Confessions of a Pirate

Computers. Boys. Since I was a teenager, those two things have had this strange connection in my life. I liked the geeks in high school. When I was a teenager, Apple was just getting started with home computers. Black screen. Flashing green curser. Minimal graphics. The phone modem had a certain multi-tonal quality to it. Different melodic intervals depending on where you were in the connecting process. And if you had call-waiting on your telephone, and someone called when you were connected to the Internet, you lost the connection.

This was before the World Wide Web. Back in the days of bulletin boards and group chats. The geeks hanging out together talking about geeky things. Those were the days of ground being broken and rules being created. One of the first rules I remember learning was, "archiving."

During the summer between high school and college, I dated a computer genius, a few years senior to me, who was an incredibly nice guy. Dates involved hanging out at his house playing really cool computer games or watching Montey Python movies with his friends. Because he was so knowledgable about the whole computer scene, I kind of took everything he said as gospel. Somewhere along the way, I got indoctrinated with a certain code. When people swapped software and loaded it onto each other's computers, they were just making back up copies of what they purchased in ways that the backups couldn't be destroyed. They called it archiving. The idea of software being licensed for use was a ridiculous legal con that the Microsoft corporation had come up with. And by the way, Microsoft, by copyrighting the DOS system and suing anybody who used any of it's code, set the computing world back by decades.

OK. I may not have really understood it that well at the time. And I definitely haven't recounted the arguments properly. Yet, it is safe to say that by the time I left for college, I had absorbed a certain value system. In the digital world, if someone could share it with you, why pay for it yourself?

Over the years, I have watched as this computer culture, started by the teenagers and young men of my youth, has tried to define a completely different economic model for the digital world.

There is Share Ware. If you like the program, pass it along to somebody. Sending money to the programmer is your choice.

There is Open Source coding. We all agree nobody owns this. Everybody can use it and build off of each other's discoveries,

Missed your favorite TV show? No problem. Search the web. Someone has uploaded the recording as a video that you can watch for free.

Of course, corporations, who feel threatened by this kind of culture, attempt to draw lines in the virtual sand. It bemuses me that any person who uses paid software has to agree to an incredibly complicated legal document, pages long. Nobody ever takes the time to read them. And if you do take the time, it would require a lawyer to explain what the darn thing is saying.

What is the average person's mental process with this?

"Oh I have to click this agree button in order to use the software I just purchased."

Scrolling through the license agreement, "Who has time to read this? It probably just means that I agree to not give a copy of the software to my friend."

Clicks agree.

Gives a copy to a friend anyway.

Let's face it. That is the world. Especially if the program is really expensive.

So why am I on a rant about this?

Because as I have gotten older and, God help me, more conservative, the notion of protecting intellectual property is a question I keep going back and forth on. I write. It is intellectual property. I sure would hate to see that property misused, and I like to be asked permission. But then people are people and they make copies and distribute it. The thoughts get out there, the ideas get out there. Who am I to complain? If I really had my heart set on being a millionaire, I would have done something different with my life.

But I respect the artist who creates something. Who wants to keep it protected. Who wants to make a profit from it.

And then...Merlin comes along.

Merlin is a television show originating in the UK, airing on the BBC, and then rebroadcast on the SyFy channel in the US. Inspired from the success of Smallville, which recounts the teenage years of Clark Kent, aka Superman, Merlin revisions a different kind of Camelot. A Camelot where Arthur, Gwenevere, Merlin and other names from legend knew each other in their youth. It is a quirky show. Spells and fighting. Great sets and costumes. Sometimes the writing is quite good, but I don't watch it for the writing. I watch it for the magic.

I stumbled across some of the episodes on SyFy and then had to catch up on everything I missed. It was so easy to find the previous seasons available for free online. I completely enjoyed every single one of them.

Then, due to changes in my budget, I got a little skinner with the satellite stations, and lost access to SyFy. Season 4 came out in England this October. It is just now being released in the US.

I understand what SOPA wanted to do. I understand it from the perspective of a corporation. But this is the problem. When a girl is in love with a TV show that she won't be able to watch until months from now in the US. And even then, she would have to resubscribe to a satellite channel that she is not very interested in- why do you think she is going to care about copyright law? She is going to take two minutes, Google the latest episode, and find the nice person who recorded it for her and shared it online so she doesn't have to wait or spend the extra money. If someone else is willing to share it, why should I have to wait and pay for it?

So every week from October until December I gleefully watched the fourth season of Merlin. Except for the ridiculous episode with Lancelot coming back from the dead, it was AWESOME.

And I kind of felt guilty about it.

Guilty that I was enjoying something I really loved, but had no way to give back to. I understand it takes money to create a show like that, and I do want to show my support.

So this week, I made the decision to go to the iTunes store and be a good consumer. Show my appreciation. Participate in the economic model that allowed this wonderful show to come to life. I'm not talking about British taxes. I mean downloads.

I spent $10 and purchased the first season of Merlin. Even though I have watched the first season on line for free a dozen times now.

It was a disaster.

I didn't realize that each show would be half a gig that I had to store on my laptop. Which did not have the room for it.

I didn't realize that it was going to take around an hour to download EACH EPISODE from the iTunes store. When I stream it on-line, it takes no time at all. Although the quality may not be as good.

It isn't really ten dollars for the episodes. It is ten dollars plus 7 Gigs of storage, plus 13 or so hours of download time. And for what? When I can instantly access the episodes anytime I want from the nice person who recorded it and shared it with me?

Here is the essence of the problem. The commercial world demands that the digital world be something it is not. By its nature, the digital world is open access to anything at any time to anybody. The commercial model is to deny access to all but those who can afford it. The two cultural mind sets do not meet up in any way, shape or form.

The innovation in the online world has come, from the beginning, from those people who were invested in open access. It is only since the Internet has gotten so huge, so global, that some corporate interests want to find a way to make it work according to their rules. But the rules of exclusion and limited access would have never allowed the Internet to develop into what it is today.

What does that mean practically?

It is not that I, as a fan of Merlin, do not want to give something back for the work that the production company has done. It is that it makes no sense for me to participate in the economic models that are available. I do not need what they have to offer. By the very nature of what the Internet is and how it works - I do not need the downloads. And buying something out of a sense of guilt is not really a long term solution.

If today I can watch something I like for free through the Internet when all the paid sources to watch it are slower and later, it changes the economic game.

But it does not change the respect I have for the creators involved.

Maybe I will just send a donation to the BBC instead.

With blessings,

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur

Flash Town: A Day at Occupy Wall Street

by Ek Ong Kaar Kaur Khalsa

Nov. 1, 2011

Coming out of the subway station at Courtland, just a block away from Zuccotti Park, the first thing I notice is the towering presence of two skyscrapers still under construction. This is the defiant Freedom Tower – the phoenix rising from the tragic ashes of the 9/11 attacks. Shimmering and reflective against the shocking blue October skies. A statement that the US cannot be broken. We will rise again, rebuild and remain a power that touches the world.

I didn’t realize that the Occupy Wall Street protests were taking place across the street from Ground Zero. But then again– there was a lot I didn’t realize before I started this improvised pilgrimage to the heart of our US Spring. I didn’t realize that Zuccotti Park is just one city block. Maybe three-quarters of an acre. Frankly – it is less than half the size of the land I live on by myself in New Mexico. Yet the actions happening on that one block in New York City seem to be rippling across the universe.

Standing on the corner of Liberty and Trinity, the Freedom Towers to one side of me, the Occupy Wall Street protests on the other, I can’t help but wonder. What is it about this place? That in ten years’ time, two events have happened here that have impacted the psyche of the entire world?

I spend the better part of an entire day at Zuccotti Park. Looking around. Listening. Taking pictures. Talking. Witnessing. By the end of the day, I get a sense of why the mainstream media can’t get their head around what’s happening here. And why such a large percentage of the US population is cheering these folks on.

There’s the girl who is a medical assistant. She’s 24. Had a job in the medical field in Maryland that left her feeling empty. She quit her job and showed up at OWS to volunteer at the medical tent. With 90 bucks in her pocket and a cell phone whose charge had run out. Handing out Vitamin C tablets to the protesters who ask for them – she feels like she’s doing something important. She’s excited. She’s on fire. She’s empowered to be doing actual health “care” – where the “caring” is part of the role.

There’s another guy. Young and clean cut, with piercing blue eyes and a strong build. He has a tent, a knapsack, a laptop and a digital camera. He asks to take my picture because – let’s face it – with my white turban and white clothes, I stand out a little. We start talking. He’s been unemployed for the last four months. Living out of his car. Traveling from one Occupy protest to another. He’s experiencing and documenting the events in his own way because he doesn’t have anything else to do. I look at him and think – this is the face of the new displaced. They carry their belongings on their backs. But they are educated. They are digital. They are connected to each other, and they are a force to be reckoned with.

I walk through the park and walk around the park. Again and again and again. A picture starts to emerge. It’s complex. We’ve heard about flash mobs – connecting for a few minutes or a few hours for a specific purpose. Then disappearing back from where they came. This place – this Occupy Wall Street – is a flash town. It’s a living fractal of the kind of society these folks would like to create. That a lot of people would like to create. The infrastructure, the organization – they are experimenting and modeling for themselves what they’d like to see society become.

The Medical Tent. With doctors, nurses, and chiropractors that do have jobs. Yet they volunteer their time to take care of the protesters and anyone else who shows up.


The Food Tent. Where they collect food donations, prepare meals, feed people. Feed the protesters. Feed the homeless. Feed the visitors. Feed anyone who comes along. 

The Comfort Tent. Where they hand out clothes to people - blankets, coats, shoes, socks. Making sure that folks have what they need. 

The Free Library. So many books being donated and lent out. Not just to the protesters – but to the crowds that meander through the park hour after hour. It’s open to them, too. 

The OWS Day Care. A little corner set up for the moms to look after their small children.

The Media Tent. The Legal Tent. The Community Affairs Tent – if you want to know the schedule for the day. The Sanitation area – where the brooms and buckets are kept. The park was squeaky clean.

The gray water system display – illustrating how the water they use to clean the dishes is being recycled to water the plants in the park.

It goes on and on. A tiny little town within a square block, covering every human need. Fueled by volunteers, donations, and a fierce conviction that we can engineer a society where everybody gets taken care of.

Complexity. It doesn’t lend itself easily to sound bites.

Of course – all of the infrastructure would be pointless if there wasn’t something happening. Once again, "what's happening" defies simple summaries. There are so many people converging in this one place, with so many different ideas. There’s no lack of things to do.

Every day, there’s at least one if not two marches organized somewhere for some purpose. The visible protest – with signs and people. The morning I arrived, a group had just donned Robin Hood costumes. They marched with signs saying, “Tax the Rich.” It was theatrical. It was New York. And it got a simple point across.

Yet to say that this point, “Tax the Rich” is THE point is not to be paying attention. That was one event. There were dozens and dozens of events happening all day long.

Free workshops offered on a range of topics: from non-violent communication, ala Marshal Rosenberg; to protecting yourself from predatory lenders.

Political action tables set up in the park. You can register to vote. Sign a petition supporting the Buffet Tax. Sign another petition to help keep US Post Offices open. And if you need a Public Notary? She there from 3-5 pm.

There’s the space for everyone to make a sign. For everyone to give voice to their thoughts. A lot of these protestors don’t sleep in the park. They show up for a while with their signs, and then go home when they’re done. One older man I spoke with wore a sandwich board that he obviously made himself. No flashy symbols or catch phrases. He had a rather crowded outline of what he thinks we need to be paying attention to.

I asked him how long he stayed there. He gave me a rueful smile. “I’m here with my wife,” he said. “And I stand here until my back or my legs give out.”

What fascinated me the most was how much more crowded the sidewalk became after business hours. You could see those people who, dressed very professionally, simply came by the protest on their way home from work. They added their signs and voices to the mix.

If you didn’t want to create a sign, you could always stop by the button maker’s table. Buttons in support of Occupy Wall Street. Take one and leave a donation “When my friends ask my why I’m here,” the button maker said, “I ask them – why aren’t YOU here?”

If signs and buttons aren’t your style – you can always sit in on The People’s Think Tank. In one corner of the park – just sit with other people – and talk about everything and anything that matters to you. I sat in for about 30 minutes. The people were regular folks. One guy, dressed like a yuppy, had come from upstate New York. He led the meeting, took notes, and his exuberance was infectious. “I feel like I can finally say all these things I’ve been thinking my whole life, but could never talk about with anyone.”

Another voice, “There isn’t going to be a violent uprising. This is a spiritual uprising.”

Another voice. “It’s about compassion in leadership. How can we make it OK for leadership to be compassionate?”

And another, “This is the most American thing I’ve ever seen.”

The Think Tank met for 3 hours. They took a ten minute break, came back and kept going. Every single person involved was sitting on the edge of their seats, smiling, engaged, excited because they finally realized – hey, I’m not alone.

Not everyone likes the verbal route with signs, buttons or dialogue. So, on the other side of the park, you can jam with the infamous drum circle. The circle lasts for hours. Someone said to me, “I don’t even think all of them are protestors. I think some of these people just want a place to play drums – so they show up and become part of the circle for while.”

It might annoy the heck out of the nearby businesses. But that drum circle keeps the attention on Zuccotti Park. Mobs of people line the street while they play, taking pictures and becoming curious.

(As a writer, as a journalist, I understand how difficult it might be to read this story. It’s taken me two hours to get this far, and there are more images in my mind. I know I am breaking the rules here. I may be going on longer than you are used to reading. But for some reason, I think it’s important. Just this once. To put all the pieces onto paper. Because this event, this OWS, is such a complex social phenomena. Perhaps in the not to distant future, there won’t be a chance to see it again. To talk about it again. I don’t want to forget any of the details.)

The more difficult aspects. The homeless. The pan-handlers. The mentally ill. Of course they are coming, too. Free food, free medical care, free warm clothes – who needs it more than they do? It would be easy to walk through the park, taking pictures of those people, and making them the face of the movement. By my estimation, this shadow side constitutes about maybe 5% of what’s happening there. To their credit, the OWS protestors are doing everything they can to manage these folks with dignity.

Next to a couple of pan-handlers, one protestor held up a sign. “Please don’t give money to the pan-handlers. Give it to OWS. We are making sure that everyone gets fed and gets what they need.”

The interactions with the police. Both sides seem to be working very consciously to keep a dialogue going. There’s a dynamic tension at play. Cops are stationed on every side of the park. They maintain a certain distance, keep the foot traffic moving, and ask the protestors to change things with the camp if they perceive anything as hazardous. Some police officers wear vests that say, “Community Affairs Liaison.” There have been meetings between the protestors and representatives of the local neighborhoods. The amount of drumming going on has been a big issue.

It’s all about boundaries. Inside the park, a new world is being birthed, and it revels in the joy of its own existence. But a couple blocks away, New Yorkers and visitors are going about their daily life, oblivious to the social experiment taking place under the Freedom Tower. The police represent – physically and psychologically – the boundary line between those two worlds.

Then, of course, there’s the spiritual aspect.

On the corner of Liberty and Trinity, there is a simple tree at the center of a circle of marble benches. One of the protestors took it upon himself to create a sacred space around the tree. The protestors named the tree, The Tree of Life. There are small wooden shelves placed around the tree housing symbols from every possible religious and spiritual tradition - known and unknown. It’s universal. It’s open. And it serves as a spiritual sanctuary.

One of the people who created this sacred space watches over it as his contribution to the protests. "One day," he said, “the yogis showed up.” Fateh Singh Khalsa, Hari Simran Singh Khalsa (who was featured in Time Magazine), Himmat Singh Khalsa and others. A group of Kundalini Yoga teachers, many of whom also happen to be Sikhs. They were inspired to come every evening and lead a Kundalini Yoga class for those in the camp who wanted to attend. They call themselves Occupy Yoga.

The “People’s Microphone” has been written about in other articles covering the protests. The yoga class works the same way. Sat Jagat Singh Khalsa, the head of the 3HO Brooklyn Ashram in NYC and co-founder of Kundalini Yoga in Park Slope, stands on one of the marble benches. He begins to explain the Kundalini Yoga exercises to those who are gathered there. His son, Hari Simran Singh, myself and others repeat the instructions in a loud voice. That way, the crowd which has gathered around can hear.

This is grass roots, no glory, yoga teaching. This is bringing yoga to the people with humility and grace. There’s no room to stretch out. Sat Jagat Singh has to lead something simple that the participants can do while standing up or sitting down. Yet, people gather to watch. To participate. And yes – even to protest. As the yoga class happens, someone outside the park makes fun of it. They walk around with a sign that says, “This is the dawning of the Age of Hilarious.”

Some moments are too precious to put into words. The day ends the way it began. In the presence of the OWS protestors. Looking up at the emerging Freedom Tower. Sat Jagat Singh teaches a simple healing meditation as night falls. The Freedom Tower is the back-drop. There’s no way to express what it was like sitting there, across from Ground Zero, praying for healing with people who believe that we can build a better world. A more fair world. A more compassionate world. And who believe it enough to put themselves on the line.

It’s a one-in-a-million moment. The sound of the chanting. The reminder of what happened 10 years ago. The realization that the spirit to heal the problems we face has been inside us all along, and is coming to life. I don’t know what the end result of Occupy Wall Street will be. But I do know, day by day and moment by moment, there are conversations, prayers, connections and ideas happening here whose ripple effects will far outlast the life span of the protest, themselves.

Remembering Our Place

The week before Summer Solstice, I took a walk on my property doing what I like to do this time of year. Seeing what native grasses and wild flowers have decided to take up residence; seeing what pesky plants were being greedy for territory. Since I live by the side of a main road in the state of New Mexico, another thing that always shows up during my little walks is what we humans call “trash.” Plastic cups, paper, aluminum soda and beer cans. That kind of thing.

Usually, when I see the trash scattered around, I feel really annoyed. Like – why do people have to throw things out their windows while they are driving? With a simple gust of wind, all these little pieces of junk tumble across my property, unsightly, with no final resting place.

But during this walk, feeling the frustration as a battered piece of paper blew past me, Mother Nature gave me a different insight. The problem with trash isn’t that somebody threw it away. The problem is that Mother Nature can’t find another use for it.

The earth is a living organic being with its own cycles. Part of those cycles include the forces of wind and water taking organic material from one part of the land to another. This is how, unbidden, scarlet globemallow and baby white aster can suddenly show up in patches on my land where they never existed before. Mother Earth doesn’t create waste. When something transforms into seeds or dies and decays, it becomes the basis for new life. The earth evolved as a complex system of organic elements which constantly reorganize themselves. That reorganization is continual, powerful and inevitable.

When the wind brings paper or plastic cups on the land, it’s the exact same forces that bring seeds or dried leaves. It’s the cycle of life. The difficulty is that humans create things that are used only once, for one purpose. We see the here and the now, the immediate. But we don’t envision the entire life-cycle of the thing. When the purpose for the thing is finished, the forces of nature eventually take over. They act as they have always acted. But because of our own incomplete vision, Mother Nature can’t find any additional uses for what we release back to Her care.

Though we come from Mother Earth, and are completely dependent upon Her for everything, our intelligence is not aligned with Her intelligence. We ignore the power of Her creative forces and end up creating things that can’t be integrated back into the cycle of life.

Such a small lesson from the wind and the land. But this tiny dynamic on my property is happening in a big way in Los Alamos right now. Or in Japan a few months back.

When the tsunami struck Japan in March of 2011, I remember watching footage of what the water did to the land. What frightened me the most – even more than the nuclear reactor, frankly, was the sheer amount of “trash” getting hauled into the ocean. How many chemicals, plastics, and metals got dumped into the currents of the oceans that day? And what consequences would that have for the life of the sea? We think that we have the power to create safety zones where the toxicity we concoct can be contained to a small area. We believe we can control these human-made poisons so they don’t affect anything we don’t want them to affect. But this is the illusion of the human ego, of pride. Earthly forces will always be more powerful than us. Nature eventually destroys everything – including our own bodies. The matter and energy released from the forces of destruction are later reorganized into something new. This is the operating system of the planet. It has been going on for billions of years. Long before humans arrived. We don’t have the power to change that.

Tsunamis have always and will always exist. Yet, human beings have forgotten to have an integrated intelligence with the earth. So today – rather than a tsunami having the effect of renewing and reorganizing the ecology, it spreads poison and danger.

The same with the fires in Los Alamos, New Mexico. Tens of thousands of barrels of radioactive waste sit on the land near the Los Alamos labs. In the great arcing cycle of nature, one way or another, that waste is going to be released into the environment. It might happen in the next week. It might happen in the next 20 years. Or perhaps it will happen 200,000 years from now. But the forces of Mother Nature will continue. She reaches everywhere. Creation, destruction, re-creation. It’s foolish to believe that humans can protect that poison from the natural cycles of the earth forever.

I’m not advocating going back to the stone ages. For thousands of years, most of what humans created was integrated with the natural cycle because we didn’t have access to any technology what would give us any other options. There’s a purpose to the scientific awakening of the human race that has been going on for the last few centuries. Our ability to know how to split the atom and send satellites to the far-reaches of the solar system is, I believe, part of the Cosmic design. But the step we haven’t taken is to think differently.

Before this technological awakening, we didn’t need to visualize the life cycle of something because our creativity and the creativity of Mother Earth were more organically connected. Now we have to consciously wake up to what we are doing. For the future, it is essential that we develop another way to think about things. To think about what humans create and produce. To extend the thinking from “what can I make for this SPECIFIC purpose” to “how can we use our technology to create things that serve a purpose, and then die and are reborn in another form after that purpose is done.”

Before we develop something, we need to see its entire life-cycle as working in tandem with the life-cycle of the planet.

Some people may think that is impossible. But I believe the human intelligence is capable of asking and answering these questions. We can stretch that far. We can abandon the idea that technology requires this level of waste. We can create a new approach to develop processes, products and systems that work with, rather than against, the forces of the earth.

Human evolution is a remarkable result of the complex life-cycles of Mother Nature. Now is the time to remember that we are part of the intelligence of the planet. If we push ourselves to think in new ways, we can create a society that is technology advanced and ecologically balanced all at the same time.

Yours in Divine Light.

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur

Like a Candle Emits Light

“Prosperity doesn’t mean that you will have wealth, health and happiness. The best way to explain prosperity is to say it is like when a rosebud flowers and opens up, and it shares its fragrance. That’s the moment, which lasts a few days, when a rose flower is prosperous. When a man or woman is prosperous, it is the fragrance of security, grace, depth, character, and truthfulness that a person can share. Like a candle emits light, a human emits prosperity.”

- The Siri Singh Sahib, Yogi Bhajan from Success and the Spirit: An Aquarian Path to Abundance

Many spiritual approaches to prosperity talk about the power of the mind, of visualization, of intention, and of attracting what you want into your life. All of these are important tools in understanding our relationship with the world around us. Yet very few people talk about the power of a person’s consciousness, of their purity, of their integrity, grace and character as the source of prosperity. The public conversation about prosperity has been about what I can “get” – rather than what I can “be.”

When we meditate and the Kundalini begins to uncoil itself, penetrating through the chakras and clearing the karmas of the past and the present – something wonderful unfolds. The light of the soul starts to shine. And as the Inner Self becomes more prominent, a change takes place in a person. Their fears depart. Joy comes in. And rather than being pushed and pulled by the environments around her, a person can settle into a place of living according to her inner truth. This strength to live according to one’s inner voice with grace and dignity doesn’t simply “attract” prosperity. It creates it.

We can see so many examples throughout history of people who challenged the time and space they lived in. They made a decision to live in the integrity of their own consciousness. Even though they met with challenges along the way, the very act of staying true to themselves eventually made them victorious. It also opened up opportunities for other people. Whether it is the communications vision of Steven Jobs at Apple or the fight for political equality personified in the life of Nelson Mandela - all those who have created a legacy have done so because they lived committed to their deepest, most genuine self.

In Yogi Bhajan’s teachings on Sikh Dharma and Kundalini Yoga, it is this consciousness of finding and staying true to that deep, spiritual self which is the real source of prosperity. Our spiritual practice gives us a chance to live according to our soul. The purer our minds become, the more the light of the soul shines. The stronger the light becomes, the more we create for ourselves and for others. The power of attraction does not come from what we want. It comes from who we are. And when we can tap into and live in our Divine Self – the entire universe longs to come close.

In the weeks and months ahead, it will be my privilege and blessing to continue sharing excerpts and commentary on a new book being published by KRI titled Success and the Spirit: An Aquarian Path to Abundance. The book includes lectures, shabads and meditations taught by Yogi Bhajan on how to experience success at the deepest level of your being and how to leave a living legacy on the earth.

I look forward to the conversation that these columns will create with you.

With Divine Light.

Yours sincerely and humbly,

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur Khalsa

Success and the Spirit: An Aquarian Path to Abundance contains the wisdom and teachings of Sikh Dharma and Kundalini Yoga as shared by Yogi Bhajan. The book was edited by Ek Ong Kaar Kaur Khalsa. It will be released at 3HO's Summer Solstice celebration in 2011.

When The Heat Goes Out

Sat Nam and blessings.

Since Thursday of last week, thousands of people in the state of New Mexico have been without natural gas. Which means living without heat, or a way to cook or a way to heat water - depending on how the house is built. This gas shortage began during the coldest week that New Mexico has had in the last 50 years.

It's been strange living through this - and being in the part of New Mexico that will probably have our heat turned on last. But it's also been a very fascinating experience in terms of lessons learned.

So - for whatever it's worth - here are some insights that I've gained from living through this experience that I thought I'd share with you.

Cold Can Dehydrate You

Just like the body needs more water when it gets too hot, the body needs more water when it gets cold, too. For about the first 7-8 hours after the gas went out, I didn't have any space heaters in the house and I was walking around in my winter coat - except for the kitchen where I had the oven on. It was surprising to me that I got spaced out from dehydration. It took me a day to realize that I had to drink a lot of extra water to deal with the what was happening.

Carbs and Protein Are Your Friend

Lots of carbs = a lot more energy for the body to use to stay warm. Breads, brown rice, flour tortillas, chocolate chip cookies. Lots of lots of carbs. If you're dealing with a colder than average environment, they go a long way. Eating good protein is also important because it helps the brain keep functioning with clarity. Especially in the midst of....

Yes, Sitting on Your Couch Waiting for the Heat to Come On Can Be Stressful

There's something about the regular routine of life being disrupted that can throw the body into stress. Even if the disruption is happening in the most contained and graceful way possible. The neuro-net of the brain has a regular pattern to life that gives a sense of security. When the pattern gets interrupted, stress is the natural result. There's a certain psychological weariness that can set in: when is life going to get back to normal? Or - what do I need to do to cover my bases today? What I found helpful: good meals with protein, trying to keep whatever routine I could keep, staying informed, keeping in communication with other people, and all the usual spiritual stuff I would do anyway.

It's Great to Have Something to Share with Others

Even though I don't have my heat on, I do have hot water. One of the healthiest things I've been able to do to stay sane in all of this is to open my home to other people who have needed a hot shower. When you have something you can give to someone else, it creates a sense of gratitude and empowerment in you. Giving always comes from a psychological position of strength and plenty. There was a beautiful inspirational saying that I remember from my childhood. "Share thy little with another." Even in the worst moments, if you have something small to share with another person, it creates a sense of joy and happiness, and helps battle the mental fatigue and stress of the situation.

Let Yourself Receive

No man is an island, and there's nothing like a crisis to show it. I couldn't have managed on my own these last five days, and feel grateful for the network of people in my life that helped me when I needed it the most.

My Italian Genes are Showing. When there's an emergency, cook a lot of food

As funny as it sounds, the first thing I did when I found out that the heat was going to be out for an extended period of time was to go to the grocery store, buy food and then come home and cook for 3 hours. My brain did something like this. "Well, we don't know if the electricity is going to go out, too. So I better make sure I have enough food for a few days if we loose electricity. And I better make sure that I have food for other people besides me who might need it." Lemon-rosemary tofu, a pot of vegetarian chili, a pot of brown rice, and a pot of kala chana. Five days later, I still have food left and have had the chance to share some of it. Don't know why my mind acted like that, but it's a good lesson for me to always have plenty of beans and rice on hand for cooking. If the electricity HAD gone out before I got any cooking done - well, that would have been another story. It makes me think about investing in one of those camp stoves for the future. Just in case.

The Body Likes to be a Certain Temperature. You Can't Really Avoid It

The difference between one space heater or two. The difference of hanging a blanket to block the hallway so the heat stays in one room. The difference of having a warm pair of socks or an extra blanket. Ultimately, it's the difference between being uncomfortable and unhappy or being OK and just mildly annoyed by the whole situation. And we're really talking just the difference of a few degrees. In the difference between the room temperature being 56 or 64 is a whole universe. I've had lots of interesting musings this last week about the nature of human evolution - and how much it has depended on our ability to keep ourselves in that ideal 6o's temperature no matter what environment we live in. In the middle of a heating crisis in winter - we don't change our evolutionary heritage. It's all about how to get back to that temperature "sweet spot."

You Can Take It If You Have To

We've just experienced the coldest weather in NM in the last 50 years. This is what I know. Worst case scenario, I could stay in my house under a bunch of blankets and live through it just fine. The house, itself, is a great protection from the cold. It wouldn't be pleasant, or preferable. BUT I wouldn't freeze to death, either. That's actually quite comforting to know. That you've seen the bottom and realized - oh yeah - that would really suck, but it wouldn't kill me.

Global Communications Are Completely Amazing

It's fascinating that I can sit in the middle of rural New Mexico, without heat, in a state of emergency - and still log onto Facebook and my blog and share all of this with all of you. Watching TV and playing around on the Internet has been the most stable, normalizing activity that I've done to keep a sense of routine since all of this started. You can't send me heat or food - but you can hear what's going on. And that is actually really nice.

Well, maybe something from this essay will stick in your mind and will be helpful if you ever find yourself in a similar situation.

With Divine Light and many blessings,

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur

An Apology on Comments

Sat Nam, dear readers.

Many blessings to you.

Back in the fall, I activated moderation for the comments for this blog. The settings were supposed to notify me whenever there was a comment waiting to be moderated - but something didn't work properly and I was never was notified when comments were left. Because I post so infrequently to my blog, I didn't realize that there were comments waiting until I logged in today. For all of you who had posted comments in the last couple months - please accept my apologies for the delay in the moderation.

All prayers that your new year is off to a great start.

With Divine Light.

Yours humbly,

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur

At Peace

Last month, a friend of mine asked me, “Why haven’t you written anything lately? You should write something. We miss your writing.”

I shrugged and said I would try. But the truth was – at that moment, and for the last many months, there hasn’t been much to write about. There hasn’t been anything that seemed worthwhile to say.

Then, a couple weeks ago, I got into a car accident. Nothing severe in the sense of hospitalization. Intense enough that I’m laying on my couch while my back recovers from the trauma. But something about the accident jolted me back to life. Back into my body. Back into my senses.

It’s been a little over a year since my father died. If that wasn’t enough, in the last 12 months, the legacy of the Siri Singh Sahib, Yogi Bhajan, has been plagued by lawsuits and counter-suits. In a very short period of time, I lost my father and I lost a lot of friendships. Disagreements over the lawsuit damaged relationships that I had cherished for years.

What I didn’t realize until the car accident was that the cumulative shock of all that loss happening in so short a time had overwhelmed my nervous system. I had been, on a certain level, “checked out” of my body for over a year. When my car got rear-ended, some primal, self-protective instinct woke-up. I realized I had a body of my own to take care of; a life of my own to connect with. It was time to make peace with the last 13 months and find a way to move on.

A few days before my father passed away, we were sitting together in the hospital. Him, my mother and myself. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer less then a month previously, and the doctors and nurses had been trying, in an indirect way, to help him and my mother come to terms with the fact that he was dying.

During one particular moment, he turned to me and, in a confused, exasperated voice, asked, “Bernadette, what happened?” There was a look of incredulity in his watery blue eyes. Like he was trying to comprehend how so much could go so wrong so quickly. I took his hand, and looked deeply into his eyes. Without any tears, I told him matter-of-factly, “It’s just what happens, Dad. It’s the way nature works. Everybody has to go sometime. It’s just your time to go.”

Telling my father that he was dying was the single hardest thing I have ever had to do. It wasn’t what I wanted to say, and it sure wasn’t what he wanted to hear. But it was the truth. The reality of having his daughter tell him that everything was NOT going to be OK – but that in fact he needed to get ready to die – was a shock. Yet, in an odd way, it helped him to accept it. It helped him make peace with it. At least, I’d like to think that it helped.

There’s hope. And then there’s reality. There’s the fact that as humans we don’t want change because the familiar gives us a sense of security. And then there’s the play of Creation where change is inevitable. Nothing can ever possibly stay the same, and how we face those changes define us. Security isn’t on dry land. It’s in learning to ride the incessant waves of time and space. To appreciate the past without being beholden to it. To love what has come before enough to let it go with grace when it’s time to move on.

For the last 13 months, while I have been “out of body,” I have also been doing a lot of studying of Sukhmani. There are many difficult teachings in Sukhmani that have completely turned my idea about spirituality upside down; shifted the sense I have of myself as a “spiritual” person (whatever that means). But it has begun to create a space of acceptance in my heart: the ability to accept myself, people and situations exactly as they are – on their own terms.

When I watched my father take his last breath, I had the blessing of seeing one of the great yogic teachings at work. The teachings say – in those last few seconds of life, it’s just between you and you. You evaluate your own life – how you did – in the light of your own higher consciousness. There is no “God” involved – there is nothing but your own self-assessment of your self.

I watched that moment unfold for my father. And in that moment – there wasn’t anyone else. Not his mother or his family. Not his boss or his friends or his children. Not his enemies. Not the priest. It was a totally secret self-evaluation. All of what he lived in his life – what he did, or didn’t do; what he said or failed to say; how he acted; what he meant - all of that was measured against his own soul. Whatever I might think about how my father lived his life, or however someone else might judge it didn’t matter. What I felt with my dad’s spirit is that he had won. Between him and himself, his actions measured up to his own inner guidance, to his own inner voice enough that this life was a victory.

What I’ve studied in Sukhmani this year gives me a much clearer context for that last moment, that last breath. And it basically comes down to this: Is God good? Or is God everything?

I was raised to believe God is good. And evil is something else. But in Sukhmani, Guru Arjan talks about the entire polarity of life, including what we would term “good” and bad”– and then he says – it all comes from the One. There is nothing and no one else but that One.

I was raised to believe that being spiritual meant being good. And that being bad took you away from the Creator. But in Sukhmani, Guru Arjan talks about flowing with what’s written for you; being with the hukam – with the flow of the Creator’s plan for you. And the simple fact is that hukam – the Divine Plan – contains good and bad both. Not just one or the other.

I was raised to believe that you had to stop other people from doing bad things. And that if enough people in the world stopped being bad, and everybody was good, then we’d all be happy. But Guru Arjan, as I understand him, talks about finding the essence of your own Divine Spirit, in your own heart and letting that give you happiness – no matter what is happening around you.

So in my prayers, lately, the Creator and I have been arguing like this.

“If You’re the Doer of Everything – then what does that mean? The prostitutes, the pornography, the murderers, the rapists , the wars, the torture – it’s all YOU?”

And the Creator, in His subtle way, responds by showing me that no matter what a human being is doing, or living, or choosing, the One Light lives in that person. And there is a purpose and a reason for whatever the experience is.

But I fight it. “If that Light is really in everyone, no matter what life they’re living, then what’s the point of all of this meditation and sadhana?”

Just to see it. That’s all. Not to judge it. If someone needs or asks for your help – do your best. But otherwise, it’s not your place to interfere or fix anything. There is a sovereign Divine Identity in every human being, guiding the process. That Identity has the right to exist.

For me, one of the most surprising and spiritually challenging passages in Sukhmani comes in the 21st Ashtapadi, 7th verse. There, Guru Arjan describes the process of the One Consciousness expanding Itself to create structure and form. And in that process of differentiation – some souls wished to have a heavenly experience, while others were more interested in the hellish experience. That is how the polarity of pain and happiness, honor and dishonor got created. Yet, Guru Arjan says, it all comes from the One – and at the end – it will all dissolve back into the One.

Still, it’s difficult to get my mind around this. The suffering and pain that happens in the world. “Seriously? This is planned? This is part of the play?”

And then Guru Nanak’s words come to mind. About how the human body is an incredibly precious incarnation, and even the worst pain and suffering imaginable is still a gift. It’s as if the Guru is saying that as long as you have a human form, no matter how terrible or difficult the circumstances, because the Light of Divinity lives in you – there is still something incredibly worthwhile and blessed in the experience. That even the worst imaginable human life is still precious. There’s something profoundly special about existence, about living. It’s something to worship and honor, no matter what.

There’s a fundamental change in perspective happening for me while I study Sukhmani. It’s about accepting the whole play of life. Realizing that I don’t have to divide myself into “good” Ek Ong Kaar and “bad” Ek Ong Kaar and try to have the good part of me conquer the bad part of me. I just have to flow with my own identity in its totality. In its authenticity. The Light of that One Creator lives in me every day – no matter what mistakes I make. No matter what choices.

And as I see it in myself, I can see it in others. Whether it’s the politicians on the television, or the people I talk to; whether it’s the war lords in Africa or the innocent children being kidnapped and forced into prostitution. Every life, no matter how it unfolds, has that precious Divine Light at the heart of it. And every life is a unique expression of that soul, of the journey that spirit is taking through time and space.

It’s not my job to condemn anything. It is my job to be of service to those who ask for or need it. There’s a subtle but profound difference in seeing life that way. Rather than scanning my environment and making a huge list of what’s wrong in the world that needs to be righted – it’s about completely embracing everything I see as the play of Divine Light. Good and bad. Right and wrong. Peaceful and horrible. And then allowing myself to be of service wherever and whenever the Creator calls me to serve.

So the car accident becomes a blessing – because it’s bringing these thoughts back into my body in a way that I can express them. From this perspective, life feels more joyful and more relaxed. The unreal weight of responsibility, of trying to make myself and everything in my life “perfect” melts away in the realization that everything already is a perfect expression of hukam. Yes, there is pain, disease, illness, and difficulty. Even then, the Light still lives on. It doesn’t disappear or go out. Life is messy and difficult and amazing and wonderful and everything all at once. And the Divine Light is in the heart of it always.

My sense of what it means to be spiritual used to focus on the question: how can I become perfect and deserve that Love? But now it is starting to mean something very different. I’m not someone who always makes the right choices or knows the right things to say. I enjoy life, but I have my share of karma to work out. I love to write and study, but I get into arguments with the wrong people at the wrong time. I can love you one minute and be terrified of you the next. I can look back at my childhood and say – there were some really great things that happened there – and there was some things that have created some serious issues – thank God for therapy and for Kundalini Yoga.

Through Sukhmani, Guru Arjan is waking me up to the realization that this whole messy play of “me” is Divine. The One is at the heart of me no matter what is being expressed in the moment. It’s such a relief to know it. It’s such a relief to give myself that space, that freedom to go on a journey of life that has valleys and peaks. And how wonderful to be able to start respectfully giving that space to others, as well. Whether I agree with another person or not; whether I want to live that way or not; whether I am fighting with someone or not; I see that the One is in all of us – guiding our choices and our lives for a reason. Every one has the same right to their existence as I have to mine.

So today I am giving up. Surrendering the concept of spirituality that I have had for the last 20 years. And in this place of surrender, of knowing that my Dad hardly ever went to church , but still he won the game of his life; of knowing that the Divine One really does live in everyone (including me) – no matter what we experience or how we act;

In this place, I feel

At peace.


With Divine Light and Divine Love.

Yours humbly,

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur

Kundalini, Sadhana and the Sensory Human

Originally published on the Spirit Voyage Blog, May 27, 2010

With the approach of 2012 (though Yogi Bhajan often anchored the change of ages to November 11, 2011 at 11:30 am Los Angeles time), we are collectively tuning into a shift in human consciousness. Even the most skeptical person cannot deny that we have witnessed an unprecedented explosion of technology and discovery in the last century, unlike anything in our recorded history. The human mind is evolving, becoming capable of experiencing and understanding aspects of reality that were previously beyond its grasp. The key to this is the Kundalini. Sadhana is the method to ride the changes. And the sensory human is what we shall develop into.

Kundalini. Sadhana. Sensory human. Strange words – all of them. And yet, they hold the key to what the next age will be. Kundalini is a term that is older than human memory. It comes from ancient times when people had to deeply understand themselves, their inner biology and awareness, in order to survive. As mythological and dangerous as the word has become in certain circles, it is really a pragmatic situation. When the blood chemistry is right, and the breath is balanced so that the central subtle channel opens, these phenomena alter the composition of the spinal fluid. As that altered spinal fluid goes up the spine to feed the brain, it does so in communication with all of the glandular systems of the body. And that cumulative, combined effect activates dormant aspects of the mind to unleash the unlimited potential of human consciousness.

Anything you do to touch the spirit involves the Kundalini. Every yogic school’s ultimate aim is to awaken it from its dormant state. Every martial art, every form of prayer, has a unique avenue to tapping its potential. In short, every spiritual path – whether they realize it or not – is working with this fundamental creative energy that lives inside of every human being.

As the change of ages comes, our ability to fearlessly understand and work with the Kundalini will be a necessary component of humanity’s evolution.

Sadhana is the next step. In many sacred writings, the human life has been described as a chance to experience the Divine Light in all things while in finite form. This is not an easy task. It takes effort. You have to work at it. The first Sikh Master, Guru Nanak, once said that a human being without a longing to experience the Divine was actually living an animal incarnation, though he or she might have a human body. It is that intention and ability to know Infinity that makes us human. And it is the consistent, applied discipline to raise our consciousness so that we can achieve it that gives our lives grace, strength and meaning.

This is sadhana. It is what you do, every day, to tap the infinite potential in you, in relation to the One Cosmic Consciousness, and bring your potential to life.

The result? The sensory human. In 1993, Yogi Bhajan described the existence of the sensory human this way: “In the stillness lies the sound which is the creative existence of God, through all hemispheres and spheres of creative and non-creative reality. Oh Yogi, whoever masters the stillness and the silence, and can read it, will get all the knowledge which exists. If you want, you can read the air as it touches your body. From the breeze, you can understand the frequency of your health, wealth and happiness. You can know what the day offers you. In the silence and calmness of night, you can intimately know the entire tomorrow. This knowledge shall be the basic knowledge of man in the Age of Aquarius. In the next 40 years (Ed. note: said in 1993), the reason, the logic, the discussion, the debate, the persuasion, the games, the play will be over. People will have a very intuitive psychic interlock through which they will silently know all there is.” (April 6, 1993)

It is the road that the Universe has created for us to walk, together, in the years ahead.

Ready?

With Divine Light.

Yours humbly,

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur

Pratyahar: Seeing the Giver

Originally published on the Spirit Voyage Blog. May 6, 2010.

“Many, many, many thousands of years ago the sages sat down and divided the science of yoga into eight different aspects, eight parts. I would like to talk to you about one part called pratyahar. Pratyahar is a secret science to reach God. You won’t find it discussed fully in any books. They don’t explain it. In some places they say, “Pratyahar is pratyahar and whosoever does pratyahar reaches God.” How are you going to make any sense out of that?

“The most beautiful art of yoga and the most pure science of yoga is pratyahar. Pratyahar means, correctly, in English, to contract or synchronize. Pratyahar is a habit to synchronize. A gift is a source of happiness. But who provides the gift? And who is the ultimate provider? If the consciousness does not synchronize immediately and focus on that point, you are not a yogi. That is called pratyahar: under any time, space and circumstance, under any pressure, depression or oppression, you do not forget the Infinite One.

“Pratyahar is also called the science of dedicated devotion. It is not simple devotion. Simple devotion is, “Thank you, God.” That’s simple devotion. But pratyahar is also dedication: when anything comes, you say, “Thank You, God, for making me thank You.”

– Yogi Bhajan, July 25, 1978. Excerpt from: I Am A Woman

For many of us who have decided to explore spirituality, we feel an inner longing to know God. There are different practices to do, various workshops we can attend, even special “spiritual vacations” to go on. Any moment we spend in prayer or meditation helps expand our awareness to know the Divine. But often, those moments are very private, very internal. Even if we chant in a room full of people, or do yoga with hundreds of others, the experience is within. The yogic science of pratyahar, however, challenges us to maintain our awareness of the One, even, and especially, when we interact with others.

It is funny how the human personality sometimes likes to play games. In many relationships, it’s about leverage. Who has what. Who wants what. And how do we maneuver to our best advantage. This is true in the board rooms of the largest corporations. It is equally true of a five year old trying to figure out how to get his parents to give him a cookie. We want. We desire. We chase. And in the commotion of those feelings, we forget. We forget the One who Does everything and who Gives everything.

The way Yogi Bhajan described pratyahar, it is a state of consciousness where whatever comes into one’s life, the mind recognizes the Infinite as the source. If someone gives me a gift, Thou art the real Giver. If someone insults me, this, too, comes from You. Pratyahar makes every day life the most powerful laboratory for expanding one’s awareness and seeing God in everything. Because we train our minds to see that what comes to us – good, bad or indifferent – comes from the Infinite One.

Pratyahar can be cultivated anywhere, anytime. It doesn’t need a cushion and a quiet room. It doesn’t require a weekend away. It can begin right here, right now, with whatever is in front of you. The computer screen you are using to read this, the cup of coffee on your desk, the meeting you are about to attend. Take a moment. Breathe. And ask your mind to see the Source that brought all of this into your life. Be grateful for it – whatever “it” is. If you can practice this way in each moment, every day, you will be amazed at how powerfully the presence of the Divine will reveal itself in your life.

With Divine Light and Divine Love.

Yours humbly,

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur Khalsa

Simple Healing Meditation for the Gulf, Thailand and the World

Sat Nam and many blessings to you. In 2001, after the September 11th attacks on New York City, Yogi Bhajan taught a very simple, but powerful meditation to send healing to those in need. Lately, I have been doing this meditation on my own - to send healing to the Gulf of Mexico, the people in Thailand, and others in my own life who need prayers.

Grateful to share this meditation and invite you to do it with me in the days and weeks ahead. You can do this meditation anywhere from 3 minutes to 11 minutes a day. Even if you spend just five minutes doing this meditation, you will feel the changes in yourself. And you shall tap your power to positively influence events through your prayers and intentions.

Sit with a straight spine, and have your neck aligned with the spine. If you like doing yoga, you can sit on the floor, in a relaxed, cross-legged posture. If you are not used to doing yoga, you can sit in a chair, with both feet firmly flat on the ground and sitting very straight. (No slouching.)

The hand posture (called a mudra) is to interlace your fingers in front of the heart center with the thumbs crossed. The fingers are interlaced, but the palms don't connect. The elbows are relaxed alongside the ribcage.

Close the eyes and do the following chant:

Raa Maa Daa Saa Saa Say So Hung.

the "aa" is pronounced like "ahhh."

The chant (called a mantra) means:

Oh sun, oh moon, oh earth, oh Infinite Cosmic Reality.
That Infinite Cosmic Reality - I am a part of it.

When Yogi Bhajan taught this meditation, he used the following recording for the students to chant along with:

http://www.spiritvoyage.com/flash/play.aspx?id=CDS-001236&case=ST&nm=Rhythmic_version&arnm=Gurunam%20Joseph%20Michael%20Levry

Continue holding this posture and chanting for 3-11 minutes. From your heart, reach out sincerely to those who are in pain and in need, all the creatures of the earth, and the people.

When you are done chanting, maintain the posture. Inhale deeply, suspend the breath and meditate on the power of the Universe to bring healing and balance to all situations. Project from your heart the healing to energy, and know that this breath is a healing breath. Then exhale. Repeat this breath two more times (for a total of 3 times) - then relax.

Your prayer has more power to heal than you know.

May we meet each other in the subtle space, collectively praying and healing the world.

With Divine Light and Divine Love.

Yours humbly,

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur

As a master of Kundalini Yoga, Yogi Bhajan shared thousands of meditations to help people face the challenges of every day life. His work is under the custodianship of the Kundalini Research Institute, www.kriteachings.org. Please visit the website if you would like to learn more. This Teachings of Yogi Bhajan are copyrighted by KRI.

Listen to It - In the Heart

Originally published on the Spirit Voyage blog: April 18, 2010.

"You have to develop an intuitive sense of communication so that you may not incur karma. Your total universe is based on one word spoken.

"If you can resound this mantra, this sound Har in the heart-center, in the rib-cage, you can control the universe. That power comes to every ordinary person. It is not that you listen to the sound Har in the ears, or speak it on the tongue. You are listening to it here – in the heart. The rib-cage actually represents the Universe. That is intuitive meditation.

"There are six sounds – Har, Haray, Hari, Wahe Guru. One who can hear these six sounds and control them in the rib-cage, there is nothing that person cannot hear. Once you start intuitively knowing and hearing what Mother Nature speaks, then you will know where you stand.” – Siri Singh Bhai Sahib Harbhajan Singh Khalsa Yogiji. March 21, 1995.

As humans, our lives are often filled with doubt. Every decision we make, every action we take, we constantly ask questions. Am I doing the right thing? Is this situation going to turn out the way I hoped? What will I do if things go wrong?

We believe that our minds can give us the answer. Actually, the mind doesn’t know anything. It is an analytical supercomputer. It can take one fact, one situation, and analyze it from so many different perspectives. Yet, it never reaches a final conclusion.

But your heart knows. It has the wisdom of your Infinite self. The spirit in you has come into this body, into this moment, for a purpose. Your job, as a human being, is to connect the mind and the body to that soul-purpose. When you do, your life becomes beautiful, fulfilling and complete.

In Kundalini Yoga, mantra gives us a technology to cut the thoughts of the mind and hear the Infinite voice – not just within ourselves, but within everything. The entire creation is singing. If we can hear that song within our own hearts, and hear the song in all that surrounds us, then we have tapped into the deepest communication known to humans. It is called “intuition.” It means – when I deeply listen to myself and when I deeply listen to all that is, then I know where I stand in relation to the Cosmos. Then I understand what to do so that my spirit can succeed in its journey.

Har is a very special, very powerful sound. It is the sound of the seed of Infinity. When your heart beats, it echoes that sound Har. When you chant Har, Har, Har, Har, and you focus your attention at the heart-center, you can recognize the sound of Infinity as the same sound that keeps you alive, moment to moment, heart-beat to heart-beat, day and night.

Har, Haray, Hari, Wahe Guru is a sound that takes the seed of the Infinite, Har, and expands it into form. Haray is the process by which the seed grows. Hari is the completion, the fruit that the seed bears. And all of this is done through the power of the Guru – the power of our own breath meditating on the Sounds of Truth that awaken us to light.

The rib-cage holds the breath that fuels the unfolding of our own Divine Identity: from seed to process to completion. Which is why Kundalini Yoga master Yogi Bhajan talks about resounding these mantras at the heart center, and in the rib cage. When our consciousness resonates with those Cosmic Sounds inside of ourselves, then we can communicate with and command the whole Universe.

With Divine Light,

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur Khalsa

Letting Go

When I was a young girl, my family lived in an old 2-story home in a quiet neighborhood in South Jersey. Our house was only a few blocks away from St. Rose of Lima, the Catholic elementary school that my brothers and sister and I attended. We used to walk to school every morning through the snows of winter and the honey-suckle blooming of spring. So many children lived on our street that summer became an endless game of bike-riding, catching lightning bugs and playing Blind Man’s Bluff.

I’d like to remember my childhood as idyllic. But I was a little too internal, introspective and bookish to fit in with more than a handful of friends. Those early years passed in the paradoxical angst of feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere; and having deep connections with a small group of people who understood what I meant, and felt exactly the same way.

Then, in the 8th grade, right before starting high school, my father got a job in Texas. We were moving. I would never see my friends again. (Or so I thought.) Even worse, I would never see that cute Italian (who shall remain nameless – but Liz – you know who I am talking about) again. It didn’t matter that the cute boy never looked at me, or that my closest friends promised to write. My life was comfortable. It was what I knew. And without having any say in the matter, it was about to completely change. My last day in New Jersey, as we pulled out of the driveway, the neighborhood kids rode past on their bicycles, waving and shouting good-bye. It was a teary but joyful escort away from the familiarity of my childhood home.

Since that time, letting go has been hard for me. I don’t like change. I want my life to be cozy, to have a sense of routine and stability. The same faces around for years; bonds and relationships that survive the test of time. I am not by nature a rolling stone. I am a stone that sits there, year after year, sinking deeper into the earth, covered with a soft, lacey moss while butterflies perch on me, and squirrels scamper across me, and the trees around me get older and more beautiful with the years. My ideal life is to be still, enjoy and watch everything in peace.

All of this is probably why, when the Universe needs to create transformation in my life, it tends to involve a Cosmic sledgehammer. Change rarely happens in my world in a slow and gradual manner. Rather, it comes through total upheaval, all at once, with nowhere to hide, no room for negotiation and definitely no road back.

I wish I could say that moving from New Jersey to Texas was the most traumatic experience of my life. But of course, it wasn’t. It was a child’s initiation into what the Masters call the “impermanence of life.”

I began studying yoga in my early 20’s. Yet, it is only in the last year that I have come to understand why yoga is connected with the image of the Divine called Shiva. Shiva – the Lord of Destruction. Shiva – the meditator and aesthetic. It isn’t so mystical, really. Destruction and endings are just so incredibly difficult to navigate that humans had to develop a way to cope. Perhaps yoga began as an experiment of how a person could keep himself sane while everything around him fell apart. Perhaps we reflect something in the Cosmic Play that mirrors an inner cycle within ourselves. Endings happen. Change is inevitable. Transformation can hardly be avoided. So how do we keep ourselves balanced through the experience? How do we handle letting go?

No one escapes the power of destruction. The problem is, from a spiritual point of view, destruction and learning go hand in hand. Sometimes, endings are the perfect path to find the inner strength of our own Indestructibility. It is only when we are touching the death of everything we know that we see within ourselves the Light that never dies. When the environments collapse, when the relationships no longer provide the support they once did, we have a chance to experience that we don’t actually depend on that, anyway. There is a soul in me, a spark of Divinity, a Divine Identity that can carry me through. And in that moment when we realize our survival depends upon what is within us, not on what surrounds us, then we experience ourselves as God.

The paradox of it is that you can’t have that experience when everything is cozy and nice and easy. That experience comes when everything challenges you and fights you – which is perhaps why Shiva, who represents the wisdom of yoga, also has to represent total annihilation. The path to self-realization requires the pressure that only intense change can bring.

The first week in Texas, I spent with my family in a condo at the beach along the Gulf Coast. I remember the sound of the ocean while I sat on the porch, the sun beaming down, the sand gritty in my teeth; and me, as usual, with my nose in a book. In the years ahead, it wasn’t that life was better or worse as a teenager than it was when I was a child. In retrospect, I dealt with many of the same challenges, and continued to experience many of the same blessings. It was simply on a bigger scale.

That is what I have found throughout my life. When something ends, after a time of repose, something new begins. Not better. Not worse. Just – more. More powerful. More expansive. More deep.

That, to me, is the nature of growth. We grow in cycles. When we’ve reached the limit of what we can learn and experience in one matrix of time and space, the Universe accommodates us – destroying one reality and replacing it with a something new. We go through so many cycles in the course of this life. And then even more cycles when this life, itself, needs to end in order for the soul to continue progressing. Destruction, wisdom, endings, union - they all work together in the Cosmic scheme of things.

But with destruction and endings, how do we survive them? The common sense, ages-old answer. Just BREATHE.

And how to touch the Divine within you? The foundation of all spiritual and yogic wisdom? Just BREATHE.

It’s taken me 20 years of study, but I finally understand. These are two sides of the same coin for a reason.

Yours humbly in Divine Light and Divine Love,

Ek Ong Kaar Kaur

Acts of Kindness

Originally published on SikhChic: http://www.sikhchic.com/history/acts_of_kindness

There is a story about Mata Damodari, Guru Hargobind''s wife, that I read several years ago in Max Macauliffe's The Sikh Religion.

It is my habit to go back to these volumes from time to time, searching especially for stories that involve women: stories that I find often present a deep lesson for me to meditate upon. Because, I feel that the spiritual journey of a woman is unique and different from the spiritual journey of a man. The pressures that women face are different, the psyches are different, the concerns are different. While the Guru Granth Sahib offers One Truth for all people, these stories often give insightful clues about how a woman can apply those truths to the particular challenges that she faces in life.

The story about Mata Damodari centers on her apparently innocent refusal to give her husband sweets for his Sikhs.

There is a powerful message in the story and it has haunted me from the first time that I read it.

The story goes that a group of traveling Sikhs came to visit Guru Hargobind late one night. They brought offerings for the Guru. The Sikhs were tired and hungry, having traveled a long distance. Being a gracious host, the Guru asked his sevadars to prepare them dinner. Unfortunately, the cooking fires had already been extinguished for the day, and the cooks had gone home.

Guru Sahib remembered that there was a room filled with sweets in anticipation of his daughter, Viro's, upcoming wedding. His wife Mata Damodari had the only key to the room. When the Guru asked his wife to open the room and to share the sweets with his hungry Sikhs, she refused. She didn't think it was appropriate for anyone to partake of the sweets until the bridegroom's family arrived and were served first, as was the custom then.

One has to wonder what thoughts Mata Damodari was struggliong with at that moment.

Yet, there is much in the image that evokes the insecurity Mataji must have felt about the upcoming wedding. Only she had the key to the room. Which means she must have been concerned that someone was going to take the sweets that were meant for her daughter's marriage.

Maybe it is too simplistic to say it, but in my own experience that territoriality is something that we women, especially, can get caught in. We want to lock up what we believe is rightfully ours and use it for our own purposes. Men might be more inclined to think, "What's the big deal? You can always find more sweets." But women sometimes suffer from a deeper insecurity. When we have something, we can cling to it fiercely rather than letting it go and trusting that something of equal or better value could come along to replace it.

In any event, the Guru asked her to bring them out.

Mataji refused.

The Guru requested again.

Mataji refused again, citing her reasons - she did not want to offend the bridegroom's family..

The requests and refusals went on and on until the Guru finally gave up. But when he surrendered the fight, he also predicted the outcome.

"My Sikhs are dearer to me than life. If they were the first to taste the sweets, all the obstacles to the marriage would have been removed. But now the Mughal forces will come and take the sweets for, themselves. When traveling Sikhs come to our house and leave disappointed, it is a just consequence that the sweets should go to strangers and the marriage be interrupted."

When I meditate upon this scene in my mind, I don't believe the Guru was rebuking his wife for refusing to abide by his request. Rather, I believe he was trying to help her understand the principles of Hukam, and the Hand of the One that guides everything.

Ultimately, there are no coincidences.

The art of life is to respond to what is - to what happens in each moment.

By meditating on gurbani, we develop an intuitive sensitivity that allows us to see that Unseen Hand at work, and to consciously flow with it.

Sometimes, though, we have a picture in our minds of what we want the future should look like. And we challenge any situation that doesn't match the picture of what we think "should be." When we cannot flow with the demand of the moment, when we become protective and territorial over what we have, even when another person needs our help, it creates a negative consequence. When we are selfish, we attract our own destruction. Especially around the very thing we are being selfish about.

So Mata Damodari, who protected the sweets for her daughter's wedding to the point of refusing her husband's hospitality to the guests, found herself in a very different situation on the wedding day. A situation she could have never possibly imagined or prepared herself for.

An argument broke out during a hunting expedition between a group of Sikhs and a platoon of Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan's troops. And because of the argument, the Emperor sent his General, Mukhlis Khan, to punish the Sikhs.

News of the pending attack arrived in Amritsar on the evening that the marriage songs for Viro's wedding were being sung by the women in the Guru's home. The family and other citizens of Amritsar had to pack quickly and leave. Many valuables for the wedding were left behind, including the sweets.

A contingent of 25 Sikhs remained behind at the Lohgarh fort on the outskirts of Amritsar and fought the Emperor's troops bravely. Though they killed hundreds, eventually, they fell. The Emperor's forces made it to the Guru's palace. They did not find the Guru there, but they did find the sweets.

The Guru's family was taken at first to Ramsar. When they arrived, they realized a terrible mistake had been made. Not only were many of the valuables for the marriage left in Amritsar, somehow Viro, herself, had been left behind, as well. Guru Hargobind charged two of his men with rescuing his daughter. She was hiding silently in the upper floors of the home while the Emperor's forces were gorging themselves on the sweets that the Guru's family had left behind. The two Sikh men, Singha and Babak, succeeded in rescuing Viro, but barely.

What follows in Macauliffe's history is another nine pages describing the subsequent military maneuvers and battles between Guru Hargobind's forces and Mukhlis Khan's.

Scenes of bravery.

Scenes of bloodshed.

And so very many deaths - deaths on the side of the Emperor's forces, death of the Guru's faithful Sikhs. Guru Hargobind eventually destroyed Mukhlis Khan's large army, to the Emperor's dismay. The bridegroom's party joined the Guru's family in Jhabal where Viro was married at last. But what a different wedding than had been planned.

This story shakes me to my core.

Is it really the truth that by refusing to share her sweets, Mata Damodari attracted a war? Can such acts of selfishness have such consequences? If Mata Damodari had allowed the Guru those sweets for the Sikhs, would it have averted all the deaths that followed? All the pain and suffering of the families on both sides who lost someone they loved?

Is this then, the essence of Hukam, of Cosmic Law?

That we do have, as human beings, the choice to say no, to refuse, to maintain our territory. But those choices come with consequences more dire than what we can imagine or predict?

In the Big Picture, Guru Hargobind had his own destiny to fight the battles that he fought. And the One Hand does moves us all, even when we make a choice that can lead down a dark road.

What meditating upon this story gives me, however, is a sense that - when it comes to the battle of Dharma - small acts of kindness, of giving, and of sharing contribute to the peace of the world in more powerful ways than we know.

The lesson in Mata Damodari's choice illustrates to me how important and consequential those small acts of kindness - or unkindness - can truly be.

March 9, 2010