We, unaccustomed to courage, exiles from delight,
Live coiled in shells of loneliness, until love leaves its high holy temple
And comes to liberate us into life
- Maya Angelou

A few days ago, I was alone at home alone, and decided it was the perfect time for an evening date - with myself.

This exercise is not new to me. During my early teen years, I used to walk aimlessly miles and miles lost in fantasies and stories of Gurus, Krishna, Rama, and countless other mythological figures. Even at the peak of my business activities, I rarely worked on Saturdays and instead chose to walk miles and miles lost in another world. With age this exercise has become more difficult as my “mind sink” has accumulated more clutter and noise (that it calls knowledge and experience), making the process of getting lost in imaginative thoughts and fantasies more challenging.

I decided to sit in the backyard with a chilled bottle of Pellegrino (my doctors are drinking my share of wine). The late afternoon rain had helped settle the airborne dust. Consequently, multiple skyways for the light of the stars opened in the northern sky quenching the thirst of novice stargazers like me. The half-moon from the southern sky with a shower of silvery rays was whispering songs of silence to young baby’s feet like leaves of maple tree. The rays were eagerly landing on needles of arborvitae pines to continue the timeless conversation with the trees. I wished to cocoon myself in the realm of this prodigious beauty emanating from the elusive conversation between these forces of the nature. The very thought deepened the experience of solitude.

Upon reflecting on our life’s stories, we learn to honor our journey regardless of our pains, failures, and regrets. The past successes and failures become just a window dressing. We acknowledge that the path to enlightenment is strewn with scar tissues, and the most important thing is that we realize that life is not made for us but we are made for life.

While reflecting on these thoughts, I closed my eyes and saw myself as a young man infected by infantile omnipotence, his boat grappled with life’s waves with impatience and sense of impunity seeking instant gratification. Suddenly, that youth was much older and his boat drifted slowly towards an unknown distant shore. Earlier, his younger mind did not care for guiding light. Now, his mind was less malleable and open, therefore the true light could not penetrate. His mind spent more time judging and analyzing as opposed to true listening. It seemed that the more his mind knew, the less he knew about himself. He saw himself looking for the enlightening source of eternal love to come down from high temple and unshackle him from bonds of ignorance. Then he remembered Rumi’s words:

The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was
Lovers do not finally meet somewhere
They are in each other all along.

That thought made me open my eyes and I saw lady “Awe” had carpeted the whole area with bliss. The moon had moved slightly in the westerly direction. The embrace of its rays and the pines was deliriously romantic. The moon and pines were creating beautiful story by connecting with each other. I realized that all stories require connection. Our stories, mine as well as yours, relate to the eternal spirit by a cloth of love and beauty weaved by the great weaver in deep time.  A sense of joy and happiness overtook my emotions and tears as warm as mother’s milk started coming down:

Since there is no such place to contain so much happiness,
You shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you,
Into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit,
For the moon, but continues to hold it, share it,
And in that way, be known.
- Naomi Shihab Nye

Gaviyee Suniye Man Rakhiye Bhao
Sing from your heart, listen attentively with love

      The founder of the Sikh Way of Life, Guru Nanak, was great believer in the power of singing and utilizing breath (prana) to sing from the soul and connect to the universal spirit’s beauty and virtues. The line quoted above is from the composition called Japji Sahib. Japji Sahib shares the foundation of Sikh Spirituality. In Sikhism, there is an emphasis on working through one’s inner journey and abide by certain key tenets: embrace your individuality, live life virtuously and in service, and understand the purpose of all your actions. The spirit behind all creation is eternal and ephemeral. Singing and listening with love opens the connecting gates for us to this promising truth.
The redemptive effect of soul lifting music was beautifully depicted in the movie Shawshank Redemption. In a depressingly grey atmosphere, the protagonist decides to play opera music. A deeply depressing scene becomes alive as hope dances on the faces of all the inmates.
     Guru Nanak knew that singing was present around nature, and was not just a human creation. He was enamored by songs of birds and their affect on human emotions. In the holy book of Sikhs, Sri Guru Granth Sahib, the following quote beautifully expresses the love for song birds:
                       Babiha Amrit Vele Boliya Ta Dar Suni Pukar
                       Meghe Nuun Furman Hoa Varso Kirpa Dhar
                                        SGGS Page Number 1285,Salok Mahala Teeja, Raga Malaar
                     (Babiha, the song bird, sang in the nectar hours of early morning and then the universal spirit heard his call, The timeless heard the prayer and ordered the rain ( mercy and compassion)  to fall )
      Raga Malaar ( Malhar in Hindi) is mainly sung  during Monsoon Season.In his book Your Brain on Music, the author Daniel Levitin, shares how the human ear loves bird song, insect chirping, and sound of water falling.  During research for this blog, I have pleasantly discovered that the bird Brown Thrasher can sing 2000 songs, and a Horney Chaffinch can sing half a million different tunes with perfect melody in one season. A Hermite Thrush is very special – one could say an Einstein of the world of birds. It sings on  a perfect mathematical substrate that follows harmonic intervals in recognizable pitches. We love bird song due to the fact that the receptors for music in the bird and human brains are similar. Bird song has a profound effect on our parasympathetic nerves, creating the relaxing hormone oxytocin. Realizing this phenomena, the BBC network plays Bird Songs for 90 seconds every morning.
     In some parts of Africa, a woman before conceiving creates spiritual song and for inspiration by  taking daily refuge in the wilderness. Putting faith in the thought that it will provide guidance to the child under all circumstances, she shares the song with all the woman close to her so the song can be sung after the child is born. On every important turn in the child’s life, the song is sung (including the unfortunate case of a child’s death). Research shows that this tradition of song can have a profound positive affect on a child’s journey.
     Guru Nanak strongly believed that the best song is the one that extolls the beauty and virtues of the enigmatic mystery. Listening to the song with inner silence and following the instructions received with loving heart primes the soul to discover its true nature. The Guru Granth Sahib is the only religious body of work that is completely organized by musical substrate of ragas. The technical mastery is important but not necessary; it is the loving emotion which counts. Music divorced from emotions is akin to meaningless noise. The included ragas have been purposefully chosen as they do not elicit extreme emotions or excitement or sadness, but rather provide balance. go away.  Guru Nank in the next line says:
             Dukh Parhar Sukh Ghar Ley Jaaye
            (All the sufferings go away and Joy steps in its place)

     In the silent space during the active listening, a unique path ideally suited to persons true nature appears. Following the path with loving action makes all the sufferings go away.
     Grief and pain are eternally fresh and ever present in our lives. We tend to hopelessly attach to our sufferings, which are born out of attachment to vanity and false pride. Singing, listening and actively following the inspiration ignites million candles of inner prayers spreading a light of contentment, and helps us to come into our true being and becoming. An experience of radiating joy replaces suffering and angst. The wound of the soul heals.
     Further he states that in this state of eternal joy, the words of Guru make us experience a cosmic sound of unstruck sound. A sound which originated at the time of creation and like radio signals from galaxies generated by big bang are still reverberating throughout all the creation. In the same line he further states that the word of Guru are wisdom, a guiding light shinning our path.
     Connecting with eternal virtues and wisdom by experiencing the unstruck sound and living those virtues with wisdom by Guru’s grace makes our hearts still. The lost soul rediscovers itself and we get freedom from tyranny of judgmental thought. The walls of judgment that separate us from others fall apart. We realize that the entire universe is connected as seamlessly as time. Through the new eyes of our reengineered soul we begin to appreciate that all souls are born from the same creator and all are uniquely gifted. A sense of universal brotherhood dawns. William Yates expressed this transformation in the following poem:

We can make our mind so still like water, that beings gather around us
That they may see their own images,
And so live for a moment with a cleaner perhaps even a fiercer life
Because of our quite when we become still. We become a mirror to our own heart
And mirror to others, we are not caught in judgment.
 
     Guru Nanak was totally enamored by the mystery of universe and was always in a state of wonder. While gazing at the celestial bodies he would get into melodic trance and sing praises of the creative force behind the universe.   
     During gatherings of spiritual seekers at his place, the congregation would join him in singing while his companion, Mardana, played the rabab (a string instrument). The rise of collective compassion and communion would levitate the earth. All the fear from their hearts  from fear of being exhumed would sprint to center core of the earth. Power healing. All sorrows eloped with their underpinnings and loving light rushed in. The ensuing joy radiated a sense of beauty and a feeling that they were an integral part of the beauty, not separate from it.
     In the modern era, there is ample proof of the healing power of song. For example, war veterans who attend the singing ceremonies at American Indian Reservations and follow the inspirations are able to handle PTSD a lot better than others. Studies show that the healing effect is powerful and a high percentage stop substance abuse and have far less bouts of violence, as compared to those who undergo conventional treatments.
     While thinking about the effect of spiritual singing with active listening and following the inspiration with love, I remembered a hymn which was popularized by a blind hymn singer around 60 years ago. His name was Bhai Gopal Singh and he with his group use to sing at Golden Temple, the holiest Sikh Temple.
                      Jhim Jhim Verse Amrit Dhara, Man Peevey Sun Shabad Beechara
                      Anad Binod Kare Din Ratee, Sada Sada Har Kela Jeeo.
                                                                                                             Guru Arjan Dev Jee (Fifth Guru)
(As a result of engaged singing with listening) Slowly and gently drop by drop, the stream of nectar of immortality trickles down within. The mind drinks it in by reflecting on the meaning of the wisdom being conveyed) 

One moment of anger can wipe out a lifetime of merit.
 - Shantideva
A Guide to Bodhisattva’s Way of Life
 
Looking in the rearview mirror, the events of past 6 months look surreal. We have become a civilization wounded by our own anger and actions. Our collective actions are infused with a naked dance of hatred, bigotry, and anger as never seen before, bleaching the moral standing of the whole country meticulously earned over centuries of dogged pursuit of virtues by our forefathers.

I was not an innocent bystander, but a loyal member of a self-righteous echo-chamber, loudly labeling the other side with choicest, negatively optimized, words. My world, like many others’, was completely trapped in consensual hallucination with likeminded persons.  Our anger was generated by the feeling that the country was heading in the wrong direction and we were powerless.           

Now, at least for me, the vision clogging dust is settling down, although it looks that the journey of acceptance is going to be arduous and will have some hiccups. I try take time and look underneath the burning amber of anger to find pearls of wisdom buried in my unconscious. These pearls tell me how to understand nature and embark on a path of peace, and hydrate the anger so it does not become an uncontrollable fire. The starting quote of Shantideva is an important reminder that the antidote of anger is the practice of patience.

Old wisdom accepted the fact that anger is part of our nature to varying degrees, never going away. We are beckoned to transform its energy into something positive. A twelfth century Sufi Saint, Baba Sheikh Fareed, talked about this idea in the following couplet:
Fareeda bure da bhala kar, gusa man na handaaye
Dehee rog na lagayee, pale sab kuch paayey
(Do not hold and process the anger within your mind and body but process it by doing good to the ones who have done bad deeds to you.
The benefit in it will accrue to you. Your body will remain healthy and you will have boon of peace and equanimity)

The unearthing of this pearl gives me some solace and peace. Then another incomprehensible tweet hits the airwaves and I again get shaken out of my wits. 
 
I try to understand the mindset of people who voted for him. I remember that during the peak of my restaurant business, I had 8 running units in Wilkes-Barre and Scranton area of Pennsylvania. I employed over a couple of hundred men and women and came in close contact with them. Most of them were hard working people, and they were not racists or bigots. This is an area that overwhelmingly voted for Trump. We from the opposing side do a great disservice by painting them with a broad negative brush. We who are intoxicated with libation of mutual superiority forget that our necks are joined with those  “Red Necks” we apparently despise so passionately. It is said that collective anger is born of hopelessness, homelessness, and isolation. All these factors were present in the lives of our ignored brethren.
​
Suppressed and ignored anger is like volcano. At its core, where the dragon of hot destructive lava rests, is the quietest place. The anger of masses is akin to lava, silently burning in their hearts.  We do not possess the powers to stop volcano from erupting but we have the wisdom to recognize the anger, understand it, and transform its energy for good deeds. The necessary pearl of wisdom to do so here is networking and community involvement.

Lord Buddha said that Sangha (community) is a powerful tool for transformation of negative impulses to positive. Reintegrating the alienated back into circle of networks is like tying a knot on two ends of a broken thread. The knot becomes the strongest part of the thread.

Such pearls of wisdom, while helpful, are not putting lid on my restlessness. I see a pandemic of anger and there seems to be no inoculation. Everybody is jubilantly participating in Pandemonium Orchestra singing Angry Euphoria. I wonder, why most of the people are wearing anger on their noses. That brings me to Thomas Merton. In my opinion, he understood the main cause of anger. He said, “the rush and pressure of modern life were a form, perhaps the most common form, of contemporary violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone and everything is to succumb to violence.” Our modern life is stretching the fabric of life so much so that it is ripping apart creating loneliness, fear, loss of direction, loss of company of friends and family, and loss of self-worth. This in my opinion is the main cause behind creation of angry civilization and loss of direction.

Pondering on Thomas Merton’s insight on the source of anger tells me that part of the solution lies in dialing down and saying hello to life. Thinking about this reminds me of a beautiful song from a Indian movie, Guide, which goes like this:
What is the rush O fellow traveler, in this transient world nobody is waiting for you, so where are you heading? Sit down under the shade of this tree and rest (your soul). You may never again find comfort of this cool shade.

According to Zen Buddhists, we all have the potential to experience appreciation of the beauty of time. It requires cultivating Bodhi Chitta, a state of Awakened Heart. In this state, there is no anger, attachment or judgment, only acceptance and a state of joy. Attaining a state of joy is a goal-less goal, a pursuit with patience, whose beginning and end is within us. An awakened heart is a happy heart, happily spreading joy around. Like an alchemist an awakened heart’s touch transforms other hearts into Gold. I have Chitta which still gets angry but no bodhi to guide me out of this delusional darkness.

I need healing hands of an Awakened Heart, but I realize that I do not have the luxury of physical time to wait and even if that person came in front of me how would I recognize him? I cannot see through the fog of ignorance which is obstructing my vision. Therefore, I push myself to sit silently in meditation and reflect on the nature of anger. In silently gazing at my inner self, I see brokenness scattered everywhere and from it a saying of Persian Poet Hafiz floats up lifting my spirits:
I am
A hole in a flute  
That the Christ’s breath moves through
Listen to this
Music.

Charan Vai Madhu Vindati
(Wandering one gathers honey)
 - Aiterya Brahmana, 7:15.5

These past few November weeks have been exceptionally warm for this time of year; sometimes it touches the 60s in and around the Philadelphia area, resulting in pleasant afternoons ideal for spending some time in nature. On one such afternoon, I decided to go for a long walk on a trail close to where I live. The trail leads into Fort Washington State Park, and much of the trail runs close to Wissahickon Creek.

I set out for my walk around two in the afternoon. A cool breeze was flowing, making the crisp sunlight very aromatic. The rays of sun were hugging the brown grasses like newly married couples. It appeared as if the Greek Sun God and Earth God decided to come out of their graves on this very day and, in the ecstasy of their dance, were leaving tracks of light and shade on the hallowed grounds. The leafless trees, totally oblivious to their glorious nudity, were shamelessly bathing in the sunlight.  I sat down for a moment on a bench by the side of the creek. Before sitting I had not realized that on the other side of the creek a doe and her fawn were standing; they both looked at me and with majestic rejection of my intrusion in their space, turned around and walked back into their paradise. I thought in one respect they are superior to us. We humans do not know how to live fully in the present - we constantly drag the garbage from past, convert it into a monster called future and as a result the present gets totally obliterated. These animals live in timeless eternity called the present moment without baggage of past or worries for future.

I felt this timelessness in the flow of the creek and in the sound made by a bird flying overhead. There was an unquenchable thirst in me to stretch this moment before it was broken by another thought. The thought of clinging to this experience was itself what propelled me away from my trance. Though, for at least that tiny moment, I felt like I had experienced a sense of timelessness. I remembered the following piece of wisdom from Rumi: The past is an interpretation. The future is an illusion. The world does not move through time as if it were a straight line, proceeding from the past to the future. Instead the time moves through and within us, in endless spirals. Eternity does not mean infinite time, but timelessness.

We all experience the taste of this timelessness in different moments of extreme feeling – maybe looking at your child smiling for the first time or perhaps listening to music that transforms you into a state of peaceful trance. Unfortunately, afterwards, we are only left with an altered memory. Our mind incessantly churns out thoughts and in the resulting cacophony, the call of our heart gets drowned. The experience of timelessness relies on the journey of mind to heart to hear the song of silence in between its beats.

Buried in my thoughts I had started walking again. My thoughts returned to the park by observing a nearby man and woman. They were totally oblivious to their surroundings and each other, like two disembodied beings, and were occupied likely talking to two disembodied beings elsewhere. They had intruded my space much the same way I had in the space inhabited by the deer. My thoughts went on to the dead leaves yearning to give their essence back to earth by completing the circle. Tickled by the light wind, they were giggling and flying from place to place. Just a few weeks ago, these leaves were a riot of colors rejoicing in their eminent death. In India, it is said that mystics radiate colors of spirituality before their death, which only enlightened kindred spirits can see and appreciate. The dying leaves do not discriminate; they enchant and enlighten everyone who is willing to look and hear.

After walking a little more than two miles, I reached the bird watching station within the park. I was going to take a seat at a bench. A senior couple reached at the same time, so I gave the seats to them (my vanity was very pleased with me for this act of generosity). For some inexplicable reason I sat down under a tree on a bed of leaves. I started thinking about my walk in the park: my encounter with the deer, my study of Rumi’s quote, and my easy ability to get lost in a thought when I’m in nature. I intuitively know that the time is within us and how we relate to it gives meaning to eternal life. I think that each person can find such meaning in their work, in their connectedness with nature, with friends and family, and most of all in by spending a few minutes a day in contemplative solitude.
It was a matter of time before a few of those giggling leaves fell on my lap. Looking at the “dead” leaves, a thought entered my mind: I am not going to die of cancer but instead, die of being lived. My mind and heart were in unison, agreeing in chorus that this was indeed an enlightening, not morbid, thought.

When I started working on my next blog, I was planning on writing about the virtues of kindness. As I sat down to write, I was suddenly gripped by pain in the lower part of my legs and soles of my feet. The intensity of that pain was like somebody pushing nails in my legs with a force only a devil could muster. My current cancer treatment causes edema (the collection of fluid) and neuropathy (pain and irritation of nerves). While I have adopted some practices to mitigate the swelling and pain, there are still points of unbearable pain. These episodes usually do not last for more than a couple of minutes. After discharging all its power, the pain goes into a recovery zone to recharge, leaving me with a residual, but manageable pain. While I often try and successfully manage to escape it, like a few times before, I fell into a curse of self-pity. Somehow, I began to think of how others throughout history have tolerated unbearable pain and dire circumstances, and my thoughts went to Guru Gobind Singh Jee, the 10th Guru of the Sikhs.

Our tenth Guru was a remarkable man. For this blog, the unacquainted reader should know that he was very young when his father was executed by then Mughal king of India. From the childhood, he faced uprooting, adversity, war, and in the process he lost his mother, all four sons, and his wife. The vast empire used all its resources to kill him and his disciples. However, he remained optimistic and encouraged everyone to live life like a lion. I have always been drawn to learning about the life of Guru Gobind Singh Jee, and a story about he and his disciples traveling the Macchiwara forest is particularly interesting to me. Stories like these remind me of the incredible journeys and lessons of our ancestors, and the light they shine on my dark and depressing nights tell me that with acceptance, peace and bliss is around the corner.

There was a battle between Mughal forces and a few Sikhs at a place now called Chamkaur Sahib. The Sikhs lost the battle against overwhelmingly vast forces of Mughals was lost. Among the martyred were Guru Jee’s two sons (known as Sahibzadas), one 16 and the other 14. It was the heart wrenching night of December 5, 1705; the night was as dark as a tiger’s stripe with an unusually low hanging half- moon. The defeat of Guru Jee's armies at the hands of treacherous Mughal armies made the moon cry out so much with its silvery tears that it had turned pale. Guru Jee, taking advantage of dark night at the insistence of his disciples along with three Sikhs, Bhai Maan Singh, Bhai Daya Singh, and Bhai Dharam Singh escaped from the strangled fort. All of them separated to meet again at a designated spot in Macchiwara forest that was situated at around 15 miles from the besieged fort. Guru Sahib being blessed with higher agility entered the forest first and his entry blissfully woke up the soul of the forest. With some creative license, I would like to share rest of this powerful, inspiring story with you through the eyes of an observant parrot. Destiny had chosen her as witness of the journey of Guru Jee and his companions during the night .The next morning she narrated the story to her male companion…

It was very strange - a kind of magical night, I should say. A blanket of silence got spread over the entire jungle. The silence wearing a thin and shinning white cloth came to me and asked me to get up because I have to narrate for future generations what I was about to witness. The crickets had stopped their noisy warfare, and the lighting bugs instead of flickering were giving constant light. All the small creatures had lined up on both sides of the new pathway lit by the lighting bugs. I remembered that our ancient mothers had told us that these miraculous happenings are very signs that a great soul is present among us, and I knew that was happening. Then a heavenly fragrance started wafting through the forest and I saw someone entering the forest. He, for a second, looked up at our, tree and then started walking on the path lit by the bugs while transporting every creature to land of rapture and bliss.

After some time, three men arrived one by one and gathered under our tree. This was amazing, considering this place has so many rosewood trees, that they chose this very tree. I am sure that the great being wanted these men to stop here. As they talked, I learned about them – their names, background and where they were coming from. It seemed that they had come from a big battle. They were using words such as Sacha Padshah (True King) or Guru Sahib for the great being, and referring to his sons as sahibzadas. It did not look like they only a few hours ago they had fought a great battle and lost so many of their friends, including two sahibzadas. Their long flowing beards were shinning an aura of kindness on their silhouettes. Bhai Daya Singh looked at stars and said to others, “Do you brothers know that the timeless created the stars to give us company on nights. Gazing at them opens up a spring of quite rapture within our hearts beckoning us to know ourselves. We after all are made of stars.” Bhai Dharam Singh was a bit emotional and asked how he could be thinking of stars. “My heart and mind cannot keep away from thinking of the sahibzadas. I remember their singing. One could hear celestial harmonies within the harmonies of their voices. Their singing of hymns would open a spring of graceful peace in our hearts which will keep filling the vessel of our hearts until it started overflowing with joy and all of us would start singing with them as one universal consciousness. I remember the moonless nights when sahibzadas and we would trek 20 miles or so to swim in Sirsa River. The slow moving Sirsa would come to life the moment the sahibzadas touched its water. The small eddies would become alive and rhythmically start slapping the rocks to give company to sahibzadas’ voices. I know that it was God’s will and we have been taught over and over to accept what has happened, but sometimes heart and mind both drift and wish the things were different.”

The male parrot was completely mesmerized by his companion’s memory and in his listening trance, he imagined the encounter as if he was there among the Sikhs. He asked her not to pause and carry on. She continued with what was said by Bhai Maan Singh - “Brothers, do not forget the depth of Guru Sahib’s lesson to us on acceptance. Right now rather than complaining about the loss of his sons, he is probably yearning for the company of the timeless one. He would be saying that nothing is more important to him than loving God’s presence he would be praying that almighty’s grace to be ever-present with him.” He continued to say that Guru Jee taught us that ascending and descending are part of life. When life goes into a descending pattern, getting walled in does not solve the problem but makes it worse. Those who are brave get up and confront the realty with rigor and spirit. It is because of his teachings and examples set by him that death is perplexed at our audacity of being alive after what we have gone through.

Very soon after that they all got up and started moving and in hushed voices started singing:
Re Man Aiso Kar Sanaysa.
Ban Se Sadhan Sabhai Kar SamJhau, Man Hi Mahe Udasa

(Practice non attachment as follows
Consider all the dwellings to be forest. Remain detach at heart)

Sometimes they would sing together, and sometimes one would take the lead. I followed them. After an hour or so, we reached the well on the other end. Guru Jee was sitting there and he was in deep trance. From the deep well of meditative trance a voice was coming out. Looking at him, you would not believe that this was someone who in the last few days has lost everything including whole family. There was no sign of sorrow or pain. He was like grace personified. You know this forest is notorious for its thorns, but his unearthy voice was changing the texture of thorns around the well into silk. The melancholy in the voice was a soulful heart wrenching prayer for the beloved - the beloved who created us all. I cried; all beings around cried. To hear the prayer more closely, the stars were moving downwards. It has been millions of years since they had heard a prayer of such intensity that their core started melting with compassion and they along with listening wanted to have a look at him, their own brother, a star radiating like thousand suns. The hymn went something like,
Mitr Pyare Noon, Haal Muridan da kahna
Tudh Bin Rog Rajaian Da Odhan, Nag Nivasan De Rehna
Sul Suarahee, Khanjar Pyala, Bing Kasayian Da Sahna
Yaarare Da Sanu Sathar Changa, Bhath Kherean Da Rehna

(Tell the beloved friend (Almighty), the plight of his seekers that without you wearing blankets for comfort is like wearing disease. Comfort of house is like living with snakes. Water pitchers are like thorns, tumbler is like a dagger. Without you, we suffer like animals suffer at the hands of butchers. With you, the bed of straw is more pleasing than the costly mansions, which (mansions) , without you are like furnaces)

We were all under the magical spell of Guru Jee’s voice. The moment he stopped singing and opened his eyes a white falcon appeared and sat on his shoulder. Guru Jee smiled, looked at the falcon and his Sikhs all got up. All of them with folded hands performed what they called Ardaas (prayer). Then they left. The whole Macchiwara seemed to be awestruck. It never thought that someday a great being would visit the forest. At that time I thought that Macchiwara would become immortal in the history of Sikhism and Hindustan, but nobody would remember this parrot for telling the story on what happened the previous night.

The last thought brought tears to parrot’s eyes. A soft wind carried the tears back to the well and dropped them in the well merging them with the sound of the hymn, mitr piyare noon, the music and sound of which still reverberates through the well.

Kindness is like water and religion is like tea. We can live without tea but not without water.
- Dalai Lama

I came to the USA over 41 years ago as a student, and thus have spent more than two-thirds of my life here. While I have maintained my connections with my roots through family, religion and culture, I also consider myself a patriot and true American, one who is proud of my citizenship. However, I have been disturbed as to the current civil discourse, not having seen such hurtful and hate-inciting actions in this arena before. Internet, texting, twitter-posting and other modes have become convenient tools for putting others down.

While this extends beyond politics, let’s start there. I have felt that Mr. Trump paints a dark picture of America, and *very* rarely shares good thoughts or kind words (though I was pleasantly surprised at his recent compliment to Hillary Clinton regarding her fighting nature in the second debate). Hillary Clinton’s secretive nature and perceived lying and “cold” demeanor has bred distrust.

To add to the mess, the media has changed the landscape of political news, trying to increase the drama factor. MSNBC, CNN and FOX are purveyors of different kinds of snake oils, and I find it disturbing the impact that the press can have on our public, without always being reliable. I lament the bygone days of Walter Cronkite, Peter Jennings, and Robert Mcneil, when you could hang your hat on the nightly news, but unfortunately our society needs more “entertainment.”

Anger and hate are infectious and they need to be guided with kindness, understanding and compassion. In the current political atmosphere, both sides are playing nefarious games which have the potential of unraveling the moral fabric of our beautiful country. We are not too far from doing the irreparable damage and completely losing the spirit of our founders.

Gandhi once said that if you have a bad government, then you deserve it.  This is especially true in a democracy. Our government and leaders, to a large extent, reflect our collective thought process. If we look into the mirror of our collective thought process, we will see how coarse, judgmental, and disrespectful our language has become. We are enveloped by the fear of unknown of “others” to the extent that rational thinking has no seat. It is said that the illusion of knowledge is worse than ignorance. Our ignorance is further compounded by the media and campaign dances of smoke and mirrors.

I wonder how we managed to travel so far without realizing that we had lost our way. We have conveniently divided ourselves into enemy camps of Republicans and Democrats. Tribal affinity is so strong that each person belonging to his/her party is not willing to give up his/her prism. The vote along party lines in the past few elections has become a norm. These days, when a leader expresses that he/she is considering voting outside of their party, he/she gets twitter abuses and sometimes mortal threats. An empire rests on the shoulders of its leaders, who in turn are dependent on the citizens for navigational vision. We need to ask ourselves: is his the vision we want, a country divided along party lines, racial fault lines, economic lines? I have seen the results of this kind of poisonous brew in India. Indians are still internally fighting hate inspired battles which were started 1000 years ago. The partition of India has not cured the disease. Love and understanding requires work. Hate revolution is easy to start, and it may give the desired results to some people in power, but the country suffers for hundreds of years.

Sometimes when I reflect on the current situation, I am under a waking nightmarish vision and fear that we are slipping into a slow, simmering decay. The words that Chief Sealth (1855) uttered after his defeat reverberate in me:
Tribe follows tribe and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea,
It is order of nations and regret is useless,
Your time of decay may be distant but it will surely come,
For even the white man whose God walked and talked with him
As friend with friend, cannot be exempt from common destiny,
We may be brothers afterall, we will see.     

My optimism forces me to think that we will overcome the division and negativity that currently plagues our political and civil arenas. My hope is that even in the remainder of this campaign, respect will prevail. My hope is that whoever gets elected will not only heal the divide but show the world that we have not lost the virtues taught to us by our founding fathers and visionaries. In the meantime, let us start a civil discourse with the “other” person. Let us be kind in language. Somebody said that be kind to others for you may not know that they may be fighting graver battle than yours. Let us practice catching those unkind hurtful words in the throat before they escape. Let us brake the walls of tribalism and have a civil dialogue. In the spirit of universal brotherhood (an essential tenet the Sikh religion), I am leaving you with the following poem:
I sought my God, My God I could not see,
I sought my soul, My soul eluded me
I sought my brother, and found all three.
-Anonymous
   

When I left Amma’s company, she had suggested to stop at the Sufi festival which was taking place near Barabanki on the way back home. She told me that that it would leave an everlasting impression on me. When I asked my father about stopping at a Sufi festival, he didn’t respond directly to me with a yes or no, but directed the driver to take us there.

Sufis are mystics rooted in Islamic spiritual traditions; they emphasize the religious experience over religious orthodoxy and legal interpretations. The word Sufi comes from the Arabic word Suf, meaning coarse wool garments, since this is what they traditionally wore.
​
By the time we left Bahram Ghat, the sun was already settling down in the west after the day’s hard work, and showing its happiness by entertaining us with various shades of red. Every now and then we saw cluster of gulmohar trees along the roadside in full bloom. The flamboyance exhibited by red-orange flowers beautifully challenged, yet complemented, the sun’s colors. By the time we reached the Sufi festival, the stars had already appeared in the dark, moonless sky - the North Star was leading a caravan of flickering lights from heavenly stars. In my teenage bewitched imagination, I was jumping from star to star in a hypnotic trance, when the sudden brakes and a voice saying that we have reached the festival broke the spell.

I couldn’t believe my eyes; people of all sizes and shapes, Hindus and Muslims alike, were joined in strange ritual of oneness. They were walking on burning coals as if they were walking on the bed of rose petals. Hatred and division were lost in eclectic dances of universal brotherhood. What I know, having seen it even at a young age, is that the demons of history are buried skin deep in India, a slight scratch of a rumor like Muslims killing cows or Hindus throwing dead pig in front of a mosque, and dance of death starts. Often, religious extremists from one faith discriminated against the other and refused to mix. So, this was an extremely different experience for me – I was mesmerized by the different expression of faith, beautiful beyond belief. The image of religious Hindus and Muslims walking on burning coals with spasmodic flames conjured images of dancing Shivas smeared with ash metamorphosing into even higher Gods.           

Amma showed me the beauty of humanity not by quoting scriptures, but by sending me to a place where I could see the breaking of the illusion of separation. She showed me that God is bigger than religion. Whenever I think of that festival, I recall the following couplet by Indian poet, Mirza Ghalib:
Ever since thy oneness I perceived
Rituals and creeds, I do not need
All things that divide from my faith
Ever since I saw thine oneness face
 
             In order to create a casteless and raceless society, the tenth Guru of Sikhs, Guru Gobind Singh Ji, pronounced, ”Manas Kee Jaat Eko Pehchanbo” meaning that all human beings belong to same caste and race. The scene I saw at the festival would have put a great smile on his face. Everybody over there was simply a member of human race without any affiliation to caste and creed.

As I think about my experience at the festival, questions about the significance and symbolism behind walking on fire emerges. In my opinion, it tells us that the attachment to suffering is like walking on fire, but in the state of non attachment and acceptance, just as walking on burning coals does not hurt, the pain instead of producing suffering flips into acceptance, and perhaps even joy. While failures, illness, and pain in life are inevitable, we have the power of how to react and experience them. This point is made in a beautiful Sufi parable. A famous Sufi mystic was carrying a portable wood oven and she came across a very curious man. He asked her where was she coming from. She said that she wanted to bake some bread and there was no fire at home, so she had gone to hell to get some fire. The man responded, “But, I do not see any fire.” The mystic said, “You are right. I was sent back by the gatekeeper since he told me that there is no fire in hell; everybody brings his/her own fire.”
 
The thought and the lesson that pain in life is inevitable but suffering is optional reminds me of a beautiful poem by Wu Men Hui Kai:
Ten thousand flowers in spring,
The moon in autumn,
A cool breeze in summer,
Snow in winter,
If your mind is not clouded by unnecessary things,
This is the best season of your life.

My connection with Amma is due to my attraction for rivers. I have always been fascinated by rivers, and this passion has continued and gotten deeper with age. My childhood is full of memories spending time on the shores of magical waters as I grew up in the city of Kanpur in Uttar Pradesh, India, which is located on the banks of the Holy Ganges river.
​
In July of 1966, when I was 15 years old, I tagged along with my father on a business trip. He was traveling to Bahram Ghat, a sleepy outpost with a population of no more than a thousand situated on the banks of the Ghaghra river, to purchase pine for his timber business. I accompanied him because I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to experience the river. While I knew I would enjoy the day trip, I didn’t realize that it would have such a lasting impact on me.

 At 2 o’clock in the morning, our driver, Anwar, my father, and I got in India’s all weather Ambassador car and started our 85 mile journey. While we were only 3 people, in true Punjabi tradition, we were carrying food as if we were going to feed the entire Sikh regiment. We reached Bahram Ghat around 8 am and went to the house of Munshi Ji (traditional term for someone who is in charge of business in small towns), who was going to take my dad around. I was directed to Munshi Ji’s wife and told to stay with her for a few hours until someone comes to take me to the river.

I turned to Munshi Ji’s wife and said “Namaste Aunty.” To my recollection she had an almond complexion, was no more than 5 foot tall, and was wearing a traditional cotton sari called dhoti. She immediately replied “No Aunty – Amma Amma” and explained that everyone, even the priest, calls her Amma (an informal tag for “mother”). I smiled and responded “Pranam (greetings) Amma.” She smiled and directed me to sit on the cot on the front porch and she went inside.

Sitting on the cot, my gaze fell upon a Tulsi plant (Holy Basil) on the front porch not far from where I was sitting.  After half an hour or so, she came out holding a thaali (large round plate, usually in brass or silver). The plate contained items used in Hindu prayers such as small earthen lamp, small bell, incense, etc. She stopped in front of tulsi and performed aarti - a form of worship with a lit lamp and burning incense. Afterwards, she closed her eyes and stood in front of the tulsi plant with folded hands in what appeared to be a state of trance.

 After finishing her prayer, she went inside and brought me out a millet roti with a healthy portion of gur (sugar cane juice cake) and piping hot tea in a brass glass. When she sat down next to me on the cot, I asked her what she says in her prayers. She said something to the effect of ‘’I feel that I can talk to the God in tulsi. I admire the tulsi. When tulsi is planted and worshipped, with its gunas (virtues) it brings peace, health, and purity to that house. I pray to have gunas that would enable me to feed everyone who knocks on my door. I pray to I have the strength to love and respect the washer-man, the priest, the shoemaker, and every big and small person. In the end I close my eyes and listen to tulsi with love; she speaks to my heart.” I asked her why she only prayed for these virtues, and not for any riches or material wealth. With a large smile she said “Once I get the boon of one guna, the rest may follow. As far as material riches, there are too many people ahead of me in line.” She then said that for such wealth, she would need to go to a bigger temple to pray for a more powerful God, and she was very happy with her little God in tulsi. Now when I think about this conversation, it is heart-warming to remember that a village woman of limited means was not asking anything for herself except gift of virtues which she could use to serve people. It was a prayer of pure service, and for no personal gain. Since childhood, I have often seen and heard prayers from people of different faiths seeking blessings in the form of wealth or success in business, even if they do not need more material riches. Some people view religion as a market place where the highest bidder in the form of gifts to Gods expects better returns on his investments.  Amma’s actions, on the other hand, were simple and unassuming.

Amma and I sat for a bit longer chatting and eating. Her dark bottomless eyes were at times appeared fearsome and at times full of karuna (loving compassion). Her laugh was like a commentary on human spiritual folly.  I remember a local priest passing by and calling her cynical non-believer who was going to hell. I found out later that a good number of people due to her sharp tongue and unorthodox outspoken nature, used to dismiss her as crazy. I could not believe the depth of her “crazy” wisdom when she laughed and retorted that the priest has gotten too much incense smoke in his head therefore he does not know that this is heaven - it is just a lot hotter and has mosquitos.

At around 10:30 am, two and a half hours after my arrival, the driver came to pick me up. Before I left, I touched Amma’s feet, and on my way up she grabbed my hands and held them tightly. She looked into my eyes and said “Beta, Apni Kahani Khud Likhna” (Son, write your own story).  In the past, I have not paid much attention to her parting remark, but now as I reflect on my encounter with Amma, I have thought deeper about this. My life has been a combination of hard work, good fortune and friends, and unexpected turns, the biggest catastrophe of which has been my lung cancer diagnosis. Unfortunately, we are not total masters of our destiny or writers of our stories. Unwanted and unsought events come as twist in life’s story. A good writer has no choice but to deal with the twist and give it a new face. The writer has to work a new vision out of the darkness of pain and suffering brought by an unwanted event. This vision does not come without acceptance of the current reality, changing the perspective of the seer. It allows an individual to understand that he/she does not have to be his/her own oppressor by getting attached to the suffering. Acceptance opens the path of peaceful journey filled with abundant grace. My interpretation of what Amma said is exactly that. Forge your path forward, accept the unexpected, and don’t give up. Whatever comes your way, adjust and act on the new script (path) joyfully.
 
The driver dropped me at the banks of river Ghaghra. The river was gushing with water freshly received from monsoons, which it was boasting by splashing it way beyond its banks. The high waves appeared to be trying to reach the scorching sun to cool it down a bit, but each attempt was being foiled by the possessive Earth. My chance encounter with Amma had already put me on another level, as if I was on a shimmering golden cloud. Seeing the dark, raging Ghaghra and touching its waters allowed me to experience a soothing thunder in that same cloud.

Due to my chance encounter with Amma, the Ghaghra I saw is alive and well in my memory. I remember her voice laden with rustic sweetness as if each and every word was first immersed in the waters provided by Gods before letting them part from her lips. She has left me with a story which has more wisdom than the pages. I hope to pass some of that wisdom through my story. It is said that sometimes a story has more wisdom than its author. I certainly hope that my story turns out to be one like that. While thinking about it, an old Indian song comes to my lips:

Apni Kahani Chor Ja, Kuch To Nishanee Chor Jaa
Kaun Kahe Is Or, Tu Phir Aye Na Aye, Mausam Beeta Jaye
 
(O passerby, leave some good story of your behind, leave some good sign that you were here,
You as well as no one knows whether you will pass these valleys again, the season is passing)
 

I used to walk or bike very frequently on the path along the Schuylkill River on Kelly Drive in Philadelphia. Usually, I did this activity in the early mornings. After a long hiatus, I recently decided to go for one of these long walks on the early morning of Thursday, May 26.
​It was a beautiful morning. The night was collecting the last of its arsenal of irregular grey patches scattered over the sky, and the morning sun’s rays were shining as if the sun’s gentle fingers had started playing santoor (a South Asian string instrument). The musical notes were rays of mingling orange, red and yellow colors, slowly being awakened by the gentle wind, giving it the ambience of an Indian bride wrapped in an ornamented red and orange scarf (chunni). The building and structures were coming out of the dark, rediscovering what had changed over the night.

            The orchestra’s maestro, the sun, gave a cue to the birds, who performed scales of their liking. I thought about the trees: magnificent pillars who provide the oxygen of life for this beautiful planet while simultaneously exchanging nutrition with a range of different species. The inspirational morning gave way for me to consider the interconnectedness of nature and how all beings – birds, trees, rivers - by their innate actions are connecting with the sublime. We not alone but rather part of nature, serving as connections and custodians. In the words of poet David Whyte:
 
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden trasngressions…
Put down your aloneness and ease into
the conversation…
All the birds and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
 
Being able to truly listen is an integral piece of connecting with everything around us and taking advantage of everything that is waiting for us. Guru Nanak Dev Ji shares the benefits of deep listening when he says “Gaviye Suniye Mun Rakhiye Bhau; Dukh Parhar Sukh Ghar Lai Jaye” (Japji Sahib, Pauri 5). Here, Guru Ji is telling us that by singing and listening from the heart, we bring joy and bliss into our lives.
 
The ability to truly listen is not an easy task. It requires a transcendent state of mind and the ability to move pass the clutter of mind that takes up our energy, often caused by chasing money, keeping up with what is “hip,” etc. At my age, and with the cancer walking lockstep with each breath, the process of uncluttering the mind is certainly a bit more complex. In Sikhism, it is said that one’s life is not fully tested until he has overcome a tough challenge. In my case, this is not only fighting illness but also uncluttering my mind. My approach to doing this is focused on reading, writing, enjoying the interconnectedness of nature and appreciating the beautiful present time. With this, even if my years may be short, I am able to stretch the essence of each day. 

Kirat Karo, Naam Japo, Vand Chako
- Sikh Creed
 
These principles were established by the first guru of the Sikhs, Guru Nanak Dev Ji, over 500 years ago. In simple language, kirat karo means work hard and naam japo means reflect deeply. Vand chako tells us to be altruistic and charitable. There is no act nobler than giving a helping hand to weary traveler who lacks confidence in overcoming obstacles of life.
 
While the principles of hard work, reflection, and charity exist in every religion, Guru Nanak Dev Ji was the first (to my knowledge) to make these a creed, creating a foundation for Sikh practice. I consider it a profound “secular theology,” as practicing these simple principles can be outside of religious boundaries. The first guru knew that human beings can get lost in a maze of tumultuous thoughts that can take them from one dark tunnel to the next. From his insightful wisdom, he shared that the solution to such a complex problem would lie in the practice of this simple creed which subsequently would lead to equanimity.
 
As mentioned above, the necessity and virtues of hard work are emphasized in every religion. The commands exhort the faithful to live by virtuous hard work. For example, the Bible says: “For even when we were with you, we gave you this rule; If a man will not work, he shall not eat” (The Salonians 3:10). The most revered text of the Hindus, the Bhagavad Gita, says: “Who so performath diligent content, the work allotted to him, whatever it be, lays hold of all perfectness” (13:45). The hard work mentioned in these passages points to reflective, ethical, and honest hard work. These traditions point to the fact that in order to live a meaningful life and to achieve a state of equipoise, hard work is necessary, but not sufficient by itself. Hard work without spiritual reflection causes one’s internal mirror to get covered with dusty layers of greed and grasping.  
 
The discriminating mind is a dancer and a magician with the objective world as his stage. The intuitive mind is a wise jester who travels with the magician and reflects upon his emptiness and transiency.
- Excerpt from Buddhist text (Lankavtra Sutra)
 
In its first stage, spiritual reflection aims to make the connection between the left and right brains seamless and unhindered by external noise. The left brain serves as the “rational brain,” while the right brain helps bring light to life’s nuances and puts successes and failures in perspective; as a result, new understanding of the fruits of hard work emerges. The first stage of reflection helps two images of the person, one in the front of the mirror, and one behind the mirror, merge as one seamless portrait with greater self-understanding. It was with this observation that Soren Kierkegaard said, “Life can only be understood backwards, but has to be lived forwards.”
 
Inspired by Kierkegaard’s reflection on reflection, the famous French director Francois Truffaut said, “I have always preferred the reflection of life to life itself.” Armed with this philosophy, he worked hard to give meaningful hits, such as The 400 Blows, Shoot the Piano Player, The Wild Child, etc.
 
Reflection is a journey of self-exploration. Once the right and left brains are unified, and consciousness is elevated, one realizes that the heart was always an active participant in the process. This is a beginning of the second stage of reflection. It is a physiological fact that the brain beats at the same rate as the heart. There are far more neural connections that go from the heart to the brain than the other way around, allowing the heart to send more signals to the brain than vice versa. There are quite a few stories in the medical field where the patient who received a heart transplant picks up tastes and preferences of the donor thus unconsciously overcoming mind’s predispositions.
 
The second stage of reflection helps one to understand and appreciate the communication connections between heart and mind. Paying attention to these communications allows us to re-reflect on stories, adversities, and hardships we faced and lived. We discover that the sum total of the intelligence of the brain and heart combined is greater than its parts.
 
In Indian music, there is a concept called “jugalbandi.” Here, two musicians, one drummer and generally one sitarist or flutist, play separately then together. The playful rendition is repeated with minor variations over and over.  For music lovers, the experience is levitating. When the brain and the heart work together, it is like jugalbandi, where they lead, follow, and create an exciting yet peaceful internal rhythm. It is as if they are in an eternal embrace doing synchronized waltz with each round lifting the person to a higher state of consciousness.
 
The third and last stage of reflection is transcendence. The wisdom gained through reflective hard work and understanding of the union of mind and heart unites our outer and inner world. This union propels us into a higher orbit of transcendence. Our total intelligence gets centered in self, as opposed to self-centered. In this reflective state, we recognize that happiness, joy and love are based on reciprocity with living beings. Human beings are social animals and our survival depends on connections and networking. By being altruistic and charitable (practicing vand chakna, as Guru Nanak Dev Ji described) not only do we strengthen our survival, but we increase joy and peace in our own lives as well as the lives we touch. Altruism shows us how to be one with the universe. Lord Jesus said it beautifully, ”give and you are given.”
 
Through hard work, reflection, and acts of altruism, one realizes his/her true nature and interconnectedness with the world. One realizes that practicing these virtues is a journey and one has to be on constant guard against ego-based intruders.
 
In the beginning of my life,
With the first days of rising sun,
I asked, “Who am I?,”
Now at the end of my life,
With the last rays of the setting sun,
I ask, “Who am I?”
 
Indian Nobel Laurate poet, Rabindernath Tagore, wrote these lines 13 days before his death. By working towards a life enshrined in the principals kirat, naam, and vand, one knows its identity and is no longer focused on self-centered deeds but on acts that enhance the beauty of this interconnected world. The word incarnation means fully inhabiting your body and spirit. By living in a world totally engulfed in the fire of material pursuit, we live a good distance from our body and spirit.  The pursuit of kirat, naam, and vand provides us an opportunity to rediscover, or reincarnate ourselves, within this lifetime. The sleeping higher purpose of life gets reignited by the flames of the pursuit embedded in this creed. The human traveler fully consumed by the beauty of such a creed brings the cosmic energy as protective force into his/her journey. The tranquil yet gale force of this energy carries the traveler to a deeper love for earth and its inhabitants, making heavens uncomfortable. In the words of Hafiz, 13th century Persian Sufi Poet, “There are moments in moist love when heaven is jealous of what we on earth can do.” The path of the moist love is revealed through the practice of hard work, deep reflection and humble charity.