(not necessarily in that order)
That’s how I’m feeling about our ensemble rehearsals!
We’re listening more to one another. We’re maintaining the energy and holding our pitch. We’re consistently conveying the meaning of the lyrics. We’re going deeper into the consciousness of every song.
Sometimes it feels like hard work, but at the same time, we’re having so much FUN!
This is one of the moments that I really, really love my job.
We had a particularly wonderful ensemble rehearsal last night. We were working on two songs that get sung a lot throughout the Ananda world — Life Is a Dream and Home Is a Green Hill.
There have been moments when I’ve heard someone say that they get “bored” singing these songs, but I can’t for the life of me understand how that could be. It’s not just that the songs are beautiful in and of themselves; it’s the profound meaning in the lyrics and the deep consciousness that they convey.
As we worked on details and dived into subtleties — with various singers offering insights and making suggestions — it seemed that each song gradually yielded up its secret treasures.
And then it happened — that exquisite moment musicians live for: when the music itself takes over and you feel like you’re slightly outside yourself, observing the music happen through you. At least, that’s how it felt to me. I can’t speak for the other singers.
When we reached the end of that particular run-through of the song, there was only silence and stillness. No one moved for a glorious, blissful, eternal moment in time.
And that — to me — is the absolutely best kind of rehearsal.
Below are the beautiful lyrics to Home Is a Green Hill, followed by a recording of Swami Kriyananda singing it.
Home is a green hill, home is a wind
Blowing betrayal, far, far away.
Home is the knowledge heaven is near,
Home’s the end of the fray.
Home is my heart’s land, home’s where I am;
Nothing can dim the light of my soul.
Home is forever, home is today,
Home’s a heart that is whole.
Often I dream that life is a play:
Laughter forever and skies never gray.
But when I’m silent, freed from all care,
I discover my home’s everywhere.
Home is a green hill, home is a wind
Blowing betrayal, far, far away.
Home is the knowledge heaven is near,
Home’s the end of the fray.
A dear friend, who is one of the wisest people I know, sent an email update about some challenges.
The update contained the assurance that she herself was doing fine, as well as a reminder of how — again and again — the spiritual teachings carry us through.
And then she wrote a sentence that I’m going to save because it’s so deeply and helpfully true. She said:
The answer is always the same and it always works: expand our consciousness beyond the body, beyond the present challenge, bring God in, open our heart to God’s grace in all, and in that moment we are carried across oceans of delusion.
Wow. I want to remember this always.
Let’s see, it must have been sometime early in 1999 that I first “met” Swami Kriyananda.
My very time at an Ananda event was Shivaratri in February 1998, after which I attended a few Sunday services, then started taking a meditation class in May. Within a few months I knew Yogananda was my guru, and I took discipleship in November 1998.
However, Swami Kriyananda was a mystery person to me. Given his Indian name, I was surprised to learn that he was an American. Everyone spoke of him with great love and respect but living in Italy at the time, he wasn’t around for me to gain my own impression.
Not surprisingly, the music of Ananda made a real impression on me right from the start; as I was getting more involved I felt to tune into it more deeply. I had picked up a free “sampler” cassette tape with a selection of musical pieces on it and decided to listen to it while working on an art project.
There was quite a variety — in style, instrumentation, size of group — but then there were a number of solos in a male voice that I guessed must be this Swami Kriyananda guy. It’s a little embarrassing to confess that my professional musician ears were in critique mode as I listened, wondering if his being the founder was the reason he got to sing the solos (boy, was I clueless!).
Then the song “Love Is a Magician” started. It has a slightly jazzy electric piano intro, to which I had a rather cynical and condescending response, but once Swami began singing the words I immediately burst into tears and sobbed throughout the entire song.
It was as though the loving power of his consciousness was an arrow that bypassed my mental processes to directly pierce me right in the center of my heart. In that moment I knew Swami Kriyananda was the truest and deepest of friends, and that I could trust him with my life.
Which was, and still is, the truth.
Yesterday I shared a photo of the first time I sang for Swami Kriyananda, but I realize I skipped over some of the most compelling experiences of my early years at Ananda.
Namely: how I first “met” Swami (in “consciousness”); how I got to “know” him better (still before meeting him in person); and how I raised money to go on the Oratorio choir tour to Italy (aka The Saga of “Illuminating Grace”).
More tomorrow; stay tuned!
Don’t know if it’s astrological or something in mass consciousness, but I’ve been feeling heavy and slow and vaguely out of sorts all day long!
At first I thought I was just tired. After all, it was a fairly intense week. But as the hours passed I started to think it was something more, because I did get plenty of sleep and yet I wasn’t able to snap out of it.
It’s like when there’s a storm brewing and you’re aware of a heavy energy weighing everything down. That’s how it’s been throughout this entire day, but I have faith that it will pass.
Nayaswami Bharat gave a wonderfully inspiring talk this morning. At one point he shared about the palpable aura of love he felt in nature while hiking in a remote mountain valley, and it brought to my mind a somewhat similar experience I had many years ago.
Of course, the location was the opposite of remote! I was living in San Francisco; a basically cheerful and optimistic twenty-something student at San Francisco State University, finishing up my undergraduate degree in flute performance. Certainly I had my share of normal young adult angst, but hey! I was living in the city I loved; I was immersed in the music I loved; and I was more or less high on life.
One of the best things about living in The City was that it was absolutely fantastic for walking. I spent hours a day walking on Ocean Beach and through various neighborhoods, enjoying the moderate temperatures, the mystical fog, and the beautiful flowers and trees everywhere.
On this particular day, I was walking through the SFSU campus, enjoying the sunshine, and feeling good, when I remember being literally stopped in my tracks by a bunch of flowers.
I mean, they were just part of the campus landscaping, but something about them was so, well, vivid…! They were beyond beautiful, beyond “alive.” I just stood there for a while, marveling, and wondering.
Then I went on about my day, but it stayed with me. To the point where even now — close to forty years later — I can practically see those flowers — and feel that feeling — again. In fact, I believe I caught a glimpse of the truth expressed in this verse from one of Swami Kriyananda’s songs:
There’s joy in the heavens,
A smile on the mountains,
And melody sings everywhere.
The flowers are all laughing
To welcome the morning;
Your soul is as free as the air.
Yes, I believe I had the good karma in that moment to (somehow!) open up and receive the joyous consciousness of those flowers. What a blessing.
“Music is so much more than entertainment. It doesn’t merely reflect a state of consciousness: It also generates it.”
–Swami Kriyananda
It’s not that music can’t ever be entertainment. It’s just that we can benefit greatly from recognizing that it’s much more than “just” entertainment.
The next time you’re listening to your favorite music, notice where your consciousness is and whether your energy is going up the spine or down. Then ask yourself if where that music is taking you is where you really want to go.