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Again the mighty yearning raised its flame |
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Fall 2003 trip to Auroville, Hyderabad, and Pondicherry India |
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Contents India calls. India's great poet, politician and seer Sri Aurobindo called India the spiritual heart center of the earth, with its incomparable tradition of saints, visionaries and spiritual paths. India repels. Everything - death, beggars, filth, poverty, air polution, piles of garbage, polluted rivers and seashores - everything is out in the open, parading by, assaulting the senses, the conventions, the morality of the visitor. Where would you look? The inner life of the spirit that has produced some of the world's greatest scriptures, visionaries and art? The grinding poverty of the untouchables, the smog, the pervasive corruption, the crowding? Or both, the bright and the ugly, the spiritual wealth and the material poverty, the warmth and friendliness of the people or the theft and corruption rampant? India is on the move. It's people, more than a billion of them, with living cultures reaching back several millennia, are stretching vigorously into the 21st century. This India log is a record of my third journey to India, this time with a group of 18 people, many from Barbara Marx Hubbard's Gateway process, who answered India's call. My old friend, Prapanna Smith, John Robert Cornell Related Links Foundation for Conscious Evolution 
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Paradise Lost Tomorrow is our last full day in Auroville together. Ron H and Anne have already left. Inside I feel joinings breaking up and connections pulling apart, as more people get ready to return to the US. The pulling and breaking triggers memories of the broken moorings of my biological family, washed away by a flood of deaths - sister, father, uncle, and mother within the last five years. And I feel the upward spiral of light that I have ridden in this journey so far start to reverse toward the familiar crash I had during earlier travels. So my theme during morning check-in with the group is "belonging lost." I never belonged to the Gateway membership that united many of my fellow travelers before the trip. I was surprised that this was never a problem, and now I feel the delicious sense of spiritual family slipping away as we pull out our connections to the Auroville adventure and turn our faces toward packing, final shopping, and dispersal in many directions. The feelings yank me back to memories of conception - despair at finding myself in matter when I first came to this physical body, the sudden revelation of where I came from before entering the body, and grief at the loss of that utter belonging. People in the check-in circle respond graciously to this confession. Makasha remarks that he has always been a stranger in a strange land. There are nods in the room. Oh yes, that's what brought us here to Auroville, isn't it? The need for something more! Diane and John make a point of connecting with me afterward. And Kathleen wants to respond to my comments when we have some time to talk. I stop by the Matrimandir office to talk with Barbara. She has been an annual presence in my life for years. Barbara maintains contact with people all over the world connected to the Matrimandir. Each year I get a little note from her. Bill, I've discovered, does too, and probably many others. Barbara is tall and looks Swedish to me. She has a good memory. She says that we met when I came to India in 1994, and she remembers Karen, too. I get a chance to commend her for the magnificent Matrimandir Journal. She tells me who is principally responsible for this journal, but I have forgotten her name. After lunch our group heads to Pondicherry to shop. Prapanna has arranged for a special bargain for us on a new edition of the Mother's complete works at Vak Spiritual Bookstore. Kathleen also wants to get a gold medallion of the Mother's symbol and have Richard and Kailas autograph her copy of their new edition of The Spiritual Significance of Flowers. Kathleen and I set out for Pondicherry's commercial quarter to look for the jeweler. When I pause at a dress shop to look at a salwar camise, she notices immediately that the colors would be right for Karen. She mentions that blues and lavenders are Karen's colors, which is right on target. I think she already has a sense of knowing Karen, through her own intuitive gifts and because we have talked about how both of them have a small window of comfort about things like diet. Kathleen asks me how I came to unravel the sense of not belonging that I mentioned this morning in check-in, the stranger-in-a-strange-land syndrome that most of us here relate to. After I tell her the story, she confides that she had a similar revelation in a series of experiences this summer. In the first one, a spiritual teacher was in town and she and her husband were asked if they wanted to participate in the process. When it was Kathleen's turn, the teacher asked her if she wanted to see where she came from. Flippantly she said sure. I don't know what the process was, but Kathleen found herself in a state before this incarnation. "A crystal city of light" are the closest words she can find for the experience. Everything there was immediate and intuitive. There was no separation and no need to speak, because one knew the other immediately, without any barrier. She gets a little teary recalling the unspeakable bliss in this homecoming. When it was time to come back to her Earth body, she flatly refused. She had no intention of coming back to this plane of pain and stupidity from that place of light. Her family and children there reminded her of her promise to work on Earth. Finally she agreed to return. After a very difficult re-entry, she found herself back here, seized by a nearly unbearable loneliness. She had left that effortless, natural connectedness for this! When she was fully back and awake, she found out that they were about to rush her to the hospital. She had stopped breathing for 30 minutes during this experience before they were able to resusitate her! During another experience she released so much energy that the person doing the energy work, her sister-in-law, was pinned against the wall. Waves of energy went through Kathleen's body, waves so strong that everything, including her bones, undulated in the shape of the waves. She felt like she was being ripped apart by the waves and the terrible loneliness that accompanied them; but when the waves stopped, the loneliness turned to bliss. Alternating cycles of tearing waves and blissful rest continued for an hour and a half. Her sister-in-law was paralyzed. She had never seen anything like it. She wanted to run away, but she couldn't move. A third experience took Kathleen back to her birth. She was trapped in the birth canal, crushed. No one could hear her cries for help. She finally made it out of the canal, and someone picked her up and put her in a crib by herself. She thought that she couldn't possibly fit, as big as she was, in that tiny crib. She was again seized by loneliness. We come up out of Kathleen's memories to find ourselves still in downtown Pondicherry. We find the jeweler's shop still closed for afternoon siesta, so we walk back to Richard and Kailas's flat near the ocean. Kailas insists that there is a better jeweler for Kathleen's medallion. Richard wisks her off on his scooter to this other jeweler and brings her back just as our group gathers for another dinner that Prapanna has arranged for us, this time at Satsanga Restaurant. After dinner several autorickshaws, courtesy of Prapanna's Indian brother-in-law, haul us to the Ashram school for the farewell variety performance of Matthew's class. They are graduating from the "Knowledge" section of the school, roughly equivalent to our college. Whew! Another full day, but Prapanna and I still talk long into the night back at Verité. He also had revelations today. His ashramite friend that has the gift of sight—he used to assist Mother in her work of helping souls leave the body and move to the next realm—told Prapanna that he would establish a foundation of integral education schools in the US. And then in 10 or 15 years, he would create a complete university in Auroville. Prapanna is feeling a rush of gratitude and energy for his work in the world as a mediator of flow. He has served our group tirelessly. He has mothered, fathered, guided us in India. He just goes for it! And he tells me he is still holding himself back, even with all the service that he has done for us.
Blessing Rain spreads little high-tapping feet over the thatch roof this morning as I wake up. It's still dark. Yesterday Kathleen and I agreed to meet at 5:50 this morning so we could get to Matrimandir and back in time for Aurelio's tuning experience with the group at 6:45. But the rain is now a wall of green patter coming down from the treetops all around. Without much thought I pull on my pants and shirt anyway, put on my raincoat and walk toward the guest house across the road where Kathleen is staying. I feel sure she will come, and I don't get inside the gate before I make out her raincoat moving through the mist. By the time the scooter putts cautiously down the muddy road, the rain has slipped away and the sky is rolling out a glory of pinks and greys and blues. Matrimandir catches and tosses back the glowing colors. I'm surprised that there is no attendant on the path in front of Matrimandir and no shoes at the entrance. The rain probably kept in other early risers. But inside the lower level a woman sits on a bench beside a white-haired man who slumps over slightly. She leans toward him and massages his neck tenderly. I wonder if he is having a stroke. I walk up the spiral ramp to the inner chamber a little ahead of Kathleen. Only two other people inside the chamber this morning. The stillness enfolds me. When we come out of the inner chamber at 6:30, an old man dressed in white is sitting in the chair usually taken by the chamber door attendant. I slip onto the adjacent bench to take off my chamber socks. I look at the man. It is he who was slumped on the bench when we came in. He smiles, radiating a quiet joy. He opens a small, spiral-bound notebook and pointing, begins showing me the pages. Each page has columns of figures, and near the bottom, Mother's signature in her own hand writing.
Once we are back outside, Kathleen tells me that he is preparing for the transition to the other side. She has spent the whole time we were in Matrimandir this morning working with him, preparing for the crossing. When we first saw him 40 minutes before, she intuited that he was looking for someone to pass on a blessing to before he leaves. I tell her what he said. "He will surely find a way to do it," she remarks. "I am so happy he passed the blessings to you." More chills. We scoot back to Verité and tiptoe into the tuning exercise, already in progress. Aurelio is a sound magician, a materializer of soundscapes. He leads the group in simple tones, ahs and ohs. Then he stretches them out to include breath, morning, belonging, trees, birds, and light. Sound becomes conscious, spacious. It becomes a geography, a tangible sacred space to enter, rooms to walk through, grottos to surprise and enjoy, skies to glide. We ride on en-chant-ed chant-trails of sound, scrape across sonic battlefields, and then dive back into pools of living harmony. When Aurelio finally brings us back in for a landing, Kathleen grins at him, "Can I take you home with me?" After breakfast I take care of some practical matters: close my Auroville charge account, change some travelers checks, and shop for gifts at the lovely Visitor Center boutique. That whole boutique is a work of art. I like just hanging around in there, absorbing the refined atmosphere. Back at Verité, I pack my belonging and debate about the birthday party. John from our group, Peter of the Adventure community, and Jorge, a visiting professor from California, are sharing a party at Adventure this afternoon. Not being a party kind of guy, I debate with myself about it. When that doesn't work, I finally just get on the scooter and ride to Adventure. Party in Adventure - that has a wholesome sound to it. At Adventure, I make some nice connections, a recurring theme for me in Auroville. First I meet Gabriel, an American student on sabbatical, traveling India on a quest. He is tall, blonde and evidently captivated by Auroville. He is a guest at Adventure. Next I talk with a woman whose face looks vaguely familiar. She is a resident of Adventure and partner of David, the architect of "the most beautiful bathroom in Auroville." After a bit she notices that I look familiar too. When she tells me her name, memory clicks in. It is Nadya, the healer I went to when I was so sick the last time in Auroville. She remembers the healings she did for me, but she hasn't been practicing healing the last two years. "I clean someone's aura, but it doesn't do any good. The next time I see the person, his aura is just as dirty as before." Her eyes look tired and her mouth is tight. This is not good. I tell her that she was an important influence in my India experience last time. She admits that she is thinking of going back to healing. Abbe has overheard and slips into the conversation. Apparently others in the community have been urging Nadya to return to her gift. Abbe broadcasts the help that Nadya gave to me to everyone in the room. "See?" she says, grinning at Nadya. Next a conversation with Jorge, a Spanish professor currently teaching integral psychology at the California Institute of Integral Studies, a graduate school strongly influenced by Sri Aurobindo's philosophy. Jorge was allowed the privilege of half an hour this morning in Sri Aurobindo's room in the Ashram in Pondicherry, along with John and Peter, the other birthday guys. Fortunate are you to have your birthday while in the vicinity of Pondicherry. Jorge is impressed with Auroville and hopes to come back again to do workshops on conflict resolution and group dynamics. So many connections and reconnections. It feels like a far-flung family reunion with instant rapport. I wish Jorge and Peter happy birthday before racing back to Verité. By the time I get back, Aurelio is ready to take us on our last group outing together - to the village of Sanjeevinagar to see Village Action in action. On the way he introduces us to some young Tamil men who are passionate about music and have started a musical instrument business. With Aurelio's guidance, they make and sell traditional and inventive instruments from local materials. We arrive at Sanjeevinagar a little before dark to see the results of a dream of eleven young men from villages around Auroville. They take us out to a forested area on the edge of town. They have cleaned up this tract of land, planted grass, and built several open air pavilions here. We sit on bamboo mats and listen to Kalya, Balu, and others. Kalya spent several months at Hummingbird Ranch in New Mexico. While he was there he had a realization. Something critical was missing in American culture, and he had an intuition that it could be found back home, in Tamil Nadu. He and the others tell us about their dreams of a Tamil cultural renaissance and a cultural center, a bridge between traditional Tamil culture and the modern world. To that end they use this land for summer art camps and educational programs for children from the surrounding villages.
We don't want to leave... It's our last full day in Auroville.
Auroville Overflow Last ride to the Matrimandir this morning. I see Jan and Janette there, in addition to Prapanna and Kathleen. After breakfast, we gather for an emotional goodbye circle and ceremony. John asks us to say what we are taking home and what we are leaving here. Many people are gratefully tearful in their summary. Four images settle around me symbolizing my time here: 1. Grinning with Ron A as we biked down the leafy lane from Verité to Matrimandir our second day here. The joy of being in India and in Auroville has grown the whole time. Kathleen said my lesson is letting the joy in and letting it pass out again. 2. A life sandwich: I'm heading to Hyderabad tomorrow on business, sandwiched between this ending phase in Auroville and a return to the pilgrimage in Pondicherry in a week and a half. An opportunity to integrate the mundane and spiritual parts of life. 3. Woven fabric: The connections I made yesterday with Nadya, Peter, Jorge, and Gabriel continued weaving my life into Auroville. Colored strands of connection keep coming out of Auroville's red earth into the fabric of my life. I feel certain of coming back here for more weaving together of the family of aspiration. 4. Circle of gratitude: It's been a privilege to know the people that Prapanna brought in this group, and to spend so much time with Prapanna himself. Janette remarks that there has been surprisingly little sexual undercurrent for a mixed group thrown together this closely for so long a time. Other qualities and currents have had space to grow and blossom.
I saw the Omnipotent's flaming pioneers They have stuck with it in the midst of huge, constant and often unspoken opposing forces. I admire their courage accepting so much appreciation without wincing! Verité's Katherine does look shellshocked. She says she has not received this much appreciation in the seven years she has been in Auroville. After the appreciations, we end with the soul friend exercise of our first check-in, pairing with each person in turn, looking into the other's eyes and greeting the other silently as if for the first time and as if we have always known each other. I am flooded with rising waves of pure joy during the ceremony. The waves roll out in wider and wider smiles and then in eruptions of laughter as I meet each person. I am awash in clear, objectless joy. I am a reservoir in flood, in high tide, overflowing, pouring out on others as we slip past conventional barriers and through the eye-windows of the soul. And now it's time to go. I pull luggage down through the capsule trap door for the last time and say goodbye to my Auroville home. Vickie, Marilyn, Kathleen, Susan, and Jan load the taxi van for the airport in Chennai. Goodbye! God-be-w'-ye! Ron R, Bill, our Katherine, and Makasha are staying here for a while longer. Janette moves to Mother's House in Pondicherry until the Matthew's wedding early next month. Carolyn and John are holed up at Afsanah across the road till 4th November. Janette and I pile suitcases into our cab. Prapanna has arranged the cab for us. He arranged the taxi to the airport for the others. What hasn't he arranged? He's been everywhere! He meets us at Mother's House. He's arranged for me to stay there tonight and when I get back from Hyderabad. See what I mean? He's amazing! Still, I decide to honor my reservation at Park Guest House for tonight. Park, a huge guest house on the ocean, is looking dingy. Walls are stained, woodwork needs to be refinished. They have not kept up the premises since Karen and I stayed here our first trip to India. I stow my luggage in my room on the third floor overlooking the courtyard and the ocean. I have some practical matters to take care of this afternoon - pick up my train tickets, order a cab for the trip to Chennai tomorrow. Not surprisingly, Prapanna shows up to help with arrangements. Janette and I have dinner with Lynn, my friend from the Ashram, at La Terrace near Park. Prapanna joins us for a while till his dinner guests arrive, Dave and Barosh, two of the Ashram students who came to Verité our first Sunday here. They come over to greet us. Such an open sparkle they have. And then, naturally, Matthew and Ahana show up also. The meetings and connections circle and return effortlessly. That's the way it's been for me since my first visit here with Karen in 1994. |
organized the trip. Like his name, Prapanna is a mixture of East and West. He has lived in India and taught at the Sri Aurobindo International Centre of Education in Pondicherry. He has founded the 
He turns a page and points to her signature, looking at me and smiling to see if I get it. He turns many pages, one at a time. Some of them have other notations in her handwriting. This goes on for five minutes or so. When he comes to the last page of notations, he holds the book up toward me. The word Blessings, in her handwriting, is written large. He smiles at me and whispers, "Next time I will show you more." Chills go up my spine. 
Back in town, they lead us to a house in the traditional Tamil Nadu style that they have lovingly rehabilitated and turned into the 
After our group circle, several of the Veritéans join us in the meeting: Katherine, Chris, Aurelio and Danya sit in the middle of the circle, back to back, to receive a river of appreciations from us. These folks have left home, country, and family to follow an inner voice and a magnificent ideal. They are real pioneers of the spirit. I am reminded of the "flaming pioneers" of Sri Aurobindo's Savitri: |
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