Dalai Lama on Scientific Proof of Benefits of Meditation

By Terry Reis Kennedy

According to His Holiness, he has always enjoyed science. He had a telescope when he was a boy living at Norbulingka, his summer palace in Tibet, and he would look out from a rooftop perch staring at the “specimens” below, trying to understand them. 

At the time he did not know that he was revered as a “living god” by his people. His observations of birds and the nature that surrounded him, taught him about the impermanence of life, the renewal of what appeared lost, and he later came to see that the contemplative life often led to the same conclusions as the scientific life.

In 2005 when he spoke at the Mind and Life Institute in Boulder, Colorado, USA, he shared how meditation was a benefit to many, not just to people practicing the spiritual life.  

He said, “Another area where a critical perspective is required on the part of the scientists is the ability to distinguish between the empirical aspects of Buddhist thought and contemplative practice on the one hand and the philosophical and metaphysical assumptions associated with these meditative practices.

“In other words, just as we must distinguish within the scientific approach between theoretical suppositions, empirical observations based on experiments, and subsequent interpretations, in the same manner it is critical to distinguish theoretical suppositions, experientially verifiable features of mental states, and subsequent philosophical interpretations in Buddhism. This way, both parties in the dialogue can find the common ground of empirical observable facts of the human mind, while not falling into the temptation of reducing the framework of one discipline into that of the other.”

As a child I was fortunate to grow up surrounded by nature. I enjoyed four distinct seasons, bright starry nights when I could observe the movement of the moon across the sky and winter days when I could watch the clothes on the line stiffen into icy ghosts.  In my little way I learned about “Science” and loved it. 

I find Buddhism as broad and diverse in its interpretation of meditative states, as is science in its observations of functions of the mind..

Kundun, the Presence of the Buddha, said, “I believe, a close cooperation between these two investigative traditions can truly contribute toward expanding the human understanding of the complex world of inner subjective experience that we call the mind.”

Based on our own experiences with meditation, most of us who practice going deeply within and listening to the inner guidance, report that our lives improve.  We have better relationships and peace of mind, for instance.

“Already the benefits of such collaborations are beginning to be demonstrated,” the Compassionate One reported, “By invoking fundamental ethical principles, I am not advocating a fusion of religious ethics and scientific inquiry. Rather, I am speaking of what I call "secular ethics" that embrace the key ethical principles, such as compassion, tolerance, a sense of caring, consideration of others, and the responsible use of knowledge and power—principles that transcend the barriers between religious believers and non-believers, and followers of this religion or that religion.”

Sai Baba on Jesus - A Christmas special

By Terry Reis Kennedy

The Christmas story I grew up on was Baby Jesus was born in a manger, a building used to house farm animals during the night.  His parents were on the way to pay their taxes when Mary’s time came for the baby to be born.  This was a side story in our home; it was Santa Claus who was the main star.

By the time I arrived at Sai Baba’s ashram, Prasanthi Nilayam in Puttaparthi India in 1990, I had given up on Santa Claus and had distanced myself from my religious roots.  However, it is Bhagawan Sri Sathya Sai Baba who brought me to a deeper awareness of Lord Jesus.   He led me to see a common theme in the stories of great masters, spiritual leaders, and saints.  At some point in their lives, they turn their backs on the worldly life.  They walk away from the mundane to demonstrate the power of the Divine within themselves.  Eventually, these spiritual revolutionaries become our guides and gurus through the challenging labyrinth of life. Even Saint Nicholas who became known as Santa Claus was a very rich man who spent his life serving the poor.  He spent his wealth and inheritance fulfilling the wishes of the destitute.

But frequently, because they step outside of the box of convention, spiritual revolutionaries are defamed.

According to Bhagawan Sri Sathya Sai Baba, “As the name and fame of Jesus spread, opposition to him developed among a section of Jews.”

Later that opposition grew beyond his homeland and he was viewed as a dangerous radical by many.  Nevertheless, multitudes began to follow his teachings and the world welcomed a Saving Light.

“After his father's death, young Jesus considered it his duty to help his mother and revere her as Divine,” Puttaparthi Swami taught.  He said, “Jesus preached the primary obligation of everyone is to show one's gratitude to the parents. Jesus came with his mother to Jerusalem when he was 11 years old. His mother was worried about the activities of Jesus.”

With a mother’s foresight, Mary wanted to protect her son.  She knew that his thoughts, words, and deeds were not those of an ordinary young man.

Our Beloved Baba explained, “Jesus was critical of the ways of the Jews in the temple in Jerusalem. He came out against the harmful practices in the temple and preached the omnipresence of God in all living beings. He exhorted the people not to cause harm to anyone.”

That an uneducated son of a carpenter would speak with such authority on matters going on in the temple infuriated many elders.  Yet the words he spoke were also what so many others would have liked to have said themselves.  But they feared what they would reap from the “Big People” who ran and controlled their lives.  “Little people” had no say.  Jesus became a spokesperson for the poor, the oppressed, the sick and the suffering.  

“What he preached was in accord with the basic teachings of all religions.” Sathya Sai said. “He engaged himself in a mission of mercy to the sick and the poor. He offered food to the hungry. Seeing his acts of love and kindness, people declared that he was a Messenger of God."

In his short 33 years on earth, Jesus changed from a kind hearted, responsible son to someone who recognized the God within himself.  

Christmas, according to Sai Baba is more than a season; it is a way of life.

MUNDGOD MONK POWER

By Terry Reis Kennedy

Little lama Lobsang lives at Gajang Tsawa Monastery in Mundgod, Karnataka, South India.  He was born in Mon Tawang, India in the Himalayan region neat Bhutan.  He looks about five years old.  But no one can say for certain.  He is an orphan.

Now, little lama Lobsang is a full-time student of Tibetan Buddhism.  He was brought to one of Gaden Monastery's many shelter homes by elder monks for his protection.  He, like hundreds of other impoverished refugee children have survived by the loving action of senior monks.  Orphans or those whose families simply cannot afford to feed them are given to monks to take care of. Initially, the children were given over to monasteries in northern India, regions with climates similar to Tibet.  However, these monasteries too are  suffering financially strapped conditions and are jam-packed already. So, shifting the boy monks to Mungod is the present option. (Little Anis, girls nuns, are also received by convent communities.)

Lobsang may not understand why he now lives in a flat land of many farms, dry winds, intense heat and a few distant hills. Whether he remembers the alluvial plains beneath the snow-capped peaks of his homeland and the crisp, fresh air is irrelevant, perhaps.  For little he may not ever be going home to Montwang or to his culture homeland, Tibet again.  Communist Chinese continue to rule with a heavy hand and regard His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, the god-king and spiritual leader of Tibetans as a "demon".

GajangTsawa Kangtsen is one of many Tibetan houses associated with monasteries in Mungod--a Tibetan refugee settlement about an hour’s drive from Hubli and a six-hour bus trip from one of India’s zaniest seaside tourist attractions--Goa.

Once ruled and, some say, savaged by the Portuguese, Goa with its western-style homesteads, churches and cathedrals, appeals to foreign tourists.  But the talcum-powder-like sands and warm-water swimming make the beaches of Goa even more appealing.

Over the years, Goa has gained a reputation--warranted or not--as a place where «anything goes.»  The anything allegedly includes nude bathing, lots of wild parties, plenty of drugs, brothels and no police hassles.

Juxtapose this scene against the prayer-filled atmosphere of Mundgod where about 4,500 Tibetan monks live in exile, detached from wine, women and weed, but with plenty of police surveillance, and you get an idea of the duel images of India that befuddle foreign visitors.

We can party hearty anytime at Goa, » said James from U.K.  « And we never have to show our papers to the police.  But we’re deterred from visiting the sacred gompas and monasteries of Mungod honoring Lord Buddha.  Why?  The government of India has declared Mundgod a restricted area.  It’s schizophrenic! » James complained.

Meanwhile, Lobsang is oblivious to police, tourists, and the problems the monastery officials are facing trying to keep up with the influx of new refugee arrivals and the alarming financial strain this is causing.

His days are full of new learning experiences: Washing dishes, washing his clothes, doing his school work, arriving on time for 6 a.m. daily group prayers, and keeping his tiny shoes properly tied.

The tasks may be endless, but it becomes obvious as you watch him from a distance that he is very pleased with his surroundings.  He laughs frequently and smiles at you engagingly--in a way that tugs at your heart strings.

A fair child, with darting, warm brown eyes that look up at you framed by long, soft lashes, he stands out as special.  Perhaps he is the reincarnation of a tulku (Divine Being) whose true identity will be revealed later--in the Tibetan Buddhist way.  Or maybe he’s just a kid, happy to have a roof over his head and food in his tummy.  At any rate, you could say he’s an angel.

At Gajang Tsawa, Lama Camp Number One, P.O. Tibetan Colony , Mundgod, North Karnataka, 581441, South India, there are no TVs, no bicycles, and no cricket fields.  Yet approximately 350 monks, ranging in age from five to 75, make this their home.  Conditions are over-crowded with up to seven monks sharing a single room.  There are no servants, no washing machines, no hot-water heaters  and sometimes no water at all.  The electricity is off most of the day.  And yet, though their lives are devoid of every material luxury--not to mention necessity--these monks radiate an ineffable strength, a sort of collective monk power that causes joy to erupt inside you when you are around them.

As busy as they are: Prayer work, school work, scripture studies, household chores, evening debates on philosophical issues of Tibetan Buddhism, chanting, meditating, performing special religious ceremonies such as prayers for the dead, and teaching, the monks at Gaden Jangtse Tsawa Monastery still find time to take long walks in the green meadows and pastures behind their home.  At sunset you can see them walking, their maroon capes fluttering like flags on the wind.

Likewise, Lobsang finds time for quiet contemplation.  At intervals throughout the day you can find him standing on the veranda of the second floor of the monastery outside the room he shares with four other boy monks and their teacher.

He contemplates the horizon, staring out across the yard where cows are pulling up clumps of grass, staring out across the eucalyptus trees to the faraway hills that can sometimes be seen when the wind blows just right and the branches bend just enough.

In this moment, the hilltops meet the skies and the racing white clouds wrap themselves around the peaks like katas--the white scarves of Tibetan Buddhism used for honoring the deities and for gifting devotees.

It’s a lovely sight to behold,  And little lama concentrates on this vision.  Perhaps he is ruminating on the long-ago, snow-capped Himalayas of his former life.

Relatively speaking, however, the intervals of reverie are short, for Lobsang--in addition to his chores and studies— must also learn to read and write  his native language.  Like scores of others, he meets the challenge with enthusiasm.

This phenomenon--displaced or orphaned Buddhist children being  brought to Tibetan monasteries as a sort of life-support system--has put a strain on the various khangtsens ( monastic homes) in Mundgod.  At Gajang Tsawa Khangsten, the situation is critical.

According to Geshe Dorjee Riochen, Geshe Thupten Wangyal, and the Venerable Dawa Gelek, in charge of the khangtsen, about 70% of the new arrivals face problems of health.

Since they have come mostly from poor families, these youngsters are often not in good physical condition when they arrive.  It is even difficult, sometimes, to provide tooth brushes, paste and soap, » one monastery letter of appeal stated.

Meantime, there are bigger problems to overcome.  According to the monks in charge, bore wells need to be dug to increase the water supply.  A solar system would alleviate some of the strain, they say.  And a couple of generators would keep the electricity flowing.  But the fact that the monastery has no medical facility, dispensary, or even a medical person on duty makes the administrators uncomfortable, they agree.

The nearest hospital is about 10 kilometers away, and there is no special vehicle to bring sick or injured monks there.  With more than half of the population of the house comprised of children, it’s a risky situation, the administrators said.

During the day Jeeps can be hired for transport and the walk to the Jeep stop is only about a quarter of a mile.  However, the Jeeps meant to seat five or six comfortably, often carry up to 12 or 14 passengers.  And late at night there is no way to get to the hospital without calling someone for help.

Tibetans, having been given asylum in India is something His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama always gives thanks for in his public discourses.  Without this boon, who knows what could have happened?  More than one and a half million Tibetans, nearly one third of their people, were entirely destroyed as the result of Mao Zedong's and continuing Chinese occupation of their country. Tibetans still in Tibet are continuing to be killed, maimed, tortured and imprisoned on a daily basis. 

It was when the Chinese invaded Tibet in 1959 that they nearly destroyed the Buddhist University, Gaden, which was founded by Je Tsonkapa Lobsang Dakpa in 1409, and from which the present Mundgod Gaden Monastery originates.

At the time of the invasion, there were approximately 800 monks living, studying, and practicing their religion at Gaden Monastery in Tibet.  Of those 800 monks, approximately 200 had already mastered the Five Great Texts of Tibetan Buddhism which, according to tradition, is the goal of all monks.  It takes up  to 30 years of study to become a master of these texts and to gain the revered title of « Geshe » which translates as something close to, but not exactly, a double doctorate in Philosophy.

Unfortunately, during the Chinese invasion, only 10 of the Gaden Geshes managed to flee to India. The remaining Geshes and the thousands of other monks continued to suffer torture and affliction.  Some were imprisoned.  Some died.  Some are still missing and unaccounted for.

Once the 10 Geshes arrived in India, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama re-established monasteries for them.  It is due to their efforts that Tibetan Buddhist philosophy, dialectic, and the methods of debating used by the monks has been preserved at Gaden  Monastery in Mungod.

Lobsang will eventually learn about the Chinese invasion and takeover of Tibet.  He will eventually come to understand how the tradition of his monastery was upheld.  For now, he can study simpler things.

At night, for example, he sometimes sits on the dilapidated wooden chair with the sawed off legs on the veranda near his room.  With the moon as his lamp, he holds his prayer book in his two hands and recites the words in the traditional Tibetan Buddhist method of chanting.  Out of his approximately three foot, two inch body boom melodious prayers thousands of years old.  In time he will be able to chant this book and many others from memory.  Such is the power of the monks of Mungod.

Feed the Hungry

(Terry’s New Signboard) 

Even the rich and healthy can be starved for happiness. Add to the World Bank of Joy. Deliver home-baked items to those who no longer bake. For every muffin you give to a feeble soul, give two to an able-bodied person. Watch the Love interest compound daily!

Dalai Lama on His Next Incarnation

By Terry Reis Kennedy

Perhaps you have heard the threats of the communist Chinese administration that they will be the ones who choose the next Dalai Lama.  His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama has at various times announced that his next Incarnation might even be a western woman.  Or, that he could likely be the last Dalai Lama.

Referring to the current communist administration in China, His Holiness said, “… they say they are waiting for my death and will recognize a 15^th Dalai Lama of their choice. It is clear from their recent rules and regulations and subsequent declarations that they have a detailed strategy to deceive Tibetans, followers of the Tibetan Buddhist tradition and the world community. Therefore, as I have a responsibility to protect the Dharma and sentient beings and counter such detrimental schemes, I make the following declaration.”

 “As I mentioned earlier, reincarnation is a phenomenon which should take place either through the voluntary choice of the concerned person or at least on the strength of his or her karma, merit and prayers. Therefore, the person who reincarnates has sole legitimate authority over where and how he or she takes rebirth and how that reincarnation is to be recognized. It is a reality that no one else can force the person concerned, or manipulate him or her.”

Happy 90th Birthday to My Guru, Bhagawan Sri Sathya Sai Baba of Puttaparthi

By Terry Reis Kennedy

Dearest and most beloved Bhagawan, Happy Birthday!

For the record, I want to say thank you for being my Guru, for rescuing me from the terror and vicissitudes of life that sometimes overcome me.

Thank you for feeding me, for clothing me, and for nurturing me.  Thank you for always being there for me.  When family turned its back on me, when friends betrayed me, when those I love rejected me, you have stayed with me. People say you have left the body, that you are dead.  To me you are more alive than ever.  You are in my heart, you, Sweet Everything, are the very breath of my life.

Through the darkest nights of my soul, through sickness, defeat, loss of reputation, loss of money, and loss of all my possessions, you did not abandon me. And it is because of you that I have managed to rise up from the ashes of my own life, on so many occasions.

Most of all, thank you for allowing me to come to India to be near you, and affording me some of the most soul-satisfying experiences a person can enjoy—swimming in the sacred Ganges, studying the dazzling stars of a Himalayan night, planting a lush garden on a patch of land that was once a garbage dump and watching that garden take root, flourish and give glory to you.

Maybe most of all I should acknowledge the countless prayers that you have answered.  But it was those you didn’t answer (or haven’t yet) that forced me to go deeply within myself to find my own solutions and in so doing taught me self-reliance.

During those desperate times I didn’t know how, or if, I would surface from the depths of such self-inquiry.  But I did.  And I am still smiling—thanks, again, to you.

If, as you have said, on your birthday you bless others, I ask that throughout the coming years you never let me forget what you have said about the significance of birthdays: 

“Every human being has four birthdays.  The first is when he emerges from his mother’s womb, and being neither holy or unholy, craves only for food and shelter; the second is when he begins his spiritual study to lead him from darkness to light; the third is when he has gained wisdom, having mastered the disciplines propounded by the rishis for achieving self-realization; the fourth and last is when he realizes his true identity and merges with Brahman.”

Sweet Bhagawan, may I celebrate all my birthdays with you!

Thanksgiving at Auschwitz

By Terry Reis Kennedy

It was Thanksgiving in the USA.  But in Poland no one was feasting.  It was the height of Martial Law there in 1982 and I had come to the country to witness and to write about the war atmosphere, the lack of basic food supplies, and to search for Lech Walesa, the leader of the Solidarity Movement which was gaining worldwide recognition as a force that was usurping the Communist regime.

The sun was out.  The leaves of the trees were gold and rust and umber. But the air was cold, as cold as a mortician’s storage vault.  I didn’t like the feel of it.

As the car chugged closer and closer to Auschwitz, I felt queasier.  I wished I hadn’t decided to visit the death camp. I wished I didn’t personally know people who insisted there was no such thing as the Holocaust. Long ago, though, I’d promised myself I would—because so many of my Polish relatives had died there—exterminated like mice in a laboratory.  And I wanted to gather evidence to hand over to the non-believers—a baby skeleton, at least, something to open their minds just a fraction—to let the light of Truth seep in.

In my own way, I wanted to pay my respects, not just to my ancestors, but to those millions of other souls whose last human groans were uttered there.  I wanted to give thanks, to acknowledge the sacrifice, to say the degradation, the humiliation, the mutilation, the annihilation were not in vain.  Silently, alone, on the threshold of some anonymous cell, I’d pictured myself admitting that the world had learned its awful lesson.  Never, no never again, would man’s inhumanity to man surface.

But how preposterous, I thought.  Looking around me was proof enough that my private Thanksgiving would have to wait.  As if synchronized by some overseer of the ominous, I began to feel trapped in images of World War II.

Suddenly, as my car approached the outskirts of Auschwitz, increasing numbers of communist paramilitary police—called Zomo Squad troopers—began to appear. These were Polish men serving lengthy or life sentences in prisons, set free to arrest their own mothers, if need be, to keep the might of the communist regime intact. The idea was to let the Polish criminals do the nasty work of the regime.

The Zomo ranks grew thicker as I got closer.  A new wave of bodies, seemingly exhumed from the celluloid cellars of Hollywood. Young. Rugged.  They carried machine guns on their backs and billy clubs on their hips.  I thought their grey, belted uniforms resembled those of Hitler’s SS.

I tried to distract myself with thoughts of the present.  Today, back home in Bellows Falls, Vermont, a once thriving paper-mill town on the Connecticut River, but now an impoverished community struggling to stay solvent, I guessed my family was probably still asleep.  But, in a few hours my mother’s table cloth with its scenes of Pilgrims and Native Americans would be blotched with gravy stains.  Once more the fading Mayflower would hulk in a sea of cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie droppings, and discount store champagne.

For years my mother’s holiday cloths had underlined our happy, unhappy, pathetic, and sometimes apathetic gatherings.  Now, 4500 miles across an ocean and light years behind an Iron Curtain, I was keenly aware of those cloths.  They waved across my memory like a parade of 4^th of July flags and majorettes and senior citizens in V.F.W. hats.  For the first time in my life I felt homesick.

Then, without warning, Auschwitz sprang up in front of me.  The crow-black iron entrance gates spread like shadows across the baby-blue horizon.  I stared up at the inscription over the archway.  “Arbeit Macht Frei.”  Work Makes Free.  I wondered how many of the millions who actually suffered, died, and endured here had entered through these gates. Had my relatives?  Had the dry-cleaner worker in my New York neighborhood, the one with the Auschwitz tattoo on her wrist?  Had they seen the inscription and recognized the Hitler euphemism for the lie it was.  Or had they lied to themselves as they shuffled under its shadows?  Had they, like uncounted others, managed to deny  the smokestacks of the crematoria spewing black smoke and the stench of burning flesh, even to their own nostrils?

Denial is such a powerful psychological tool.  People who believe that the Holocaust never existed rely on denial, perhaps, because to believe that demonic forces are alive and operating on this earth would be too much for them to tolerate. Many have been spoon-fed anti-Semitism from childhood; it has been subtly mixed into their body of knowledge.  The will say things like, “Some of my best friends are Jewish,” which actually translates to—all other Jews don’t deserve the special status of best friend.  Not even the greatest gurus can wean them from this poisonous view.

I was horrified as I passed under the archway.  The immensity of Auschwitz was no longer something to be imagined. Here it was spilling over the country side for miles and miles until it flowed into the adjacent death camp of Birkenau. The site was bigger than the whole town of Bellows Falls, Vermont.  According to historians, when Hitler decided to build the death camps in the Polish Village of Oswiecim, he re-named the area Auschwitz.  Some say Auschwitz means, “lights out”.  Poles however, still refer to the area as “Oswiecim”.  I got chills when I learned Oswiecim translates, “that which enlightens.”

And, indeed, viewing the remains of the original buildings instructed me in startling ways.  It wasn’t just an awareness of my relatives’ presence.  It was more like encountering my own ghost.

For four hours I walked up worn, stone steps and down blood-spattered corridors.  Past stacks and stacks of shelves wide as operating room tables, long as coffins, but each one used as a bed for eight.  Past piles and piles of hair shaved from prisoners’ heads.  Past piles and piles of blankets made from that hair.  Blankets not to warm the prisoners, but to warm the bank accounts of those who marketed them.

Later, past piles and piles of crutches, canes, and wooden legs, all salvaged for re-sale, re-use.  Heaps and heaps of shoes.  Then, unexpectedly, in a mass of brown and back workers’ shoes I spotted on red velvet dancing slipper.  I wondered what romantic heart had been slammed into a box car on her way to the last dance.

Beautiful long-ago cousin, Maria, was it you?  My beloved Babcha Szysko told me a story once of how you’d heard about the Russian ballerina, Anna Pavlova.  How you admired her independence.  How you envied her startling talent.  How you yearned for just a pinch of her wealth.  How you loved to get up mornings and dance in the dawn light of your kitchen before you lit the fires.  Before you milked the cows.  Before you walked to the well to fill the water buckets.  Before you did the wash.  Oh, Maria, how you would have cherished such a pair of dancing slippers.  Red as the hummingbird’s throat.  Smooth as the underbelly of the cat.

Yes, for each romantic heart extinguished, there were 20,000 dedicated others.  Shoe by shoe, the future of the universe piled up like logs for the fire.  How could I replant dreams?  Rebuild whole visions?  Just what is it possible to do in retrospect?

Is it accomplishing anything on this frail planet for me to look, really peer through the keyholes of the medical experiment chambers in cellblock 10 and see hundreds of solemn doctors who had taken hundreds of solemn oaths to uphold life, slicing it out of countless wombs?  And if I picture myself amid the wailing women of cell block 10 who underwent this sterilization without anesthesia, will it matter?  I hope so.  I am counting on it.

And I don’t want to forget how I felt when I saw the two by four brick confinement boxes where prisoners who tried to escape were entombed—alive.  And I don’t want to stop imagining what each one’s last human thought might have been.  Was it, “God forgive them?  I hope so.  I am counting on it.

I am also counting on myself to forgive myself for what I’ve done to the self of others because there is a bit of Hitler still alive in me, I’m ashamed to say.  For I have seen myself interfering with another’s freedom to be and do whatever he chooses.  So, until I recognize that when I even think of holding back one man’s freedom, any freedom, I am only holding back my own.  Until I see, truly see, that other person as myself, I am getting nowhere.

Silently, alone on the threshold of some anonymous cell, as I promised myself, I gave thanks.  What’s more, I told myself I’d work harder at being the kind of person someone descended from these martyrs ought to be.  Before I can expect others to change, I must change myself.

As I retraced my steps under the archway to leave Auschwitz, perhaps forever, darkness crept invisibly over the horizon.  My shadow stretched in front of me.  Long and lean and Amazonian.  The trip back to Krakow was swift.  Once there, I was happy to see the lighted streets and windowed houses.

In the comfort of my cozy room I felt safe—almost free.  Outside, as the temperature plummeted toward zero, I heard the muffled voices of the Zomo squad troopers.  I lifted the shade and watched as they headed toward paramilitary headquarters.  They didn’t look as frightening as they had earlier in spite of guns and billy clubs.  In fact, they sounded like the young men they were.  Laughing, joking, their breath making tiny puffs of steam in front of them.  For a minute I thought the youngest in the group of six resembled my 19-year old bother.  Or was it my son?

Surprisingly, I felt quite at home.  What did it matter where I was celebrating Thanksgiving?  Bellows Falls, Vermont or Krakow, Poland—this frail planet, after all, belongs to each and every one of us—wherever we may be.

I Did Not Want to Die

(Terry’s Signboard)

...................................................................................................................................

My name is Lobsang.

First I saw the fires,

then the people running with bags

on their heads, children in their arms.

An old monk hobbled past my doorway

saying that the Chinese military were obliterating the monasteries,

killing Tibetans, burning all the pictures of His Holiness.

There had been whispers, Mao Zedong was destroying Tibet,

eradicating Buddha to make way for a different kind of liberation,

the one that money buys.  His Nazis were called, 

The People’s Liberation Army.  His Gestapo

wore khaki and were using our sacred thangkas as toilet paper.

Even the tulkus could not escape.

I was 13 when the six soldiers found me hiding

under the cow dung pile with my little sister.

They raped her first, over and over, until she died.

When they sodomized me I felt my life fly away,

but I have lived to tell our story.

The old ones say I am immortal.

Dalai Lama on Collaboration between Science and Religion

By Terry Reis Kennedy

Both science and religion scrutinize human behavior.  However, you don’t have to be a scientist or a religious person to prove that destructive emotions lead to problems at home and abroad. Tenzin Gyatso, the 14^th Dalai Lama, offers a remedy.

He says, “I believe we have a valuable opportunity to make progress in dealing with them, through a collaboration between religion and science.”

”With this in mind, I have, since 1987, engaged in an ongoing series of dialogues with groups of scientists. Organized by the Mind & Life Institute, they have been on topics ranging from quantum physics and cosmology to compassion and destructive emotions.” 

Growing up, I was not very interested in science: proving something to be true by constant experiment.  And religion, with its premises that led to logical conclusions left me bored.  Only when I entered the world of mystical literature and my own experiments with a priori experiences (deductive as opposed to presumptive reasoning), did I begin to understand my own nature.

Today, the words of His Holiness excite me.  He explains, “Buddhist teachings stress the importance of understanding reality. Therefore, we should pay attention to what modern scientists have actually found through experiment and through measurement—the things they have proved to be reality.”

We soar through space able to observe our outer universe up close.  But where is the spaceship that navigates the Inner Reality? Science discovers and proves primarily the outer.

The Embodiment of Compassion, says, “In contrast, Buddhism, an ancient Indian thought, reflects a deep investigation into the workings of the mind. Over the centuries many people have carried out what we might call experiments in this field and have had significant, even extraordinary, experiences as a result of practices based on their knowledge. Therefore, more discussion and joint study between scientists and Buddhist scholars on the academic level could be useful for the expansion of human knowledge.”

The 1975 Shambala Publications book, The Tao of Physics: An Exploration of the Parallels Between Modern Physics and Eastern Mysticism by physicist Fritjof Capra brought me to a new awareness of how the coupling of science with spirituality leads to an acceptance of the reality of our interdependence, our oneness with all beings, and to the fruition of our hopes and dreams of peace and prosperity for all.

What’s more, His Holiness, suggests, “Experiments have already been carried out that show some practitioners can achieve a state of inner peace, even when facing disturbing circumstances. The results show such people to be happier, less susceptible to destructive emotions, and more attuned to the feelings of others. These methods are not just useful, but cheap: you don't need to buy anything or make anything in a factory. You don't need a drug or an injection.”

And you certainly do not have to dole out fortunes to those who claim to be in the know about esoteric matters to voyage through Inner Space.  It is a free and personal adventure.

Sai Baba on Vegetarianism

By Terry Reis Kennedy

From the beginning of his teaching, Bhagawan Sri Sathya Sai Baba has been clear. “It is a sin to kill an animal. You may reply that an animal was killed by the butcher. That is incorrect; it is only because you are eating them that the animals are being killed.”

When I lived in California, I believed, “You are what you eat.”  But I was a vegetarian more out of stylishness than out of heartfelt conviction that eating meat was wrong.

Then I moved to India, land of Buddha, the great Masters, and home to Lord Sathya Sai.  Living in the physical proximity of Beloved Sai, my thinking changed by osmosis. However, not enough to stop me from gobbling chicken tikka, mutton biriyani, and gobs of fish when I could get these “treats”.

Nevertheless, Swami had said long ago, "Today, let it be anyone, whether one deems himself a devotee or not, he should give up meat eating. Why? Meat eating promotes only animal qualities. It has been well said that the food one consumes determines one's thoughts. By eating the flesh of various animals, the qualities of these animals are imbibed. How sinful is it to feed on animals, which are sustained by the same five elements as human beings! This leads to demonic tendencies, besides committing the sin of inflicting cruelty on animals. Hence, those who genuinely seek to become devotees of God have to give up non-vegetarian food. Calling themselves Sai devotees or devotees of Rama and Krishna, they fatten on chickens. How can they be deemed Sai devotees? How can God accept such a person as a devotee?  Therefore, whether they are devotees in India or outside, they should give up from this instant meat eating...... those who aspire to become true devotees of God have to give up meat, liquor and smoking."

Of course, Sai’s words echoed in my consciousness as I devoured meat, smoked cigarettes, and sipped the best wines. I justified my habits with perverse logic, saying that as a spiritual aspirant I was above the mundane world.  It’s all Maya, I told myself. But who was I kidding?  My clay feet were upon the earth—His earth.

Eventually, by the grace Sai, my mind changed about meat-eating, smoking, and drinking.  I was finally able to accept his words which I heard in person, but resisted, as far back as November 23, 1994.

“Embodiments of Love,” he had said. “You are deeming this day as the 69th birthday of Swami. I have no desire to celebrate such birthdays. As I was coming I was greeted by many wishing me Happy Birthday. I am always happy. Why should anyone wish Happy Birthday for me? Be Happy yourselves. Your happiness is my happiness.  Today as an offering to Swami, give up meat eating, consuming liquor and smoking. By renouncing these three, you will benefit yourselves as well as society and the nation. Swami's sole aim is to promote the welfare of the family, the society and the nation. If you wish to carry out Swami's aim, renounce from this moment itself these bad habits.”

THE GOD OF MY UNDERSTANDING

By Terry Reis Kennedy

I started my day at the General Hospital here at the Abode of Peace, Sathya Sai Baba's ashram. A friend of mine had to have minor surgery on her foot. I walked up the hill from the main road to meet her, enjoying the beautiful flowers and bushes all around the hospital area. It was just past 7 in the morning and the grounds were full of patients waiting to be treated by the staff. Birds were singing in the trees, babies were smiling at me; village people spoke to me in Telegu. My heart was full of bliss, the kind that saints and mystics have described feeling after years of prayers and penance.

Yet here I am, a common sinner, a woman of no importance, and I have reached the heights of mergence with the God of my understanding. A few tears plop onto my cheeks as I remember all the days I have spent climbing up to this little hospital to get help for myself or for a friend.....25 years I have been freely served, I have gotten free medicine, I have witnessed people in stages of giving birth and I have watched people slip into death peacefully and quietly. How could I ever leave the little things that Puttaparthi has given to me through the grace of the God of my understanding?

I don't have words to explain when people ask, what do you do there. And now my day is ending. My friend's foot is healing. I have finished the work I left undone in the morning. The birds are back in their trees asleep. The flowers have closed their petals. The sweet aroma of the jasmine trees that rise above my roof waft down through my office window as I type. Thank you, Lord, for all the little things that brought me here and the Huge Love that holds me here.....

Too many years of Ashram Living

(Terry’s Signboard)

Too many years of ashram living

have turned me off to the herds

of fanatics that come for instant cures and miracles;

and who proclaim huge faith in spirituality,

but none in themselves.

Dalai Lama on Aspects of the Mind

By Terry Reis Kennedy

When the mind isn’t working properly and we realize it we may go to a mental health worker to seek a solution.  Likewise, we might take our children to school counselors, or child psychologists. We understand that without a properly working mind it is difficult to function.

His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama said, “Since the primary motive underlying the Buddhist investigation of reality is the fundamental quest for overcoming suffering and perfecting the human condition, the primary orientation of the Buddhist investigative tradition has been toward understanding the human mind and its various functions. The assumption here is that by gaining deeper insight into the human psyche, we might find ways of transforming our thoughts, emotions and their underlying propensities so that a more wholesome and fulfilling way of being can be found.”

A family member is presently going through what is called “A Nervous Breakdown” and what my teenage nieces call, “A meltdown”.  But even with the helping sources available sometimes a person just has to be broken fully, perhaps, before he can start up life anew.

The Embodiment of Compassion noted, “It is in this context that the Buddhist tradition has devised a rich classification of mental states, as well as contemplative techniques for refining specific mental qualities. So a genuine exchange between the cumulative knowledge and experience of Buddhism and modern science on wide-ranging issues pertaining to the human mind, from cognition and emotion to understanding the capacity for transformation inherent in the human brain can be deeply interesting and potentially beneficial as well.”

The word transformation leaps out.  Isn’t this what happens to us when we are felled like trees, by the blows of life? Alcohol and drug rehabilitation centers are full of good people who developed additions and are now learning to transform themselves a day at a time.

Our Beloved monk explained, “In my own experience, I have felt deeply enriched by engaging in conversations with neuroscientists and psychologists on such questions as the nature and role of positive and negative emotions, attention, imagery, as well the plasticity of the brain. The compelling evidence from neuroscience and medical science of the crucial role of simple physical touch for even the physical enlargement of an infant's brain during the first few weeks powerfully brings home the intimate connection between compassion and human happiness.”

We help the mentally suffering with expressions of loving concern.  Though our afflicted friends and relatives may lash out at us, our genuine love is absorbed. There is no need to give up hope, though they may give up on us. 

"Buddhism has long argued for the tremendous potential for transformation that exists naturally in the human mind, Dalai Lama reiterated. “To this end, the tradition has developed a wide range of contemplative techniques, or meditation practices, aimed specifically at two principal objectives—the cultivation of a compassionate heart and the cultivation of deep insights into the nature of reality, which are referred to as the union of compassion and wisdom."

Sai Baba on Unity

By Terry Reis Kennedy

Some of you know I was born in the United States and came to  India be near my Guru, Bhagawan Sri Sathya Sai Baba more than 18 years ago.  In India I had the luxury of being able to reflect on my Mother Land.  I could better understand the confusion of Americans from a distance.  We are brainwashed from birth that money brings happiness and that control over others ensures peace.   Before long, though, I discovered the people of India are also obsessed with money and power.  What to do?

Bhagawan Baba teaches, “Bharat today is in a crisis created by myriad difficult problems.  But not Bharat alone, all other countries are also facing similar crises.  What is the reason?  It is the total failure to remember the spiritual oneness of mankind.  Only the sense of spiritual unity will generate universal love.  That love alone will bind men together in unity.  This love principle should emanate from the heart.  Only then true unity will emerge.”

I imagined that was easy enough to do.  I could visualize unity amongst my fellows. But!  It was not so easy for me to feel it in my day-to-day dealings, especially with charlatans and thieves.  How could I, a mere human, love on such a noble scale? 

Baba, the Ever Gentle Master, says, “In this cosmic university all are students.  Hence everyone should render social service to the extent of one’s capacity and spread Swami’s ideals among all.  There is nothing selfish in Swami’s message.  Hence anyone can spread it selflessly.  Sow the seed of love in your hearts and it will grow in due course into a big tree.  God is one.  Do not entertain any differences of creed or caste.  Carry the message of unity to every home.”

So, this I consciously attempt.  I am better at serving, perhaps, than I am at loving.  Certain people still enrage me.

On the other hand, our Beloved Bhagawan Baba understands.  “There are few today who recognize unity in diversity, though there are any number of intellectuals who are engaged in promoting divisions and differences.  The world today needs righteous men who will promote unity.

“Embodiments of love!  There is only one thing you have to offer to me today.  Pray that people in all countries, nay, the entire humanity, should be happy and at peace.  ‘Lokaa Samasthas Sukhino Bhavanthu.’  (‘Let all the worlds be happy.’)  Then alone there will be real unity.  Do not wish merely for the peace and prosperity of India alone.  Pray for the welfare of all countries.  All are our brothers, whether they are in Pakistan or America or elsewhere.”

Now I have come to regard my Native Land as the whole Earth.  Yes, I may have been born in one part of the Earth but I am part of every culture and every creed.  Living in India has shown me that I belong to only caste that Sai Baba sways we all belong to—the caste of humanity.

SATCHITANADA INDIA: FLOODTIDE OF BLISS

By Terry Reis Kennedy

Glorious, raucous, untamable sub-continent of Asia!  According to my astrological cartographers, India is the worst place I could possibly live.

I laugh at this because coming to India was the best thing I ever did for myself. The self discoveries I have made, living here for over 20 years now, are priceless.  India has made me rich, in the true sense of the word.  Once, married to the beloved father of my children, Lee Matthew Kennedy, I had material wealth, but I was poor in spirit.

It was not my intention to stay in a place so far away from my origins.  In 1990 I only came for what I thought was going to be a short visit. But the Universe had other plans for me. Here in the village of Puttaparthi, in the Anantapur District of Andhra Pradesh, where I live in the proximity of my Guru, the Avatar Sathya Sai Baba, I not only found my life’s purpose, I also experienced transient moments of satchitananda among the cobras and the scorpions.

  

Here I was able to let go identity that had been imposed on me and let the God of my understanding reconstruct me. Transformation is an exciting process.  Through my spiritual practice of studying scriptures of various religions, living alongside people from all over the world from all castes, creeds, and walks of life, I was able to give up desperation and despair, to trade it in for happiness and peace of mind.  As a result, I have learned how to live in the mad, materialistic world, to participate in it, and love it, without becoming part of it.

In many ways I have liberated myself.  I now know that  I am the Creator, the Savior, the Formless Imperishable One,  that I was seeking from earliest childhood—not knowing then that the same ‘I ‘ dwells within all beings and all things known and unknown..

The view—from  my small brick dwelling, which   passersby often say looks like a fairy-tale house—is no longer the vast Atlantic, beyond the dunes of Duxbury, Massachusetts, no longer the Green Mountains, beyond the lawn of the Sacred Heart of Jesus Church, no longer the vast Mojave desert, beyond the alfalfa fields….  Instead, I look out large windows with fan-shaped tops onto a once-vacant lot that, by my own hand, I transformed into a garden—a garden that can be erased at any moment since I do not own the land.  Builders, eager to capitalize on the influx of tourists to this nationally designated pilgrim center, want to grab this space and construct another 10-storey high-rise.  However, the owners are not ready to sell.  But the very temporary existence of the plants and trees that I have tended on this plot for 18 years now makes me all the more enraptured by their beauty.

No matter what else is going on during my busy days, I never fail to appreciate the garden, to pay reverence to each and every ridge and groove on the bark of the various trees; I bow as I regard each tendril of the blush-colored blossoms of the oleander; and my pulse quickens when I note a new tree seed unfurling a bright green sprout.

  I listen intently to the abundant bird talk—able, at last, to distinguish the haunting moans of the mud-colored cuckoo from the manic chatter of the chartreuse parrot.  I can tell the frantic screams of the chickadee, when crows come to rob her nest, from the guttural cries of the finch, when the same fate befalls her.  The buzz of a honey-making bee has a different tone than the buzz of the industrious wasp. When a coconut branch falls in the night, it makes a slow swishing before it lands with a thud.  On the other hand, when branches from the tamarind tree fall, they make a nearly imperceptible sound, like a match being lit.  The very fact that in a split-second all this could be lost, like life itself, quickens my heart as I enter the beauty of the moment.

It is flood tide every day and every night and every second of my life here.  I am fully immersed in the wonder of unfolding life, fully immersed in the energy of creation itself. I am swimming in a Sea of God where I cannot be separate anymore.  The isolated, insular existence of my New England introspection has born fruit here. The past has exploded into cargoes of juicy mangos ripe and ready to be eaten, now. 

Here, I am merged, not just with the few passing clouds of family, friends, lovers…; I am merged with the infinite plentitude of my own Being.

My days begin early—about 4:30 in the morning.  At that time I can hear the singing of the song that “wakes up God,” coming from the ashram Mandir.  I can hear the songs of praise to God, emanating from the mosque nearby.  I can hear my own heart beating.   At first light, I enter the garden and just sit in the silence.  It is not so much meditation as it is entering the state of awareness.  I become hyper vigilant of my surroundings—outer and inner.

In Duxbury, the flood tide came to make exotic the mundane.   Once a year, love burst upon us and washed us clean of our longings.  Here, in the vortex of the flood tide of the world, I am no longer the doer, the seeker, the one who wants.  I am Love itself.

Yes, once I wore the labels of student, wife, mother, patient, poet, investigative journalist, lover, adjunct faculty, seeker… just as I once wore western-style clothes.  Now I dress in regional wraps, saris, dupatas, salwar sets….  But I am naked, a witness.  And I am married only to myself.  I am nobody and everybody at once.  I have entered the Flood Tide Night, Satchitananda India; may it last forever.

I Am Tibetan

(Terry’s Signboard)

I am Tibetan because the blood of the martyrs of Tibet spilled

into my hard heart and made it soft.

I am Tibetan because in our tent in Bodh Gaya,
the prayers of the refugees
to Buddha, to the deities, to the mountains, to the sky,
and to the clouds reached my ears.

I am Tibetan because the tears they cry for their Mother Land
fall out of my eyes. 

God, Science and Mother

By Terry Reis Kennedy

When the first man walked on the moon I was a young mother with three children under four.  News of the landing did not excite me.  I felt that exploring outer space and stabbing a US flag into the heretofore sacred lover’s orb had nothing to do with my life: Constant motherly vigilance, piles of laundry and continuous pleadings to God, the angels and the saints, for guidance during this challenging time.

How was this quantum jump of science going to help me raise my children? How was I going to instill human values in their hearts when even school curricula focused on gaining knowledge for the purpose of getting good grades, a good job, and earning pots of money? 

Suddenly, stars were no longer mysterious twinkling diamonds in the sky to be wished upon.  Now they were simply destinations.

I felt my children needed a direct link with the Almighty to get them through life. I believed that anyone with a brain knew that it was God, not science, which was going to keep us together when everything around us was falling to pieces. Well, I was wrong.  Science, not God, won out.  But why?

For the most part, we spend our lives in the material world.  We are more impressed by bad money than by good Samaritans.  Bhagawan Sri Sathya Sai Baba has said, “The discoveries made by the modern scientists are in the realms of matter whereas the sages of ancient India explored the region of the Spirit.

“The scientists are feeding greedily on what was dismissed as trash by our great sages of the past. The narrow-minded scientists do not bring themselves to believe in the great discoveries made by our ancestors.  Whether they believe it or not, the truths discovered by the wise ancestors stand as eternal verities.  It is not science which is anti-God; it is the scientists who are anti-God… 

“It is sheer ignorance on the part of the scientists to be carried away by the proof furnished by the senses.  The scientists should enquire and investigate into their hearts, instead of mechanically probing into machines.”

Of course, I am grateful for the machines I do have.  But when catastrophe crashes into my life, I don’t kneel in front of the refrigerator!  I go to my altar, light the lamp, and unburden my soul.  I feel better believing in a power greater than myself.

Sai Baba assures, “God can be known only by experience and not by experiments.  Sadhana (spiritual practice) is needed for this purpose.  Men who are engaged in exploring space do not make the slightest effort to explore the Divine within them.  Of what use are experiments aimed at exploring space, while there is no genuine cultivation of human qualities and the practice of such basic virtues as showing reverence for the mother, the father and the preceptor.”

Now that I have entered the grandmother years, I find that faith in God is critical.  The world of my grandchildren is even more threatening than the world my children were born into.  Without a strong connection to the Divine, life could be a very disturbing experience.

Sri Sathya Sai emphasizes the importance of communion with God. “The great scientist, Einstein, regretted in his last years that his scientific findings had led to the production of the atom bomb,” Sai Baba said, and “Sir Isaac Newton ended his life in a hospital with a mental affliction.  True knowledge must secure mental peace and enduring joy.  For this, contemplation of God is essential.”

Dear Bellows Falls, Vermont, My Home Town

I had just talked with my Mom, Blanche Reis, on the phone one morning.  She told me that things in Bellows Falls are about the same, but that her cousin Amelia Belzac, God rest her bountiful soul, had passed away and that the burial took place at Sacred Heart Cemetery Grounds with snow on the ground.

When I arrived home to my little house in India, after three months in New England, I had to take my shoes off and walk barefoot in the garden just to get myself readjusted.  It is so warm here right now with chickens pecking at worms in the soft soil and the parrots flying through the coconut trees screeching with glee.

I hoped that Amelia, who I loved dearly, and who I had spent many happy childhood days with might pass over my speck of the Universe on her Grand Journey to her resting place.  Would I feel her presence if she did?  I wondered.

Here in the spiritual India I inhabit, the emphasis is on the Soul.  People regard each lifetime as an increment in the Soul's journey towards final mergence with God, by whatever name they choose to call that Power.

 When I was back in Vermont and studying about the indigenous Abenaki peoples who used to fish and camp alongside the falls in our sweet town I learned that the Abenaki  believe in the God spark in all living things, that part of the Great Spirit that is immortal….just like India.

It's such a beautiful world when we focus on the good and the positive around us.  For instance, I really enjoyed being in the snow back home in Bellows Falls and walking through the slushy streets, thinking of how everything would be so green come spring.  After all, that's how our state got its name, the Green Mountain State.

There is lots of snow here too, up in the north, especially in the Himalayas.  In fact, the northern state of Himachal Pradesh is named after the words Hima Challa which mean, Ice Heart.  It is said by the spiritual elders here that the person who develops a heart that is pure and cool as ice is someone who can best serve humanity.  In so many indigenous cultures, it is the heart that is regarded as more important than the head.  In other words, the feeling one has for life is genuine, while the head, the mind, the thoughts, can deceive.

I worship the Himalayas; they remind me in a colossal way of the Green Mountains of my heartland, covered in snow, the Soul of my native place.

It is often during the coldest parts of winter that I get my best insights, that I can go deeply within and commune with God.  This is why so many pilgrims flock to the Himalayas.  It is there, at the top of the world, that they feel close to the Great Spirit.  So many places of worship are there.

The town of Puttaparthi, where I live,  is waking up right now and people are hurrying off to the market to get the best of the fruits and vegetables that the local farmers have brought in from their planting fields.  Today I will buy bananas, three for a penny, some mandarin oranges, one for a penny, and a pound of potatoes.... a whopping 10 cents.  Later I will take my shirt to the tailor to be mended for less than a quarter.

I wish I could send all that is good about India home to you so that your lives would be more comfortable. And I wish that the special strength of character that resides especially in the hearts of the folks of Bellows Falls could be spread like maple syrup over some weary hearts here.

For now, I send heaps of sunshine and truckloads of my love.

Catch you later!

Terry Reis Kennedy

Do It - Terry’s Signboard

Do It…

(Terry’s Signboard)

Be so brave you scare the meek

into action.

Be so loving you shock the hateful

into remorse.

Be so happy you intoxicate the miserable

into compassion.

Dalai Lama on solutions to mental problems

By Terry Reis Kennedy

Why is it that sometimes we are able to avoid expressing violent emotions, though we may feel them?  Why are some capable of paying attention to what is occurring around them, while others cannot—even suffering from what is now a recognized as: Attention Deficit Disorder?

His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama has said that the mind can be trained to improve anti-social behavior.  In 2005 speaking to neuroscientists in the USA, he said,   “One area where Buddhist contemplative tradition may have important contribution to make is the practical techniques it has developed for training in compassion. With regard to mental training both in attention and emotional regulation it also becomes crucial to raise the question of whether any specific techniques have time-sensitivity in terms of their effectiveness, so that new methods can be tailored to suit the needs of age, health, and other variable factors.”

In schools both private and public in the US, for instance, it has been discovered that students who practice non-denominational “Silent Sitting” for as little as five minutes per day, become better focused, emotionally grounded, and more receptive to learning.

His Holiness added, “A note of caution is called for, however. It is inevitable that when two radically different investigative traditions like Buddhism and neuroscience are brought together in an interdisciplinary dialogue, this will involve problems that are normally attendant to exchanges across boundaries of cultures and disciplines. 

Recently a close family member, age nine, began to experience severe anxiety and panic attacks when it was time to go to school.  After much investigation into the matter, the condition was determined to be “Separation Disorder”…..the fact of leaving mother and attending school was suddenly overwhelming, whereas previously it was not. My prayers were offered and I had a Tibetan Buddhist Divination done. Good advice, in my view, was given: to coddle the child and assure that this too would pass; a morning sweet could be enjoyed and a brief protection mantra said before leaving the home. My report was treated with amusement and dismissed.  Today’s children are almost not allowed to be children.  Hugging, reassuring, are often regarded as “babying” and counterproductive to the achievement of the goal: Almighty Success.

 Meantime, the Embodiment of Compassion, explained, “… in its traditional context, the term for meditation is bhavana (in Sanskrit) or gom (in Tibetan). The Sanskrit term connotes the idea of cultivation, such as cultivating a particular habit or a way of being, while the Tibetan term gom has the connotation of cultivating familiarity. So, briefly stated, meditation in the traditional Buddhist context refers to a deliberate mental activity that involves cultivating familiarity, be it with a chosen object, a fact, a theme, habit, an outlook, or a way of being.”

We can relate to the nine-year-old.   Finding out that life is a school with constant tests and examinations is frightening. But having a quiet time, enjoying a sweet, and realizing that  we have support is necessary.

Maybe if the habit of cultivating compassion for all is developed violent emotions will evaporate. Maybe if the subject is interesting enough, the attention will be efficient, not deficient. 

Sai Baba on Meditation

By Terry Reis Kennedy

I first started meditating at the age of 38.  I was instructed to get into any comfortable position, seated, either in a chair or on the ground.  I was taught that the purpose of meditation is to become one with God.  However, I had no idea how to merge with the formless God I believed in—a faraway, faceless force that ruled my life.  It was not until I became of devotee of Sai Baba in 1990 that I began to understand that a person needs an object to focus on in order to meditate.  That can be a symbol of God, a deity, or even a flame.

According to Bhagawan Sri Sathya Sai Baba, meditation is a process of Self discovery.  He has said, “All accomplished spiritual aspirants, yogis, and renunciates have acquired knowledge of the Absolute through meditation.  When higher knowledge is established, there is no sense of past or future; all is present-time.”

And it is precisely in this meditation moment, that there is the experience of the living God and nothing else.  It is in synchronicity with the beats of one’s own heart.  Such a moment leads to the discovery that the Absolute and you are one.

For me, meditation produces refreshment, like water when I’m thirsty, sleep when I’m tired.  Puttaparthi Sai taught, “Through meditation, the weakness of the body can be overcome, the restless nature of the mind can be controlled, and progress towards the Seat of Grace made easy. One can then attain the experience of Primordial Powers.”

And what might these powers be?  For me, they are peace, sense control, love towards all, patience, spontaneity, and joy.  Without worry, anger, fear, jealousy, and hatred I feel free!  So, meditation brings liberation—at least for segments of time.  With more practice, “nirvana” lasts longer.

But meditation is much more.  Parthi Sai, in his own down-to-earth way of teaching said that meditation is a way of life. “One should have Daiva Preethi, Papa Bheethi and Sangha Neethi (Love for God, fear of sin, and morality in society). That is true Nirvana.” 

He prescribed, “Be away from sin. Understand that Daiva Sannidhi (proximity to the Divine) is true Pennidhi (wealth principle)… While you are walking on the road or driving a car, if your vision is not focused on the road, you may meet with an accident. Concentration is necessary in all aspects of life. But concentration does not become meditation. One should go beyond concentration which means the mind should become still. You should be free from thoughts. That is true meditation.”

There is a step-by-step process for new and seasoned meditators.  According to Bhagawan, “When in meditation, concentrate on the form chosen by you, then pass into contemplation and then into meditation.  Only by the three states will you get there…When there is complete attention on the form chosen that will lead to meditation.  The attention of the mind is totally removed from the body and totally concentrated on the form chosen as the object of your meditation.”