I remember riding in the car as a young child and staring, with the focus of a mind reader, at the passing billboards and signs trying to decipher their meaning. I was desperate to learn how to read so when I finally did conquer the mysteries of the written word I ate up books like candy. I joyfully devoured Greek mythology and then I moved on to Roman mythology. I was not as impressed with Roman mythology but I read on regardless. I just really enjoyed reading myths for some reason. When I was about eight years old my family began attending church services on a regular basis. Of course I read the Bible stories and I guess because of my love of mythology I understood them to be Christian mythology. The lessons were kind of similar and the stories were fantastical much like the other myths that I had read. And then going to church seemed to be mostly a social affair with some lecturing and advice thrown in for good measure. Oddly enough, I don't remember ever really thinking that seriously about God when I was in church. Perhaps for these reasons or perhaps because it was simply not my destiny, or karma, Christianity never really clicked with me. Though I did enjoy the experience and I even got to be an acolyte a for a short while which was great fun.
I met my spiritual teacher when I was about twelve. The experience of my spiritual awakening was not a cosmic circus of blue lights and levitation. It was a profound relief and a feeling that I had finally come home. Eastern philosophy was a new path for me but it didn't feel new, it felt completely natural. There were wonderful stories to enjoy on this path as well but the experience of the Truth was the paramount goal and the methods to attain that goal were quite enjoyable for the most part. I was never an early bird but, luckily for me, I didn't have to be. I must admit that meditating did not always come easily to me. In fact it took me many years to actually crave meditation on a regular basis. Chanting, on the other hand, was heavenly and I could do it anytime and anywhere.
The first chant that I ever attended was Hare Krishna. I was eleven when my dad had brought my sister and I to an ashram for the first time. My cousin had introduced him to the guru and he was pretty much instantly absorbed into his spiritual path. I remember the chanting hall was dimly lit and smelled of sandalwood incense which at the time seemed wonderfully mystical and exotic. I think I tried to follow along for awhile but it was late and I was tired so my dad wrapped me in a blanket and I laid my head in his lap and fell fast asleep. It was the most glorious sleep that I had ever experienced not to mention one of my favorite memories of time spent with dad.
Some months after I returned home from that journey my brother, I think it was my brother, sent me; a photo of the guru, a tape of a slow chant and a beautiful little puja rug. It was a wonderful gift and I put it all to great use. I cleared out half of my closet and created a tiny chanting cave or sacred space if you will. I remember going into my little cave and chanting with great abandon and then dutifully trying to meditate. And so started my spiritual journey. I met my teacher about a year later.
My dad had begun traveling with the guru so visiting dad became a visit to the ashram. There were programs held every evening at that time which included chanting, meditation and spiritual discourse. We did seva, aka selfless service, for a couple of hours a day and sometimes there were Hatha Yoga classes. Spirituality was infused into every aspect of daily life. At the end of every evening program there was darshan, which was a time when one had the opportunity to go in front of the guru and ask a question, just say hello or whatever. As a child, darshan was an especially wonderful experience. I just soaked in the love that poured out of Baba. For me he was a bit like a really loving grandfather whose gifts were far greater than any toy or bauble. Although he did, often times, actually give people presents to boot.
The understanding of God and spirituality at the ashram clicked for me in a way that I had not felt before. That being said, I also was certainly no 'little miss dharmic yogini' neither as a child nor as a teen. I ebbed and flowed like any youngster does... I guess I still do! Ha! Anyway, most of my family ended up living in the ashram or traveling with the guru for many years. My cousin, one sister and my dad lived in this way for over twenty years. My mom and other siblings each for somewhere between ten and twenty years.
The longest period of time that I lived in an ashram was just under three years. For me this was a record! In the past thirty years I haven't lived consistently in any one place for longer than six years and most places for less than three. Not since I left Philadelphia at the ripe old age of nine! I digress... Each time, however brief or long, that I lived in the ashram brought more insights and understanding. Each time that I lived outside of the ashram gave me the opportunity to utilize my new tools. My last extended stay at the ashram my teacher told me that I would have to start looking to my inner guru for answers. It was somewhat frightening but overall an empowering experience to hear those words from my guru who had given me such wonderful guidance for so many years.
That was about thirteen years ago. In the past thirteen years I have continued ebbing and flowing my way towards my true self. Every year the insights seem to be more plentiful and more frequent. I find inspiration in some pretty unusual places and I am learning how to guide and choose my feelings. I am starting to understand, after all of these years, how to truly love and acknowledge myself. I feel my connection so strongly and so much more consistently than I ever have before. Almost as if it was the most natural state in the cosmos! Go figure...
A few weeks ago I was contemplating an idea for
a design based on freedom. (I create
designs for t-shirts and gifty stuff) I was thinking about an eagle because I actually have a couple of eagles nesting not too far from me and every time that I see them I feel such a rush of joy and awe. So anyway, as I was thinking about what I wanted to do, "Freedom is a choice" popped into my head. (It's an adaptation of an Abraham Lincoln quote; "Happiness is a choice.")
As I contemplated those words I felt very light. Freedom really is a choice. I realized that for the past nine months or so I have been actively working on choosing freedom. Freedom from my habits. Freedom from speculation. Freedom from my inner critic. Freedom from the part of me that wants to be right.
I am finding that it gets easier with time. I still have all of the unwanted thoughts popping into my head but the difference is I choose not to engage with them nearly as often as I used to. I am learning and creating tools to allow them to pop right back out again so that I can focus on the truth. I already am free. I just have to choose and be present in my freedom so I can enjoy the ride and continue with the business of creating my beautiful life.
