Tag: memories

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Hotel Dante: then and now

With Swami Kriyananda at Hotel Dante in Lugano (2012)

One of the things we planned to do in Lugano today was visit the spots where we had spent time with Swamiji — especially Hotel Dante, where the above photo was taken.

Swami loved coming to Lugano on vacation and always stayed at Hotel Dante. We have a number of precious memories with him there; we even got to have breakfast with him on my birthday in 2005.

We had thought it would be nice to take a picture by the chair where Swamiji had sat, as a way of remembering our time with him. You can imagine our dismay when we arrived and discovered the room had been remodeled and is completely different!

It’s still Hotel Dante, but the lobby where Swami would sit and receive visitors is now a very modern looking restaurant. It wasn’t just disappointing, it actually felt like a loss.

But then I remembered that I can feel Swamiji close to me by tuning into him inwardly. An important and reassuring reminder.

The traditional lobby is now “FLAMEL Bistrot & Mixology”

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Reading my own blog posts

Free photos of WordPress

I was thinking to start sharing memories of times and experiences with Swamiji today, but decided I’d better review some old blog posts first — in case I had already written about those memories and experiences.

In fact, I haven’t done so. But it was so fascinating to revisit my thoughts and emotions and observations from back in 2019 (when I first started writing this blog) that I could hardly make myself stop!

So I guess I’ll get started tomorrow.

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Memories of Swamiji

With Swamiji in Assisi (possibly during the oratorio tour in 2000)

I’ve been catching up on my reading of several books about Swami Kriyananda (the founder of Ananda, who I also consider one of my dearest friends).

In the course of reading, many memories are surfacing. Some of them are quite precious and I’m hoping to dedicate more time to getting them down in writing in 2023.

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Summer nights

I’ve always thought the best thing about really hot summer days is summer nights.

When the temperature has finally dropped so you’re warm, not hot. But there’s a sort of thickness to the air, so you feel cocooned in that warmth.

I have so many lovely memories of hanging out with friends on perfect summer nights.

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WINGS memories

My diagnosis has been a wake-up call in a number of ways.

I was part of a women’s group back in the late 80’s; it was an important part of my consciously coming onto the spiritual path. Over the years other women friends joined us for solstice and equinox rituals, ending up becoming part of the group as well.

We went through any number of intense experiences together over the decades. But eventually life took us in different directions and, although we remained close in spirit, we never managed to all get together after Ramesha and I moved back from Europe in 2006.

But last month we (figuratively) put our foot down, set a date, and met via Zoom. And today we not only did it again, but we’ve already got a date set for our next meeting!

I’m feeling very grateful for this group of friends who hold a big chunk of my life in their collective memory. Such a blessing.

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Scented memories

Meadow grasses

On my walk this evening I was suddenly halted in my tracks by the smell of a sweet scent. I couldn’t identify where it was coming from, but it was unmistakable.

And I was just as suddenly transported to other moments, other locations, but the same experience…

There was the time I was waiting at the front entrance of the old SF Conservatory of Music building (at 19th Ave and Ortega) on a warm evening in late spring/early summer. There were a number of plants in bloom, all combining to make a subtle but overwhelmingly beautiful scent.

Then there was the smell of freesias blooming in front yards as my first husband, Randy, and I strolled the streets of Pacific Grove.

Freesias

And the first time I truly understood the phrase “sweet grasses” was on pilgrimage at Newgrange, in County Meath, Ireland. It was summer and we had been blessed with beautiful weather during our time in Ireland. It was my first time visiting England, Wales, and Ireland, and I had never experienced meadow grasses like that. The smell was intoxicating.

And, finally, when I lived in San Francisco, there was a certain kind of boxwood hedge that bloomed in early spring, but with really insignificant flowers. I would be walking along and — just like today — be suddenly halted in my tracks as I tried to locate where the amazing scent was coming from.

If I close my eyes I can almost recapture it, even after all these years.

Dwarf English Boxwood
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Capturing a memory

I’ve been on a bit of a decluttering kick lately, but not in a major, turn-everything-inside-out kind of way. This packet of sugar is an excellent example.

It’s from a one week trip to Europe we made back in 2008 (I believe), when Swami Kriyananda had a book launch at the Teatro Valle in Rome.

We stayed at the Hotel San Valentino, along with pianist Todd (who flew over with us from California), and Italian cellist, Dhruva.

We went first to Assisi for some rehearsals, then drove to Rome with Bhaktan and Mantrini, and their little baby Sabina.

One of the funny things I remember is that on the day we arrived the hotel clerk complimented Ramesha on his Italian. Of course, Ramesha told him Italian was his mother tongue, but the guy wasn’t a very good listener because all week he continued to comment on it. It didn’t matter how many times Ramesha explained!

Well, I’ve been hanging onto this sugar packet because it brings back such lovely memories. But, seriously! I’m never going to use the sugar. Odds are the packet would eventually break and make a sugary mess in the kitchen drawer.

So, I decided to take a photo and feature it in this blog post. Memory captured, and now I can chuck the sugar!

Hotel San Valentino, Roma
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More photos, more memories

At our Ananda Assisi wedding in July of 2004. Our legal wedding was two weeks before at Ananda Palo Alto, but we repeated the Ananda wedding ceremony in Assisi for our Swiss and Italian family and friends.

It’s been such a busy time that I haven’t made a lot of progress on my Swami stories project. However, it’s definitely been percolating in the back of mind.

I find memories surfacing as I sing a particular song or find another photo, and I’m doing my best to make notes so I’ll remember them when I start writing.

In the meantime, I’m seeing the truth that when you focus on something you attract more of it!

Completely out of the blue today, I received an message from a photographer friend saying she had just found a stash of photos from our Assisi wedding back in 2004.

I guess it could be “just a coincidence” (but I don’t think so). 😊

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Stuff vs apartment

Most of today I’ve spent wrestling with the reality that we have a very small apartment and too much stuff.

The problem is that too much of the stuff is “meaningful” in some way.

Where we lived when we got it. Who gave it to us. Who we were and what we were doing at the time. So many memories.

And then there are the things that surely can be put to use. The books I’m really going to read. The photos I can’t get rid of until I’ve looked through them one last time.

Argghhh!

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Time for a break

I’ve been thinking about the idea of being in the world but not of it (yes, I know it’s from scripture, but I’m just paraphrasing). To me this speaks to the challenge of finding that fine balance between being engaged and responsible in the world, while at the same time being aware of — and trying to live more on — the higher levels of reality.

Of course, that’s hard work (especially these days)! So, it was perfect to find this video of Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five” — because it’s time for a break (“take five” — get it? 😉) and because this is such a surprising, yet totally entertaining, rendition of the piece.

Of course, then I had to go back to the source and listen to the original version of “Take Five.” Why? Because Paul Desmond continues to be my all-time favorite alto saxophonist hero. His playing was just so darned tasteful and melodic.

But also because I learned to love the Dave Brubeck quartet when my Dad played the album as I was growing up. Plus Miles Davis; all nine Beethoven symphonies; Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition; Oscar Peterson; Schubert’s Rosamunde; Thelonious Monk; and so on and so forth. ..

Great memories…and we still love listening to music together (or would if we could get together; oh well). Thanks for the gift of music, Dad! 💗