Glimmers of Self Awareness
August 17, 2019 Leave a comment
The desire for authenticity was a driving force in my life when I met the one I call Guru. He spoke well of spiritual truths from the ancient sacred texts, but that was not persuasive enough for me. My first question to him was, “If I follow your guidance, how can I know for myself that I am progressing. I don’t want to take your word for it. I want an independent gauge.”
He said, “You should see a difference in all your relationships. They should become more harmonious.”
This appealed to me as it meant inner growth would be reflected in the outer experience. However I was not willing to give carte blanche to anyone, “I will follow as long as I see growth in myself.”
I knew the danger of intellectual knowing; I had met many spiritual teachers in the past who spoke knowledgeably of similar principles, but their manner with people revealed their true level of integration. I was looking for someone who lived what they said. I kept a close eye on him to see if all his actions were congruent with his words, if they were alive in him.
In the ashram, one of the more attractive hours for me was 2:45pm, when guests and community visitors would gather for an hour of conversation. We discussed our attempts to live the spiritual principles shared in the early morning inspirational talk. The Guru was available at this time to answer questions and offer guidance. I watched him do this for years. It was always a spellbinding conversation that could feel timeless, touching us in an ineffable way…
During one of my extended stays at the ashram, he called to say he was a bit delayed, so I was to start the conversation. He said, “Let the group centre with a few minutes in meditation, then ask everyone what theme they wish to discuss, and find consensus about the most needed topic for the day.” That did not seem too difficult.
We gathered in our usual meeting spot. It was such a glorious day that one person suggested we meet outside under the beautiful bougainvillea bushes. There was quick and ready agreement from everyone, so I thought we were already in the mood of togetherness. I asked for a theme, looking to see what was suggested most often. Based on the responses, we settled on how wisdom came through the people around us, and how to distinguish it from selfish ego prompts.
When he arrived, the Guru asked seemingly random people what they wanted to talk about, and their answers were quite different to what they told me earlier! It was now challenging relationships in the space…conflicts with others about seva, not enough rest time and low vitality in meditation. There was an urgency behind the voices that indicated the genuine need. Everyone was attentive and engaged. There was an aliveness in the group now.
The answers he gave were important because what applied to one person might not apply to another. He showed in each case how to move from the individuated, struggling experience, to a spacious support-filled awareness. Were we managing our time? Could we work together more harmoniously from a space of collective wisdom, and therefore quicker and with less effort? That outer harmony meant sleep would be more restful and rejuvenating. Could we make better use of the gifts in the space?
In the sacred conversations, I would say that I was open to every suggestion, the choice was theirs. I tried to use the kind of language and style he used, yet when Guru came in, it was a different tune to what they had played earlier to me. It was deeply frustrating.
When I finally had a chance to buttonhole the Guru, I held onto his arm in case he walked off before I got my question answered.
“What am I doing wrong? No matter how I ask, people tell me one thing and say something different to you. When they talk to you, they pour their heart out.”
He said, “They tell you what they think you want to hear, not what they really feel.”
I had many occasions to work with groups of spiritual seekers after that, yet the experience was largely unchanged. I went back to Guru to ask for more insight.
“They don’t trust you enough to say what’s really on their minds.”
That really cut me. But when I paused and thought about it, I realized that I too was not open to the same extent with everyone. I might say more to one friend than another. What made me more comfortable with one and not the other?
“How do I become more trustworthy?”
“It is a good question for you to contemplate.”
Thus far, I was trying to model what I saw in the way he conducted these sacred conversations, but that did not create the hoped for change. It had to be that people reacted to where the words were coming from. I was obviously not as accepting as I thought I was. Maybe there was some roughness in me, a close mindedness that I could not see that was pushing people away, making them feel guarded about their experiences. Did they not feel the space was theirs, to be as they wished? Was I dominating in some way, wanting to ‘fix’ them, spouting teachings I had not thoroughly brought into my life? It shook me to realize that it must be a pattern I would have displayed in other areas of my life, so it impacted all of my relationships. How many times had I unknowingly been callous with another? This thought made me cringe because here I was, doing the very thing I detested in spiritual teachers.
How could I penetrate this fog that prevented me from seeing myself clearly? The days were so busy that there was not much free time. How could I use the schedule as it was to help me, rather than thinking the activities needed to change? Maybe I too needed to change my view of the schedule. Suppose it was designed specifically to deal with my dilemma!
In meditation, I sought to discover the space from where I was speaking, acting, living… Where did the thoughts and emotions come from? I did not know how to find the negative vibrations I was emitting. I pulled one thought out, one emotion, had a close look… but I was not happy with this process. It felt dry. It was a desperate struggle.
As I turned my attention to the chanting sessions, it was as if I disappeared into the sound. Where did the sound begin, where did it end? Such waves of harmonious song, accompanied by the soft, soothing, voice of the harmonium, with drums and majeera keeping the rhythm.
With time, I dived more and more into the music and chanting, feeling my body swaying, clapping, singing. How is it that the lyrics could open me up to a wordless, freer place? “Light my light with your light… may I earn the Grace of awakening.”
Could I listen in a group the same way that I listened to music? Could I view every person as an instrument of the sacredness and beauty of life?
Years passed and I was once again at the ashram. “Gurudev, what practical step can I take?”
“Why don’t you write down the talks to make it easier for you to study and find your own answers?” It was a nod to my preference for independent learning.
After the talk, we excitedly gathered outside the meditation hall, sharing what caught our attention and in that way, we recapped the session. Other devoted souls took notes too, so we compared what we had written. One day someone suggested a more effective method.
“Why don’t we record the talk and transcribe it from the audio? Then we will catch every word.”
It took us all morning to prepare, but it was worth it as these transcripts were shared with the membership and formed the basis for our afternoon conversations. We no longer had to choose a topic. Now we were to elicit conversation about elements of the script.
When the Guru entered the group, he asked for a summary of how the conversation flowed thus far: who had spoken, what was said, who had not contributed anything and the efforts made to draw them out. He checked in with the group about the accuracy of the recounting. They could speak freely with the Guru present. This was helpful because now I had an immediate assessment of how well I had listened. In some instances I had not fully grasped the essence and significance of what someone said and they would be upset. It was not easy because they sometimes lashed out at me, and only in some cases was it warranted. I tried not to give too much attention to any reactions I had, while at the same time, not ignoring my feelings… a great balancing act that tipped one way and another. I thought at least they felt safe enough to move from an inarticulate morass of feeling to the release that comes from expression and feeling heard.
Whenever I misunderstood someone, misread their silence or did not fully recognize their feelings, in my quiet moments I tried to review what they had communicated beyond the words, so that I could be more sensitive and respectful. It was important to recognize the subtle cues because what might seem minor to me might be the tip of the iceberg… many hidden layers that I might be unaware of.
I celebrated with those who shared their triumphs because I knew what it took to make those inner strides, so their wave of joy carried me forward.
I saw more clearly that I had greater affinity to some people, and tended to give more weight to what they said. At other times, I let details of someone’s story hinder a deeper connection with them. Good intentions in relationships were a starting point. Now the invitation was to enjoy a greater variety in ways of being, appreciating the nuances and rhythm of the music played by each personality.
When I looked for it, commonality was obvious. Everyone is the same as me, we just express different aspects of the infinite spectrum at any given moment. I looked up at the masses of bougainvillea flowers. They had the answer all along, each vine expressing itself, with tiny, brightly coloured flowers artfully arranged among the green leaves, spiky thorns and all, forming a delightful canopy.
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