Trust

 May today there be peace within you.

May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you remember the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others.

May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.

May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love...

 it is there for each and every one of us.

This was the closing prayer at kirtan tonight. It certainly resonated with me, and afterwords a copy of it was handed to me without my asking, as so many gifts are lately — so, along with some of the free-wheeling butterflies who know that life is short and have the sense to spend it among the flowers, I share it with you at the start of this new week

The hut of my meditation used to have doors and walls,
a roof, a floor.
Now I sit on a hilltop and laugh in the rain.
Two boys stand in a field holding a taut string
and I am one with the kite.
In your presence 
feet, forehead, wrists, head —
it matters not where the fingertips rest,
when it's the heart that's touched.


— uma

Buried Treasure

Seth at the beautiful Altered Page blog is once again hosting Buried Treasure, an online, collaborative project that invites art bloggers to go into the depths of their blogs and dig for buried treasure. He is asking participants to repost one (or more) or their favorite posts from their own blog.

I immediately went looking for this post, shared when I returned from last summer's Ayurvedic retreat. Coincidentally (ha! as if!) I found it was written exactly a year ago today.

All I can say about the unseeable peak I mentioned is, "farther up and further in!" 
All I can share about the truth, 360 days later, is that when it reveals itself all the flowers in the world are not be enough to adorn it.


July 28, 2010
Plunge into the Truth

"Anyone who feeds on majesty becomes eloquent. The bee, from mystic inspiration, 
fills its rooms with honey." — Rumi

That's what it was like to learn about the transforming power of Ayurveda last week. Like the entire room was full of honey. Like I'd been waiting a very, very long time to sit in front of such an eloquent teacher.

How fortunate to have been able to participate — even on those nights my tent leaked and a tornado threatened. And now here I am back home with my camping gear still strewn about the dining room, a notebook full of notes, and enough new books from the ashram shop to keep me occupied all winter. Where will all of this lead?

"Sometimes you have to climb mountains whose peak you can't see" someone told me recently. At the moment at least half of this particular peak is in the clouds, but last week convinced me that I should keep ascending.

The tornado warning was very real, by the way, and I must admit to flirting with terror for at least an hour on Friday night, waiting for a twister to come and whip us all into space, piece by tiny piece. Oddly, everyone else seemed unaffected. I sprinted from the meditation hall to my tent, the sky turning an eerie color above me. It took only a few minutes to shove blankets, cot, pillow, lantern, and bags into the back of the car and batten down the hatches — though in my imagination the tent, car and everything in it were doomed to visit Oz. Then I ran barefoot back through the field like a crazy woman and was cross-legged on the floor again before the match was stuck for the puja fire, beads of sweat decorating my forehead. Maybe I'll die here I thought, and that's going to have to be ok.

I worked through a lot of fear last week, I was a gristmill of worry-grains. Going to the ashram in the first place was fear. Finding I'd need to drive over a bridge was fear (though admittedly it was a pretty small bridge and by the time my panic reached a crescendo I was back on dry land). The tornado warning was fear. Saturday night's thunder and lightening storm was fear. Driving back home in the dark was fear.

I dealt with all the fears the same way. In the meditation hall waiting for a tornado: Om Bhur Bhuvah Svah, Tat Savitur Varenyam, Bhargo Devasya Dhimahi, Dhiyo Yo Nah Pracodayat. Om. Cowering in the back of my car watching the saturated walls of the tent flutter and flap like wings in the wind while lightening momentarily turned the surrounding field black and white and thunder threatened to drown out my voice entirely: So'hum So'hum So'hum So'hum. Three hours of kirtan on the drive to upstate NY and 3 more hours on the drive back: Hello, Mass Pike! Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya! Chant, chant, chant. Drown out the worry with it. Give your nervous system a break. I don't know about yours, but mine has put in a lot of overtime in the last few years.

"Plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is, Believe in the Great Sound!" writes Kabir. That's my itinerary, my map to the unseeable peak.

Ask it Anything.

Don't be afraid
Open your mouth and say
Say what your soul sings to you

Your mind can never change
Unless you ask it to
Lovingly re-arrange
The thoughts that make you blue
The things that bring you down
Only do harm to you
And so make your choice joy
The joy belongs to you

And when you do
You'll find the one you love is you
You'll find you
Love you

Don't be ashamed no
To open your heart and pray
Say what your soul sings to you

So no longer pretend
That you can't feel it near
That tickle on your hand
That tingle in your ear
Oh ask it anything
Because it loves you dear
It's your most precious king
If only you could hear

And when you do
You'll find the one you need is you
You'll find you
Love you.


— Massive Attack, "What Your Soul Sings"

I live with...

a very accepting, open-minded, loving, spiritual, and creative person. This was quite lovely to see as I turned into the driveway late last night, my car filled with wet camping supplies and jumbled clothing.

 Re-entry after even a week in a safe retreat environment is challenging, and I gave myself the entire day today to do nothing but slowly unpack both my suitcase and my feelings, and to meditate.

Before I pulled away from the ashram last night I walked back into the main hall where our program was held. All of the folding chairs and blue cushions had disappeared, the room dark except for the soft glow of ambient light spilling in through the windows and doors. The beautiful Ganesh murti was still wearing his rose garlands and adornment from the afternoon's puja, our flower-petal offerings, still colorful and shapely, remained piled at his feet. The room was so silent that for the first time in 6 days I noticed the ticking of the clock above the door - it was distressingly loud. The world of time — minutes and hours and days and deadlines — had managed to creep back, and the world of distance was following close behind as I prepared to leave. Time and distance may be an illusion, but 99.9% of the time I'm still rowing my little boat through their waves just like everybody else. It's the other .1% that gives me the strength to keep turning the oars. My wish is that everyone has the gift of at least that .1%

Destiny

I came to the ashram this week with one name...



and left with another. 



What is a name between the nameless?
An ornament for beauty that needs no adornment.
To one who pulls form from the formless and
sound from the silent, name is the ringing of a temple bell
in the dark night,
the splashing of rain on the expectant field,
the crack the cocoon must allow before
wings and sky can merge.

— uma

Begin

This is now. Now is. Don't
postpone till then. Spend

the spark of iron on stone.
Sit at the head of the table;

dip your spoon in the bowl.
Seat yourself next to your joy

and have your awakened soul
pour wine. Branches in the

spring wind, easy dance of
jasmine and cypress. Cloth

for green robes has been cut
from pure absence. You're

the tailor, settled among his
shop goods, quietly sewing.

— Rumi

All week long I've been sitting next to my joy, both literally and figuratively speaking. Across from joy, in front of joy, to the left or right of joy, behind joy — until direction and distance dissolve completely, leaving only Here and only Now, joy inside my heart and my heart inside of joy, all one and the same.

May the long time sun...

shine upon you.

Last night, thanks to the heat, nobody at the ashram slept, including me. I tossed and turned in my tent, listening to animals in the woods, a wind chime ringing like a temple bell somewhere beyond the trees, garbage trucks roaring and banging like gunfire at 3:30, cardinals at 5, whip-o-wills at 6, cicadas as the fiery sun rose, pushing more and more water from my skin, a steady stream. Interestingly, when I was here last summer it was also during the hottest week. Luckily there have been no more storms, though one might bring some welcome relief.

I'm so happy you're enjoying my brief ashram posts. Namaste!

Ashram Life...

I didn't expect to be posting from the ashram, but I didn't tell myself I couldn't either. I enjoy taking the time in the morning to look at my photos and connect a little with the outside. It's so very hot and humid here that it's challenging for me to do, physically — even sitting for morning puja, which I love, brings too much heat with it. I attend at night instead and especially enjoy the teachings and readings afterwards. Last night we chanted from Patanjali's Yoga Sutras followed by some commentary and I had the honor of helping to distribute prasad. Oddly there were just enough cookies for everyone who wanted them, a single last cookie left over for me.

Empty Boat

Some huge work goes on growing. How
could one person's words matter? Where
you walk heads pop from the ground. What
is one seed head compared to you? On
my death day I'll know the answer. I have
cleared this house, so that your work can,
when it comes, fill every room. I slide
like an empty boat pulled over the water.


— Rumi


A miracle just happened, as I sat here. That's all I can say.

Ashram Life

It's hard to believe a year has passed since I've been here. Now that I've returned, it feels as if I never left, picking up conversations and friendships where they left off last summer.

When the teachings began yesterday, however, I realized how far I've come.

The Path

I am off to the ashram for a week-long Ayurvedic retreat, the current of a perfect weekend beneath my wings. It included enjoying a full moon campfire with new and old friends, doing some work for a cause I believe in, eating fresh vegetables from our garden (as well as native tomatoes, corn, and beautiful wild mushrooms from a local produce stand), taking hikes in the woods with J, dipping my feet in the cold, clear river across the street, reconnecting with an old friend, rescuing a funky old tool cabinet from the recycling station, meeting new kirtan friends and chanting right here in our sleepy small town, and doing quite a bit of list-making and packing for the week ahead.

In between, I've been fretting about the potential of setting my tent up in rain/wind/hail today, trying to decide between a highway and non-highway route, feeling a bit sad about leaving J and Vixen and the cats and the flowers in bloom and Tuesday at the herb farm...and trying to remember non-attachment, a difficult concept to contemplate while packing, my car rapidly filling with stuff...

I will have limited access to the non-ashram world for the next 7 days. Enjoy your week, my friends!

Jai Gurudev

Prayers to God are only selfish in the beginning, yet they not only fulfill one's desires but also purify the mind so that devotion to God grows in intensity and the devotee desires nothing more than God. Then God shows His Grace by manifesting as his Guru. 
— from the Tripura Rahasya

In the traditions of both Sanatana Dharma and Buddhism today is Guru Purnima, when disciples pay respect to their Guru or spiritual guide. While Buddhists focus on it being the day lord Buddha gave his first sermon in Uttar Pradesh, India, Hindus celebrate in honor of the great sage Vyasa, one of their most revered Gurus and a symbol of Guru-shishya parampara, the Guru disciple tradition.

In the West the Guru disciple tradition is commonly misunderstood, thanks in part to spiritual teachers who have turned out to be anything but, betraying the faith of their followers, as well as to our natural tendency to be fiercely independent. But a true Guru doesn't teach anybody to depend on him. How does one tell the difference between a true spiritual guide and a false one?

In the Upanishads there are five signs that you are with a Satguru or True Guru:

1. Knowledge flourishes (Gyana raksha)
2. Sorrow diminishes (Dukha kshaya)
3. Joy wells up without any reason (Sukha aavirbhava)
4. Abundance dawns (Samriddhi)
5. All talents manifest (Sarva samvardhan)

Shri Brahmananda Sarasvati, founder of Ananda Ashram and the Yoga Society of New York defines two forms of God, the Saguna or manifestation of the Absolute God in the human heart (literally "the Absolute with qualities") and the Nirguna, the Absolute, impersonal God without qualities or form who pervades the universe. In his his guide How to Select a Guru he writes, "He who facilitates the transaction of the transformation of these two forms of God is the real Guru. Such a Guru radiates a finer vibration of being, which purifies the ethereal ocean and rejuvenates those around him . . . Those who are trying hard to experience their inner Guru will easily find an outer Guru also, to help them in their inner journey."

In other words, when the student is ready, the teacher appears.

This relationship is interesting to think about on an intellectual level, but as usual I'll defer to Rumi to get at the truth of the matter, with his poetry.

Water from Your Spring

What was in that candle's light
that opened and consumed me so quickly?

Come back, my friend! The form of our love
is not a created form.

Nothing can help me but that beauty.
There was a dawn I remember

when my soul heard something
from your soul. I drank water

from your spring and felt
the current take me.

—from The Essential Rumi, translations by Coleman Barks

Jai Gurudev, "victory to the greatness in you!"

The Curious Calves of...

Sidehill Farm.

When I went to the farm to buy our raw milk, yogurt, and paneer cheese today I spotted a small sign in the parking area pointing towards a dirt path with the word "calves."

The first thing I did was, in typical fashion, walk down the entirely wrong path. Luckily the owner of the farm spotted me heading into the woods and turned me around — I don't know what I would have found on my journey, but I'm guessing it would not have been calves, who don't typically live in the forest.

Eventually I arrived at the pasture, surrounded by green hills and blue sky (just like the farm's logo) and was joined again by the owner of the farm who stood watching the calves with me.

They watched us back.

What a privilege to get to connect with the source of our food in such a positive way. For whatever reason raw milk is practically contraband in this country right now, and farming in general, especially using organic methods, is under attack. The powers that be want us to continue eating their chemical-laden, overly-processed food, grow increasingly obese and unhealthy and buy into their equally chemical-laden health care system because the insurance companies who are owned by these same powers that be won't pay for or even acknowledge the benefits of natural alternative methods of healing, and thanks to the pathetic economic and job situation these same powers have created for the rest of us, these alternative methods can't even be afforded by the people who most need them. They're already broke trying to put gas in their tanks, paying for their taxes and insurance, and trying to put food that isn't even food on their tables.

Darn right I support my local farmers.

Oh, herbs!

Many are the forms that herbs take. They are full of juices. The gods themselves give birth to herbs in the three different periods of time. ….

Oh, herbs! You are like our mothers. You are to be found in a thousand places. You have a thousand saplings. Many are the acts you are capable of performing. May you cure us of all ailments.

Oh, herbs, may you thrive and have flowers. May you look upon patients with favor. The diseases are like enemies, may you invade them like horses attacking foes. You free us from illnesses. You deliver us from disease…

Like kings coming together to do battle, various herbs come together and mingle. The physician is a learned person. He is well-versed in the treatment of diseases and ailments.

Oh, herbs! The disease has entered the limbs and bones of the patient. May the herbs enter his body and purge all disease.

The juice of one herb is mixed with that of a second. The juice of the second is mixed with that of a third. May all the herbs of the world be united in listening to my prayers. May I be protected.

There are herbs that have fruit, and there are those that do not. There are herbs that have flowers, and there are those that do not. All these herbs were created by Brihaspati. May all herbs free us from illness…

The herbs are to be found on earth and Soma is their chief. Brihaspati created the herbs so that they may cure patients.

Oh Herbs! The one who digs you out of the ground, may he not be destroyed. I dig you out from the ground for the sake of the patient. May the patient not be destroyed. May all bipeds and quadrupeds be free of disease. May our sons and our animals be free from disease.

The herbs that are far away will listen to these prayers. The plants that are near will also listen to these prayers. All the herbs will combine to make the diseased body healthy again.

These verses are excerpted from the hymn to herbs found in the tenth mandala of the Rg Veda (with contemporary translation by Debroy, Bibek, and Dupavali Debroy, 1994, the Holy Vedas, BR Publishing Corp.) I found it here.

You can see more photos from my day at Goldthread here.

Sweet 16

I met J in the height of a very hot Northampton summer. A few months later, as the nights began to chill and the afternoon shadows lengthen, I clearly remember sitting outside of a café on Main St.with my hands wrapped around a paper cup of steaming hot tea thinking, "Wow, the season is beginning to change and we're still together." 

64 season changes later....wow indeed.
Happy 16 year anniversary, J.

The Farmer and the Horse: Industrial De-evolution

Just heard about this book and documentary on Chelsea Green's website. There's a beautiful horse-powered vegetable farm/CSA right down the road from Goldthread, and as some of us carpool by it on Tuesdays we're always straining to catch sight of the horse and workers passing silently below in the fields.

Besides the obvious pastoral beauty in such a scene, there's something exquisite about witnessing someone who has the guts to live according to their values, despite the stresses and difficulty.

Some Roses for You.

Here's a glimpse of this morning's summer mantle - roses in a small hand-painted vase I gave to my mom years ago. Thanks to the rain I haven't had much opportunity this summer to clip and arrange flowers, but, with the exception of a wild storm that blew through here earlier this evening, this week has been relatively dry and dare I say summery. Even the vegetable seedlings are perking up a bit.


Because there are only so many hours in the day, I am doing my weekly "life-as-an-herb-farm-intern" over at The Thread this week — and yesterday was gorgeous so you might want to pop over there and check it out. We even finished up the day with a pot luck dinner, enjoying Tibetan dumplings, smoked Tempeh, non-dairy pesto and tomato crepes, watermelon, cornbread made with hand ground acorn meal...and of course my addictive sesame cookies. I didn't include that detail in my post. Nor did I mention that we pinched Tulsi flowers, and that today my fingers are still stained with their dark oil. Nor did I mention that we sampled Lycium (Goji) berry tincture, ate Schizandra berries, and admired a potted Amalaki (Indian gooseberry) tree, a fairly rare sight in New England as it is native to Asia. I'm still feeling a little shy over there.

I really appreciate those of you who have gone over to show The Thread some love, shared the link on your own blogs and even become followers. When I write a post there it's good to know some familiar friends are going to be reading. Right now, this new endeavor needs as much of my weight behind it as I can give.

Help Spread the Seeds of Community Herbalism (and Potentially Win Something Yummy)

My first post on the Goldthread blog, The Thread, has just gone live...and not only does it contain information about our upcoming Community Herbalist program (which I would love to hear some of you within driving distance will join me in taking) but it also invites you to share the post on your own blogs for a chance to win a delicious tea time indulgence...a 2 oz bag of Goldthread's Tulsi Rose Chai tea and a 9 oz jar of their "spirit elevating" Holy Basil Raw Honey, a combination I'm personally addicted to. Share the post on your blog AND become a follower of The Thread and be entered to win twice!

As those of you who have followed along here for a while know, I'm not one to post about products very much, and I also try to keep my work/blog life separate. This situation, however, is more vocation than job — I feel very strongly that knowledge about community herbalism and natural medicine is something our society desperately needs.

In September of 2010 the National Center for Health Statistics reported that nearly half of all Americans now use prescription drugs on a regular basis. Nearly a third of Americans use two or more drugs, and more than one in ten use five or more prescription drugs regularly. The report also revealed that one in five children are being regularly given prescription drugs, and nine out of ten seniors. Americans spent $307.4 billion on prescription drugs in 2010, according to a recent report from consulting firm IMS Health (info from here), and prescription meds are now the biggest cause of fatal drug overdoses.

Another recent study, published in the Archives of Internal Medicine, found that the average prescription drug label contains 70 different side effects, with more commonly prescribed drugs averaging around 100 side effects. And yet these drugs are being marketed directly to consumers everywhere one looks.

To quote a recent article in The Atlantic by Dr. Vasant Lad, Why Traditional Medicine Matters, "Nothing can compare to modern medicine during an acute emergency. When it comes to certain heart attacks, stroke paralysis, fracture, or acute appendicitis, modern medicine has achieved great success. Additionally, these treatments rely on a very profound, scientifically developed method of research--double-blind studies that show the effectiveness or lack of effectiveness of a drug. 

But, modern medicine, like every other system of medicine, has its challenges. Medical treatment, or even diagnostic examination, can cause adverse effects in a patient. These effects are known as iatrogenic disease, and they can be relatively minor--or they can be complex and life threatening, claiming more than 50,000 lives each year. Plus, when it comes to preventing disease and treating chronic illnesses, modern medicine continues to fall short." 

Yes, there is a time and a place for the many strengths of Western allopathic medicine, including pharmaceutical drugs. The public, however, needs to be taught when it is safe and appropriate to use them — and when they could be avoided through the use of simple herbal remedies for common and uncomplicated conditions.  

What are those conditions? What are the herbs we need to treat them? How do we grow those herbs in our own communities? How do we make medicine from these herbs?

That is the kind of knowledge we are trying to disseminate — grassroots medicine.

And this is my grassroots marketing campaign. Will you help spread the word?

A Short Walk on a Sunny Day

Go—not knowing where. Bring—not knowing what. The path is long, the way unknown.

— Russian Fairy Tale

 

Herbs from Heaven

On Tuesday I arrived at the herb farm early and took the opportunity to walk through the garden rows exploding with life, a living painting.

 

The long row of lavender was in full bloom, and though our class usually breaks up into small groups to tackle various tasks around the farm, the job of harvesting lavender is so deliciously enviable we were all sent to work on it together.




With small scissors and clippers we snipped one purple flower at a time, quietly chanting Om Tat Sat while we clipped, "The Supreme Being is the Absolute Truth."

This was the first time we were led in a chant while we worked. I hope it continues.

When we'd gathered many harvest baskets full of blooms they were squeezed into a metal container and brought to the wood fire for distillation into essential oil.

Witnessing first hand how many flowers it takes to extract the tiniest amount of precious essential oil, I will never again question its price.  

More lavender flowers found their way into jars of what will soon be infused lavender sage raw honey...

 

As the thick syrup found its path through the fresh leaves and blooms, air rose to the top of the jar, and bubbles began to dot the surface.

 

 

We harvested chamomile as well — its blooms need to be raked off the greens with a small tool similar to the one used to harvest blueberries...

  

These will most probably be dried for tea and other products sold at the apothecary.

Yes...we harvested calendula as well. I feel almost guilty for getting to experience a day like this.

One of the most important things I've learned during this internship is that herbal medicine is about so much more than simply taking a capsule to alleviate one's symptoms. It's about the vibrant color-therapy and the scintillating olfactory therapy of working with the plants. It's about getting outside in the sun, rain and fresh air, getting dirt beneath your fingernails, and engaging in an intimate relationship with nature. It's about the empowering quality of growing and producing safe, side-effect free medicine for yourself, your family, and your community. It's most definitely about aligning yourself with something bigger than you are, whether you call it Mother Nature, God, Buddha, Mohammad, the Supreme Being or something else.

“Herbs (medicines), while descending down from heaven to earth proclaimed those who eat us, are never destroyed."

— Yajur Veda quote