Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Sonoma Ashram
Last week, Michael and I visited the Sonoma Ashram, a small facility located some one and a half hours north of San Francisco. He knew the resident guru (Baba Hariji) from a workshop some years ago and was deeply impressed by this man's spiritual radiance.
When we arrived, we went immediately to the building housing the "temple" (this was a simple room in one of the units.) Here we found a shrine, containing on its wall a large picture of a smiling man . When I stood in front of this image, I immediately felt amazing "bliss waves," of the kind I have experienced so often recently from the Buddha on my thongka. I simply stood there quietly, drinking in the sweet nectar of the moment, for some ten or so minutes. I assumed this was a photo of Hariji, but no, it was in fact, an image of his own guru, whom he (Hariji) had served for several years during his apprenticeship.
This ashram prides itself on its atmosphere of peace and love, and indeed these were the qualities which one detected in abundance. All those we met were exceptionally gracious and kind, doing all they could to make us feel at home.
I had the opportunity to talk at length with Hariji, who proved to be a very humble, unassuming person, who stated that his goal was to give people what they most needed, and to help to make the world a better place. I loved the purity of his devotion and his purpose. He was, I felt, an authentic spiritual teacher, and his followers reflected his teachings in their own actions.
We even talked a bit about kundalini, and its possible relationship to enlightenment. I suggested that the moment of deep awakening seemed to offer at least a glimpse or taste of what is known as enlightenment. And his answer was, I thought, quite lovely: "All of the sea tastes the same, whether you take only a sip or whether you swallow a very large amount."
Frankly, he did a lot to redeem my own somewhat skeptical impression of gurus. He was in no way bigoted or dogmatic; indeed he emanated pure love and gentle acceptance. I deeply appreciated his willingness to engage in dialogue, rather than delivering a monologue of fixed truths. I felt he had honored my presence by letting me be seen for what I was, rather than (as so often happens) dismissing me as someone deluded or immature or inconsequential, as such luminaries are sometimes known to do. He was not playing out the ego role of the "great master." Unassuming and deeply attentive, he embodied his own truth.
An unexpected boon was the presence of some of Michael's friends, a family who had traveled from the East Coast to spend a long weekend at the ashram with Hariji. They had spent three weeks in India recently, staying at the ashram there which Hariji also oversees. This ashram,located near Varanasi (the most sacred city in India) includes an orphanage for young boys who have lost one or both of their parents. Dick had compiled an amazing video of the photos he had taken on their trip. He, his wife, and young daughter are planning to return in the fall for an extended stay.
As for me, I seemed to enter another dimension in the ashram. It seemed to stir up memories of the past, or else longings for the future, I couldn't tell which. In part I was quite exalted (at being in such transcendent space), and in part, I was saddened (almost a kind of nostalgia for some former existence.)
So now I have the India bug. I am sorely tempted to journey there, but so far haven't totally given in to that impulse. Half of me is already there, and the other half keeps reminding me of reasons I shouldn't go.
When we arrived, we went immediately to the building housing the "temple" (this was a simple room in one of the units.) Here we found a shrine, containing on its wall a large picture of a smiling man . When I stood in front of this image, I immediately felt amazing "bliss waves," of the kind I have experienced so often recently from the Buddha on my thongka. I simply stood there quietly, drinking in the sweet nectar of the moment, for some ten or so minutes. I assumed this was a photo of Hariji, but no, it was in fact, an image of his own guru, whom he (Hariji) had served for several years during his apprenticeship.
This ashram prides itself on its atmosphere of peace and love, and indeed these were the qualities which one detected in abundance. All those we met were exceptionally gracious and kind, doing all they could to make us feel at home.
I had the opportunity to talk at length with Hariji, who proved to be a very humble, unassuming person, who stated that his goal was to give people what they most needed, and to help to make the world a better place. I loved the purity of his devotion and his purpose. He was, I felt, an authentic spiritual teacher, and his followers reflected his teachings in their own actions.
We even talked a bit about kundalini, and its possible relationship to enlightenment. I suggested that the moment of deep awakening seemed to offer at least a glimpse or taste of what is known as enlightenment. And his answer was, I thought, quite lovely: "All of the sea tastes the same, whether you take only a sip or whether you swallow a very large amount."
Frankly, he did a lot to redeem my own somewhat skeptical impression of gurus. He was in no way bigoted or dogmatic; indeed he emanated pure love and gentle acceptance. I deeply appreciated his willingness to engage in dialogue, rather than delivering a monologue of fixed truths. I felt he had honored my presence by letting me be seen for what I was, rather than (as so often happens) dismissing me as someone deluded or immature or inconsequential, as such luminaries are sometimes known to do. He was not playing out the ego role of the "great master." Unassuming and deeply attentive, he embodied his own truth.
An unexpected boon was the presence of some of Michael's friends, a family who had traveled from the East Coast to spend a long weekend at the ashram with Hariji. They had spent three weeks in India recently, staying at the ashram there which Hariji also oversees. This ashram,located near Varanasi (the most sacred city in India) includes an orphanage for young boys who have lost one or both of their parents. Dick had compiled an amazing video of the photos he had taken on their trip. He, his wife, and young daughter are planning to return in the fall for an extended stay.
As for me, I seemed to enter another dimension in the ashram. It seemed to stir up memories of the past, or else longings for the future, I couldn't tell which. In part I was quite exalted (at being in such transcendent space), and in part, I was saddened (almost a kind of nostalgia for some former existence.)
So now I have the India bug. I am sorely tempted to journey there, but so far haven't totally given in to that impulse. Half of me is already there, and the other half keeps reminding me of reasons I shouldn't go.
