Homes and Homelessness

I think I got married to move out of my parents home.  I wanted to live the creative life and I thought that getting married to another creative person would allow me to also live the creative life. Being married was a passport to being a person and an individual.

Marriage meant freedom. The man I chose seemed to be all right, except that he wasn’t. But, I coped….women are told that their husbands must be obeyed and I had been well trained to be a submissive wife.

I loved doing up homes. I loved antique, unusual pieces with unusual patterns and colours.
When I got a job, most of the money would go on gifts for my mother and making a dream home.

Ironically, home is something I’ve never had.

After my marriage didn’t work, I was like a zombie with pain and then I moved to my parents home. I was pregnant and decided I’d keep the baby. I felt guilty that I’d be leaving my husband, but I just couldn’t take being violated. Keeping the baby meant keeping a part of the love that I felt for that man.

My family avoided talking about emotions. Depression was an American disease, Pakistanis didn’t get it.  Admitting to being depressed would mean I still loved my husband–and I did, but it was very hard to live with someone who was like Peter Pan except albeit a sadistic version. I lived in two worlds. The world of fantasy, that I shared also with my husband and the world of abusive reality, that I also shared with him.

Memory is a strange thing. When I stood in front of the little house with an attic that I am about to move into I remembered seeing a series of artwork  in a hip coffee shop near the arts council in Karachi. The pictures showed a doll house, from which a tiny cut out doll was walking out or peering into. In one picture she was peering in the windows. In another she was walking away from the home. In all those pictures, she was never inside. She was never home.

Leaving my husband meant leaving my home but not being free to be me. My parents decided that as a divorcee I wouldn’t have dignity in Pakistani society. I was that strange creature, neither single nor respectably married. My only hope for social respect was a great professional career or finding some man again. The right one this time. Right.

Yet, the prospect of being someone’s wife, and having more children and running in the rat race did not fill me with joy. Lose weight, find a man. Get a job, find a man. Raise a kid, find a man. The pressure was bizarre. It is as if I needed another person just to exist.

The family thought I should move to Canada, as I’d be safe here–a family member said, “there are many women like you here in this society, you will be fine here.” Perhaps I read too much into harmless sentences…an iceberg of misogyny that underlies the moral code and ethics of my family. My father didn’t spoke about women with any degree of respect, except mothers. It is the macho man thing in our somewhat pakhtoon value system. There were unwritten rules in the tribal code of honour. Women had to be a certain way to prove they were okay.

Around the years when I should have been happily pursuing my career, I was just a woman. I remember how a girl was killed for falling in love…it was an honour killing. As a liberal progressive I felt appalled. A dear friend said how she had heard that the girl was a slut, not a good woman. It was a sort of justice that the family killed her for her crime of being involved with a man or two.

I didn’t have all that to face–in comparison my family was very progressive. As girls we ate the same food as the men. yet, I always felt I shouldn’t eat more so I don’t get fat. As girls we got the same education as the male, except that it was important that he is more successful. To be considered equal, I should be a well paid professional. to have any social status I must be at least as wealthy as the men.

So I worked hard. I did whatever I could to make money. Money meant status, dignity and respect. My heart however was emblazoned with the image of the girl walking away from a home.

During my life, I’ve moved countless times, decorated and redecorated countless homes. My life or most of it was spent being a single parent. On most days my inner state was a numb shock at the reality of life. Reality is highly over rated.

I know that this place here, we call Earth, with its rich men and its banks, and its land owners and its violence and war isn’t my home. My home is elsewhere, a kinder place and a gentler place. The only difference between me and someone else is that I don’t give up on that dream. I see no point to reality if there isn’t a dream of something better.

Thus it doesn’t matter if there is space for me or not. It doesn’t matter how people treat me or don’t. No place is home and there is a sense of deep peace. The most peaceful people in the world don’t own land. The most peaceful people on the planet don’t have bank accounts or insurance policies. They live in harmony with nature and die when it is time. I found this simple thing–‘non-attachment’ to things far braver then any war waged for the ‘protection’ of borders.

Vulnerability is the greatest act of courage.

10 Monsters Guard The Heart

Never ever stop doing something just because people tell you not to. The doorway of the heart is guarded by Laziness, Doubt, Malice, Jealousy, Avarice, Hatred, Fear, Humiliation, Temptation and Grief. You have to defeat them to walk into the garden of paradise. They are false dragons and they are mired in non-truth, therefore they can be defeated by the adroit warrior:).

1.  If you do what you want than you are irresponsible, immoral,  poor and unable to take care of your responsibilities.  “You are going to lie to people about god! I could have done this, but I didn’t. It won’t make money. I have family that is why I don’t do it.” (you are not me, bless you for your sense of responsibility)

2. You can’t be spiritual. God won’t like it. You will go to hell (that’s god’s problem, not yours)

3. You should do this, it means you will be less than us. You will lose status (who wants status at the cost of love)

4.  “People will think you are a witch”. You will be rejected from normal society. (normal society is pretty dysfunctional).

5.  Men won’t date you. (who wants men like that?)

6.  Everybody does it. “I already know everything, because I did it before you did it. You can’t tell me anything I don’t know.” (sorry to see you aren’t ready to heal with my help, but wish you the best in the journey).

7. You could get a job in a nice consulting company, you are smart and confident. Why struggle? (who wants to work for jerks?)

8. Nobody believes you. They believe men, not women. (Those are not my audience)

9. I will test you to see if anything that you say works. Does it work? (you are in charge of your own healing)

10. Give me free help. Because I think all this stuff is nonsense, you have to prove it. (Even machines cost money. I need to live)

11. I don’t appreciate your help. You are not good enough. I will go to someone well known and successful. (Your choice)

12. It is too much work! (Take a break)

Then there are the angels who come from nowhere and help on the path. They are numerous and they make my heart burst with love. Their love and support makes me carry on listening to spirit, undaunted by a few pesky monsters:). 

A few monsters aren’t worth giving up on the heart’s deepest truth and desires.

🙂

Attachment To Things

My attachment to my grandmother’s things is not really about the thing as much it is to my past. Healing my relationship with nature meant healing my relationship with myself. In truth nature and human is one and there is a need to heal emotional trauma in order to create a harmonious relationship with nature–as the native Canadians knew.

As I sorted through my stuff that I am donating, I came across my grandmother’s hand knitted spread, then there was a pillow case she embroidered and her beautiful black velvet wrap.

When I was a child my grandmother would often talk about her beautiful home and nice things that were left behind in India. She’d talk about her childhood home, her library and her life of creativity and music that were lost in India, because of the partition. My grandmother never bought into the idea that Muslims can’t live with Hindus. She heartily disliked the increasing Islamism and she found the whole idea preposterous and hypocritical.

My grandmother had an incredible presence. She was so confident that she could easily intimidate and humble a General. She could say whatever she thought to anyone and get away with it. She ruled her domain like a Queen. Highly artistic, she could create crafts that could be put in a museum. Her embroidery, knitting, cooking and gardening abilities were in a category of their own marked beyond excellence.  Yet, my grandmother had a dark side. She suffered from mental illness. I’ve wondered if her illness could be called bipolar. She had abusive and obsessive tendencies. She was obese because food was her addiction to cope with severe depression. She cried often about the loss of her childhood and being made a mother far too young.

I was a little child when my grandmother moved in with my mother. I was her friend, confidante and therapist all rolled into one — I was only 10 years old. I think my grandmother was a creative genius who had never found her true calling.

She taught me Ghalib’s poetry, philosophy, Urdu and cooking. She also taught me Mirabai’s bhajans and she triggered most of my knowledge and interest in Hinduism. My grandmother was also very spiritual in her belief system.  When I go through the dark days, when I feel as if there is nothing here for me, I talk to my grandmother. knowing that there is someone who understands my pain, who often visits me in spirit and helps me go through my life.

I couldn’t compromise ultimately–it was either be or not be, regardless of the world. I think a big reason for it was watching my grandmother’s suffering as this highly gifted person struggled with mental illness. I don’t know why things were so complicated in her world. I’m not sure why she had to live like royalty and make my aunt a virtual servant who waited on her hand and foot. Maybe the loss of her own mother at a young age triggered her problems. She was however never treated for spiritual or mental illness, she was treated for heart disease and diabetes because of obesity, but never for the root cause.

As I trained in my healing work, I’d often wonder what if my grandmother had found support? what if she had been healed? as a little girl, I was aware of her pain, I’d go make all kinds of concoctions from the garden to put on her feet and legs. My grandmother had a severe disturbance in the root chakra==this is the sense of connection to the mother and her terrible grief about the loss of her mother never left her. In my life, I saw myself repeat that pattern, even though my mother was very much there, I constantly feared for her loss and my time in Canada has been full of grief because of being apart from my mother. As I healed this karmic issue, I felt that my grandmother whose life story is part of my DNA, heaves a sigh of relief, as if she can finally let go of the suffering caused by the loss of her mother. One karmic debt can be struck off my list of chores for this lifetime:).

Despite the fact that my family is from India and that is the most spiritual place in the world where people travel from all over the world for pilgrimage, and she was exposed to the concepts of Ayurveda where the root cause is always spiritual, my grandmother was ‘modern’. She’d say that finding real spiritual healers was too difficult in modern times. Her personal experience of watching her mother die because of leeching wrongly administered after childbirth made her a firm believer in Western medicine. She respected western knowledge more than the old ways. This is the generation that first saw the benefits of vaccines and she relied on and believed in ‘medical science’.  In her world view ‘taking care of yourself’ was unheard of. Others took care of you and your doctor did the rest. Food and exercise were done for enjoyment not for health.  I don’t think my grandmother spent a single day alone. She never drove, carried stuff or worked without assistance of some sort.

As a child I saw women as caregivers but also very needy themselves. They gave time, but their needs were taken care of by the husbands, fathers and brothers. People didn’t question this arrangement. In a strange way–even though this was a privileged arrangement, and being on one’s own is difficult financially and emotionally, my heart would sink at the thought of not living my life as me. I wouldn’t voice this concern because it was unthinkable in the world I come from for a woman to live alone. She must have support and protection. There’s always a price to be paid for that support…and the price was housework and care of the family plus everything else that you are doing for your self esteem and desire for nice stuff in the modern context.

I chose my own husband, but the real responsibility and tasks of the marriage of the relationship fell to me. A husband is like a wrap around a woman’s life that had to be kept there, because otherwise she wouldn’t be safe. In that world, the true responsibility of the woman stays with the parents and the husband is often like a drone.

Never mind that the ‘protector’ was abusive. But that’s bad luck, not a social problem. I was unhappy and stuffed down my emotions with illness. When I heard that there is another way and that way would mean no more antibiotics and steroids-which really had stopped working, I took to it with total commitment. I wanted so badly to be healthy that I took to yoga, meditation, natural eating, homeopathy with a passion. If it meant living in a monastery I was ok with it. But most of all, I was willing to feel. I could cry. I felt abandonment, pain, suffering and fear but my physical diseases left me as I allowed my emotional pain to surface. Behind all this pain there was something else — it was a divine unconditional love that was still a part of my DNA. It was untarnished and my healing was like polishing a mirror that had become dirty over time.

The world that had made me sick was pretty dysfunctional, but that was normal. Normal life tends to break a lot of people’s hearts.

When I moved to Canada, I wanted to close the door on that world with its sense of ‘ethics’. I wanted to shut out the world of my childhood, adulthood and motherhood and all the rest of the things that I was taught were normal. I wanted to make my own world that doesn’t have anything from the past. Nothing. But it didn’t work. That world sat under the surface like an iceberg that poked holes in my boat.

The problem with shutting doors is that they need locks and no matter how much you hide the door, it is always there, exerting a silent and awful influence that drains me.

Shutting that door and padlocking it didn’t really work beyond a certain time, because these people aren’t in my stuff from Pakistan, they aren’t in my email or facebook, they are in my head and in my heart.

Recently, I opened the door, I cleaned, I swept, I sorted. I loved. I cried. I am letting it go. I must have come a long way, because as I cry the love surfaces to fill me with joy in the vacuum that is left behind from letting go. I am not my family. I am me.

I’d love to talk about this with the other family members. But I don’t know if they are ready to heal. Healing means being vulnerable….it is about taking the risk to feel….hurt, angry, sad and then to let that go.

Attachment to things is about attachment to pain.

Scarcity

There is no scarcity on the planet. Just greedy people who want to take things for themselves

Mother Earth doesn’t agree that there isn’t enough for everyone on the planet. Her reaction to my suggestion that things are scarce is appalled shock.  Look at the abundance, diversity and plain incredibleness of all the things on the planet. The problem–she says– is that humans have created a world where it pays to be stupid.

People actually cut down trees–huge trees that it takes decades to grow to make ugly houses that are full of synthetic materials that cannot be biodegraded. This isn’t science. This is ignorance and greed. People get salaries for doing work that harms the future. It isn’t logical or smart. It is just what it is–a bit stupid.

It pays to sell stuff without a recycling plan. For example, when you buy a car, there is no attempt to make you aware of its eco cost. When you shop in the Dollar store or Walmart or any huge massive  store for stuff that you will hate within a year, there is no accounting for the cost of garbage to the planet and to society. Forget accounting, there is no thought about the planet or the impact on the future.

It is stupid, insane and reckless. It makes people behave selfishly, greedily and heartlessly. And that pays. There is no heart in the path of consumerism except at Christmas time when missionaries raise funds to convert more brown people to Christianity,

Stores these days charge for bags and some offer  recycling bins on the sides. It is more ‘cost effective’ to set up huge food plants and drive the food to different grocery outlets rather than local producers grow the food and supply it. In truth it isn’t about cost effectiveness at all. Local farmers are more than capable of growing and supplying vegetables, canning food and milk and supplying it to stores in their 20 mile radius. But it would mean legislation that protects our food from US producers i.e., corporations. North American Free Trade Agreement also known as ‘Corporations will win’ works constantly against economic independence from US interests.

The severe under reported under employment and unemployment problem that Canada faces would disappear if local businesses were supported by the federal government.

But they don’t do it. Because they aren’t truly representative of Canadian people. They are representatives of US corporations.

There is no scarcity on the planet. Just greedy people who want to take things for themselves.

I guess the real question that people have to ask in these months leading up to election is if they want to work for a living or just enjoy the benefits of the exchange rate parity by siding along with USA. I think that path is scary for a few different reasons. Firstly, there is no guarantee that US will succeed in controlling the oil supply or the middle east. That situation could blow up in their face. Literally. Secondly, ethics and justice. It is unethical to side with war. This idea made Canada a peaceful and inclusive haven for all. Thirdly, the planet can’t take the cost of greed and stupidity.

What can you do?

Say no to irresponsible consumerism. Instead of driving to the mall, donate your time to the homeless. Find people that you can have deep and delightful conversations with. Instead of buying land, go and donate some time and care to people in your community who need attention. You won’t get ‘rich’ doing this versus devoting yourself to a corporate career of making money as a goal in itself, but you will have the chance to be grateful for what you have rather than comparing yourself to the Jones’s and how far they are versus you.

Gratitude according to Mother Earth is the single ‘force’ of justice that is required to right the balance and shift people’s thinking from scarcity to abundance and then to service.

My banker friends will ask, but how can thinking change things? somebody has to ‘do’ not talk How can you create an instrument that’s neither debt nor equity? how can you make a bond out of gratitude. How do you sell it?

You don’t. There are some things that are not meant to be traded. Land and other natural resources are meant to be shared equitably and not owned.

Then there is the other question, are you talking about Islamic banking? No I am not.  I am talking about actually working as if the Earth mattered. As if our work was about making other humans happier. As if our job was to serve others and not dominate them. As if each of us mattered in a bigger scheme of things.

Imagine abundance.

The Zen Circle

Last Sunday 12th April,  I had a gift party at my home as I am gifting away what I still own and don’t absolutely need to survive in this society. There is an ongoing shift happening, where people realize the extent of damage to the planet, even though media and governments may appear totally oblivious to it. Hypothetically I had a choice to be part of that shift, or not, but in truth I don’t think there was any any choice for me. It was simply a question of when.

Funny what comes up when we open a few boxes. A Chinese silk saree in turquoise blue took me to a world that surfaces like waves breaking on a sea shore. In flash back style I was transported to a time 25 years ago to a sleepy hot afternoon in Karachi. I was going over a personal selling presentation. I had chosen Books as my personal selling item. At that time Liberty Books was one of the few places where you could still get books. My boyfriend at the time read the presentation, and criticized it saying that shouldn’t just talk about the beauty or value of books but about how knowledge is a source of power. ‘Power?’ I thought to myself, from books? ‘Power is empty craving, it is a lust that eats away the soul.’ In those days I didn’t say these things, which is perhaps why I had a huge acquaintance circle, but few people understood or knew me.

I remembered how it went when I spoke about the beauty of reading books. I got an A- (even though I had worked hard on it) and I remember people were moved and excited by what I had to say. Instead of selling a gadget or a piece of garbage, I was selling ideas. It was a marketing class.  I made an A-. I looked around and saw my ‘teacher’ for a correction—this had more value than the junk that people talked about. He didn’t correct it. I learnt at that time a very important lesson. People can bow their heads 50 times a day to god. Marry for god. Die for god. But having purpose is a whole different thing. It is about following your bliss. It takes real courage and it is rare.

I had assumed beauty was important to people…not to have sex with it, own or control it but simply to appreciate it. I hadn’t yet realized that this is a big deal.That here was the suppression –the brick wall right in front of me stands unchanged–just as thick:) the only that’s changed is me. I talk about it, instead of accepting its strength, I question its foundations. For the brick wall I may be a like a mosquito, but I took heart from Dalai Lama’s words about a mosquito. My eyes tear up as I recall the Dalai Lama say in a speech recently that there may not be another Dalai Lama after his body dies. That confirmed what the Mother Earth said to me….that she is indeed dying.

It has become fashionable to quote Rumi and talk about spirituality. In this day and age, everything is for sale, even god and people have borrowed god to help promote their brand. But, the truth is to do anything they deeply feel, people need the permission of their doctor, their banker, their spouse, their boss and quite likely the government. We live in a world that’s pretty oppressed, because we have to ‘sell’ something to someone to live and to have space.

This brick wall is thick and one could stare at it one’s whole life, never daring to climb over it. One isn’t supposed to ‘enjoy’ life or work. You i.e., us work for god, family, the banks or lust for land, money and power. We aren’t supposed to work to create beauty or experience beauty in your life. If you do, then you better make good money from it, or it is not ‘good enough.’

But we still have a choice. Either work to ‘own’ nature, or co-create with nature. Either one could be part of the problem or part of the solution to the problem. I chose the latter path and that has made all the difference. Yes there is pain on the physical level–not having money creates challenges. But there is a freedom from a spiritual pain that arises from being part of the problem.

All this ran through my head when my dear friend wore that Chinese silk sari and twirled looking absolutely gorgeous with the sunshine streaming through the window.

A sense of closure, a deep peace filled my heart as I saw the golden sunshine light up the pink-gold brocade of the sari and her hair. We will have fun on the journey home. The sound of girlish laughter  reverberates in my home, even though Sunday is long over.

Life has come full circle.

The climate isn’t my business

Blog entry April 10th, 2015

Ever since I posted on facebook on my birthday that I feel inspired to start a pilgrimage for Earth Healing…it has been interesting to say the least.

People have reached out with offers right away… house sitting and all kinds of possibilities surfaced to support the project as a conceptual art project. I feel so grateful and blessed:)

I’ve finally shared ‘Conversations with Mother Earth’ on my website. I’ve had a conversation or two with a couple of family members who were mostly silent about my project, other than the comment that you will now live in a car or the comment that you will be homeless.

I talked to a musician who lives a minimalist lifestyle. People have pinged me and asked me to travel to their homes and live with them for a while—those offers have come from people who know me from childhood and in whose cultures long term visitors is normal…. Pakistani friends and friends of the family, thank you, thank you, thank you. I am so glad that despite moving to a different part of the world, the whole idea of gifting what you have to someone else is alive and well

When I suggested I’d pay $600/- for a room several people contacted me—who had an extra room and wanted a room mate or some extra money (the going rate for a shared room is $600/).

I guess money isn’t losing any value any time soon. As long as people believe in it—that’s what we will have to use…never mind that this currency is controlled by a few people who have absolutely no sense of responsibility towards anyone except a few corporations.

Then there are my long term friends who live in a forest—they’d be happy to give us a space to live—though leaky and cold, their hospitality is warm.

One friend was specially generous and gave several thousand dollars to me as my back up support as I carry out this pilgrimage.

I wonder if I am now, ‘un-bankable’. Un-bankable is someone who is now no longer part of the system of money and exchange—the normal system that is also fast killing the planet and our food. I guess not. I still have some money.

I ask myself is it too late to be an activist? I am in my forties—isn’t this the time you get serious about work and ‘save-up’ for a sickness ridden retirement stemming from the frustration of never really having lived your life?

How long can I do this pilgrimage?

Someone asked me, will you now live in a car?

Even though I planned to set off–I haven’t honestly thought about how I will live. That question seems like a great solution to me. I do wonder about hobos or some such bugging me in parking lots. I have definitely got enough socks and blankets to wrap myself up well.

My son will have a place to live—thank goodness—I was more worried about him then myself. He is pretty talented and I don’t think he will ever lack for food.

Why am I putting myself through this?

For an answer to this you will have to read my book , ‘Conversations with Mother Earth.” I am an empath and psychic medium. Unlike a lot of people, I can’t seem to shut out the knowledge that the earth is dying. ‘Hello, don’t u see it? That’s our food, air, water and livelihood dying because we can’t seem to balance our relationship with Mother Earth?’

For the last several years I’ve lived an unusual life. Instead of a nice job, I’ve opted to be self-employed…and live a fairly minimalist life for many reasons, but the most important reason was the knowing that I would be better served healing and helping people cope with the great shift that is happening right now.

On the surface things seem just the same as 10 years ago when climate change became apparent, but have you ever lived in a forest? Then you’d know that things get very quiet—just before they become very crazy. So, as a society we are in the quiet denial phase…we’ve been there for a while…apart from celebrities who can ‘afford to’ make statements about climate change or young activists who need to position their resumes, the rest of the world lives in denial.

Even though people say how much they care, their actions are the opposite.

“As long as I get whatever I want, I am an environmentalist…..’’ “First I’ll get rich, then when I retire I’ll have enough.”

Is there no way to tone down the madness of consumerism? Is there no way to rethink the current banking and monetary system and come up with an alternative system of exchange?

Is there no way to stop using plastic and just ban it?

Is there no to stop the construction of huge mansion like houses where only 2 people live? Is there no way to stop importing plastic junk from China?

Is there no way to clean up the oceans? Is there no way to stop living this lethargic life stuck in front of a computer all day and night in service of the rape of the planet?

Surely, there is another way.

Dear Mr Stephen Harper,

 

I agree with you that a woman dressed in veils and in a huge cloak is not free.

It is an embarrassment for Canada, that there are people here who don’t fall in with the idea that freedom means showing your face and hair.

Perhaps the reason why Canadians should be even more embarrassed is because they indirectly support the lack of freedom for women in the Muslim world.

For the last several decades a version of Islam that is directly promoted by the Saudi monarchy has swept all Muslim countries.

As a child I did not see as many women in veils as I do now.

In the interpretation of religion which these people ascribe to, a woman must not have freedom to show her face, to protect the sanctity of the social contract, where men must provide for women.

They believe that showing a woman’s hair or face will create sexual feelings in men and distract both genders from their first duty to god, rather than themselves. In this belief system, women lose their self-respect, freedom and dignity by being visible. Seriously, if you were a woman from that part of the world, you’d much rather become invisible, then be considered a bad and disobedient person.

Since there is a lot of oil money that supports such ideas, as you know promises of job and money attracts followers, this version of religion has become quite popularly associated with Islam. People get so occupied with what is appropriate and what is inappropriate in their religion, that they have little time or energy to fight for democracy or justice. That’s how oil has been sold for centuries and the money has been spent at the whim of the Arab Sheikhs for their own aggrandizement.

Yet, the ‘free’ world has supported such monarchies.

If you or Canada really want freedom for Muslim women, then there is a very simple solution. Reduce the consumption of oil, and stop buying oil from states that are run by monarchies. This would be a moral thing to do.

But your government doesn’t do that. They don’t even talk about the real issues about the environment that Canada is facing. If Canadian policy was directed towards creating local alternatives to the current addiction to oil, it would create a lot more jobs than the import led policy. But of course, large corporations that are dependent on foreign resources would not be able to make as much money.

Imagine more Canadians and Americans working for a living. Actually making the stuff that we need ourselves. It will end all the wars in the Middle east. No more ISIS, no more issues with Palestine or Israel.

And quite likely, no more hijab at oath taking ceremonies. It will mean that your vote bank will have to invest in the economy, rather than take whatever they can for themselves, because of the global exchange rate disparity.

Now that’s liberty and freedom to me.
What do you think?

Kind regards
Saima Shah

Free god

Free god from the hegemony of the wise
let me be stupid
let me find out for myself
I don’t want to be told how to pray
how to think or what the truth is

100 words about nothingness

This is what I hear, see and know when I go into meditation.

Who am I?

I am an energy that is acting and behaving as this person for a short while. I am an actor playing my own role.

Who is god?

I don’t know

What is god?

God is love

Is god here?

Yes

Where will I go when I die?

Nowhere. I will become potential and unite again with the ocean.

Is there reincarnation?

Will I be born again?

Yes. I am in school

What is the purpose and objective of the school?

The objective of the school is to remember who you are. The purpose is to find love. God is love, so the purpose is to find god.

Is the love of god spiritual love?

No, love is love. Love of god can be as passionate and romantic as love of human beings.

What is the difference between romantic love and spiritual love?

In one there is lack, in the other, there is greater fulfillment for some.

It depends on each individual what fulfills them.

Does one have to be in a relationship to find god?

No. God is love and love is here everywhere.

Does one have to give up relationships to find god or have a relationship with god?

The relationship with god is the relationship you have to yourself…because your enduring, eternal true self is part of god. It is the primary relationship, far deeper and greater than even the relationship you had with your mother or father.

When people harm us, hurt us instead of loving us, what does it mean?

It means ignorance. Few choose to hurt deliberately, most think that they are hurt and therefore justified in hurting another person. It helps to remember that people are doing the best they can from their level of understanding. It helps to remember that you are eternal and stronger than any hurt ever done to you. You have power, no matter how bad you feel about yourself.

Which kind of religion is ok?

The one that helps you have faith. Faith isn’t the same thing as religion. Religion should help you to have faith, but it should not be a substitute for faith. religion is about building a community based on common values rather than connecting to god. If you are practicing religion to have community, then it is not about enlightenment but about survival and belonging. These are human problems and often religion is used to resolve them. That is purpose of religion, but it will only take you this far. After this, if you are ready, you will be taken further.

What is the relationship between survival and spiritual enlightenment?.

Without survival you can’t have enlightenment. Without enlightenment you can have survival but not happiness.

What is enlightenment?

Enlightenment is what the word suggestions in many ways. To see yourself as light, to be suffused with light. To have a moment whereupon mind body and spirit become one. Enlightenment is a state of true seeing.

Why is it so hard to let go of the senses?

I could ask why is it so hard to let go of the state of nirvana or ecstacy?

Senses or no senses can both be additions. It is hard to awaken back to regular consciousness. Some people like to escapte the senses and others like to stay in the senses. It depends on what they are here to do.

Is yoga a way to reunite with the ocean of awareness ?

Yes, if practiced with the intention. Intention is most important.

The Body Remembers

Fiction

 

Once or maybe multiple times I was a slave girl. My master would beat me if I did not work hard enough. I had very little money to clothe myself. My days would be spent scrubbing floors, my nights in prayer.

 

I knew that beyond my life there was something beautiful, beyond imagination, beyond time. At night, when my master slept I would talk to the angels who would visit me. I’d laugh for hours and play.

 

Then sleep would come. In the early morning before my master woke for the morning prayer, a hand on my shoulder would awaken me. Sometimes it was Micheal, sometimes Gabriel. They’d wake me to get up. In the morning my body would be heavy. After visiting heaven, the hell that is earth would make me listless and sad.

 

In those times, I’d wash my face and hands, then quietly stand on my prayer mat. Moving my body through the familiar shapes of prayer, I’d liberate my body from the pain of being here.

 

After I was done praying, I’d hear the Azaan and quietly prepare everything for my master’s prayers. My master would be sometimes asleep, sometimes awake when I knocked on his door with his bed tea.

 

He had an illness that would make it difficult for him to digest food. I had to be very careful with the breakfast. There was tea to be made, bread to be baked and it had to be just right.

 

His water for cleansing his body had to be the right temperature.

 

After he washed his body, he would pray and then sometimes I’d hear him sobbing asking god for more money, forgiveness for visiting the prostitutes or forgiveness for how he had treated someone. I knew that the master had a heart except that it was hidden behind a cloud of confusion.

 

Some days he was very angry, and even after prayer, he had not found peace. Those days were difficult for me, because there was nothing I did right. The bread was too crisp or too soft. The food was not salty enough or too salty.

 

Sometimes everything was ok, but I walked a certain way that he did not like.

He’ d say to me, do you want to attract men? You think that if you serve me well, I will give you a house? You are nothing. You don’t know anything.

 

I would feel terrible in those times. My stomach, my entire being would burn with anger. I knew better than to reply to him. When I was a child I said something back, but he slapped me and pulled my ear.

 

Nobody ever dies. Though I died. I was born again with him. He was an ordinary man, but my body remembered him differently and thus we fell into the same pattern. He, the superior male beloved of the family and me the female burden–the slave.