The other day I was reflecting on how this was the year of the “lost spring.” I couldn’t really tune in and enjoy the season the way I usually do (too many distractions!). Now we’re almost at the Solstice, but it feels important to reclaim Spring first.
So I decided to share this fun and lively song by Swami Kriyananda. It’s one of his Shakespeare songs, and I love it because it makes me feel happy and it makes me think of Spring!
It Was a Lover and His Lass by Swami Kriyananda
It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o’er the green corn field did pass, In spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding ding: Sweet lovers love the spring.
Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, These pretty country folks would lie, In spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding ding: Sweet lovers love the spring.
And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, For love is crowned with the prime In spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding ding: Sweet lovers love the spring.
I still haven’t gotten completely caught up with all the comments and reciprocal sharing from last week. And I haven’t yet figured out when to schedule the Zoom chat that I’ve promised some friends in order to follow-up on the ideas and feelings that surfaced for us all.
Basically, I continue to be blown away by the impact my sharing has had on people. It’s extremely humbling.
The big waves of a week ago have transformed into gradually receding ripples…
🔸 I’ll be following up soon with some friends who would like a chance to talk more via a Zoom chat.
🔸 I’m collecting information about causes and/or businesses that people can support in the interest of contributing to real, lasting change.
🔸 I had a nice phone chat with my Dad and asked him questions to fill in the gaps of my knowledge or memory.
Turns out he wasn’t poised to work for NASA; he would have still been an employee of Lockheed but working at the Space Center. The home he and my mom were interested in leasing was in what was originally a Quaker community called Friendswood; the wife of the couple was all set to go, but the husband felt they should run it by the neighbors. End of story.
I also learned that in the brief period he worked for Control Data Corporation (CDC), Dad was almost transferred to Minneapolis. And at one point he was offered the chance to interview for a job at Northwestern University in Chicago.
How different my life would have looked if even a portion of my growing up years had been spent in Texas, Minnesota, or Illinois!
Ramesha mentioned that a friend had asked him why Ananda members weren’t out protesting. My first thought was that some members undoubtedly are! My second thought is how important it is to honor each individual’s inner guidance in these matters.
I remember when I attended Quaker meetings in San Francisco in the early 80’s. There was a lot of civil disobedience happening in protest of the nuclear arms race and many of my friends from the meeting were participating. I had conflicting feelings about it: Should I go? Should I let myself get arrested? Was there some other way to support the cause?
Well, I did go to one of the protests, though I did not get arrested. But ultimately I came to understand that I wasn’t “called” to serve in that way, although I had to fight my way through a lot of doubt, self-recrimination, and feelings of guilt before I arrived at that conclusion.
I had a similar struggle regarding my flute during that same period of time. There were so many issues around poverty and homelessness that at one point I shared in the meeting about feeling guilty for having an expensive flute when so many people didn’t even have enough money for food.
One of the wise elders of the meeting helped me see that my flute was a necessary part of expressing my God-given gift, and that I shouldn’t apologize for who and what I was.
Bottom line is that we all have to find our authentic way of showing up and helping to heal this world of ours, while trusting that others are finding their way as well.
Finally…I’ve noticed a number of people asking questions along the lines of “what’s Ananda’s position” when it comes to the issues of the day. So I’ve collected some videos and articles by various Ananda ministers and members, starting with Jyotish and Devi. This is by no means exhaustive; it’s what I could come up with in a quick search of the Ananda community websites and Facebook pages.
I hope it’s helpful… 💗
Jyotish & Devi, spiritual directors of Ananda Worldwide.
Acts of Violence & Racism: How Should We Respond?Read ARTICLE by Hriman & Padma, spiritual directors of Ananda Washington
Satsang with Hriman and Padma at the Camano Hermitage 🙏 Tonight we talk about racism in America: where we've been; where we are going. Finding your center amidst the furor. See VIDEOof satsang
Dharmadas, spiritual director of Ananda Sacramento
Ananda LA blog: Compassion for All by Sherry Chow Read BLOG POST
I leave you once again with the beautiful chant, They Have Heard Thy Name. May we all be soothed and healed in Heavenly Father/Divine Mother’s love! 🙏
It’s been a full week of dramatic shifts and turmoil — both inner and outer. I think as a country we’ve crossed a line from which there is no turning back — for better or for worse; while for myself, I feel like I’m coming back to center, but with increased awareness….and increased visibility as well!
It feels good to have opened myself up to being part of the dialogue; it will be interesting to see just what exactly that means going forward.
Which brings me to the question of race at Ananda, which a number of friends have asked about.
Speaking only for myself, I have never once felt any sort of discrimination or prejudice in my twenty years as a member of Ananda. On the contrary, I have felt a level of feeling “at home” and a sense of belonging beyond anything I had ever felt before.
In order to explain this a little better, I’d like to explore the idea of being “colorblind.” I remember one time many years ago, when I was in college, being part of a conversation where a friend was trying to describe me to someone who was going to be meeting me for some reason.
The adjectives included “short”, “dark hair”, what I was wearing, etc…and I finally broke in to say, “tell them I’m black!” I mean, it seemed ridiculous to me to ignore what — in that particular setting — would have been the quickest and simplest identifier. To me, that’s a false colorblindness that actually draws more attention to the differences.
At Ananda I’ve experienced what feels to me like true colorblindness, when someone’s attention is drawn to the color of my skin and they’re surprised, because they had never really noticed it.
Hmmm…that explanation seems a little lame, and yet…that’s how it has felt! Why? Because as devotees living in spiritual community, we are committed to shedding our egoic self-definitions in order to fully realize the truth that — in essence — we are all one in God.
The more we believe that and live that, the more we can look at everyone around us and all we see is the light in their eyes and the joy in their smiles. And we will feel the love in their hearts and know that we’re all expressions of the one light and joy and love of God.
Of course, most of us aren’t entirely there yet, but we’re committed to trying and we’re getting closer all the time.
There’s at least one more “Racial healing” blog post percolating in my mind, but I need a break. So here’s something I felt to share on Facebook a few days ago, starting with what I wrote to introduce it (the lyrics are included after the video):
Yesterday I felt the strong impulse to share this “funny” song of Swami Kriyananda’s. It’s based on a story that Yogananda used to tell. Right now, it’s the TRUTH of the song that is resonating with me, not so much the humor. “What we need is light!”
Yes, It’s Devil Worship by Swami Kriyananda
Brother, I’ve a faint suspicion You and I’ve been led astray: Taught to drive the devil from us, We’ve invited him to stay!
What we need is light! For we can’t drive out the darkness With a stick, with a stick, No, we can’t drive out the devil with a stick.
Some proclaim all men are sinners, Can’t escape the devil’s might. How their interest must intrigue him, They won’t let him out of sight!
What we need is light! For we can’t drive out the darkness Talking sin, talking sin, No, we can’t drive out the devil talking sin.
Some of us were taught the slogan: “Social evils must be slain!” But can anger drive out sorrow? How can passion conquer pain?
What we need is light! For we can’t drive out the darkness While we hate, while we hate, No, we can’t drive out the devil while we hate.
Brother, have you ever wondered Why the darkness lingers on? If we want to see the sunrise Let us turn and face the dawn!
What we need is light! For we’ll only best the darkness When we love, when we love, Yes, we’ll only best the devil when we love!
It’s taken a full five days, but the dust is settling a bit in terms of my personal upset and process. There are a few things that I’m now seeing with more clarity:
The Gift Growing up without having to confront constant, overt racism meant that my sense of self was largely free from identification with the issue of racism. I’m deeply grateful for this.
The Work But because I wasn’t constantly confronted with overt racism, I was largely able to avoid facing up to it. These past few days have helped me understand how important it is that I let myself see how much I was affected by racism, and allow myself to feel the collective pain.
The Sad Reality One of the most helpful things I’ve learned at Ananda is the concept that reason follows feeling. Which means that logic becomes irrelevant when feelings are fully engaged and passions run high. Which leads to…
The Impossibility Having my sun in Gemini means that “communication” is BIG for me. There’s a part of me that really does believe that if “they“ just got to know me and we could just talk, then I could make “them” understand! But that’s the very definition of prejudice, isn’t it? Who I am is irrelevant; I’m never going to convince a true bigot that I’m worth knowing.
So another helpful thing I’ve learned at Ananda is the importance of focusing one’s energies on those who are positive and open and willing, while ignoring — whenever possible — those who are negative and derogatory (obviously, if someone is not just negative but threatening, you can’t ignore them!).
There are many people who want to understand, who want to help, who want to be part of the solution. If we focus our energy and resources on strengthening and nurturing these connections, we’ll increase our magnetism and build the momentum…and I have faith that change will happen as a result.
I’m deeply touched by all the loving and supportive comments coming my way and I’m maybe even more moved by the way people are opening up and sharing.
I want to respond to the outpouring of support and sharing. And at the same time I want to crawl into a hole and hide. A part of me is saying: “Okay, that’s enough. Really, I’m fine! No need to belabor the topic.”
I’ve understood for a long time that my approved “role” is the cheerful, optimistic, positive, it’s-all-going-to-be-fine, peacemaker. And I am a naturally upbeat, positive, cheerful person who loves harmony…just not 100% of the time!
The problem is that somehow being down, struggling to cope, feeling depressed…. all got written out of my role. To the point where any degree of “not having it together” feels like I’m failing, and I’ll do a lot to avoid anything confrontational.
So I’m not comfortable right now. I’m continuing to move forward but adding to the discomfort is the fact that I’m having to let some things fall by the wayside in order to stay with this process. When what I’d really love to do is turn on a funny movie and eat a big bowl of popcorn.
For a long time I’ve self-identified as being someone whose main coping mechanism is “denial” (I even used to joke about being Cleopatra, Queen of de Nile…get it?). But now I’m thinking that what looked like “denial” was maybe more of an inability to fit difficult experiences into my construct of reality.
Take that incident in Virginia with the Blue Saints Jazz Band for example (by the way, I should clarify that this took place in 1971 or 72 when I was only fifteen or sixteen years old). I don’t have a clear memory of that experience in my mind and had actually forgotten it altogether until reminded, decades later, by a friend who was there. So — was I in denial?
It was my first time traveling to the other side of the country, away from the community that knew and respected my parents, that respected me. The community where I went to an integrated school, was on the honor roll, was the featured alto saxophone soloist with the concert band; where my father was president of the school board!
It must have come as a shock to be told I wasn’t welcome. I imagine there would have been no place in my consciousness where such an experience could have made sense, prompting my psyche to tuck it away somewhere deep inside and forget about it.
Effective in the moment but I hate to think about how much energy has been committed to the task of keeping these things tucked away…
There are some good reasons why “race” and “racism” didn’t seem like a major factor in my life…
Though born in San Francisco, I grew up in the Sunnyhills neighborhood of Milpitas, which I only recently learned was the first successful integrated housing development in California.
Both my parents were college-educated and well-spoken.
My father was president of the school board throughout most of my school years; my mother was active in community leadership as well.
In 1966 Milpitas had California’s first black mayor.
I had friends of all races; loved school; and got good grades.
By high school, my aptitude for music led to opportunities to travel to the East Coast, Canada, and Europe.
My boyfriends and both husbands have been white.
Soooo….I was a good kid, living a good and happy life, secure in a community that knew and respected my parents and my entire family.
Except…there were subtle things that I avoided looking at closely…
I never completely fit in — I wasn’t “cool” and I didn’t sound “black”; I was a bookworm and a music nerd — so I didn’t fit in with with the black kids; all my best friends, who I had everything in common with, were white — so I stuck out there because I looked different.
When I started dating my first white boyfriend, some of the black guys took issue with him dating a black girl and beat him up.
When the jazz band I was in traveled to Washington D.C., there was a side trip to Virginia where the Filipino keyboard player and I sat on the bus while the rest of the group toured some historic monument in Virginia, where we weren’t welcome.
Then there was the concert we did at a school for developmentally disabled children in Germany, where one of the children became visibly agitated when she saw me. Between her disability and the language difference I had no way of understanding what she saying, but by the way she kept reaching out to touch my skin I could tell she had never seen a person of color before, which was a very strange feeling.
My father worked for Lockheed as a systems analyst and was offered a job at NASA, but due to some (racially-motivated) unpleasantness when they visited Houston they decided to stay put in California.
As a classical flutist, I freelanced with a number of orchestras throughout the greater SF Bay Area. I was somewhat bemused by how often, despite not being a contracted member, I just “happened” to be performing on the concert when they would take their promotional photos, so they had one person of color in the orchestra (the “token”).
Then there was the time I did a gig at a gated community in Danville with guitarist Eugene Rodriquez. It was a fundraiser for a private girls school, with students from the school doing the serving. At one point, Eugene and I were taking a break at the refreshment table — dressed in formal black and white because that’s what classical musicians wear to gigs(!) — and a woman tried to hand me her used plate! Now remember: the middle school girls are serving at this event. There are no waiters or waitresses in attendance. But this woman’s unconscious logic was obviously that, if a black woman/Latino man were in a mansion in Danville dressed in black and white clothing, they must be there to wait on her! That one rankles to this day…
Of course, I read this over and I think, “Oh come on! This stuff is hardly worth calling racism; I mean, what are you even complaining about?!?”
But that, I think, is what has kept me from allowing myself to acknowledge that I am affected by racism. And as I’ve been writing, more and more of these little memories resurface; none of them major or worth making a big fuss about, but when you add them all together…it makes for a pretty heavy weight.
