knee replacement is that it's "like buying a new car." I'll have a new knee. Yes, and I'll have hours of painful rehab and a week in a rehab center, hopefully the one of my choice--though that's not guaranteed--depending on space. So, while I appreciate his short-circuiting my self-pity, I'm not certain about his metaphor.

For example, when I purchased a "new" used this car this past spring, I didn't go out to the shop to watch the mechanic as he stuffed my front doors to eliminate the annoying "canaries" that chirped as I drove the winter-rutted streets. Instead, I sat comfortably in the dealership's waiting room, drinking coffee and reading a novel. My participation in repairs wasn't necessary. The only discomfort I experienced was wishing they'd hurry up since it was an early spring day, and I wanted to be outside enjoying it.

I did ask if I could have both a spinal block and general anesthesia. Silence. I said, "Knock me out." We determined that, since I once was totally awake during one of my colonoscopies watching the video of the exam as it went on, I might remain aware. Therefore, we decided I need a general. They also provide a knee block, which should keep me painfree until the painkiller "catches up." I don't care to hear the saw or listen to the commentary or what the team may be planning post-surgery.

A nervous twitch has appeared in my right eye, probably thanks to the upcoming surgery. Never had it with a new car purchase. It has appeared seemingly in conjunction with a viral medication I recently started, so I asked about it. But, I have had it before--when aggressive students gathered around my desk at grading periods. My right eye would start its little dance. Just how deeply the prospects of this surgery are affecting me became clear when I started to tear up while talking to this Russian immigrant anesthesiologist--had trouble placing his accent, but it's probably Russian. Not sure why the unshed tears and voice quaver surprised me.


No guarantee that he'll be my anesthesiologist either. Whoever it is will have this guy's notes about what we've talked about. Hope that s/he chooses the correct type of anesthesia since he listed both choices with an arrow up to "General." Recently I bought a bed. When I made the final downpayment, I told a furniture saleslady to put the second page on top so that I'd get the normal rather than the reduced box spring. My original saleslady had rewritten the order because I had changed my mind, wanting to put a bedskirt on the new box spring without having to make alterations. Of course, the second lady argued about putting the second page on top. When the delivery men carried in the box spring, I stood there pointing at it saying, "No, no, no. I told her to switch the pages." The men redelivered the right size the next week. But, buying a bed isn't quite like having knee surgery--there isn't a redo the next week, at least I hope not.


When I first saw the hospital and its adjunct buildings, I thought, "That looks like the Titanic." It dominates the mountains behind it because of the size of the facility. I hope that the analogy stops with the name. I have already had an argument with the woman who called to ask me to return tomorrow. I didn't provide enough of a sample for the required tests. I told her it was because I suffered anxiety, not being sure the bathroom door was locked (apparently it wasn't). She argued with me. As she argued, I repeated my observation: "I suggest you put an arrow showing which direction is locked." After I repeated that a couple of times, she finally quit saying, "Yes." Sure hope those who will be caring for me have better hearing than this lady did. After all, I taught school for 32 years, and I'm great at repeating myself until the "student" gets it.

As one of my meditation teachers used to say after he'd taken us so far in a visualization, "The journey is yours." Sometimes the "journeys" we took were a bust, and sometimes they connected us to the Divine. I suspect that "journey" is the better metaphor for a surgery. Today I took the second leg. I trust and will be happy if my upcoming journey is merely fine because Divine might mean I had a near death experience.

Isabelle Allende's Process: "Thanks for coming."

Interviewed on both the Tavis Smiley and Jim Lehrer's News Hour, Isabelle Allende responded to questions about her writing process for her newest book about the historical Haiti: Island Beneath the Sea. On Smiley's show, she spoke of the four years she researched Haitian history. She also mentioned that she always begins a new book on January 8th, the date she began her first novel, The House of Spirits. But, she emphasized she can't begin until her main character shows up.


To understand what she means by "showing up," we have to turn to the News Hour. Allende amazed Jeffrey Brown with two comments: "Women are more interesting than men [to write about]." Opening and then closing his mouth, Brown smiled as he said, "I won't go there." But Allende totally rocked Brown back in his chair when she said, "My character must [arrive] for me to begin writing. I dreamed the main character in Island Beneath the Sea, her entire story." Most of us are familiar with J. K. Rowling's inspiration while traveling on a train--the entire Harry Potter story come to her at once. We may also remember Alice Walker's tribute to her characters in The Color Purple: "Thanks for coming."


Anne Patchett's The Magician's Assistant depends in good part on the Dreamtime to connect the living with the dead. Readers learn true magic occurs through the interaction between the realm of spirit and the third dimension, so difficult at times to live in. For the truly creative writers of our day, Allende's comment about needing her character to "arrive" appears not such a surprise as it was for the New Hour's interviewer.


From Allende and other writers, we can learn about creative process, which is sorely needed at this time in the Gulf oil spill--not just technology. As a nation, perhaps the entire world, we ought to be turning to the spiritual realm that infuses much modern writing. If we really want to stop the spill and clean the waters, why haven't we en masse appealed to Spirit with a unified, non-denominational day of prayer--leaving how the spill's resolution may occur to Spirit, which may inspire us with new, workable solutions? Instead, we're waiting for drilling of interceptor wells and other technology that will possibly take until August and beyond.


In both interviews, Allende alluded to Pablo Neruda's influence on her writing career. Allende became a novelist rather than continuing her journalistic career based on Neruda's advice. He told her that she was making up the journalism and should switch to fiction, which he believed she wrote quite well. It's an amusing anecdote and perhaps clarifies what should happen on Fox News--though I don't see that Fox is in any way influenced by positive spiritual assitance--having its name changed to Fox Fictions.


Politics aside, Allende clearly began her recenlty published book well before the earthquake. We all can benefit from better understanding Haiti, its history, and its people in order to appreciate the Haitian's admirable resilience in facing true hardship. Maybe we can stop minimizing Haitians as stereotypes and begin to appreciate them as the real people they are through reading Allende's historical novel infused by Haitian spirit.

Puja Magic

In a puja we honor ourselves archetypal beings by pouring water over murtis (usually metal figures or perhaps a Siva lingham) and throwing rice during the chanting of names or letting rice we've held slip from our hands onto the deity's murti after the priest has finished chanting that diety's sacred names. When we kneel, we kneel to our Selves, mirrored by the deity. As we toss rice or hold it during the chanting, we are asking that the archetypal energies and qualities of that puja's sacred being enter into and develop within us.

Recently, I attended a puja in Beaverton at the Gayatri Temple, where Namadeva and Satyabama, priest and priestess as well as old friends from the Theosophical Society's Far Horizons in the Sierra Nevada, lead pujas. This particular puja was lengthy and somewhat vague in that just whom was being addressed wasn't clear to me. However, as I watched Namadeva chant, my attention popped. On the altar between Namadeva and Satybama, I perceived a seated, three-foot tall (and almost as wide) Kalki/Maitreya, presented as a featureless, pale pearl grey, fat Buddha. He's the happy Buddha who will eventually appear, probably in India, to restore the dharma. You've seen him in figurines, large and small, sometimes with a pack on a stick, sometimes holding his hands over his head, the hands either empty or holding little balls. I've also seen him pictured with a rainbow hovering over his empty hands, making his--and by implication our--realized Buddha-self The Hidden Pot of Gold.

If you really want to see what I saw, find Kalki/Maitreya on the Internet. Imagine that fat, smiling Buddha without his features, his body entirely pearl-grey, and you'll preceive what I saw. A silvery, seated, meditating Buddha.

During the puja the ringing bells may pull us into altered states; the chanted names call in the named archetypal energies. What we may see, feel or hear, provides each individual worshipper answers for his or her own personal growth and path.

Another time I experienced an automatic soul retrieval. I believe that particular puja was for Ganesha. In any case, I had been speaking unawares with a being at some level. Coming out of my trance inwardly, I was rather petulantly saying, "If you want me to do this work, you'll return to me that priest I once was." Whether that was a good request or not, I got what I asked for. The head and shoulders of a rather handsome, dark, bearded, East Indian male in a red beehive cap appeared and rotated clockwise before he disappeared from my inner screen. It seems "the priest I once was" is back, and I'm supposed to do "this work."

While not all pujas "deliver" such dramatic effects, I enjoy the time shared with friends singing, praying, and in fellowship. We conclude socially with snacks and conversation. The puja reminds me of Native American sweat lodges, which may constitute (in brief) my next blog. Like the puja bell, stay tuned.

Book Review: Gentlemen and Players--by Joanne Harris

Readers who liked Chocolate, Holy Fools, or Five Quarters of the Orange are probably already Joanne Harris fans and will be drawn to Gentlemen and Players (2006). This thriller breaks new ground and shows a gifted writer at her best as she presents the modern world microscopically with its range of human foibles and systems explored through St. Oswald's Grammar School for Boys.

Alternating narration between Roy Straightly and the mysterious child/monster who declares in the opening sentence, "...murder is no big deal..." carries this thriller across the roofs of St. Oswald's Grammar School for Boys to the Guy Fawks Day bonfire with entertaining twists and turns. Readers remain mystified as to the identity of St. Oswald's nemesis and may give a gasp when that nemesis is revealed.

Although I initially thought of not completing the book, the psychological exploration of what it means to be a teacher kept me reading, along with the intriguing and varied voices that Harris develops to tell the story. Harris says in an essay at the back of the book that she taught French for 15 years, thirteen of which were in a boys' school much like St. Oswalds, and loved it:
"It's hard enough to give up on the continuous soap opera that constitutes life in a
school, harder still to lose the sense of community and the feeling of being involved in
something more important than my own little life's concerns."
Unlike Straightly, a teacher of Classics as his name suggests, Harris recognizes the potential for psychological scars which teachers may cause, and this thematic element of the plot provides another compelling component for us, as former students and parents and teachers.

The night I read the section set on St. Oswald's rooftops, my feet were sweating. I'm terrified of heights, and the description of the boys' rooftop adventure kept me on the edge of vertigo. The climax of that scene leads naturally to the issue that propels the book to its conclusion.

Harris employs dramatic irony throughout as each narrator weaves elements of the back story while providing his take on what is happening or about to happen and why. Harris is far too gifted a writer not to provide necessary clues along the way so that, along with the large number of characters, we have much to keep in mind. Avid Chess players may find added structural clues since Chess provides the motif for each of the book's major sections as well as some names and nicknames: Knight, Bishop, Queenie. We must pay attention to names and everything else. At some point, we realize that Harris is having a ball writing her thriller, at least as much enjoyment as we're having reading it.

Reading a story based in British culture and Classics may require readers to check the "Reader's Companion" at the back of the book. It provides helpful amplification of Latin quotations and commentary on cultural phrases, including the title.

Gentlemen and Players will remain on my shelf for rereading. I look forward to reading it both for Harris' craft and what I missed by hurriedly reading the opening sections. Besides, I grew to like Roy Straightly, and I empathize with the "monster" for a sensibility desensitized by a broken family, an alcoholic father, and a not-much-better than Dickensonian educational system.


Both the British and U.S. educational systems unfortunately remain based in the factory models of the Industrial Revolution, whose outcomes threaten us all today. Thus, Gentlemen and Players explores integral cultural themes which need to be addressed if we are to survive a world which is as imbalanced as St. Oswalds becomes.

White Raven

Blondie's taffy curls sport a striped

grosgrain bow astride a topknot.

She winks.

Her chipmunk cheeks swell

creating slitted eyes

above her "say pickles" smile.

Aged three, she poses atop a bail of hay,

hands on hips, flirting,

dressed in a 40s ruffled pinafore.


Now, grown to motherhood, she

sits beneath lush green oak and alder shade,

gazing on a rushing silver stream.


The mother recalls an oak-shaded room

by a still river. The question comes:

"You have something in your hand?"

"Yes, a curved, beaked oval of ivory

with a small, burned eye."

But, there are no elephants in Alaska;

her logical mind emits a sigh.


Then, through L.A. smog

and traffic jams along The 110,

she exits, plies past Hispanics leaving

Sunday mass on Mother's Day.

Up a steep hill, hoping

her car manages the climb,

she seeks shade for parking

outside the Southwest Museum.

Its store delights her inner child,

which revels in silver, turquoise and coral,

books, drums, art--the Tree of Life in a Navajo rug.


Overhearing a clerk who speaks

of carvings, a special Northwest display,

she peers over shoulders, realizes, requests a closer

view of the ivory necklace.

So tightly strung they twist,

alternating oval abalone and round

ivory beads descend

to a curved, oval, ivory charm.

It fits exactly in her right hand;

an abalone eye--

the only variance from her vision--

winks an ocean of plausibility.

On its back a sticker intones one word--Raven,

bird of magic, sun-seeker, lightbringer,

Mercury between two worlds--

half a scrying pair. Urim or Thummim?

A walrus' ivory tusk carved

by Patty Fawn--elephants, indeed.


If her child is to lead,

it must be through

Raven's magic hole,

the single spiritual eye.


So much contained

in White Raven's watery, winking eye.

Time-warp to Blondie's teasing smile:

Your child shall lead you.

The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott--by Kelly O'Connor McNees

I wish that every time I was looking for a particular title, I would find it on sale for 50% off. That's what happened when I entered a local book store looking for Kelly O'Connor McNees' The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott. My luck held as I read McNees's historical romance, based in Alcott's letters, biographies, and other source material.

In 1855 the Bronson Alcott family, experiencing their well-known financial difficulties, move to Walpole, New Hampshire, for the summer. Here, Louisa meets Joseph Singer, the love of her life and the man who is destined (at least in this story) to become Laurie in Little Women. Among others, McNees' argument is that Louisa must have known passionate love first hand in order to write the love story in Little Women. McNees' questions are who, when, where, how?

As a romance The Lost Summer doesn't disappoint. A gifted story teller with a style that encourages us to "disappear" into her tale, McNees provides credible guesses about Alcott's muse and how the love story between Jo (Louisa) and Laurie (Joseph) came to be. Unless, of course, reading her favorite British romances such as Jane Eyre acted as inspiration for Alcott and reading a purloined copy (according to this novel) of Walt Whitman's first edition of Leaves of Grass, also published in 1855, ignited Louisa's passionate muse.

What makes this historical romance enjoyable is the skillful inter-weaving of fiction and fact: details backed by McNees' extensive research, listed at the back of the book. Homework done, McNees creates her story of the 19th century Alcott family's impoverished world, threatened by diseases of the time. Whitman's poetry nicely supports Louisa's own writing goals and ignites her romantic attachment with Joseph. Star-crossed by Louisa's determination to pursue her writing, both Louisa and Joseph have family and duty to consider, and this triad--her drive to become a writer, family, and duty--complicate their love affair.

At the core of the romance lies the issue of a woman's engaging in a creative life outside of societal expectations. Seeking a "room of [her] own," Louisa returns to Boston to write. As McNees imagines it, the climactic romantic episode may depend too much on circumstance, but Louisa's choice between love and career demonstrates her enviable creative drive.

Modeled on romance novels from the Bronte's to Austin to Alcott herself, The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott opens a window on what might have been. It's just the kind of book Alcott might have written. The narrative style leads us smoothly through the story. All of our questions are faithfully answered, and we're appropriately teased by unresolved questions of Alcott's create muse, which drove McNees to write her speculative romance in the first place.

Suggested by inter-chapter quotes, Alcott's lesser-known works remain to be discovered and enjoyed. McNees provides a full annotated list at the end of the novel in "A Note on Sources," recommending two Alcott books: A Long Fatal Love Chase and Behind a Mask, or A Woman's Power. The former was first published in 1995, the latter under a pseudonym, A. M. Barnard.

All of this is to suggest that Louisa May Alcott has found a passionate champion in Kelly O'Conner McNees. As readers, we are convinced to take another look at Alcott's work.

Following an Ideal and Getting Lost in the Maze

"The perfect life is following one's own ideal, not in checking those of others; leave everyone to follow his own ideal." from: Bowl of Saki, by Hazrat Inayat Khan

The Sufi master Hazrat Inayat Khan taught in Paris during the l920's. The extent of his influence on the Expatriates is not clear, but writers and artists owe debts to Sufis, not only through Kahn, but also through G. I Gurdjieff. Though often regarded as a charlatan, Gurdjieff's life and influence has been explored in a number of biographies including Jean Toomer and Georgia O'Keefe.

The commentary that arrives with these quotes from Bowl of Saki points out that following one's own ideal is religion for the Sufi. The commentator rightly says that if everyone were encouraged to follow his or her own ideal, then many of the nasty wars being fought might not waste our time and energy since it is religious dogma which causes many wars. The real problem with religion has always been dogma. That's why Ernest Holmes eschewed creating a religion. It was his followers that insisted on creating the Church of Religious Science. Holmes knew enough to fear the crystallization of text into a religious dogma.

Today I received a request for money from the Democratic governors. They want to fight what they perceive to be Sarah Palin's support of and grab for 37 gubernatorial races. They suggest that the seven odd millions she has made since she ran for vice president will be used to enhance the Tea Party's conservative, pseudo-religious votes to elect Tea Party governors. Given Rand Paul's recent Tea Party/Libertarian victory in Kentucky and the subsequent exposure of his views, that's something to worry about, if we can believe she'd use her millions for the gubernatorial agenda the Dem's have suggested.

An NPR headline announced today that Texas is purchasing textbooks for that state's history classes in which the "separation of church and state" is said not to be found in the Constitution. Other propaganda which will further misinform Texan youth is part of those same history texts. As a local attorney once told me (regarding a different issue), "Get 'em young enough or dumb enough and you can get away with anything." Surely there are rational minds that may prevail once the direction of Texan education is noted. Then again, if Rand Paul pursues his plan to eliminate the Department of Education, maybe not. Obviously a regard for truth is not in evidence in the United States, particularly in media. Why not extend that disregard for truth to educational dogma.

That brings us back to the Sufi master's quote, which suggests we should each follow our own ideal. For religion, it works and is really the primary requirement for one's spiritual development, at least as one ages. Is following one's ideal part of the social contract? I suspect that question is one for a philosophical treatise or reasoned dialogue.