Swami and the Married Woman

My Friend, the Self-Reliant

2011-01-09T05:19:00.001-08:00

Right now I am surrounded by opportunities for new beginnings, which has been encouraging me to move past my strong self-reliant nature. The forces at play are all very positive, but that doesn't make this interior shift of recognizing and transcending old worn out patterns of reacting any easier.

I first became aware of the negative consequences of being overly independent in the 1980s when I took Hakomi Therapy training with its founder Ron Kurtz. The system was inspired by the work of psychoanalyst Wilhelm Reich who had combined the work of his teacher (Sigmund Freud himself) to explore the connection between the psyche and our physical body.

My body type was what Reich called a compensated-oral, which Ron had thankfully renamed to the more positive-sounding "Self-Reliant." People with this body type/psychic orientation react to stress by concluding ‘I have to do it myself because there is no one here for me’.

Out of the sixty-one years I've been on this planet, probably at least fifty-three of them have been dominated by this need to control my surroundings. My dad still tells the story of how, as a two-year old, I would demand a wet washcloth when eating in my high chair, just in case any food spilled I would wipe it up immediately. Clearly, I learned at an early age that if you want to get something done you had to do it yourself.

On the up side, a self-reliant is a motivated individual who knows how to take control of a situation and get things done; but there is a down side to that particular personality trait - you do not know how to ask for help.

My experience and training as a meditator has taught me that this Self-Reliant voice only takes over the mind's operating system when I'm out of balance. It's my default defense mechanism, and when activated it creates a feeling of being all alone. As a result, I believe (incorrectly) that I have to take control because if no one is there for me, then who else is going to do it?

Unfortunately, this society valorizes this type of behavior, ignorant of the fact that it leaves people lost at sea without a sail, an engine, or even an oar in order to get them safely back to shore.

Gary as a lonely Self-Reliant, 1973

Fast forward to 2011. For the last six years I have been writing The Swami And The Married Woman, a memoir of how Radha and I discovered yoga, met, fell in love and lived happily ever after. As Radha will surely testify, part of this 'happily ever after' included learning to live with someone whose erroneous core belief causes him to think he has to do everything himself – not exactly a recipe for intimacy.

But, when this is erroneous core belief isn't activated, I can handle the stress without cutting off others from my process. I have come to notice that there are two self-reliants within me. One is unhappy and lonely; the other is confident, flexible and encourages others to be a part of his process.

Gary as a content Self-Reliant, 38 years later

I appreciate that the work Radha and I have undertaken in the past few months has given me the tools to deal with the pressures without falling back into self- limiting old patterns. Just thinking about all that has to be done to accept the amazing invitations we've been receiving can be a bit overwhelming – our memoir, the Enlightening Moments book and manual, seminars, my consulting work, my private clients, my hatha classes – it takes a lot of practice to respond to these demands without falling into my self-limiting belief.

Moreover, it takes a lot of patience from those around me. This is why I appreciate Radha, our assistant Kalyani, and all the loving, supportive members of our spiritual community (sangha). Learning to ask others for help is a rewarding process, and you know what? It feels good to acknowledge weaknesses, limitations and that lonely feeling tightening around my chest.

I am ready to move forward by making friends with my self-reliant nature.

Tis the Season... To Be Playful!

2010-12-21T04:52:00.000-08:00

We live in a world filled with uncertainty, and in my work with clients I assist individuals in dealing with the frustration caused by the economic downturn, the unconsciousness surrounding global warming, and the glaring abuses occurring in the political arena. They are all compassionate, successful and conscious individuals, but they have one thing in common – in one way or another, they want a healthier relationship with the ever-changing world. In this time of tremendous upheaval, individuals who have not yet learned to flow with insecurity and change suffer needlessly. But, as the saying goes, or to give credit where credit is due, as Radha has told me many times: "All work and no play makes Gary a boring guy."

even cement mixers love the holidays in Vancouver

We're spending a month at our home in Vancouver before returning to Florida for a few months of teaching, completing our memoir that has the same name as this blog, writing our Enlightening Moments Book and workbook, and visiting friends. This is the first time we've experienced the Holiday spirit à la Canadian, and it has been wonderful. The Holiday tree in our family room meant we could pull out of storage in the basement the ornaments, lights and assorted Christmas decorations that have been sitting boxed up for three years now. What a joy to feel the ‘Light-ness’ of the season.

sitting around the fire, thankful for all life offers

(Did you notice that Buddha put on antlers for the Holidays!)

Last evening we prepared a vegetarian meal for a young couple and their two children, Anika and Luke. We have known the dad, Solan since he was a child living in the Himalayas with his parents, and it was with great joy that we got to spend an evening playing with the kids (in all of us). This happy family took part in our new tradition: picking a hat and one of the two cardboard glasses, which project either snowflakes or Christmas trees onto each light source. All of our guests feel a bit odd at first, but then people begin smiling at their own personal light show. Radha and I take pleasure in watching the transformation right before our eyes.

Solan and Shauna

and their son Luke

I am, of course, prepared with a camera to mark the occasion. Some of our friends begin to sway back and forth (intensifying the light show) while others just display some form of childlike behavior that immediately gets us all laughing. It's so much fun to play!

laughter and dinner with friends

Playtime is especially important given the difficult times we're living in. Not adult play time, and by that I mean some serious activity that requires us to focus like skiing, hiking, watching movies or anything a five year is not able to do. I'm talking about just letting down the barriers of self-consciousness that keep the child in us from leaping out manifesting some spontaneous outburst of play!

Gabrielle kissing reinbears – ooh la la!

For example, what would be your response to two nine-foot ginger bread cookies walking down the street?

Granville Island playtime

Or going into a hat store spending an hour entertaining the staff as we all pick out my Christmas present from Radha.

Jeffrey and Sandi help me choose a hat

We need to play, to let go of the demands of ‘adult-life’, to just be silly like a little child coming over for dinner wearing something a little different.

starring in 'The Tale of the Tiger'... Ronin!

I woke this morning to see out the window two joggers. One was wearing blinking red and green antlers; Her partner was running with two red Christmas stockings attached to his chest. I laughed and appreciated that two people were willing to let their ‘little-athlete’ go out for a run in the chilly air! I love to play, feeling the child inside of me come alive. Laughter somehow opens me to knowing that as challenging as living an adult life may be- there is always a lighter side to it. Why not hold hands with Frosty?

Radha and her frosty friend

Or give a snowman a hug?

love to hug a snowman

Life can be intense, but it is always short. A smile to a stranger, a cheerful hello while shopping, and the willingness to jump out of old patterns to be down right silly makes life so rewarding.

new and exciting renditions of traditional holiday music

Last Saturday we donned our holiday hats driving down to Hastings and Main Street to assist in serving eight hundred baked potatoes with butter, sour cream, chives and cheese to our dear homeless friends on the margins of society. Being playful in the face of such harsh inequality can be a challenge, but we spent an hour serving them, and they gratefully accepted our love, lifting our spirits and allowing us to once again experience the joy of the season.

Gary and Jeffrey on Spud Patrol

It is a time of reflection on the past year, and a joyful positive attitude regarding the coming year. So my wish is that I continue to jump on every invitation to play, to laugh, to cry, to offer love, to share and to look into your eyes and recognize the playful being within. Radha and I are thankful for all the gifts. We wish your all a time to play with each other during the coming year ahead. It is a time to recognize how cooperation and compassion strikes a deep chord within. We need each other, and in spite of our the stressful challenges on the path, we look everyone in the eyes with playful joy and love recognizing the little child is ready, willing and able to accept all that Santa offers.

Radha's great-grand niece Josephine with Santa

Reflections After a Month In India

2010-11-09T04:24:00.000-08:00

I'm currently en route to Florida, where I will spend three weeks with dear friends, teaching, coaching and spending time with a remarkable spiritual community. We've shared yoga and meditation for over twenty years together, and the time will also give me an opportunity to soak up some sunshine, walk the beach, and recover from a remarkable one-month trip to Mother India.

Although this was my eighteenth time to the birthplace of the Vedas, I was most definitely deeply affected by the trip. Maybe it’s because I'm sixty years old, or because I had been away for ten years, or just possibly I was ready for what Bharata had in store for me.

Over the years Yoga has formed the foundation of my personal and professional life. These ancient teachings have guided me in living harmoniously with my Self, others, and Mother Nature. In particular, they have taught me that it is by giving you receive.

The trip began in Mumbai:

the Taj Hotel in Mumbai

Refusing to let the jet lag slow us down, Radha and I immediately set about exploring Kerala together:

the fishing village near our hotel

The second week began with the arrival of Kalyani and Alannah, and the four of us visited the Valley of the Gods in the Himalayas. It was here that we processed and completed a big chapter of our life.

Dikpal, Gary, and Radha

On the last half of our journey, we were joined by fifteen more friends and students on a Yatra (Sanskrit for 'spiritual pilgrimage') that combined spiritual practices with visiting remarkable places in Northern India.

the group makes a pit stop on the way to Jaipur

The entire trip went smoothly, and we were all thankful for the opportunity to share the sights, sounds, tastes and experiences that India offers. I also noticed something subtler, a shift inside of me. As I reviewed the photos people in the group had taken of me, I had an interesting reaction to seeing how my body had gotten older.

Kalyani, Gary and Radha

Now, I don't mind growing older. There is a sense of ease that I am experiencing as I age, and forty years of yoga have kept me healthy. Most times I feel as if I have an endless supply of energy, but I was nonetheless surprised to notice that I really do have a sixty-year old body. It goes deeper than the obvious fact that my hair is turning a stylish grey as it migrates south from the top of my head to my nose and ears. It's more than the fact I look at my hands and it reminds me of my grandfather, or that the elasticity in my skin has changed. I smile each time I look in the mirror and see that my face is beginning to resemble my Dad’s.

my Dad's 86th birthday party

Actually, looking like my dad is oddly comforting. Yet, being in India created a shift in my perspective. I need to prioritize. Life is short, and you never know what is going to happen next.

I returned with a fuller appreciation for my Radha, and reviewing photographs of my dear wife awakened a tremendous gratitude for all the years we have spent together. We first traveled together to India in 1978:

Radha in Rishikesh, 1978

It was her first trip there, my second, and on this pilgrimage we visited some of the very same places from which we just returned. I was taken by how we are gracefully growing older together. I think I first noticed it during one of those tortuous bus rides to Jaipur, as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders in a futile attempt to cushion her from the punishing jolts as the bus lumbered across the bumpy road.

the shocks hadn't been replaced since the colonial era

I have noticed that my relationship to mortality is front and center. This could have easily been influenced by our time with the Bengal tiger. I am still processing the shock of watching it hunt and kill a deer right in front of me. The awe and power of that experience brought to mind the fragility, speed and temporary nature of life.

the Lady of the Lakes

It seems like only yesterday that I was a twenty-six year old Swami, but photos of this trip reveal to me things have certainly changed. Thank you, Lady of the Lakes, for that reminder.

Gary (Swami Sudhananda) leading a group of in 1975

Lastly, as I was leading the group in chanting and meditation on the banks of the Ganges, just two days before we headed back home, there was an outpouring of emotion. I had felt it earlier in the day as we were all meditating at the Maha Samadhi Shrine of Swami Sivananda who was my Guru’s teacher.

the group at Sivananda ashram

At that time a huge wave of thankfulness swept over me. With tears in my eyes, I stood before the puja ceremony and silently thanked Swami Sivananda for so expertly teaching my Guruji Swami Satchidananda in the practices and philosophy of Raja Yoga – practices and knowledge that my Guruji subsequently taught me.

Gary, Radha and Swami Satchidananda

However, when I took five cold plunges into the glacial waters of the Ganges, a sudden realization overcame me: I am a western Yogi who has been given the opportunity to uniquely share the teachings of Yoga as I am living and experiencing them. There are no words for the gratitude I feel for all that I have been given.

Radha and Gary, 1978

Ironically, it was only in the final hours of the trip that I hit a snag. I was assisting our group into the Delhi airport, and somewhere along the way I dropped my wallet. I left India the same way I had during the very first trip when I was a renunciate.

So, here I sit touched by my experience of India, knowing something has shifted inside of me. I do not need to know what exactly that is, and I trust that staying in this state of openness will allow me to remain available to the invitations that inevitably arrive.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti.

Where Did the Ganges Go?

2010-11-04T14:03:00.000-07:00

We arrived at our hotel in Haridwar after a one-hour flight from Delhi to Dehradun, and walking from the plane I relished being back in the rarified air of the Himalayas. During the hour-long ride from the airport I noticed both the amazing changes that have taken place since my first trip in 1975, as well as the excitement of knowing that I would soon be bathing in the Ganges.

The Mother Ganges is one of the three holy rivers of India, which finds its source high in the Himalayas. Pilgrims travel not only from throughout India, but also from around the globe for the opportunity to wash away their sins in Haridwar (its name means 'the gate of Lord Vishnu').

pilgrims in the water of the Mother Ganga

Fifteen miles (and an hour drive) up river from Haridwar is Rishikesh:

'Home of the Rishis'

Rishikesh became a household name in 1968 when the Beatles visited the ashram of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. This was the place where the Beatles composed the music and lyrics to The White Album, and John lived in this cottage:

Look closely, does the number of the cottage ring a bell?

Both cities are known for their pursuit of spiritual wisdom, offering only vegetarian cuisine and serving no alcohol. The fish grow as large as dolphins and come up to eat right out of your hand.

In Rishikesh it's against the law to kill anything.
They even have a natural, non-lethal cockroach spray!

My favorite story isn't about the Beatles, though, but rather the legend of how this sacred river came to be. Mother Ganga was concerned that if she came directly down from heaven, it would harm her children on the Earth below. Lord Shiva gave the perfect solution, allowing the water to fall onto the top of his head and then flow from the Himalayas into the plains of eastern India. Depictions of Lord Shiva therefore often show the Ganga flowing from his head:

Lord Shiva

Arriving at our hotel, I was shocked to discover that the Ganges was a mere trickle compared to how I remembered it:

in the distance the Ganga trickles along

'Where did the Ganges go?’ I wondered.

the photo behind Sandy, Erica, and Fern
shows the Ganges flowing at its best

It turns out that it was diverted so they could clean the riverbed in preparation for the Festival of Diwali, five days of celebration and gift giving observed by Hindus, Sikhs, and Jainists alike. It is often called the 'festival of lights, and ‘Happy Diwali’ was heard throughout our travels the last few days of the tour.

workers cleaning the riverbed in preparation for Diwali

Sadly, the sight of the dry riverbed also reminded us that the glaciers high in the Himalayas are rapidly decreasing because of global warming. Some estimate that during our lifetime the Ganges will be dry, and as we watched the people cleaning out the riverbed, I couldn't help but wonder what the future holds for the tens of millions of people dependent on Mother Ganga.

Every evening thousands of people come out to chant
and thank Mother Ganges for being in their life. It is AWESOME!

In Haridwar we took a cable car up to the Chandi Devi Temple, which is dedicated to the goddess Mansa Mata and sits atop a mountain overlooking the Ganges. The King of Kashmir, Suchat Singh, established the temple in 1929 and worshipers believe that the temple's main statue (murti) dates back to the 8th Century and was placed there by a great saint of India named Adi Shankracharya.

cable car to Chandi Devi Temple

That night the group enjoyed a rooftop satsang:

Gary with Michael and Liz
(It's cool at night!)

By far though, the entire group was most taken by Rishikesh, where for thousands of years yogis have gathered to practice meditation, prayer and chanting. It's also home to the Sivananda Ashram, where my Guruji Swami Satchidanada studied with Swami Sivananda:

the group at the Sivananda Ashram

And a close-up of the pillar behind us:

This was our theme song during my years with
Swami Satchidananda at the Integral Yoga Institute.

There are swamis, naga babas, yogis, Sikhs and every combination of spiritual seeker here, each of them with one goal in mind – to experience liberation (moksha). Our group chanted on a beach, meditated, and then dipped our mala beads into the river. Then Kalyani and I took five quick dips in the freezing cold glacial water.

Gary and Kalyani, moments before dunking themselves

The group spent two days soaking up the holy vibrations in this home of the Rishis (divinely-inspired poets and sages), and we left knowing that we will always carry the vibration of this special place in our hearts. Upon returning to Haridwar in the evening, we were all excited to hear Mother Ganga once again shouting to us. The riverbed had been cleaned and the mighty water that bathes, nourishes and purifies millions of Indians was flowing once more.

the Mother Ganga returned to her glory

Tale of the Tiger

2010-10-27T14:10:00.001-07:00

We met the granddaughter of the renowned Lady of the Lakes two days ago while visiting the Ranthambhore National Park southeast of Jaipur:

Ranthambhore is home to about 50 tigers.

The grandmother was very famous and even has her own Facebook page; and now her granddaughter, the present Lady of the Lakes, rules a large section of the park. Her queendom is absolute, and no other female dare come into her domain. Sadly, however, the Bengal tiger is approaching extinction, and parks like this one make it possible for visitors' proceeds to add to the fund that is trying to protect the tigers.

Tigers have only one predator - humans.

Male tigers have to wait until they hear the female's powerful roar signaling that it's okay to enter their territory. A separate roar serves as a mating invitation, and vying for this privilege caused two male tigers to fight to the death in Ranthambhore just last year.

These giant cats are elusive by nature, and our guide told us that most groups only see them for brief glimpses. There have been several documentaries depicting her exploits, and needless to say we felt privileged to share time with her and take these pictures.

When we first came upon her, our driver/tracker had already shut down our canter (an open air truck that carries twenty people). He signaled everyone to be silent and then listened intently.

The surrounding area had suddenly become exceptionally quiet except for the shrill cries of some birds. Then came another sound, one I didn't recognize, which the driver told us was the warning sound of the local spotted deer. They knew that a tiger was on the prowl.

The cool early morning air seemed to make everything sharper, and we saw that she was coming our way. The whole group was frozen with surprise. Right in front of us was the Queen of the Lakes. These images show what happened next:

She walked to a high spot not far from our vehicle and sat down.

Then let out a huge yawn.

Before she settled into licking her paws and cleaning her face.

And took a look around.

Her gaze settled on us, and the animal stared eerily into our eyes.
We were only 30 feet away.

After about ten minutes the Lady of the Lake suddenly got up and began walking towards a grassy area in front of her. A herd of spotted dear starting making alarm sounds as they fled, and the tigress headed straight for the high grass. Our driver told us there was a baby deer hiding there – he had heard it crying for its mother.

The tiger found the deer in a matter of minutes, and after playing with it for an interminable ten minutes, she walked directly in front of our canter with a four-day-old fawn, still alive in her mouth.

Only twice per year does she allow guests to be present at her meals.

The Lady of the Lakes seemed almost proud of the kill as she walked towards the water, disappearing into the tall grass as a seven-year old girl in the canter behind us began crying. Through her sobs I heard the word ‘Bambi’.

I have counseled a number of people through the dying process, and sat with them as they drew their last breaths, but I have never experienced anything like this before. To be in the middle of such a primal event was breathtaking, and this was easily one of the most powerful experiences of my life. Most of us are far-removed from these truths, and as a whole our society has sanitized death by turning it into nothing more than a documentary on the Discovery Channel or a photograph in National Geographic. This, however, was stark reality:

We chanted prayers for the young deer and celebrated the awesome power of Mother Nature in the form of Kali Tiger. Life is ever entwined with death, and while I am still processing this experience, I know that it serves as a poignant, beautiful and terrifying reminder of the impermanence of life on the physical plane.

Love at the Taj Mahal

2010-10-26T04:32:00.001-07:00

Imagine someone that you love, someone who has been the love of your life since you were both nineteen years old, is about to pass away. This person looks into your eyes, and with her dying breath asks you for three promises.

one of the Seven Wonders of the World

No, I am not writing a soap opera, or a movie script, I am telling the tale that created one of the seven wonders of the world: the Taj Mahal.

millions visit here each year

Our tour guide Luv told us this story as we reached Agra the other day. This city of 2 million people is just 250 km from Delhi and home to the most beautiful building I have ever seen.

Taj as seen through the north gate

Agra was home to Shah Jahan, the 17th century noble who ruled much of present-day India and Pakistan. He and his wife Muntaz could not bear to be apart, and so, when it came time to lead his troops into southern India, she accompanied him riding atop an elephant. Now, I’ve ridden an elephant for a short distance, and it makes riding an Indian bus seem like a Mercedes Benz. The results of this decision proved to be tragic.

riding a camel is only slightly better than an elephant

Muntaz died during childbirth, but the child - a baby girl - miraculously survived. It was the fourteenth time she had given birth, and the first promise the Shah made was to take care of the remaining children – three girls and four boys.

notice the symmetry from every angle?

Shah Jahan was the grandson of the Mughal king who had conquered northern India two generations earlier, and his grandfather Akbar ordered the construction of dozens of spectacular buildings, many of which are standing to this day.

our assistant Kalyani

The second promise Shah Jahan made to Muntaz was never to marry again. While this might sound reasonable to us today, for the time and culture it was unheard of. The nobility practiced polygamy in Shah Jahan's day, and, in fact, Muntaz was his third wife. In spite of this, Shah Jahan kept his promise and never married again.

this screen is made from a single piece of translucent marble

The third promise made to his dying wife was to create a monument to their love.

Gary with his beloved Radha

This breathtaking mausoleum is the reason we braved six hours of traffic before reaching Jaypee Palace, our hotel located just ten minutes from the Taj Mahal. Furthermore, security around the Taj is tremendous, and unlike the nine other visits Radha and I have made to Agra, it took us over an hour to go through the screening process. It was worth every second of the process, though, and our group was able to see the Taj illuminated by the full moon sky.

views of the East Gate security checkpoint

We got back to our hotel by 1:30 AM, slept, and returned in the next morning to spend a few hours in at the Taj in the daylight.

Gary practicing his tree pose

Radha and I have visited certain places on the planet that seem to be portals to another dimension, and many people believe that places like Chartres Cathedral in France or Stonehenge in England are places where lines of energy intersect. Civilizations build on these same locations time and time again, drawn by the magnetism of something from beyond. The Taj Mahal is one of these places.

The Taj simply takes your breath away, and even though it's impossible to take it all in, it's equally impossible to pull your eyes away. The photos speak for themselves, and suffice to say that everyone in our group wished they had more time to spend at the Taj. Radha and I agreed, telling them that we felt unsatisfied after every visit. We have spent entire days just sitting on the lawn staring, meditating and absorbing in the beauty.

Our theory about the Taj Mahal is that the building's physical beauty is a mere teaser. The real experience is the feeling it inspires in everyone who sees it. Take a close look at the above photo, then close your eyes and follow the intense sensation deep within your mind. You will reach a place that is always with you - the emotion of love.

It has been said many times, and in many ways,
that Love is a reflection of the Divine.

Cooperation Is Alive and Well (In India)

2010-10-23T08:24:00.000-07:00

Radha and I have been traveling in India for over two weeks now, and the rest of our group (nearly twenty altogether) arrived two days ago. In this short period we have already bonded into a cohesive unit that is not only having fun, but also looking out for one another.

our group recognizes the "one"ness of all things

It took two years of meticulous planning (thank you, Radha and Kalyani) to organize this trip; and our tour company, Indus Travel in Vancouver, decided our group should be given the name Sadhana because meditation, hatha, and spiritual teachings are an integral part of our journey. Sadhana is the Sanskrit word that means ‘to hold the vision-of-Oneness' and is also used to describe an individual’s spiritual practices.

the Durga puja from earlier in the week

To prepare for our journey through North India, we suggested that the Sadhana group read Jeffery Armstrong’s The Spiritual Teachings of the Avatar and watch the animated film Sita Sings The Blues. We wanted everyone to understand the deep spiritual heritage of this remarkable country, and both the book and the movie provide accessible, inspiring updates to classic tales found in the Ramayana.

Karen, Satyum and Radha (from left to right)
on the way to Piccadilly Book Shop in Old Delhi

On the first morning, even though almost everyone had arrived only a few hours before, I taught a hatha class that included chanting, pranayama, asanas, mudras, kriyas and meditation - everyone was alive with excitement!

after 18 hours on a plane, everyone needs to stretch

After touring Delhi, we boarded the bus for the four-hour ride to Agra, where we will experience a midnight full moon viewing of the Taj Mahal tonight at midnight. As the Indian landscape passed by the large windows, I taught a pranayama class, led more chanting (the Gayatri and Maha Mirtyajaya mantras), and offered another meditation. I even instructed a special 'bus hatha' class:

the spinal twist is easily confused with rubber-necking

All of this, of course, occurred while the bus bounced and weaved through the insane traffic surrounding Delhi. There's nothing like a traffic jam to open the nadis, awaken the kundalini, and oxygenate the blood!

traffic as far as the eye can see, but no road rage

India is the birthplace of the Vedas and Yoga, and for thousands of years the emphasis here has been on the attainment of perfect union between our material and divine existence. Take, for example, our tour guide Luv, who just won this year’s national award for ‘best tour guide’:

Luv is a wealth of knowledge

In Sanskrit Luv describes the emotional experience of being connected to the Divine realms, and I would be willing to bet that it is also the root of our English word love. There is this beautiful blending of the realms here in India, where it is commonplace to name people using the same words that are used to describe the most holy of experiences.

Gopal means 'protector of the cow' in Sanskrit

Beyond all the apparent chaos here is an underlying order. Thousands of people, cars, cows, three-wheelers, dogs, rickshaws, water buffalo, trucks, camels, taxis, bicyclists, buses, and carts of all kinds are everywhere; and yet, everyone is moving along effortlessly. Merging is an art in this country, and no one gets upset because everyone is cooperating with one other. We keep seeing examples of this everywhere we go:

bicycles and rickshaws share the road

brothers share a special moment

this angora rabbit shares its fur

this mother shares its milk

these yaks share their fur and milk (when they're not 'yak'ing it up)

families share scooters

Gary and Radha share water

We hear shop keepers and hotel staff telling us over and over again, “It is no problem’. True, part of it is just them doing their jobs, but there is also something deeper. Their calm, accepting looks indicate that they experience a state of peace rarely seen in the West. What we as yogis practice tapping into amidst the greed and speed of West is a given here.

the women donned burkas to enter the mosque in Delhi

Before India was the largest democracy in the world, before they had the biggest middle class in the world, before all these tremendous changes that have occurred in the sixty-three years since independence – India had already written the book on how to live in harmony together. Cooperation here is divinely inspired, even in the most mundane circumstances. Thank you, India, for reminding us that living together in perfect harmony is possible with by merely changing perspective.

Namaste!

Eight Days a Week

2010-10-22T03:23:00.000-07:00

The next voice in our celebration of India comes from Kalyani who has been our assistant in Florida for the past three years. She is a remarkable young woman and entrepreneur who has not only owned her own yoga studio, but also worked counseling children with autism and their families. Without further ado...

Eight Days a Week

- by Carlee 'Kalyani' Cohen

I've been in India eight days so far, and - amazingly - my fiancé back in Florida has managed not to touch the block of cheese I left for him.

This bears explaining.

Jeremy works at a local theater, and he and his work friends have this theory: When your significant other is away, you're allowed to sit around in your underwear and eat a giant block of cheese. I've told him more than once that this reasoning is flawed, but before leaving I couldn't help but buy a small block of cheese (French no less!) and leave it in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator.

A couple of days ago, though, something happened that made me change my understanding of what constitutes a giant block of cheese:

how does one store a kilo's worth of cheese?

I'm an avid photographer so I've been taking lots of pictures on this trip, snapping pictures with my digital camera but also glad I brought along my film camera as well. (Remember when the word 'film' was implied by camera?) So much is different here. I mean, have you ever come across a mountainside chai stand in the Rockies?

Radha, Gary and Allanah talking with the owner

As you might guess from this picture, there are dogs everywhere in India. Dogs and mosquitoes and cows and goats and horses roaming the streets, which I think is really, really cool (except the mosquitoes, of course):

cars use this road, too!

I really liked this one because he's distinguished-looking, like a chocolate lab:

Sometimes I see things that remind me of home. Jeremy, for example, is obsessed with Converse One Stars and has about a ten pairs tucked into various nooks and crannies around our apartment. When I saw these hanging in a vendor's stall, I couldn't help but take a picture:

What I love about this photograph is that you can see other pairs of Converse in the background, and the shoes are basically strung up like these prayer flags across the Beas River:

how did they do that?

The Beas is the second holiest river in India (after the Ganges), and it runs through Kullu, where we spent a couple of days earlier in the week. This river is so powerful I could feel the energy washing over and through me as I sat to meditate. The sound was immense.

We also took some amazing hikes, which reminded me of this past summer in the mountains of North Carolina (see photos here). The mountains here are waaaaay bigger though, and Gary took this picture of me at one of the overlooks:

I don't remember if the view looked towards Kashmir or Tibet, but it was absolutely breathtaking. There also patches of beautiful marigolds growing in various meadows and yards:

One thing India doesn't have (or at least the areas around Kullu and Manali) is real coffee. Since a person can only drink so much chai in a single day, I've been drinking Nescafé instead:

This is just a snippet of my first eight days in India, and we're back in New Delhi now. The rest of our group arrived last night, and we spent this morning on a short tour that included Gandhi's memorial as well as a local mosque. We have the best tour guide in the world (named 'Luv' – how cool is that!) and leave tomorrow morning for Agra. I can't wait to see the Taj Mahal, especially since we're going to be there for the full moon!

Thank you for allowing me to share part of this adventure, and I hope to write more soon. Peace.

for more on Carlee 'Kalyani' Cohen and her company
Breathe, Release, Repeat: click here

HIgh on the Himalayas

2010-10-17T08:31:00.000-07:00

As part of our celebration of India, Radha and I have decided to feature the perspectives of some of the people with us on our journey. We met this amazing woman not long after moving to Vancouver, and over the past two years she has become a trusted friend, a valued colleague, and a frequent visitor to our home.

High on the Himalayas

- by Allanah Mooney

Today a holy man put red paste on my forehead. I left an offering at a temple in the woods of Northern India– just a few rupees for Ganesha, and then rang the bell on the way out.

holy man in Manali

At the temple, we were rock stars. Blue eyed, curly blonde haired people from the West. We made friends with people from Calcutta, and we will be in their holiday pictures and us in theirs.

on the count of three, everyone say "paneer"!

A taxi driver told us, “Canada is very good. You have no enemies.” – I felt proud and realized that I am a Canadian Ambassador and must keep this goodwill going. So I now carry chocolate to offer the children we photograph, and rupees to tip our drivers and service people, and biscuits to feed hungry street dogs, and I will be sure to give thanks and a smile wherever I go. I do not want to make any enemies for Canada!

Allanah children in Manali

We went to the Tibetan Market, and with Gary acting as my bargaining agent, I bought a statue of Durga. I decided she is the God of my business (Lionheart Communications) – and that she could bless us and keep us on the right path at the office. Durga is the embodiment of creative feminine force – plus she never loses her sense of humor, even during spiritual battles of epic proportion. I got this info from Wikipedia, but the shopkeeper provided some important additional details: Turns outs that Durga can help with sex – or more specifically she tackles any troubles you may have with Venus. You give Durga offerings on Friday – white flowers, and then she can bless your house of love.

So we left the market with Durga tucked in her pink wrap under my arm and headed back through the shops towards our car and driver. Then, we happened upon a festival – guess what festival? Durga Puja Festival of course! Fan-fricking-tastic! It was exhilarating – so many colors and beating drums and dances, and purple chalk flying around. Joyous madness - all for the love of Durga.

Allanah standing in front of Durga

I got water thrown on me from another holy man and more red paste for my forehead. Gary got me a red ribbon blessing that I tied on the big Durga and one for the small Durga. They carried the Durga through the streets triumphant in her Goddess glory. I was carried back to our hotel on a Himalayan High that I will never forget.

for more on Allanah Mooney and Lionheart Communications: click here

Truth Is One, Paths Are Many

2010-10-14T17:39:00.000-07:00

Radha and I were awoken this morning at 4:45 AM by the call to morning prayers blasting over the loud speakers mounted to a mosque near our hotel. This was our sixth day in India and our first morning in Cochin, a prosperous port city on the southwest coast of India. The interesting part of this ‘wake-up call' was that, although I was supposed to Skype our mediation group in South Florida at 5:00 AM, I had decided the night before to sleep in rather than teaching the class.

time to rise and shine

Our Muslim friend’s call to prayer was an invitation I couldn't ignore, however, and I embraced my dharma, dutifully calling in at the appointed time. Our friends and students back in Florida had just come out of meditation, and seven shining faces greeted my tired, sleep-weary eyes. I ended the session by leading the group in some chants and a prayer wishing our assistant Kalyani a safe journey to India where she will meet us in Delhi in two days.

The call to prayers was a reminder of how religion holds this entire country together. India has such a deep appreciation and recognition of the how all things sourced from God, and I am always amazed by their openness to discussing God, the emotional depth they feel when worshiping, and their receptivity to the religious approaches of others. In fact, one of the striking things about Kereal is its vast diversity. Cochin is made up of 40% Hindu, 30% Muslim, 30% Christian.

It is true that in other areas of India religious strife has begun to rear its ugly head, but in Kerala there is none of that. The meaning of Kerala is ‘God’s own country', and its people seem to be infused with a special quality. Kerala is one of only three states in India where the communist party leads the coalition government. (The other two are West Bengal and Tripura). Our driver, an articulate ex-officer in the Indian army, told us that the communist party is the reason why Kerala has the highest literacy rate in India. His soft, caring eyes widened when he told us that the communists take care of the poor people.

front of bus seen leaving Cochin

Interestingly, Kerala has the only synagogue in all of India, where Jews have been living side by side with Hindus since at least the 5th century. We visited it yesterday in the oldest section of the city called Fort Cochin. Most of the Jews left for Israel in 1949, however, and now only five Jewish families remain. There are, however, many 'black Jews' in Kerala, who trace their lineages back through the intermarriage of native Indians with the original Jewish settlers.

according to legend, Jews came to Cochin after
the destruction of the temple in 70 CE

After the synagogue, we visited two churches started back when the Portuguese controlled Cochin. Having grown up Catholic, I'm always startled to see the Indian devotees kiss the feet of the statue of Jesus, showing the same reverence and emotion that we have seem so many times in the Hindu temples where Radha and I have worshiped.

countryside church on the way to Cochin

In the evening we attended a sacred dance ceremony depicting how the Hindu God Vishnu sent an emissary to earth in order to battle an Asura (demon). Throughout the performance a Brahmin priest chanted mantras, drums set the tone of the drama, and the dancers dramatized the journey of the soul back to the Godhead. It was a perfect reminder of how the material world can seduce you into forgetting that we are all interconnected, one big spiritual family.

can you guess which one is Vishnu?

Thank you, India, for allowing us a day where we could meditate with Jews, Christians, Muslims and Hindus alike. A country where, for thousands of years, it has been taught that ‘Truth is One, and Paths are Many.'

back of bus seen leaving Cochin

You Only Die Once (each lifetime)

2010-10-11T10:14:00.000-07:00

In the distance lay thousands of hectares of rice patties, and Radha and I are watching an older woman paddling a wooden canoe filled with bags of what appears to be rice.

that's a lot of basmati

It’s Sunday afternoon, and we just finished a delicious meal of bitter gourds, green beans with onions and coconut, short grain rice, achar (pickles), and vegetables cooked in yogurt, coconut and turmeric. Everything has coconut in it, and even the papadams were fried in coconut oil.

can you smell the coconut?

We're on an overnight rice boat trip traveling the backwaters of Kerala, and our crew consists of the captain, his first mate (though I don't know if that applies on such a small boat), and our cook. The river is full of travelers, riding every imaginable floatable device, and along the banks there are people bathing, children playing, old men fishing, and women washing cloths. Even now I can hear the slapping of saris and dhotis against the rocks. Oh, the Kingfishers (beautiful birds with long beaks) are perched on the coconut trees serenading us.

Gary and Radha's home for the night

We arrived in Kerala after a two-hour plane ride from Mumbai two days ago. The lush vegetation here goes on forever, and banana plants and coconut palms are everywhere. The people have different physical features than those in northern India, and their language reminds us of the Tamil that Swami Satchidananda used to speak to his South Indian guests when they visited us in Montreal.

The rice boat is wooden and spacious, including two bedrooms, two full baths, and a dining area with sliding glass doors that lead to the living room, which is nicely furnished with a bamboo couch and two comfortable chairs.

the living room on the boat

As the crew anchored for the evening we watched the birds fishing for dinner, the bats taking care of the insect population, and a large orange sun setting over the water in front of us.

the sunset in Kerala

We were thankful for the day and sipped our milky-tea, enjoying a small bowl of vermicelli rice noodles saturated in sugar and spices for desert.

As darkness came, the ceiling fan was no longer sufficient to keep the bugs away, so we headed for our bedroom and the safety provided by its mosquito netting. Sitting up in our bed, we looked out at the sprinkling of lights from across the water and debriefed the events of the day, starting with the treacherous trip along the roads of Kerala.

Our driver Prasunaut had masterfully steered the car through an endless stream of challenging traffic situations, and since I was sitting in the passenger seat, the trip gave me ample opportunity to think about reincarnation. Three-wheelers, cars, dogs, trucks, buses, bicycles, pedestrians, scooters, bullock carts, cows, and motorcycles carrying entire families – anything with four wheels (or four legs) passed by us during the trip from Kovolum to Appelee.

in front of the Dad driving the car is their four year old son- 4 on a motorcycle!

Near misses were the order of the day, and at one point a large bus, pulled into our lane so it could pass a Tata truck, and yes it was heading directly at us!

trucks on the crowded Indian roads

Prasunaut managed to swerve to the side of the road at the last second, managing to keep two wheels on the road, I turned to Radha in the back seat syaing, “Nothing to worry about hon, you only die once.”

From Bombay to Mumbai

2010-10-09T13:06:00.000-07:00

From our hotel room at the Taj, I can see the India Gate, the national monument of India, which commemorates the Indian soldiers who lost their lives fighting for the British Indian Empire. It's hard to believe this country was a colony only 65 years ago and, if nothing else, the history of nations reminds us that all things in this material realm are ever-changing.

the India Gate in 2010

Looking at the gate, I was transported back to an earlier time when Mumbai was called Bombay. I was a twenty-six year old Swami, completely enraptured by the country that has kept Yoga alive for thousands of years. It was my first trip to India with my Guru, and as I stared up at India Gate my senses were in complete overwhelm...

Swami Sudhananda (Gary) with Swami Satchidananda
at the India Gate in 1975
(you can see the Taj Hotel and Tower in the background)

The next memory that floated to the surface was three years later. My hair was a little longer, my body a little older, and I was no longer a Swami. Radha and I were on our nine-month around-the-world trip, visiting the Kapoor family in Bombay. Wonderful thoughts danced in my head. It was early morning, and we were watching the sunrise over the Arabian Sea...

Gary with the Kapoor family at the India Gate in 1978

After an early morning full of reminiscences, I had worked up quite an appetite, and Radha and I left the room in search of breakfast. We felt a bit groggy from the time change, but not enough to curb our excitement about being back home in India. Downstairs we bypassed the long table filled with bland English food and headed straight for the South Indian buffet. Idlis, dosas, coconut chutney, udapam with pickles and upma – all of our favorites were there.

We took our plates to a table near the window, and leisurely enjoyed the meal as the sun burned its way through the moist humid air. The monsoons ended just before our arrival, and we chatted some with our server, who was impressed when we introduced ourselves using our spiritual names- Gopal and Radha.

He kept returning during the course of the meal to ask us questions, and we learned that he came from the southwestern state of Kerala, which borders the Lakshadweep Sea. The people of India are kind and gentle, always concerned that you are comfortable, and they treat every guest as God. As we were finishing our new friend proudly announced that he had just asked the chef to prepare a special dish for us - masala dosa. This thin, fermented rice crepe is filled with potato curry and served with sambhar, a spicy tomato soup packed with exotic vegetables and chutney.

Fortunately, we had some room to spare.

From the far side of the dining room an elegant older Indian gentleman dressed in a suit started playing "Moon River" on the piano. Radha and I smiled at each other, acknowledging the contradictions that make this country so unique. We sipped our small cups of South Indian coffee, which makes Starbucks taste like weak tea, and said a prayer of thanks-giving.

Radha listening to "Moon River" at the Taj Hotel

India Revisited

2010-10-07T15:36:00.001-07:00

Somewhere over Germany, 40,000 feet above sea level, Radha and I awoke suddenly to the shuddering turbulence affecting the mammoth jet aircraft. I turned over in my bed hardly noticing the bouncing and went back to sleep. This was a far cry from the other seventeen trips we've taken to India, we were flying first class, having accumulated enough air miles by shuttling back and forth between Vancouver and Florida over the past eleven years.

Gary and Radha in first class

We were both amazed (and amused) by the novelty of transforming our spacious seats into small beds with the mere press of a button on the armrest. This is why, at the halfway point of a non-stop flight to Mumbai, we were sound asleep when the plane began to rock’n roll.

map of the second half of the flight on our TV screen

Two years ago, for Radha's 60th birthday, I promised her that we would return to India, the country that gave birth to the Vedas (the single most important library of knowledge this planet has ever known), and one of our favorite places on Earth. It took us a little longer than we planned (sorry, sweetheart but moving to Vancouver took more time and energy than we could have ever imagined), but we are both ecstatic to have finally embarked on our first vacation since 2004.

We will be there for a month, and our friends from India had told us many stories about how things have changed in their country – the proliferation of cell phones, imported cars, internet access, improved living conditions, and Western department stores sprinkled around the cities. It's hard to imagine that we'll be able to ride an elevated subway around the entire city of New Delhi when we get there next week. In 1978 during a flight over Iran (the revolution was in full swing interrupting our land travel to India) an airline employee ordered us to close the window shades as we made an unscheduled landing in Khandahar on the way to Kabul, Afghanistan. The reason? Turns out that both sides of the runway had Soviet fighter jets parked, preparing for their now infamous 1979 invasion.

Appropriately enough, the onboard monitor that maps our journey just revealed that we are now flying above Kandahar. It is –50ºF outside, we're traveling at 628 mph, and we have only another 1500 miles to go...

view looking over Afghanistan

As you've probably noticed, it's been a couple of months since I've had the time to write a blog article. Believe me, it wasn't out of laziness! Thankfully I now have the motivation, time and energy to get back into writing and sharing our journey with you. Stay tuned in as we share with photos, stories, and travel accounts during the next month. We are both delighted that you could join us!

Seasonal Corn and Succotash

2010-08-16T05:17:00.000-07:00

My grandfather was a farmer whose land was located in Bucks County, Pennsylvania before I was born.

Pop-Pop and Nana

After World War Two, he sold the land to William Levitt, who subsequently developed the property as one of his famed Levittowns. These planned communities provided cheap housing for soldiers returning from the war and ultimately helped to redefine the American cultural landscape by introducing an entirely new idea - the suburb.

For his part, my grandfather moved from the countryside to a house in town with a large backyard. He immediately planted a garden, and I always remember leaving his house with bags of veggies. Looking at the old black and white pictures from that time, I'm acutely aware that I'm now older than they were when the photos were taken. Life surely was harder on the physical body back then.

Great Aunt Letty, Aunt Letty, Nana, Pop-Pop, Great Aunt Mary
All between the ages of 30-55.

As my grandfather's fecund garden proved, his connection with the earth could not be broken. The plants seemed to know that he loved them and grew in abundance providing enough food not just for the extended family, but enough extra to sell at the local small grocery.

As a child we would visit them every Sunday, and while my parents talked in the parlor, I would run out the back door straight to the garden. My grandfather would take me from one row to the next, explaining all the stages of growth and how to make each plant prosper. Pop-Pop let me help by pulling up weeds or moving renegade vines back to the appropriate pole or fence post. The best part, of course, was the harvest, and each week I'd go home with beans or peas that I had picked myself.

Corn was my favorite, however, and we'd pull the outer shuck and silk down to see if the it was ready. I loved the mixed yellow and white ears that we called butter and cream. Sometimes we would just have a meal of slightly steamed corn with plenty of butter and salt and pepper. My mother knew how to cook it perfectly. In order to retain the nutrients and to accent its sweet taste she would make sure not to overcook it. Here's how she did it:

1) Put about 2-3 inches of water in a big pot along with a little salt.
2) Bring to a rapid boil and throw in the corn.
3) Cover and cook for 3-5 minutes, depending on the number of ears.

The ones in the water will cook more than the ones on top, so experiment to find what's best for you. Just be sure not to leave it in the pot for too long. One great way to use the extra corn, if there is any of course, is to prepare one of my father's favorite dishes- succotash You never hear of it much these days, but sometimes I get a craving for those simpler times. Somehow the taste of fresh lima beans and corn in a milky sauce personifies it all. Gary and I call it eating memories.

Succotash

Ingredients:

2 cups fresh lima beans (about 1 pound)
4 cups fresh corn cut from cob (about 6 ears or use the leftovers)
3 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
1/8 teaspoon pepper

Preparation:

Boil lima beans in salted water until almost tender (about 15 min).
Drain beans and add corn, butter, whipping cream, salt, and pepper.
Mix well until butter and whipping cream are evenly distributed.
Cook over low heat, stirring frequently until corn is done (3-7 min) .

If using corn leftovers just add and heat until well-blended and warm. This recipe makes 6 servings. Enjoy!

Banff Vacation and India on the Horizon

2010-08-03T15:12:00.000-07:00

It's been a long six years since we made the decision to move to Vancouver, and although the transition has involved some stressful times, lots of hard work, and hundreds of hours of planning, Radha and I are finally enjoying our new home. With all this effort finally coming to fruition, we decided that we deserved a vacation. It had been seven years since we took any personal time off, so after receiving an invitation to attend a wedding in Banff, we made the plans for a nine-day road trip.

Banff is in Alberta, nestled in the Canadian Rockies

Josh, the middle son of our dearest friend Allan, was marrying a wonderful Indian woman whose parents have roots in the Punjab area of India. The celebration would take place over the course of three days, and since Radha and I are leading a group to India this October, we couldn't have imagined better timing.

Jacob and Sonya Hirsh

Having no knowledge of the interior of the provinces, we pulled out the maps only to discover that it was a fourteen-hour car drive from Vancouver! Banff is a popular resort town, known for its spectacular outdoor activities, and we decided to take the scenic route by adding in the Kootenay Mountains as well as the desert areas near the US border.

On July 13th we packed up our Prius and headed east. After an evening in Kelowna, we reached the base of Mount Robson where we stayed at a cozy B&B named the Mountain Lodge. From the balcony of our second floor room we stared out at the second highest peak in the Canadian Rockies:

Mt. Robson, 3954 meters (12,972 feet)

The sound of the stream below our room was deafening, and later that day we took a hike through the forest until we heard the sounds of rapids ahead, which are fed by melting glaciers at higher elevations. Following the mountain stream, we were led through a pine groove covered in mist caused by the water pounding and splashing against the rocks in front of us. We both looked around the forest realizing that, although there was no person or animal in sight, we were not alone. This magical spot gave us the sensation and feeling that something invisible was present:

Radha in a Magical Forest Grove

Over the course of our sixteen trips to India we have come to know this feeling well, from the temples to the sacred rivers the towering Himalayas. The tingling feelings of being in the presence of something that was beyond the physical realm, and we sat down to meditate and savor the connection to what we knew were the spirits of the forest. With the cool mist wafting through the trees we saw the rapids directly in front of us – this was our introduction to the unspeakable power of the Canadian Rockies:

rapids near our lodge

We were captivated by the sight, the sounds, the smells, and the unseen communication with the subtle world present all around us. The coolness caressed our faces as we stood motionless, allowing the vibration of the water and the forest to sooth and heal our travel-wearied bodies. Eventually we walked back into the woods and noticed animal tracks leading along the water’s edge. Barely visible through the moss, we followed the tracks back to our lodge.

The next day we drove through Jasper into Banff National Park and were literally overwhelmed by the enormousness of the mountains. There was so much to take in, and the only thing I could compare it to was what a hard drive must feel when it reaches its storage capacity. With so many pixels of beauty surrounding us, we felt like we were downloading more than we could handle and decided to stop once more. Much like the day before, we closed our eyes in order to allow the spectacular scenery to be processed by our brains and mind. The most noticeable experience was how small and insignificant we were in comparison to all the greatness around us.

Continuing onward, we enjoyed a delicious lunch at the Fairmont Hotel at Lake Louise:

Lake Louise

We reached Banff late that afternoon and enjoyed our first home cooked meal in three days. Then, the wedding celebrations began:

For the next three days we experienced a perfect melding of Jewish and Indian traditions:

There was dancing, singing, chanting, purification ceremonies, eating, and more dancing. And, needless to say, Bollywood was alive and well at this party!

It was a gorgeous ceremony surrounded by the mountains, and a fabulous opportunity to spend time with our dear friend Allan and his partner Joan. Radha and I were thankful to be there.

On the ride back through the desert area of Osoyoos we spent an evening enjoying the farmlands that produce much of the food we consume in Vancouver:

Osoyoos, an irrigated desert

In order to provide land for the returning soldiers from the Second World War, the Canadian government irrigated the desert and gave the land to the returning soldiers. Filling our car with fresh fruit and vegetables, we embarked upon the final leg of our road trip.

On the way home we realized that the wedding had reignited our love of India and its peoples, and that in a short while we would be returning to India for our seventeenth trip after a decade long hiatus. In a few months we will return to the birthplace of a tradition that recognizes the importance of living in harmony and cooperation with Mother Earth and all the other realms that provide us with sustenance, peace and well-being.

It's All About the Potatoes

2010-07-01T11:58:00.000-07:00

Last weekend Gary and I volunteered at Spud Day, an event started by our dear friends, Jeffery and Sandi Armstrong, thirteen years ago. One Saturday each month (the one closest to the full moon), Jeffrey and Sandi offer potatoes with pure butter, sour cream and chives to those who have found it difficult to live in the world.

people coming for free potatoes

Many are individuals who have become trapped in addictive behaviors, or fallen between the cracks of the Canadian social services system. Whatever the reason, many homeless people congregate on and around Hastings Street in downtown Vancouver.

at the serving table

Why potatoes? Because potatoes are cost-effective, nutrient-dense choice and provide the body with vitamin B-6, potassium, iron and copper. To top it off, they're high in fiber (both soluble and half-insoluble), promoting the health of the digestive system. With this in mind, we fired up our oven on Saturday morning, baked some potatoes, and drove down to assist our friends in giving back to those in need.

Gary between his friends Jack (left) and Jeffrey (right)

The event was a success, and before all was said and done, more than 800 potatoes were served!

batch 1 of 20

For us, the experience reminded us that serving others opens the heart, allowing us to experience the truth that we are all one big family.

Radha and her new sister Sandi

Inspired by the event, one of our friends at Spud Day told me about this recipe, which originally appeared in Vegetarian Times. I plan to incorporate it into my breakfast repertoire.

Tempeh and Potato Breakfast Patties

Ingredient List, makes 8 patties

2 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch cubes (about 3 cups)

1 8-oz. pkg. tempeh

1/3 cup unbleached flour

1/4 cup chives, finely chopped

2 Tbs. low-sodium soy sauce

1 Tbs. chopped fresh rosemary

1 clove garlic, minced (about 1 tsp.)

1/2 tsp. chopped fresh thyme

1/2 tsp. chopped fresh sage

1/2 tsp. chopped fresh oregano

2 Tbs. olive oil

Directions

Cook potatoes in boiling salted water 15 minutes, or until soft. Drain and cool. Meanwhile, cut tempeh in half, and steam in steamer 20 minutes. (Steaming tempeh helps soften the soybeans it’s made of so that the protein-rich cakes absorb more flavor.)

Preheat oven to 450ºF. Coat baking sheet with cooking spray. Pulse tempeh in food processor until coarsely ground. Transfer to large bowl, and stir in potatoes, flour, chives, soy sauce, rosemary, garlic, thyme, sage and oregano. Season with salt and pepper.

Shape mixture into 2-inch balls. Press into 1/2-inch-thick patties. Brush with olive oil, and place on prepared baking sheet. Bake 10 minutes, then brush again with olive oil, flip with spatula, and brush with olive oil. Bake 10 minutes more, or until both sides are browned.

bon appetit!

Brotherhood

2010-06-23T17:20:00.000-07:00

This morning, sitting by the warm fire and enjoying the cool Pacific breeze, I looked at the promotional poster for a special event next week. Jeffery Armstrong, a dear friend and fellow traveler on the path of wholeness, has just written a book called The Spiritual Teaching of the Avatar. The launch is only one week away, and I am so excited for him.

What came to mind as I looked at the poster was the word "brotherhood", which has been an important theme running throughout my life. I was the oldest child and only male in my family, and although growing up with two sisters allowed me to learn plenty about the feminine side of life, I always wondered what it would be like to have a brother. Then, during my time as a monk, I began to experience the importance of having close male friends. I relished it, and for the past forty years I have known the joy of having authentic and intimate (in-to-me-see) relationships with men. Presently, I have eight (Jeffery makes nine) very important males who are a part of my fellowship. Each one holds a special place in my life and all of them are yogis!

My brotherhood includes: Lee, an Assistant VP of Real Estate Development; Sid, an award winning television director; , Fred, a dentist; , Allan a therapist, Jack, a businessman, Maurice, a government employee, Stephen, a theater design consultant; , and Mel, a business consultant. Some of them are quiet and understated, others are gregarious, but all of them possess the highest degree of emotional availability. We share the sorrows, joys, concerns and bliss of life, and each of us possess qualities that balance and compliment each other. And we all love life to the fullest, which means humor is always high on our priority list.

Now let me tell you a little bit about Jeffery. The very first time I met him I knew I was meeting an old friend, someone who I soon learned had been traveling the same path as I, and for just as long. Only three years my elder, we have some remarkable similarities.

We met last September upon the urging of Gabrielle, a lovely woman who studies and practices Chinese medicine. She escorted me to his weekly class, and as I walked up to the doorway of his home, we both immediately recognized each other. A heart-felt hug was the precursor to a wonderful Wednesday evening, and even though i have met and studied with many amazing yogis and spiritual teachers over the past forty years, his class on the Baghavad Gita was by far the most spectacular I had ever experienced. He shared wisdom with humility and humor (a combination I think is essential in any teacher), and I was impressed by the fact that he was living his life in accordance with the very same principles that have defined mine.

It turns out that we both have spent the last four decades dedicated to the study of Vedic knowledge. An ancient set of scriptures, the Vedas offer a road map of how to live in complete harmony with our body and mind, our dear mother earth, and all sentient beings. Not only did we have this in common, but we were also both altar boys, joined ROTC during college, directed an international spiritual organization, had taken vows of poverty, chastity and obedience in the Holy Order of Sanyas, and ultimately decided to leave our vows in order to pursue our life’s calling. For both of us that meant dedicating our life to service, which is called seva in Sanskrit. Every one in my brotherhood lives in accordance with this principle, and we believe that a healthier planet with joyful inhabitants is a win-win for everyone.

So, right here in Vancouver, I have found a yogi brother who has spent the last forty years studying, practicing and teaching yoga. He is also a poet of extraordinary talent, and I feel fortunate to know Jeffery. A good friend is one who inspires you to be a more loving individual and a more productive member of society, all the members of my brotherhood do that for me. ALthough Jeffery is the newest member of a group of conscious and loving men, all of whom are both insightful and inspirational, it gives my heart such delight to know we are now together once again. Our connection also has allowed us to hang out with other powerful men:

Jeffrey and me with Deepak Chopra

I am blessed to know these men, and I am thankful for the strength and balance they add to my life.

Postscript: On Monday June 29th Jeffery Armstrong's The Spiritual Teaching of the Avatar will be presented to the world. I predict that the book will offer important lessons for everyone who wants to be a part of the healing process for our planet. Check him out!

http://www.jeffreyarmstrong.com/

Celebrating Our Anniversary (a letter to Radha)

2010-06-16T16:45:00.000-07:00

Dear Radha,

I’m so thrilled that on June 18th we will be married for thirty-four years. For over three decades you have been putting up with my craziness, and I love you so much more than the first day we met, more than the day we got married barefooted and cross-legged in front of more than one hundred twenty smiling faces, and even more than when we celebrated our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a candle light Indian meal around our pool in Florida.

traditional Canadian wedding cake, 1977
(dried fruit and cream cheese)

I love you more because you have helped me to know myself better, and it was this that spoke to me when we first met. I was a struggling Swami trying to find out who I was and where I was going in my life. I read our vows the other day, to love and serve humanity, and I was pleasantly surprised to realize how we have kept true to them after all these years. How fortunate we are to have realized so young that our happiness and success would hinge on serving and loving others.

I know you will remember the eight foot pillar standing in the gardens at Sivananda Ashram in Rishikesh, India. In front of the Himalayan backdrop,we stood appreciating that they had our vows etched in stone for all to read: Serve, love, meditate and realize (our true loving nature).

And sweetie, looking back I realize that through all the difficult and challenging times those vows kept us on course. I’m so thankful to all our teachers, but especially Swami Satchidananda and Ron Kurtz. And let’s not forget our crazy meditation teacher in India. All three were major influences on us and had a huge impact on our understanding of Yoga, meditation, and body-centered psychotherapy.

Serve. Love. Meditate. Realize.

Swami Satchidananda initiated us both into the importance of calming the mind, connecting to our center, and serving humanity as a path to wholeness. Ron taught me Hakomi Therapy (a Hopi word meaning how do you stand in the many realms). It was his influence that permitted us to see how the body and mind can be used to process emotional trauma while learning how to be comfortable within ourselves.

Hakomi training, 1981

The crazy Swami taught us how to meditate.

in Montreal with the crazy Swami, 1984

After spending three months, over sixteen years, living in our tiny apartment in the Himalayas we learned how to connect and live our life from the purest place beyond the mind.

We're returning this October!

These three teachers enabled us to bridged the gap between the emotional processing of psychotherapy with the powerful spiritual teaching found in yoga and meditation. They taught us to integrate the most functional aspects of east and west.

There were other teachers as well, but it was these three that enabled us to integrate and live the holistically focused life that defines who we are. Spending time with them taught us many powerful tools that have enabled us to deal with all those challenging situations in our life with integrity, honesty and compassion.

As our anniversary grows near I celebrate the fullness of life with you. I could never imagine doing it without you.

- Gary

Heather's Kale Dressing

2010-06-09T05:40:00.000-07:00

I love Sunday mornings. All the Saturday night party people are still asleep, the streets are quiet, and it's a lazy, slow start to our Spa Day. Gary came up with the name when we decided to start scheduling time for us, a day set aside where we can flow with whatever opportunities, relaxations, and excitements present themselves – spontaneous meditations, bike rides, walks along the beach, lattes and croissants at the new French bakery on Broadway.

When we're in Vancouver, our Spa Day usually includes a trip to the Kitslano Green Market. Musicians and face painters create the perfect atmosphere, and we love to see local vendors selling their organic produce, flowers and plants, pies, bread and eggs.

a typical joyful Sunday morning at the farmer's market

I love the accordion, talk about coordination...

Our favorite is the buckwheat crepe gypsy wagon!!!

This week I bought a bag of greens called "Farmers' Blend". They are so tender in the early spring and include a mixture of various kales, chard, mizuna, and flowering brassica tips – not to mention whatever else "jumps into our picking baskets!"

A recipe for "Heather's Kale Dressing" is included on the label, which I've made many times and always gets rave reviews. It's easily modified to suit individual taste and adapts effortlessly to any meal. Try it and let me know what you think.

Heather's Kale Dressing

1 part soy sauce/tamari
5 parts vegetable oil (I use canola)
several gloves of crushed garlic
chopped chives and/or ginger
add some toasted sesame oil
sesame, cumin, and/or poppy seeds

1) Heat the canola oil and throw in the garlic/ginger with the seeds.
2) Before they turn brown, remove from heat.
3) Add tamari, sesame oil and chives.

The recipe on the label doesn't call for any heating, so you decide. In either case, it keeps well in the fridge for several weeks.

Bon appetit!

Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway

2010-05-21T04:29:00.000-07:00

I sat down last evening in front of my computer to connect with our Tuesday evening meditation group in Florida. In spite of the 3 hours time difference, and more than 3000 miles between us, I felt as close to them as ever, and we continued our study of Patanjali's Yoga Sutras. This text has survived more than two thousand years, and it explains how the mind – as an instrument of perception – gives rise to the sense of individuality.

By observing the mind, we come to know that we are not the mind, but rather pure consciousness itself. Think of your hand for a moment and ask the question: "Am I observing my hand or am I my hand?" Most of us will readily recognize that we are not the hand, but that we have a hand. The same is true with the mind. After nearly forty years of practice, I have become completely convinced of this fact. There is a place of perfect stillness, beyond thought, emotion and memory, pain and pleasure. This is the state called mediation, and I have found it to be the most effective method of surfing the inevitable waves of emotions we experience in life.

By transcending our individual consciousness and merging into something beyond, we experience peace. And each time we return, it helps us to see the perfection in all the pain and suffering that comes with individual existence. I have found no exceptions to this, and even the passing of my mother last year, although profoundly sad, was strangely perfect. There was deep sorrow, but also peace and acceptance.

When we're not connected to this place inside us, we experience fear. Over the past year, this is an emotion I've gotten to know really well as I've had to confront how many things in my life lie almost entirely outside of my control. Besides my Mom's passing, Radha had her final ear operation this past December, and for months I couldn't shake the intense feeling that she wouldn't survive the operation. I finally allowed myself to consider how I would go on with out her. Priorities shifted, and my love for her deepened beyond comprehension. I wanted to explore every facet of this fear and did not to use my mediation practice to try to transcend it. I decided for the first time in my life to make friends with fear.

I practiced preparing for the moment when I will pass from this physical reality back in 1972, when I studied at the Buddhist Dharma Center in Montreal. Yet, twenty-eight years later, it seemed more immanent. As the date for her operation grew closer, I was confronted by a dilemma: Radha needed my assurance that everything was going to be okay, but I was allowing myself to experience the fear of losing her. Fortunately our relationship is strong, and I was able to be there for her while still sharing with her the fear we both felt.

During the operation I was allowed to stay in the room where she would later recover. I quietly meditated and called out to friends around the US and Canada. The fear was powerful, and I kept open to it without being overwhelmed. I stayed present to the emotion just as I would comfort a scared little kid. Thankfully the operation was a success, but the knowledge remained that one of us will almost certainly outlive the other.

As my wife recovered with the loving care of our entire meditation community in South Florida, I strangely could not shake the feeling. Fear still held a fascination with me, but I did nothing to stop it, choosing intead to fully explore the depth of its offerings. For many months afterwards I allowed myself to breathe deeply into this amazing emotion. I made friends with it.

It is now May, and we have returned home to Vancouver after a successful season in our other home in the States. For the first time in the eight years of spending time in this wonderful city, Radha and I presented a program that would introduce ourselves to the community by offering a program called "The Three Biggest Blunders Facing You In All Your Relationships."

Fear tagged along with me that night, and even though I felt disappointed by my own performance, Radha was there to help make the night a special event. It was then that I finally embraced fear as a true friend. After a full year of remaining present and available to this important emotion, the fear dissolved into a feeling that everything is now perfect once again.

Radha and I before the event

More to come I am sure, but at this point I can say with certainty that I am not afraid of fear any longer.

Sweet Memories

2010-05-19T04:53:00.000-07:00

It's a rainy spring day in Vancouver, pretty common for this time of year, but a change since we arrived two weeks ago – for us it has been all about beautiful weather and plenty of sunshine.

Anyway, I enjoy being inside with the rain pouring and find myself gravitating towards the warmth of our fireplace and oven. Baking becomes very appealing on these damp cool days. I come from a long line of pie makers (200 years that I know of), and I even discovered a restaurant in Virginia with my grandmother's maiden name that specilizes in homemade pies.

my mom and dad are on the far left

In spite of all the great pies, my dinners growing up were pretty bland. We were mostly a meat and potatoes kind of family, and my mother had sworn she would never marry before she met my dad. He was much older than her, and prior to meeting him she had spent all her time pursuing her nursing career. After they got married, though, her hidden talent for cooking began to surface. Rhubarb was abundantly available in the spring time, and Mom started making rhubarb pies with the most amazing crust.

Finally in touch with her inner baker, Gracie started taking advantage of all the delicious fruit growing in our yard – peach,cherry, plum,and apple – as well as the strawberry fields near our home. Mom displayed her creativity by unique combinations like apple-rhubarb, plum-cherries, and peach-strawberry.

Its still too early for many local strawberries here, but the rhubarb is in the markets . The forecast has called for rain again tomorow so maybe I'll buy what I need to make an apple-rhubarb pie for our Victoria Day picnic ,but tonite I think we'll walk over to Aprodite's for pie and chai:

Better remember our unbrellas along with my memories of warm days filled with the sweet smells of home baking...

Grandmother's Pie Crust (slightly modified for healthier eating)

2 cups flour (unbleached & wholewheat pastry)
1/3 cup unsalted butter
1/3 cup oil (canola)
6 tbls. ice water

1) With a pastry cutter cut the butter into the flour.
2) Combine the oil and water than add to flour mixture.
3) Stir with a fork until combined, there will be lumps of butter.
4) Separate into 2 balls.
5) Roll flat between 2 sheets of wax paper
6) Cool in fridge while you make pie filling

Disagreements Are Invitations To Go Beyond Our Stories

2010-05-03T04:07:00.000-07:00

Recently on our Facebook page (Gary Gopal Radha Bello) a fellow yogi named Lawrence, who also lived at the Integral Yoga Institute in New York City back in 1972, took a strong position against my posting an Earth Day prayer to mother nature. I was shocked by the firestorm that followed:

the conversation looked like this at times

Forty postings later, I was delighted by the many different stories contributed by various other friends and acquaintances. It had never occurred to me that there is an entire segment of the population that considers it “idolatrous” to appreciate the feminine force behind creation.

The good news is that, in spite of the controversy, Lawrence appreciated my relaxed style of engaging him about the issue. Although I agreed with the reactions from most of the people sharing their points-of-view, I had no intention of preventing Lawrence from sharing his comments on my profile page. Rather than being closed-minded or dogmatic, my wife and I invite those who disagree with us to share their ideas - we learn so much from these interactions.

As the debate continued, I was reminded of our days in Vermont during the 80’s and 90’s when we directed our non-profit meditation retreat center. More than a few of our students were critical of our propensity to spend time with those who did not follow our life style nor beliefs. We explained that these individuals tested and challenged our commitment to the practices, and that we actually experienced a deeper understanding and appreciation of our own path when questioned by others. How can we grow if we only associated with individuals who agreed with us?

We discovered early on in our practices that disagreements were invitations to go beyond our stories, so Radha and I have trained ourselves (with the assistance of mentors like Swami Satchidananda, Ron Kurtz, and others) to pay attention and notice our reactions to opposing views. We respond by pausing whenever we find ourselves stuck in an opposing story during a disagreement. The last thing we want is to have our stories prevent us from remaining open to opposing viewpoints – without making the other person wrong. Our Enlightening Moments relationship tools have proven to be a valuable asset to the individuals, couples, and groups we coach.

a Blissful Disagreement in action

Avoiding disagreements, or forcing your opinion on others prevents us from learning and growing. Think of a surfer sitting on his board in a wave-less ocean – she may be floating steady, but I would hardly call it surfing. We view disagreements as the huge swells that challenge us to move beyond our comfort zone. Our spiritual practices and our life experiences have taught us the importance of staying open-minded when disagreements arise.

For us, conflicts are invitations to notice the self-limiting nature of our stories. If everyone agreed it would be dull world, and we would remain stagnated in the illusion that we were a finished product rather than a growing, living organism. This posture of curiosity and acceptance of opposing views has added to our success, and that has kept us young in thought, open to new ideas, and always available for a passionate debate or disagreement.

Try the following exercise as a means to experience a disagreement as an invitation to go beyond your story:

Remember the last time you had a strong disagreement with a business associate, friend or family member. Determine the actual facts of the situation (as in who said what), and then, get clear about why you reacted. Your reaction is what we call your story. Finally, ask yourself what was the invitation hidden in that situation?

Gary and Radha are thrilled to be back home in Vancouver

Betty’s Escarole and Beans

2010-04-23T15:14:00.000-07:00

It's been a year since my sweet mother-in-law Betty passed, and as I was thinking about her the other day, I was overcome by a craving for escarole and beans. Having grown up in a very English family where meat, potatoes, and tasteless overcooked vegetables were the norm, I had never even heard of escarole when I married Gary back in 1977.

Radha with Sal and Betty Bello

Even though I had been vegetarian for many years before marrying into the Bello family, my Italian recipes were limited to the following:

1) pasta with tomato sauce.
2) pizza with tomato sauce.

That's not much of a repertoire.

I was pleasantly surprised to be served so many tasty dishes whenever we visited my in-laws. Betty had learned to cook from Gary's grandmother Nanny, and since she and Sal met when she was just thirteen years old, she had plenty of years to absorb Nanny’s Italian menus.

Nanny was an expert in knowing how to feed a family on very little, and loved to share her secrets with Betty. (And Gary too for that matter!) When I joined the family I too learned the ins and outs of cooking these great peasant meals that are simple, tasty and healthy.

Last summer after spending the day gardening in the front yard of our home in Vancouver, I had that same desire for escarole and beans. I hopped on my bike to purchase them at our local organic market. Surprisingly, I couldn't find it anywhere. For the next few days I shopped around disappointed that no one had my escarole! How strange is that?

Anyway, it's the end of April now and we're returning home to Vancouver next week. I'm so glad that I got my fix before traveling across the continent. Once home I'll keep searching for the elusive escarole, and I'm sure that with time and a bit of detective work I'll find it somewhere. Six months is way too long to go without a meal that brings back such pleasant memories of dear Betty.

Escarole and Beans

2 tbls olive oil
2 garlic cloves chopped
1 lb escarole chopped
4 cups veggie broth
1 fifteen (15) ounce can Cannellini Beans
Add to taste: pinch of salt, crushed red pepper flakes, parmesan cheese and a dash of parsley. (These are all great options!)

Directions:

Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy large pot over medium heat. Add the garlic and saute until fragrant, about 15 seconds. Add the escarole and saute until wilted, about 2 minutes. Add a pinch of salt. Add the veggie broth, beans. Cover and simmer until the beans are heated through, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper, parmesan and parsley to taste.

Ladle the soup into 6 bowls. Drizzle 1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil over each. Serve with crusty bread.

Enjoy!

Everything Waits To Be Noticed

2010-04-19T04:07:00.000-07:00

Stepping into the unknown...

Since 1971 we have been blessed with earning our right livelihood by sharing our life style with students, clients and seminar participants. Our combination of eastern philosophy, western psychology, and body-centered psychotherapy have been instrumental in allowing us to remain healthy and fulfilled over the past four decades

During that time we have been running an experiment that focuses on remaining available to all the invitations that arrive in the course of a day. A healthy diet, a daily practice of hatha yoga and pranayama (breathing techniques), combined with our meditation program has kept our mind clear and our nervous system strong thus allowing us respond appropriately to the many challenging situations in our life. This approach was in sharp contrast to our previous method, where we would surge forward attempting to control and manipulate events, only to be let back down again when these attempts inevitably failed. That method of reacting to life left us depleted, agitated, and most assuredly not as healthy.

We have discovered that it is essential to not only know the invitations that are useful and need to be accepted, but even more important to know which ones we should just let pass on by. An example of his occurred in 2003, when we began receiving numerous invitations to move to Vancouver, British Colombia. Thankfully we chose to move into the unknown rather than being paralyzed by fear or uncertainty. We both shutter to think what would have happened if we had not listened to this guidance and sold our house in South Florida in the early months of 2006.

We believe that being open to change is an important part of growth and that remaining open to the unknown possibilities before us is an essential part of a divine plan. However, it is our responsibility to keep our radar tuned in to these signals. Over and over again, our experiment has guided us perfectly. In the first chapter of our book we present to the reader this philosophy by sharing how, by allowing the perfect Sunday brunch to find us, we found ourselves treated to an extraordinary experience – “the best Sunday brunch in town.”

At the end of chapter one, as is the case with each of the thirty-one chapters of The Swami And The Married Woman, we give the reader the enlightening moment that was revealed to us during the chapter. In this particular case, it was as simple as knowing that the best way to find something was to allow it to find you. These enlightening moments are a daily occurrence for us, not because we are special, but because we pay attention to everything around us, which allows us to remain open to possibilities from beyond.

We are not, however, always that aware. Missed opportunities are a part of life, but we’ve come to recognize them not as mistakes, but rather as warning signals that let us know we’ve veered too far astray from the course we’re supposed to be on. These days, we can tell when we are trying to force our will on a situation rather than trusting the process. This awareness at least enables us to shift gears and return to our more comfortable receptive mode.

Whenever we’re out of balance (i.e. being influenced by a selfish desire), we miss opportunities and usually wind up in a less satisfying situation. An agitated mind is not only spinning us in circles, but also forces us to make the same mistakes over and over again. Like Bill Murray in the movie Ground Hog Day, we become caught in an endless stream of situations that leave us with no hope of moving forward into a more fulfilling and rewarding life. We are locked in the past, not knowing how to get free.

It does take practice and a heightened awareness to stay alert to the myriad of invitations that life offers us, but the rewards far outweigh the expenditure of energy. Science is finally catching up to this simple idea, demonstrating how stimulating the frontal lobe of the brain (the part concerned with processing new experiences) creates feelings of peace and satisfaction.

So, one may ask, how do I stimulate the frontal lobe of my brain?

Good question.

In order to experience a sense of peace and fulfillment, all we have to do is be open to the unknown. That’s why we continue to believe that:

Enlightening Moment #1

"The best way to find something is to allow it to find you."

Hurry Up Alfredo

2010-04-02T10:30:00.000-07:00

I love the challenge of making dinner from whatever I find in the kitchen, and one thing that always helps is staying stocked up on some key ingredients that I know I'll need sometime in the future. And that future was the other night.

I looked in the fridge and found some whole wheat linguine, broccoli, and beet greens on the middle shelf. There were onions and garlic in the veggie bin, and so all I needed was a sauce for those noodles. I immediately thought of Lauren Ulm's Vegan Yum Yum:

A half hour later Gary and Kalyani got back from teaching at Country Club of Florida, and the fragrant smells from the kitchen jolted their senses into high alert. They called out in unison as soon as they walked through the door, "Wow, that smells great! What's cooking?"

Hurry Up Alfredo

1 cup soy or almond milk
1/3 cup rounded raw unsalted cashews
1/4 cup nutritional yeast
3 tbl tamari, low-sodium
2 tbl earth balance margarine
1 tbl tahini
1 tbl fresh lemon juice
2 tsp dijon mustard
1/2 tsp paprika
1 pinch nutmeg
1 pinch salt
black pepper to taste
2-4 garlic cloves (optional)

First grind the nuts in the blender and then add the other ingredients. Pour over the veggies and noodles and warm together before serving.

It tasted fabulous and has been put on our short list of recipe repeats.

Enjoy!

Gary and Kalyani, about to enjoy some Hurry Up Alfredo

Breath of Life

2010-03-25T13:55:00.000-07:00

I started my yoga practice in 1971 when I was twenty-one years old. Although healthy overall, I had suffered from both allergies and asthma since childhood, and assumed it was something I would just have to deal with for the rest of my life. One of the new things I learned from my yoga instructors, however, was a series of breathing exercises called pranayama (life force).

Gary, 25 years old, in scorpion pose

After a year of regular practice, I noticed dramatic results from my breathing program. Not only was I calmer and more focused, but my seasonal allergies had decreased and I no longer experienced asthmatic episodes. Now, forty years later, I am a perfectly healthy 61 year-old with an abundance of energy. I wake before six each morning and, except for meditation and meal breaks, run non-stop until almost 11 o'clock. Others sometimes have trouble keeping up with me, a fact to which my thirty-two year old assistant will gladly attest.

A human being can live without food for many weeks, and we can survive days without water. Without oxygen, however, a person can live for only a few minutes. This simple comparison illustrates why breathing is so important - to breathe is to live.

I have taught numerous eight week courses on ‘Yogic Breathing Exercises,' and I invariably chuckle when people ask me why they need to pay for a course on breathing; “I’ve been breathing since I was born. Why do I need this?"

The answer may surprise you.

The lungs can hold up to 12 pints (about 6 liters) of air. And although some of that is residual air that is not exhaled, do you have any idea what the average inhalation may be? The average person inhales and exhales one to two pints of air with each breath. That’s right, a mere 10% of the amount of oxygen necessary to promote the proper reproduction of cells and maintain the health of the body.

Furthermore, too little oxygen means a higher concentration of carbon dioxide in the blood stream, causing the blood to be acidic. The medical doctors with whom I've worked have informed me that almost all diseases are caused from a sustained imbalance in the degree of acidity/alkalinity in the blood. Without enough oxygen in the blood, stress and fatigue break down a person’s immune system. Given that our society values work and productivity over relaxation and balance, it's no wonder that we have so many people who are experiencing physical and emotional problems.

Acidic blood also triggers the "fight or flight" reaction in the brain. This condition causes the adrenal glands to splash adrenalin into the blood stream, causing our bodies to react as if we were under attack. Remember how it feels when someone cuts you off on the freeway? While purely speculative, a constant state of adrenal agitation leads me to question if this might be one of the many contributing factors in the amount of violence we read and hear about every day.

Conversely, when you train yourself to take deeper breaths and longer exhalations (yogic breathing), the oxygen levels in the blood increases, creating more alkalinity in our bodies. This activates a center in the brain that produce the relaxation response. This center is in the brain's frontal lobe, an area that controls decision-making. In order to make appropriate decisions in our life this center has to activated. Stress unfortunately deactivates this center! I think we all know at least one person who continues to make bad choices (each time expecting different results) in their life. Check out their shallow breaths!

The breathing techniques found in yoga can literally change your life. One need only imagine what a different society we would live in if only we taught our children how to handle stress by employing a few simple breathing exercises rather than harmful activities like drinking, smoking, and turning to bad food choices for comfort. Too much carbon dioxide is poisonous to the human body, and I find it an apt, but a sad metaphor that our planet is now experiencing the same problem- excessive carbon dioxide emissions continue to contribute to global warming. Yoga encourages us to decrease our carbon footprint, only this one is inside our physical body!

Yogic breathing trains an individual to increase oxygen levels by using more of our lungs' capacity. Our nervous system strengthens, our digestion improves, and the cells in our body repair and reproduce themselves correctly. More oxygen means more energy. This permits us to experience life in a more relaxed, dynamic and productive manner. After teaching more than 60,000 yoga, breathing and meditation classes I have observed that clients who include a regular breathing program in their daily routine soon discover that their body is healthier, their mind is clearer, and they are much better at coping with the challenges and stresses of daily life.

There is one important point to make concerning the Breath of Life. With only a few exceptions, yogic breathing relies on the use of the nose. Mouth breathing weakens the immune system, one of the reasons for this is because it fails to stimulate the five cranial nerves located on the ceiling of the nasal cavity. These nerve centers are essential to our appreciation of the subtle, invisible pleasures offered by life. The most well-known, of course, is the olfactory nerve, which gives us the sense of smell. Just imagine the last time you smelled something you liked. Whether it was a rose, the scent of a fresh-cooked meal, or the full breaths you take upon reaching the beach, you inhaled deeply, allowing your brain to fully appreciate the smell. When it came to designing the human body, Mother Nature did an amazing job.

Breathing through the nose also regulates our emotions, the science of yoga teaches that every smell has a corresponding emotion. You can see these in how the nose responds to different situations. When we are angry the nostrils flare, when in your lovers arms both nostrils open widely, in deep meditation the slightest stuffy nose disappears, and when we cry our nostrils become clogged. Using the techniques that have been passed down for thousands of years, we are able to keep out bodies and minds in balance by paying attention to the cues from our body. Thus allowing us to expertly navigate through the emotional landscape of our life.

Try this simple Three Part Breathing technique:

1. Take a slow deep breath (using your nose of course) as you puff out your abdomen, then expanding your rib cage, and finally feel the air reaching up to your shoulders.

2. Exhale very slowly in the opposite direction: shoulders, rib cage and end by pulling your tummy in.

3. Repeat this for three to five minutes.

If you begin to feel light headed it means the oxygen levels are increasing and the carbon dioxide levels are decreasing. Over time your body will recognize this as normal. Practice this yoga breathing exercise twice a day for a week and notice the results.

I often joke with my students about how wonderful it would be if our parents had received an owner’s manual as soon as we were born. And there, on the first page, in bold letters, would read:

This manual contains all the information necessary to allow your child to remain healthy and emotionally balanced for their entire life. Therefore, please read and memorize chapter one entitled: Breath of Life!

Gary, 61 years old, in king dancer's pose

So... What's Your Story?

2010-03-19T04:09:00.000-07:00

We just sent out the publicity for an upcoming talk at the Serai Social Club in Vancouver. Serai is taken from Turkish, and it originally referred to a meeting place for caravans, allowing different travelers to meet on their respective paths. When the manager inquired about a possible topic for the evening in February, we decided to first speak with the owners and learn more about the organization. Radha, unfortunately, was busy packing up the house for our impending return to Florida so I invited our friend and collaborator Greg to join me.

we'll be home to Vancouver in less than 6 weeks...

The Serai Social Club began as the Campoverde Social Club, founded by Rachel Greenfeld and was recently purchased and renovated by two lovely people, Cybil and Michael. They had been members of the club in its original conversation, and we all enjoyed a lively conversation while sitting on the club's cozy, comfortable couches.

It was then that I realized how fortunate it was to have this social club in our neighborhood. Kitslano is a fabulous area of Vancouver, and the friendly people that walk these streets are one of the reasons Radha and I decided to relocate from South Florida. This sense of community was only reinforced when Cybil and Michael told us about the club's sole requirement for membership - to reach out and connect with everyone.

To me, it sounds like the perfect reason to go out at night. Rather than sitting alone in a crowded bar or restaurant, at this place you could enjoy talking to the people around you. A ready-made community of friendly individuals who were interested in being a part of your world, talking, laughing, and sharing stories.

Michael told me how he had been traveling in London, and after a disappointing experience at a local pub he discovered one of the many social clubs that are spread out all over London. His love of conversation and listening to others share their life so enthusiastically led to his joining Compoverde upon his return a few months later. Not long after, he and Cybil decided to purchase the club.

As the four of us talked together, I became excited that Radha and I would have the opportunity to meet the other members of this great establishment. After all ,we have spent our life enjoying hanging out with people who love people. I told her about my experience when I got home that evening, and we immediately began brainstorming what we might share with the club's members.

A week later, it came to us like a bolt of lightning. The techniques and tools we share with others are drawn from our own experience, and - as anyone who has ever joined us for satsang can attest - storytelling is a large part of our teaching method. Realizing that the social club provides a place where people gather to share food, wine and conversations about their lives, we decided to share some of the stories from our life. After thirty-plus years of marriage, seventeen (soon to be 18!) pilgrimages to India, and two trips around the world, we have plenty of them.

Radha riding a camel in Jaipur, India

So, we'd like to know.... What’s your story?

Watching Things Change Around Me

2010-03-11T05:41:00.000-08:00

In our work, Radha and I have many opportunities to interact with conscious and loving individuals, and one of our most prominent goals is to practice compassion. Definitions abound for this word, but for us, it simply means keeping our hearts open to all those who are suffering. Some of them we know intimately, yet this morning it was much bigger then that. I woke feeling sensitive and vulnerable, and there was a heaviness in my chest as I contemplated those in need who we do not know. Earthquakes, floods, the recent tsunami - so many people have been suffering these past months.

Four decades of meditation have allowed me understand the impermanence of my body, my mind, and everything that makes up this world around me. Yet, I would never want that to downplay the emotional experience of watching things change every day, every month, every year and certainly every moment. What I felt this morning was not overwhelming, just a gentle swirling sadness that invited me to sit in meditation and send out wave after wave of soft surrender.

In our weekly meditation gathering the evening before, I laughingly used my self as the example for the ever-changing nature that we call Life. I told how shocked I was a few months ago when suddenly the image in the mirror had my father’s throat. Wrinkled skin had suddenly appeared where, only the day before, there was the smooth skin of a twenty year old. I laughed along with the others for the image actually made me feel closer to my Dad than ever before.

me and my Dad, looking more alike every day

Hmmm... Maybe my sadness is born of the realization that next month will be the anniversary of my Mom’s passing. Or maybe, without even knowing it, my upcoming 61st birthday is sending me a signal. I love that I feel these deep emotions, and it seems to me that dancing through this ever-changing field of possibilities is the only viable option. What begins in a flash, so quickly (or not so quickly) inevitably ends. Pleasure and pain mix together so perfectly, and offer an infinite variety of moments where we can either let go (let G_d) or struggle fruitlessly, hoping and striving for the fulfillment of our desires.

I know that life is an exquisite movement of consciousness. And, as I embrace every emotional interaction with my world, I am re-minded that we are all connected to the same Source. Truth is One, and the paths to it are so many.

Dress Up Time for Your Salad?

2010-03-09T05:24:00.000-08:00

A group of us gathered this Saturday for our monthly meditation day. Although we love the hours of hatha yoga, pranayama (breath work), discussions and long periods of meditation, everyone looks forward to sharing a vegetarian meal at the end of the program. Our delivery of local veggies had arrived two days earlier, and I planned a soup and salad with fresh multi-grain bread from Old School Bakery.

a beautiful head of lettuce from this week's delivery

When I emptied the box of veggies I was impressed by the amount of prana (life force) that poured out onto the kitchen counter. Our assistant Kalyani prepared the lettuce, and I sliced some of the beautiful tomatoes, including the small grape tomatoes that came in a variety of colors. As I held up the gorgeous two-toned green and red pepper, my husband walked over to inspect the produce. It was then that I remembered I didn't have any salad dressing.

We've avoided commercial dressings for many years, even at the natural food store. As soon as I started to read and pay attention to the labels, I was shocked to see the long list of unhealthy ingredients. Even those labeled "natural" or "organic" are often chock-full of sugar. Healthy eating and keeping the calories down has motivated us to prepare our own dressings. I immediately thought to call Sherry (her nickname is Vidya- see previous post) who happens to be, among others things, a professional chef. She makes a killer salad dressing that enhances everything it touches.

Sherry's Salad Dressing

3/4 C Virgin Olive Oil
1/4 C Balsamic Vinegar
1 tbs Dijon mustard
1/8 tsp Thyme
Salt & Pepper
Stainless steel bowl
Whisk

Directions:

1) Place balsamic vinegar into the bowl.
2) Place the olive oil in a measuring cup w/ handle.
3) Slowly whisk a small amount of oil into the vinegar.
4) Continue whisking small amounts of oil into the vinegar until it begins to thicken.
5) The mixture will lighten in color as it incorporates.
6) When completely blended, the consistency of the Dressing will "hold" together on the back side of a spoon.
7) Lastly, add in Dijon mustard & Thyme & Salt & Pepper to taste.

The Dressing will last for several weeks. Om Appetite!

So what’s in a Name anyway?

2010-03-04T05:15:00.001-08:00

In 1972 I was given the name Gopal by my spiritual teacher Swami Satchidananda. His guidance and instructions were invaluable to me. At that time in my life, I was lost, depressed, and without purpose or meaning. I credit his expert knowledge of the ancient science of Raja Yoga (the Royal Path of Meditation) as the single most important event in my life. By participating in these ancient practices, over the years, I slowly became aware of how the mind functions as an instrument of perception. I credit my meditation practice for awakening within me the ability to observer my confused mind and create a healthier relationship with my thoughts and emotions.

One of the methods that has been used in India, as well as may other cultures, is the use of names to denote specific stages of one’s spiritual growth. The name Gary was given to me by my parents, and as my personality developed I identified myself with it. All the positives and negatives that defined me were encapsulated in that name. Gary was a child, an altar boy, an actor, an athlete, a student, a depressed young man, an angry person when he did not get his way, a hard worker, a kind person to those in need, an ROTC cadet, and (very briefly) a second lieutenant in the United States Army. All the good, the bad and the ugly fell under the name- Gary.

After a few months of practicing Yoga, I was so taken by this science of higher consciousness that I moved into the New York City Integral Yoga Institute. It was after deciding to become a full time yogi that my teacher gave me the spiritual name Gopal. The name has more than one meaning, but the definition I identified with was that it represented the playful aspect of consciousness that is simultaneously dedicated to remaining connected to one’s higher power at all costs.

I began to see that inside of me was two people: Gary was the one who lived in the world, and Gopal was the one who focused on serving others and being spiritually aware. It was Gary who got angry, and Gopal who remembered to take a pause, breathe deeply and get back into balance. Gary was tempted to fall into old unhealthy patterns, and Gopal was the loving voice inside that steered me back on course once again.

When I was invited to take the pre-monastic vows by my teacher, I was given the name Brother Gopal Chaitanya. My new name was a constant reminder of my vows of poverty, chastity and obedience to a higher purpose in life. Gary, who became Gopal, was now trumped by a higher power, one that had a new focus in his life - to live in accordance with the divine. Whenever I used my spiritual name or heard it being used by others, I was immediately reminded of my true purpose in life..

And then I took the monastic vows. I fervently made the decision to serve, to love, to meditate and to realize my true immortal blissful nature. The name I was given was Swami Sudhananda. Swami is a Sanskrit word that means to know one’s true Self, sudha means purity, and ananda means bliss. I was a young enthusiastic twenty-five year old ready to live up to every aspect of his name- to know that my true nature was pure bliss!

Words create a distinct reality inside our heads, and the act of naming brings abstract meaning to mere sounds. And, in my early years practicing yoga and meditation, these sounds were powerful enough to consistently turn my attention to a higher purpose, a more universal understanding of the meaning of life. I was in awe of each of my new names. And through it all, Gary represented my worldly persona while Gopal, Brother Gopal and Swami Sudhananda all tuned me into a wiser, less disturbed, more loving me.

When I left the vows in 1976, after an emotional process led by Swami Satchidananda, I was ordained an interfaith minister. And, even though to this day I never use the title reverend, it is nonetheless my official title. That, of course, is a whole nother story.

Radha, reminding me to stay on track

These days I go by two names: Gary is the one who works in the world, serving and struggling with all the issues that are common to our human nature; and Gopal is the playful, spiritual, and often irreverent guy who loves to meditate and focus on the finer things in life. Gopal is the part of me that knows everything in life has purpose and meaning.

Following in the tradition that has guided seekers for the past five thousand years, I also give a spiritual names to students who are struggling with their mind and want to transcend the familiar patterns that so often lead to frustration and dissatisfaction. By giving them a ‘spiritual nickname’, it reminds them that they are always connected to their inner wisdom and higher power. A perfect example of the effectiveness of this tradition can be found in our dear friend Sherry. She is reminded of her greatness each time she hears us call her Vidya, and in hearing that name, she remembers that she is always a channel for wisdom, clarity, kindness, compassion and love.

our friend Vidya

So, it turns out, there is a lot in a name.

excerpt from Chapter 18: "Like a Rolling Stone"

2010-03-03T08:59:00.000-08:00

Mick’s voice shook me from my musings, “What would you like to hear?”

Surprised he noticed me, I hesitated a moment before answering, “How about ‘Waiting on a Friend?’”

“That’s a nice change,” he said. “Most people just want to hear ‘Satisfaction.’”

Mick began singing in a soft falsetto to save his voice, and Charlie started beating out a rhythm with his feet and hands. Ronnie added the occasional harmony, and Keith joined in after a quick trip to the bathroom. Mick danced closer and closer to me as he sang, looking into my eyes and inching right up to the brink of embrace before pulling away. My heart skipped the first time it happened, but I soon realized that he wasn’t really singing to me, only performing to an audience of one. They were still on stage, and the impromptu concert was allowing their energy to settle. Except for the cocaine, they reminded me of a bunch of kids hanging out, cracking jokes, and having fun.

On one of his return trips from the bathroom, Keith brought out a joint and handed it to me. I passed it along to Bill, and as he took a long toke I burst out laughing. Half-stoned, Keith slurred out, “What's so funny love?”

“He looks… He looks… He looks like a raccoon.”

The room shifted its attention from me to Bill. His black eye shadow had run during the concert, and he looked exactly like a raccoon smoking a joint. Everyone erupted into hysterics. When we finally regained our breath, Ross popped his head up and chimed in from a sofa in the corner, “You're too much, Donna.”

I turned to look at him, but he had already lowered back down again. He had hunkered in with a bottle of bourbon as soon as we got there. Mick and I looked at each other and he rolled his eyes at me.

I shrugged my shoulders, “Ross is Ross. What else can I say?”

Mick smiled in acknowledgment and then returned his attention to the music, improvising vocals to a new chord progression Ronnie was working on. I nursed my orange cup of Jack Daniels for the rest of the night, and another hour passed, full of songs and laughter.

Radha with her blind cat Omar,
the summer she hung with the Rolling Stones

Trance or Meditation?

2010-03-01T06:00:00.000-08:00

We've just returned to Florida after a month of, among other things, writing and editing our book in Vancouver. After twelve busy weeks of teaching and leading our Enlightening Relationships seminars, we needed a little rest and relaxation. Vancouver, like South Florida, offers us many opportunities to discover like-minded souls, and last week we enjoyed a leisurely stroll along the water on our way to Granville Island, nestled under the Granville Bridge across from downtown Vancouver. This has become one of our favorite places to take in a show, stock up on the fresh local produce, check out local artists, and dine in one of the many delicious restaurants.

As we meandered our way around the island to meet our friend Fritz, we were engulfed by a sea of excited tourists enjoying the 2010 Olympic games and festivities. There were long lines waiting to get into everyone of the venues, including the pavilions showcasing the provinces of Quebec and Ontario. Live music, events for all ages and a carnival atmosphere had the entire place jumping.

Radha with our friend Fritz

Fritz has been an articulate, intelligent, and socially active citizen of Vancouver ever since he first arrived from San Francisco back in the late sixties. We met him six years ago, while first exploring the delights of the island, and quickly became friends. His decision to become a Canadian was at least partially a response to being arrested in Selma, Alabama, while supporting the civil rights movement. His search for a more socially conscious government brought him to Vancouver. We arrived at his woodwork shop unannounced, and he was delighted to see us.

After of catching up, Fritz asked a question that sparked a lengthy conversation. As one of the senior members of the oldest pagan community in North America, he shared that his group had recently decided to become a teaching community. One of their new members has been practicing Transcendental Meditation for a number of years, and since the pagan group was already familiar with their experiences in the trance state, they quickly realized they needed to know more about the practice of meditation and how it differs from trance.

Radha and I have had a regular meditation practice for close to forty years as well as numerous trance experiences, and I told Fritz about my three most memorable trance experiences:

1) Sufi dancing
2) the movement portion of Osho’s Chaotic Meditations
3) chanting at the Hari Krishna temple in Montreal

In each instance, I experienced myself as an individual in perfect harmony with everything around me: nature, people, the sky, the earth all became an extension of my being. What remained, however, was a definite sense of being an individual, of being a person who is having an experience.

Similar to trance, meditation allows a state of euphoria to saturate the consciousness. The difference for me is that, in deeper states of meditation, all sense of individuality dissolves. There is no "me" to be separate from nature or earth or sky. We become absorbed into something that can only be explained after the experience ends.

During the course of our conversation, Fritz asked me if I would be interested in writing a paper on the differences between trance and meditation for the elders of his community. Fascinated by the topic I agreed.

That brings me to an invitation. If you have experience with trance, meditation (a daily practice for more than a year would be preferable), or especially both, I would appreciate your comments and contributions. Just write them in the comment section of this article, or email them to me at gary@gopalgarybello.com. I have began organizing my thoughts around this topic and look forward to reading yours.

The Twilight Zone

2010-02-17T05:03:00.001-08:00

Last night Radha and I went out to eat at East is East, one of our favorite restaurants in Vancouver, which fuses Afghani and East Indian cuisine. We shared a scrumptious dahl soup, a plate of Thai tofu with peppers cooked in a creamy sauce, and saag paneer, with a side of rice and a chapatti. It was delicious, and the staff is fabulous, possessing a remarkable ability to make authentic contact each and every time we dine there.

After our server placed two small complimentary cups of chai on the table, I remarked to Radha, “I feel like I know that girl.”

“You felt it too?” she replied.

“Yeah, I can’t get over this town - I feel like I already know every other person on the street.”

“It’s the strangest thing," she agreed. "I keep getting a steady stream of déjà vu in this city.”

“That reminds me," I said. "I forgot to tell you about my training session on Monday.”

“What’s happened?”

“Well, I saw a woman walk in while I was warming up, and had the strongest feeling of having seen her before.”

“See, it happens all the time,” Radha said.

“Well, five minutes later she walked right up to me and starting talking to me.”

“Wow.”

“It turns out that she's the director of the Callanish Society."

“Jamie Brown?” she remembered.

“That’s her.”

Radha was surprised. “She recognized you?”

“Not only that," I answered. "She also remembered we taught in Florida and said to send you her love."

She smiled warmly and took a sip of her chai. “"I love that they give emotional support to cancer patients.”

"Don't you just love this town. Everyone treats you like family.’ I thought for a moment. “Remember what Spice told us four years ago?”

"I do," Radha replied. "'Sell your house and get out of Florida as soon as possible!'”

“Good thing we met a psychic realtor,” I said. "The bubble burst almost immediately after she told us that.”

“We were fortunate to avoid the crash," she agreed. "It’s almost like we are living in the twilight zone."

As soon as Radha spoke the words, it was as if we heard Rod Serling speaking in the background, and that strange melody ringing in our ears. We paid for our meal and walked back to our car, glancing into the pubs along the way. Men’s hockey was playing on every television set in town, and the stools were filled with patrons garbed in red shirts, drinking beer and yelling.

Welcome to the the Twilight Zone.

Nanny's Spinach Balls

2010-02-13T13:18:00.000-08:00

When I moved into the Montreal Integral Yoga Insititute in 1976, there were 8 yogis experimenting with living a vegetarian lifestyle. We came from various backgrounds and countries, and were enthused by the notion of changing our lives for the better. Vegetarians were far and few between in those days, and considered by most people to be either fanatical or unhealthy (or possibly both).

At the institute we we held cooking classes, experimenting with how to change old recipes to those which had no meat, fish or eggs. It was a constant challenge, with sometimes disastrous results - Sister Narani's zucchini cookies will go down in history as one of the most original, creative and uneatable of our healthy alternative treats!

In spite of this, we persevered, and eventually compiled a small cookbook:

While going though my bookshelves the other day, I discovered my worn copy, complete with various stains from many of the recipes inside. One of my favorites was a re-tooled recipe that Betty, my mother-in-law, made for my husband when he first became a vegetarian back in 1971. Gary's grandmother Nanny loved it and served them at her Sunday dinners. These Italian spinach balls were an instant hit:

Enjoy with your favorite red sauce and pasta!

excerpt from Chapter 20: "The Italian Connection"

2010-02-12T06:16:00.000-08:00

“You-no-look-a-good. You-look-a-thin-you-no-eat-enough.”

I looked down at my seventy-two year old Italian grandmother, staring back with concern at my thin, pale face. She wore her lime green house dress with the pink diamond pattern, and a small gold crucifix dangled around her neck. Before I could respond, she turned around and motioned with her wooden spoon to follow her to the kitchen. I was instantly overwhelmed by the aroma of eggplant parmesan, spinach, garlic, olive oil and homemade mushroom raviolis. But even more striking was what I didn’t smell. There were no meatballs, veal, or braciole. My mother had told Nanny that she would have to retool her recipes to accommodate my vegetarian diet, but I still found it hard to believe. I turned to close the door and that’s when I saw it: Jesus was watching me.

On the back of the apartment door was a portrait of Jesus Christ pulling open his chest to reveal a sacred heart. I had seen similar depictions often as a child, but what grabbed my attention this time was his gaze rather than the gore. Stepping from side to side, his holographic eyes appeared to blink as they followed my movement. I even squatted down and, sure enough, Jesus lowered his stare. When I stood back up and turned to go into the kitchen, Nanny was there watching.

“You believe-in-a-Christ?”

I smiled to myself and pulled my attention away from the portrait. “I’m sorry, Nanny. I missed that. What did you say?”

She repeated in her heavy accent, “You believe-in-a-Christ?”

I hadn't had dinner with my grandmother in years, and I didn’t want to stir up trouble before we even reached the table. “Yes, Nanny. Jesus was a special man.”

Obviously unsatisfied by my evasiveness, she tensed her short, barrel-shaped body and pointed her stubby index finger at my robe. “But you-a-wear-a-these-orange-clothes?”

“These are the clothes of a meditation monk, Nanny.” I was speaking to myself as much as I was to her. Even though two months had passed since taking my vows, the gown still seemed odd to me.

“These-a-no-made-good. I-gonna-sew-you-a-better-one.” Nanny was always quick to offer critical input, but thankfully her remark was only a sidebar. “What-is-a-this-medication-monk?”

“It’s meditation Nanny, not medication. It’s a person who dedicates their life to the service of God.” I saw the frustrated look in her tired, worn face and cut short my explanation. My grandmother was confused, hurt and disappointed – but she still loved me in her own way. Softening my approach I took her hands in mine. “Never mind, Nanny. Jesus was one of the greatest human beings ever.”

“So-you-believe-in-a-Christ?”

“Yes Nanny, I believe in the Christ.”

She let go of my hand, quickly traced the sign of the cross, and kissed her fingers. “Oh my God, you believe-in-a-Christ! You believe-in-a-Christ!” Repeating this strange mantra gave her an excitement I had never seen before, and taking my hands once more, she pulled them to her cheek in a rare display of loving emotion before leading me to the small dining room adjacent the kitchen.

Table lamps lit the sparse living quarters through plastic-covered shades, and the fabric strewn throughout the apartment told me that she still supplemented her social security income by working as a seamstress for her neighbors. The room pulsed with the sound of more than a dozen cuckoo clocks, and the next two hours were filled with eating and gossip. I listened to her from across the table, alternating my gaze between the plastic flower centerpiece made by Aunt Olga and the swinging tail of the cat above Nanny’s head. She had a whole litany of complaints about her children, grandchildren, and friends, but they all revolved around a single axis – she was lonely.

Before she met my grandfather, Nanny worked as a servant girl for her adoptive family in southern Italy. He brought her to America after the First World War, and they settled in New Jersey, having six children in rapid succession. My grandfather died in a motorcycle accident only a few years later, and my dad became the man of the house at ten years old. Keeping food on the table became Nanny’s primary focus, and the older children had to work to contribute to the family income. What emerged was an ever-shifting picture of feuds and reconciliations, fueled by gossip, anger, and failed expectations. Nanny continued to host family dinners after Sunday mass, but over the years the constant strain alienated most of the family. Now my parents were the only regular visitors in the small assisted living apartment my father helped subsidize.

I took a final bite of my eggplant. “Thank you, Nanny. That was delicious.”

“You-should-a-eat-more. You-look-a-too-thin.”

“No thanks, I'm stuffed.”

She looked at me for a moment. “You gotta-eat-my-wheat-pie.”

Nanny’s voice was halfway between plea and reproach, and I understood that she was showing me love in the only way she knew how. “Okay, Nanny.”

She jumped out of her seat and brought me a large piece on a clean plate. I ate silently while she sat beaming at me.

“You-want-another-piece?” she asked.

“I can't eat another bite. But it was delicious, thank you.”

She hopped up once more, pulled out a box of aluminum foil, and walked over to the remaining pie sitting on the table. “You-bring-a-home-to-your-mother. She-a-likes-this.”

I stood up. “Thanks, Nanny.”

She escorted me to the front door, gave me a stiff hug, and whispered before letting go, “I’m-so-glad-you-believe-in-the-Christ.” There was a gleam in her eye, and it felt good to be a source of joy to a woman who knew so little happiness. I headed for the stairwell, hoping the ten flights down to the street would offset the heavy meal.

Nanny is on the far left, taken at our wedding in 1977

The Sway

2010-02-08T03:38:00.000-08:00

In June of 1997 my friend Fred Haas flew me to High Mowing School in the mountains of New Hampshire to teach yoga and meditation to jazz musicians. We had met back in the winter of 1981 when he was a patient at our holistic health center, New Direction In Health, in Saint Johnsbury, Vermont. The position of his body when playing combined with the weight of his tenor sax had tightened his low back.

Fred Haas, founder of Interplay Jazz

Fred, an accomplished musician who played with Pat Metheney, the Duke Ellington Band, Ray Charles, and taught Jazz at Dartmouth College, had created Interplay Jazz an innovative approach to take jazz to a new level. We decided that a holistic experience for jazz musicians would be a good thing. Drugs, alcohol, and junk food were replaced by healthier alternatives, and I offered my Essence Therapy programs as a means to correct the physical imbalances created by playing a musical instrument - the rounded backs of the piano students, the hunched shoulder of a horn player, the stiff neck of the bassist, and the stress caused from performing. Over and over again, I discovered how physically and emotionally challenging playing jazz could be.

Interplay Jazz staff, 2008

Yoga and meditation classes were combined with gourmet organic food, and Fred assembled a stellar faculty that included Matt Wilson on drums, Bob Hallahan and Armen Donelian on piano, Dave Clark on bass, Eric Friesen on cello, George Voland on trombone, and Freddie Bryant on guitar. During the next twelve years we taught musicians how to deal with performance anxiety, physical imbalances caused by playing their instruments, and how to be more creative. It was an advanced improvisational jazz experience, packed with laughter, insight and great music!

Radha and I were novices when we first started working with Fred and the faculty, but all these years later we credit them with our deeper appreciation and love for all that jazz! Working with musicians has been an honor and a delight, and I was able to adapt specific corrective and restorative yoga poses for the dynamic challenges musicians encounter playing their instruments. (I especially loved designing programs for the singers!)

One morning eight years ago, after a late faculty concert the night before, I looked out to see about eighty tired musicians in my hatha class. We needed to get the energy moving, so I put on Jai Uttal and instructed everyone to stand with their legs apart, eyes closed, and breathing deeply. I had them listen, feel, and allow their body to sway along with the music. It was electric!

Over the next fifteen minutes everyone surrendered into the sway. We shifted our weight from one leg to the other, moving our hands and arms through a series of bandhas and mudras. The energy in the room exploded as we gracefully created our 'Yoga Dance'. We danced forward and back, moving our arms and legs in and out of a series of poses, each person tuning into their bodies needs. Then, slowly I had them transition to the floor where we moved through a series of floor poses, after a deep relaxation exercise we spent the next twenty minutes meditating. After we had opened our eyes my dear friend Matt spoke out into the room- Tippin'!

Thus the Sway was born!

Four years later…

We were in Charlottesville Airport when my cell phone rang, it was Matt. He had just finished a performance with his band at Carneige Hall and excitedly described how he had taken the Sway public. He had composed a song, named The Sway, and even had his singers (The Swayettes!) dancing to it as they performed on stage.

All things have a beginning, a middle, and an end, however...

After thirteen years of designing and developing programs along with Fred and Sabrina, we won't be returning to Interplay Jazz in Vermont this year, but...

the Vancouver Jazz Festival is calling.

Rice, Broccoli, and Feta Cheese Sauté

2010-02-05T10:32:00.000-08:00

There have been many family and meditation days with our yogic community over our years in Vermont and Florida, and we always enjoy a great lunch after our sadhana (spiritual practices that enable us to hold the feeling of Oneness in our heart) and satsang (a gathering focused on that space of Oneness).

Since we're often blessed with unexpected guests during these meditation days, I'm always on the lookout for the recipe that can be doubled and tripled at the last minute as needed. Prior to the Internet, I counted on cookbooks like Quick Vegetarian Pleasures by Jeanne Lemlin.

Since both Gopal and I are fans of broccoli, the following recipe from her book works really well. More importantly, I've found that even those who are terrified by green vegetables love this combination!

Rice, Broccoli, and Feta Cheese Saute (serves 3)

1 cup brown rice 2 cups water
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 cup olive oil
4 garlic cloves
2 med. tomatoes, cored, seeded and diced
1 bunch broccoli (5 cups) cut bite-size
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/4 water
1 cup (5 oz) crumbled feta cheese
Freshly ground black pepper

Cook rice while sautéing garlic in olive oil for 2 minutes, then add tomatoes and sauté 2 more minutes. Add broccoli and oregano, toss well, pour in water, and cover the pan. Cook for 5 minutes at medium high heat until broccolli is tender. (Not mushy!)

Remove cover occasionally and toss when checking. Stir in the hot rice, feta cheese and black pepper to taste. Serve immediately and enjoy!

For a pleasing accompaniment, try sliced tomatoes drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette.

Fellowship, Friendship, Acquaintance-ship

2010-02-01T20:06:00.000-08:00

On Sunday Radha and I flew home to Vancouver, and took the opportunity to discuss one of the chapters from our book, "You've Got A Friend." Over the course of our thirty-four years together, we've had the privilege to meet many wonderful people. We have also noticed that each of those relationships contained a definite level of intimacy, with that in mind we placed all of our relationships into three categories – acquaintances, friends, and fellowship.

Acquaintances are our associates, those we know on a casual social basis or our many business contacts. This category also includes: students; people we meet on our travels; sponsors and supporters of our Enlightening Relationships programs; even some of our family members are in this category; and finally those individuals and couples that we serve by performing weddings, funerals, and a number of our life transition ceremonies.

The second group includes friends. These are individuals with whom we have a much closer relationship. They are companions who hold similar beliefs and ideas. With these people we have emotional ties, and a shared history that keeps us connected. With our friends we are more relaxed and at ease.

However, with friends, as with acquaintances, there are definite limitations. We are careful not to overstep the parameters of the friendship. If you have a work-friend, for example, you may not feel comfortable sharing problems about finances, or your marriage. If you have a sports-friend you unite within that arena. For us friendship includes a deep respect for each others boundaries. We have friends we have known for many years and although dear to us, we understand that we do not reveal everything about our lives to each other. We love them for who they are. When an individual is only a friend, to us that means that there is a sense of reservation present.

The third category is fellowship. These are the people with whom we are most intimate (in-to-me-see). There are few, if any, reservations with people in this group; we trust each other implicitly. With members of our fellowship we would never allow anything to cause separation between us. Obviously, there are fewer people in this category. We invite and delight in constructive criticism. In our fellowship we have very few 'withholds'. Whenever an issue (self-limiting belief) is activated, we always take responsibility-never blaming the other person! Those in this group take 100% responsibility for their actions. These people posses a high level of integrity- to the best of our ability we are honest and authentic with each other .

Since we have never met anyone who is perfect, in our fellowship we can always count on loving kindness whenever we are out of balance. We do not expect that from friends or acquaintances. Our intention is to always be For Giving, and we can always call on a member of our fellowship when in need.

Please notice that the Mandala above is divided into three circles. The center holds our Fellowship, the second circle contains our Friends and in the outer third circle our Acquaintances reside. These relationship circles represent a fluid ongoing journey into the emotional and rewarding world of inter-personal relationships.

Oh, one last thing, there are no hard and fast rules here. No rigid delineations. There are numerous examples of an acquaintance immediately becoming a friend or a friend entering our fellowship. And it can go in the opposite direction as well. Just recently someone we love dearly choose to remove us from his life. Sad as that was for us, we understood and respected his decision.

This three-tiered system allows us to have realistic expectations with all the many people we encounter in our life.

excerpt from Chapter 14: "You've Got a Friend"

2010-01-27T13:16:00.000-08:00

While Lee walked inside the coffee shop, I strolled over to the bench and sat down. The sun was still low in the sky over the harbor, and I enjoyed the sounds of pigeons as they fluttered around the small park. I recalled the summers I spent in Cambridge when Lee and I were still married. His construction business was just starting out, and I would take a few weeks at the beginning of each summer for myself. In some ways it seemed so distant, and yet the city still felt the same after all these years. Lee’s voice brought me back.

“Here’s your drink.”

I took the cup and inhaled deeply. “Thanks. It smells great.”

“My pleasure.” He sat down beside me. “So I'm assuming I'm a friend?”

“Absolutely not,” I answered.

A confused expression came across his face. “What do you mean I'm not a friend?”

“Relax,” I said. “You're way more than a friend.”

“More than a friend?” he asked. “Did I graduate to family?”

“No, you don’t get to choose family. You're in our fellowship.”

“I’m honored… I think.” He look puzzled. “Is this a Lord of the Rings thing?”

“Cute.” I took a sip of my latte. “No, a little less theatrical. They're the people you trust the most.”

“That’s what I call a close friend.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “But the word ‘friend’ can mean different things to different people.”

“I’m still not sure I get it.”

I thought for a moment. “Well, who’s your best friend?”

He answered without thinking, “Ron.”

“And he's more than a close friend, right?”

“Absolutely, I tell him everything. He always plays it straight with me, even if it’s not what I want to hear. I do the same for him.”

“And what about me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Am I just chopped tofu?” I teased.

“Well,” Lee laughed, “you're my best girl friend.”

“How come?”

He answered earnestly, “Because I know you’ll be there for me no matter what.”

“And what about Gary?” I continued.

“Same thing,” he said.

“So for us, we have more than one best friend. That’s what we call fellowship. Gary and I have about a dozen people we can count on.”

Lee paused for a moment. “I guess I only have three of those people in my life.” He looked out across the park and took another drink of his coffee. “It’s funny…”

“What's that?” I asked.

“I feel like we’re closer now than we were when we were married.”

I touched his hand. “Me, too.”

“A lot of my friends don’t even talk to their ex’s.”

“Geez,” I said. “I can't imagine that. We’ve been through so much together.”

Radha with her first husband Lee,
still friends more than 30 years after their divorce

Where have all the markets gone?

2010-01-26T14:21:00.000-08:00

I really miss those summer green markets in Vancouver where organic food and local produce overflow from one tent to the next. Florida's climate makes organic growing a bit problematic because the bugs never get killed by the cold and - like all the vegetation - the bugs just keep multiplying! Thank goodness for our deliveries from Green Cay Farm, where Emily and the team keep the bugs at bay with as many natural deterrents as possible.

This week there were yellow peppers, spinach, tomatoes,scallions, and head lettuce - all of it containing tons of life force (or as we call it in yogic terms - prana). That's what is missing when I look at the food in the grocery stores. Of course, when options are limited, I bless the food as we prepare and eat it, all in an atmosphere infused with positive energy.

When we return to Vancouver this spring, I will plant more food among our flower gardens - herbs, lettuce, beans and beautiful fragrant red tomatoes. Over the years I've accumulated a fair amount of experience to draw upon, and I look forward to rediscovering my green thumb.

Back in Vermont we lived a sustainable lifestyle - growing most of our food in summer, canning our own food for winter and using firewood for fuel The dome only needed 5 cords!

I ground wheat berries into flour to make our bread and boiled milk to prepare for the yogurt starter. Eggs came from the farm down the hill, and cheese from the Cabot Creamery, also down the hill but in the other direction. Those days seem long ago, but I remember the excitement of fresh picked food grown with love and care for the earth. Returning to the land in the Sixties wasn't such a bad or crazy idea after all!

Gary in our garden back in Vermont.

Birthdays, Anniversaries, and Coincidences

2010-01-25T09:06:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was my birthday, and as chance (fate? luck?) would have it, I was born in the same year that Gary and Radha got married. This is just one of the many happy coincidences we've discovered since the project began, and during this time I've come to know more and more deeply that some things are just meant to be. I've listened to each of them tell their stories, and watched the ways in which the past inevitably takes on hues of the present.

The story of their coming together would read very differently had it gone any other way. If Radha had chosen not to go to the 1976 silent retreat in Newport, or if Gary had never gone to visit her at the dome that fall, or if their marriage had fallen apart during the difficult times they shared together - if any of these things had happened, it wouldn't be the same book.

This is why I don't indulge in hypotheticals.

The fact that it did happen, and even with all the shadows of memory, it is a beautiful story. One of the first intimate conversations I had with Gary, I asked him, "Why did you leave the vows?" I didn't understand how someone who had been so committed, so rigorous, so steely in his resolve could have possible forgiven himself after realizing he had taken a vow he couldn't keep. Gary's answer, however, was as genuine as it was insightful. He responded: it wasn't my dharma.

This was something I understood. In my own life, I have lived - by the most conservative measure - three separate lives. Each of them has been beautiful in its own way, and likewise each of them has been painful to leave behind. When Gary answered me that day in December 2007, I immediately knew that the transition from monasticism to the life of the householder was a painful one because it meant letting go of many of the concepts he had spent the previous five years believing about himself.

Furthermore, I understood (perhaps even more than he did at the time) that it wasn't a matter of the vows not being right for him, but rather a question of him not being right for the vows. I believe this is a sadness we have all felt at one time or another, the moment of realizing we are not the people we thought we were, and I was curious to know more about how it all unfolded.

- Jeremy

Another View

2010-01-22T04:40:00.000-08:00

When Gary first mentioned the idea of writing a book, I thought: who cares about an ex-swami and a hippie from the hills of Vermont?

Anyone that knows me, knows that I serve as ballast to his intrepid enthusiasm. I didn't understand the point of writing about ourselves if it was going to be nothing more than exercise in vanity. My husband is is nothing if not persistent, however, and after a couple of years he had amassed a number of chapters about different episodes in our life.

The book took on a life of its own, however, when a young writer named Jeremy came into our life a little more than two years ago. What initially began as a relationship based on barter (he was doing sessions with Gary) grew into something else. For the first time I was able to see Gary's initial vision, and the book took on a life of its own.

Since then, the format has kept changing and morphing, presenting itself in three distinct forms before finally maturing into what its become today. It is the story of two people who began their journey as just a couple of immature kids, straight out of college, confused and searching for meaning. Being such different people, we found it in different ways - the path of marriage and the path of renunciation.

Neither gave us what we were looking for, but in exploring further we found each other and our path together in yoga. It seems strange that so many people have such negative reactions to what was such a powerful, positive experience that continues on, "34 years and counting..."

These years have helped us in developing our trainings and workshops, and in the chapters we share our process by exploring those situations that helped us to understand ourselves and bring clarity to issues that keep us stuck in the past. We've watched our relationship tools transform people's lives, and if the title exposes more readers to our work I'm all for it .

second excerpt from Chapter 1: "He Says, She Says"

2010-01-21T08:14:00.000-08:00

“… Gary left his monastic vows in 1977 to marry his wife Radha, the lovely woman who captured the swami’s heart. They have been married nearly thirty years and travel the world teaching yoga and meditation. Together they lead seminars and help others to grow by sharing their relationship tools. So without further delay, I now present to you our dear friend Gary ‘Gopal’ Bello.”

I stood up and began making my way from the audience to the stage. Although outwardly calm, I felt taken aback by Robert’s introduction. Radha was not the reason I left my monastic vows, and as soon as the words left his mouth I felt a tightness in my chest. The walk to the front of the auditorium allowed me time to recover, and I lengthened my exhalations as I walked up the steps . A large black armchair with a small table and bouquet of flowers occupied the middle of the stage, and I sat down pulling my legs into a cross-legged position. As Robert clipped a lapel microphone to my purple shirt, I looked out at the room. It was the first time I had spoken at Satchidananda ashram in over twenty-five years, and I didn’t want my reaction to prevent me from connecting with the audience.

I spent the next hour recounting my introduction to yoga and the early days of the Integral Yoga Institute with my teacher Swami Satchidananda. The audience enjoyed my tales of the early Seventies and anecdotes of India, and my mind let go of Robert’s comment until later that night.

“Can you believe he said that?”

My wife and I were in bed, reviewing our financials. We were closing on a house in Vancouver in April, but our home in Florida had been sitting without an offer for more than a year. Carrying a second mortgage was going to be cutting it close. “Said what?” I asked.

“That I was the reason you stopped being a swami.”

“I'm sure he was only trying to pay you a compliment. Robert has a good heart.” I returned my attention to the paperwork and the room fell quiet. Too quiet.

“Hon, I want to talk about this.”

I recognized the sound of a hurt little girl in my wife’s voice, and I set aside the notepad. “Wow, it really touched something deep, didn’t it?”

“Of course it did. How would you like it if people had been repeating rumors about you for the past thirty years?”

“I don’t think it’s really as bad as that is it?”

“Obviously it is or else Robert wouldn’t have brought it up in front of two hundred people. He knows we’re teaching first thing in the morning, and now everyone’s going to be looking at me like I'm the woman who swooped in and carried off their precious Swami Sudhananda.”

Radha was more affected than I had initially realized. “I reacted for a moment too, hon.”

“Really? You couldn’t tell from the audience.”

“Well, it was subtle, but it was there.”

“What happened with you?”

I tossed the pillow to the foot of the bed and positioned myself so that I was directly across from Radha. I looked her in the eyes as I began, “When Robert made that comment, I noticed a definite tightness in my chest.”

“Me, too.”

“I didn’t want people to blame you for my decision to leave my vows.”

Radha thought for a moment. “Did I?”

“No. I wanted out before I met you, but I hadn't made a decision.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“I was afraid of being rejected by Swamiji. You remember the shape I was in when I showed up at the dome. All I could think about was how to leave the vows without being kicked out of the organization.”

“That’s how I remember it too, but I wasn’t sure if it still looked that way in retrospect.”

“It does, but I had an issue with Robert introducing you as the woman who ‘captured my heart.’ It happened in the blink of an eye, and my mind created a story that I had to set the record straight.”

“I'm glad you didn’t take that route.”

“I learned a long time that you don’t need me to defend you.” Gopal took my hand. “What happened with you?”

Radha responded, “I got pissed. I felt attacked. It felt like they believed it was my fault.”

“You didn’t believe that story did you?” I gently asked.

“Now that you mention it, I guess I did. I've been thinking about his comment for the past two hours.”

“I wonder what the issue is underneath?”

Radha closed her eyes and took another deep breath. The intonation of her voice changed as she whispered, “I felt judged.”

Simply Delicious Tofu Cutlets

2010-01-20T13:55:00.000-08:00

Quick, easy, simple and, of course, nutritious - that's what some evenings call for. Tonight Gary is teaching a hatha yoga class at Country Club of Florida until 5pm, and then we're hosting our weekly class on the Patanjali Sutras at 7pm. We like to eat early so the food can digest before meditation, allowing us to feel light and energized - there's nothing worse than feeling stuffed after you eat.

I have the organic brown rice in the rice-cooker, the broccoli is ready to steam, and the onions and peppers (orange and yellow only!) are waiting in the sauté pan. The tofu is baking in the oven, and underneath it all will be a nice base of steamed spinach.

To top it off, we bought some new small size dinner plates (the 9 inch ones) because we don't eat enough to warrant those large 12 inch plates on the shelf in our rental house. We're both turning 61 soon, and after hearing that 50% of Americans are now obese, we've been upping our exercise and decreasing our food intake over the past few years to keep from falling into that particular statistic. Changing the size of the plate is an useful way to control portions, and we both enjoy a good a laugh thinking how easy it can be to fool the tricky mind.

Not everything is better when it's jumbo, mega, or super-sized!

Simply Delicious Tofu Cutlets

1 14 ounce package of drained and pressed firm tofu
2/3 cup nutritional yeast flake type
1/4 cup soy sauce or tamari
Spike No Salt Seasoning
for extra zing toss in a few red pepper flakes

Cut tofu into 8 rectangles.
Marinate in soy suace or tamari.
Coat with mix of yeast and seasonings.
Arrange on greased cookie sheet.
Bake at 375 degrees for 15 min.
Flip over and bake for 10 more min.
Serve and enjoy!

The Swami Controversy

2010-01-19T06:51:00.000-08:00

I emailed an acquaintance at Satchidananda Ashram in Virginia to get a phone number of a mutual friend in Mumbai, India. I shared that our book was nearing its completion and invited her to check out this blog. The reply to my email rather shocked me:

"Hari Om,

I wish I could say i would check out your blog, but may I be honest? My first reaction was rather horrified. Swamis in the west are so often not understood, maligned, disrespected, that it really offended me to see the name of your blog."

Wow! Not what I expected. She hadn't even gone online to check it out, informing me that the name alone was a door closer. Now this is an intelligent woman who served as personal assistant to Swami Satchidananda when he was alive. This man was the most influential person in my life, and I was confused how a book that honors yoga, and specifically Integral Yoga, could possibly malign him. The thought that I was defaming the title of Swami, the entire ancient tradition of sanyas, and my teacher’s reputation was too big a leap for me.

Radha and I with Swami Satchidananda in 1980.

I thought to myself that if she would only just look at the blog all the negativity would surely dissolve. The name of our book, The Swami and the Married Woman: Space Gypsies in Love, simply describes how Radha and I got involved in yoga, met Swami Satchidananda, and had our lives transformed in the process. Thirty-four years later we are madly in love with each other and travel the country offering our relationship tools to those who might also benefit from our forty years of experience with the science of yoga.

Radha and I know a number of the Swamis who live at the ashram in Virginia and didn't want this negative publicity, especially since some of them took their vows with me back in 1975. Unlike me, however, they were still living a monastic lifestyle. I wondered what other reactions might be. I soon received a second email from a swami on the Ashram Board of Directors, and realized that this situation was taking on a life of its own:

"Hari Om.

I very much agree with her. "Swami and the Married Woman" as a title sounds like an article in a tabloid magazine, not reflecting well on Sannyas and our Integral Yoga tradition. Something like "From Monasticism to Marriage" would be more dignified."

We feel very close to all our old friends in the organization, and I figured that if they just read the article, then they will see that the title is just plain old descriptive:

1) I was a meditation monk in the 1970’s until my teacher suggested and helped to guide me out of my vows.

2) Radha was married to her first husband Lee (who happens to be visiting us here in Florida as I write - but that's another story) until they both decided they were better off being sister and brother.

3) It was during this turbulent time that we met 1976. One year later we were married at the Montreal IYI.

The Swami and the Married Woman is a love story that credits Integral Yoga and our teacher Swami Satchidananda with giving us the tools that have made us who we are today. Why all the concern about "tabloids" and bringing down a five thousand year tradition? I was a swami, Radha was a married woman, and after leaving our existing vows we found love, meaning and purpose together. Wow, that is a success story - isn’t it?

Okay, one more point. The term swami can be defined in many ways, but they all describe a person who is focused on inner-fulfillment and spiritual growth. In the 1980’s and 1990’s we spent three months every year living in Himalayas, studying with a person who is married and has five children. His title is Swami, and he is addressed as Swamiji (a show of affection) by his students as well as everyone in the area - the title swami is not limited to describing a monastic.

So after some very deep reflection and contemplation I have concluded that you can please some of the Swamis some of the time but certainly not all of the Swamis all of the times.

I think I need a pause, a timeout, and a long sit in meditation...

Tell us, what does "swami" mean to you?

excerpt from Chapter 16: "Monkey Business"

2010-01-18T11:16:00.000-08:00

Only a few hours earlier, I had been waist-deep in a small pond in front of the ashram. It had been a perfect morning, and the sunlight softly caressed the treetops as it streamed downward into the chilly water, bursting into a thousand sparkling diamonds dancing joyfully around me. I closed my eyes as we began to repeat one mala of the Gayati mantra. Then we began repeating the Hamsa Gaytri Mantra, the one we had just received from Swamiji. I focused on the meaning of each word. This beautiful hymn celebrated my relationship with the divine, and it felt like I had been chanting it for lifetimes. The air became saturated with these deep melodic sounds, and my voice slowly became indistinguishable from the others. After one hundred eight repetitions our voices fell silent, and we stood there listening to nothing more than the sound of the wind. Tears welled up in my eyes as I felt a shiver go through my body.

Our silence was broken by Swamiji’s voice signaling the start of the ceremony, and I opened my eyes to see the smiling face of a large frog. It floated lazily in front of me with its legs spread apart, and I imagined it must be curious as to why such a large group of uninvited guests were joining it for its morning swim. It began circling my body, inspecting my saffron robe as they floated weightlessly in the water.

It was Guru Purnima, an auspicious time in the Hindu calendar, and for the past three days I had been completely immersed in an ancient ritual that had never before been performed in North America. I had been invited along with twenty-five other men and women to participate in this sacred ceremony, and our days were filled with meditation, fasting, chanting, and prayer. We needed only a few hours of sleep each night, and every waking minute was spent preparing for the moment now at hand. The day before we took turns shaving one another’s heads, leaving only a miniature ponytail hanging from the back. It was a solemn ritual, and our collective baldness virtually obliterated the difference between the men and the women. We now anxiously waited for our guru to remove the remaining lock.

Swamiji spoke, “With this final cut, your personal lives are surrendered to God. The focus of your actions will shift from serving yourself to serving humanity, and all outward acts will be directed with this goal in mind. Selfless action deepens the inward journey until the last vestiges of the selfish ego dissolve forever.”

With this invitation Steve stepped forward, and I watched as each person capitulated to the snip of our teacher’s scissors. My turn finally came and I stood ready in front of him, bowing my head reverently, awaiting the final release. Gazing downwards, I saw that my friendly frog was still with me.

“Do you accept the vow of poverty, chastity, and obedience?”

I bowed my head and answered, “I do.”

I felt a tug on my hair, followed by the sound of the scissors. I was twenty-six years old and had just committed the remainder of my life to the service of humankind and renunciation of worldly desires. The frog swam away and I smiled a fond farewell, concluding that its presence was an promising sign.

Gary with his fellow monks in 1975

A Duck Gave Me "The Look"

2010-01-16T07:13:00.001-08:00

Radha and I drove up A1A yesterday on the way back from our dear friend and chiropractor Gary Burns. It was a warm and delicious Friday afternoon and I had the top down, letting the sun shine on us as we debriefed the events of the past week.

It had been an intense few days, filled with teaching hatha classes, hosting our Enlightening Relationships group on Wednesday, and preparing for our Enlightening Moments workshop on Sunday. Out of nowhere I began laughing, remembering what had happened earlier.

"A duck gave me the look this morning," I said.

"Where?" Radha asked.

"On the way to Quail Ridge. It was waiting to cross the road and stared at me."

"That’s amazing,” she smiled. “Did it make it across?”

“I don’t know but it looked me right in the eyes as I drove past.”

“This was one smart duck," Radha replied.

"No kidding," I laughed.

"You're gonna love this... Yesterday I noticed a cat doing the same thing at Woolbright. This confirms Darwin’s theory you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only the aware survive!” she chuckled.

I turned on the sound system so we could listen to Diana Krall’s Quiet Nights. With the music playing, we enjoyed the first relaxing day since Radha’s ear operation in December. After ten minutes she announced, “Hey, I can hear the sound vibrating in my left ear.”

“Really?” I turned to look at her. For the last five weeks she had been recuperating. The surgeon had just removed the packing in her ear and her newly constructed eardrum was working. For the first time in ten years she was hearing sound from both ears.

“Wow! My entire head is vibrating with the sound. I love it!”

“I am so happy that this ordeal is over,” I said to her. Taking her hand, my mind turned once more to the duck. I began laughing.

“You remembering the duck again?"

I smiled at her. “You read my mind.”

“I really love how humor is such a huge part of our life,” she said.

I nodded as we pulled into the driveway of our rental home and turned off the car engine. The CD continued to play and we looked up at the beautiful clear sky, enjoying the music together. I spoke, “That's what I love about being with you.”

“Me too.” Radha smiled as Diana started singing "Walk On By." “I love this song.”

“Hey, I just got how we can share GRACE with our Enlightening Moments group.” We planned on deepening their experience of GRACE, the anagram described the five steps we offer in order to transform an upsetting situation into an enlightening moment.

“Tell me,” she answered.

I pushed the button putting the top up on the car. “Let’s request that everyone come with an uplifting joke to share with the group.”

“I like that,” she responded. “We can write it into our blog article combining it with your duck story.”

“Great idea," I answered. "I’ll send them an email telling them to check our blog.”

“You can add the Guru cartoon to it.”

“You think they will get it?”

“Hey, only the aware survive!” she said.

A line of "aware" ducks from our trip to Bali in 1979.

The guru cartoon.

We invite you to leave your own joke, combining the pictures above.

Himalayan Chocolate Chip Cookies

2010-01-13T06:31:00.000-08:00

Well the holidays are over, and I gave away the last of the Christmas cookies today. As usual the variety that disappeared the quickest was the Himalayan chocolate chips.

Starting in the early 1980’s, Gary and I would spend three to four months studying and meditating in a wonderful little town in the Himalayas. We would leave the January snows of Vermont in order to rejuvenate from our hectic schedule directing a Holistic Health Center in St. Johnsbury and running our meditation retreat center in South Woodbury. The winters were cold in the mountains, and although it only snowed a few times in the Kullu Valley, the rain would make for a perfect environment to meditate, chant and study the ancient yoga sutras. No cell phones, no TV, no newspapers, and no entertainment - just quiet days doing our practices and hanging out with good friends.

The only real social activity was around meals. My friend Komi was a great cook and we would hang out baking and cooking together. She invented this recipe with ingredients available at 4000 ft. in the mountains along with the chocolate chips from the West. The snow was often covering the tops of the surrounding mountains when we would have an urge for chocolate. It was a challenge to bake on the kerosene stove, using little more than a tin box sitting on top of the burner to capture the heat. Sometimes we would lose a whole batch to the fluctuating temperatures. Komi was a wizard in the kitchen thought, and as the smells drifted from her small kutir people would appear at the door following the scent of home baked delights .

I especially like this recipe because the cookies are crunchy and don't flatten out but look much like the cranky high mountains they came from. Enjoy these Himalayan treats!

Preheat oven to 375 degrees

Blend:
1 cup butter
1 ½ cup sugar (I use light brown sugar)

Add:
1 tsp water
¼ cup yogurt
1 tsp vanilla

Stir in:
1 ½ cup flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp salt

Add:
3 cups oats
1 ½ cups chocolate chips, nuts (anything you want!)

Place on greased cookie sheet and bake for 12-15 minutes at 375 degrees

Sweet Relief

2010-01-12T06:44:00.000-08:00

I was washing the car last Friday morning when a hose snaking across the driveway decided to test my agility and balance. My ankle, weakened since a 1970 injury in basic training, was not up for the test. Rather than severely damaging my ankle, I immediately tumbled onto the wet driveway and landed on my left hip. Ouch!

Although I saved my ankle, I did notice a wee bit of soreness in my left buttock the next day during the monthly meditation day Radha and I host at our home. Besides the pain in my butt, I also realized I had a sharp pain on the lower right side of my rib cage, especially acute whenever I leaned forward. Thankfully a long meditation at the very beginning of the day allowed me to transcend the discomfort for a coupe of hours.

Upon coming out of the meditation we had an interesting discussion on the group's experience with the exercise I had given them. I had guided them in observing the place in the mind where a thought actually begins, then remaining alert I had them continue to focus on the thought as it traveled across the screen of the mind. Finally, and the most difficult part of the exercise, I instructed them to pay attention to the place (outside of the mind) when the thought ended.

The discomfort in my ribcage remained and I realized that I had to do something immediately to release it. With a half hour remaining before Radha was planning to serve lunch, I instructed everyone to tune into their body in order to discover what hatha yoga poses would be appropriate for their body (and mind). As everyone spread out their yoga mats, I sat on the floor cross legged and practiced deerga swasam (3 part deep yoga breathing).

I felt my spine lengthen upwards with each inhalation, and after about a minute, I knew the muscles alongside my spine were ready for an adjustment. I guided my torso upward using my hands on my thighs, and then I gently lifted my spine twisting to the left. I exhaled through my nose slowly as I moved into position. I paused as I felt the discomfort begin, continued breathing deeply, and waited for the release. Four breaths later I heard the pop, felt the rush of energy moving upward through my torso to the top of my head. Immediately I experienced relief.

I repeated the same process as I twisted in the opposite direction, only this time there was no need for a release. Free of pain I laid on my back preparing for a few minutes of savanasa (the relaxation pose) that allowed my brain to recognize the changes that had just taken place in my spine. After completing our yoga routine we all enjoyed a scrumptious vegetarian feast.

Oh, how thankful I am that hatha yoga is an integral part of my life!

Happy Birthday Kids!

2010-01-11T06:30:00.000-08:00

After spending most of my twenties as a pre-monastic and Swami, fathering a child just did not seem to be in my future. Furthermore, I had burnt out all my parenting karma growing up in a large Italian Catholic family. Every time - and it was often - that the Bellos gathered, I was the social director for thirty or so children ranging from infants to cousins my own age. Being the oldest boy, I was deputed to be a priest and my grandmother Nanny, a strong woman who surprised me by her acceptance of my decision to don orange robes rather than a white collar.

Radha, on the other hand, was an only child. There was a large age gap between her mother and father, and he was sixty years old when she was born. It was his second family, and her step-sister and brother were old enough to be her aunt and uncle. After meeting at the IYI Newport Yoga Retreat in 1976, she reluctantly moved to Montreal and joined the community where I had been living since 1972.

In the early years of our marriage, Radha and I made the decision to devote our lives to service. We knew this commitment would make it difficult to offer a child our full attention, and for that reason we decided to not bring a child into the world. Circumstance, however, has gifted us with knowing some amazing young people in our spiritual family, and two of them celebrated a birthday last week.

Ana turned nineteen on January 8th. We have known her since she was six years old (her father has studied with us for nearly two decades), and this year has been her first away from home at college. She is majoring in the performing arts, and we remember fondly listening to her monologues and watching her school plays since elementary school. We miss her at our meditation days and Tuesday night Patanjali study group, but are excited to watch her as she continues to grow. She is like a daughter to us.

Ana... we've known her since she was 6 years old.

Crystal shares a birthday with Ana, and turned eighteen - the official transition point into adulthood. We initially got to know her in the role of substitute caregiver, whenever her father was unable to find a babysitter. Over the years she slowly warmed up to us and is now attending our Enlightening Relationship six month training. Radha and I are both impressed by her maturity and desire to learn relationship tools in order to navigate life more successfully.

Crystal... now "officially" an adult.

We left voice messages for both Ana and Crystal on their birthday, offering our best wishes and appreciation for how mature and conscious they are living their lives. We are blessed to have had so many children in our life over the years. Radha and I joke that we get to Be with them after their parents have done all the hard work - doing hatha yoga, meditating, and playing in the space. What a blessing.

Happy birthday Ana and Crystal- we love you both.

Creamy Broccoli Dahl

2010-01-05T15:54:00.000-08:00

Sometimes a new recipe is so good it becomes an instant staple in my meal planning. Maybe it has a taste that carries a memory of a childhood family dinner or - like this one - brings back the experience of India mixed with broccoli from my garden in Vermont. When Gary and I find a dish that evokes such strong feelings, we call it eating memories. Some, like the crumb cakes in New Jersey, are better left in the mind not the stomach. This recipe is the best because its good for you and especially delicious on a cold Florida evening before Patanjali Class. Quick, easy and vegan!

Creamy Broccoli Dal (makes two servings)

1-2 tbs veg oil
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp mustard seeds (black)
1/4 cup onions,finely chopped
1/2 cup red lentils (masoor dal)

Step 1:
Heat oil on medium high in 3 qt pot.
Add above ingredients, fry until seeds start popping, onions soft.

1 whole broccoli stalk peeled and florets (2+ cups)
2 cups water
1/2 tsp salt

Step 2:
Add above ingredients to pot, bring to boil, cover and simmer 20 min.
Soup should be thick but still watery, broccoli soft.

1cup soy milk
1 tbs soy sauce
1 tbs lemon juice
1/2 tsp tumeric
1/2 tsp garam masala
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes

Step 3:
Add above to pot and turn down the heat, don't boil the soup anymore. Stir well, adjust seasoning if needed and serve immediately.

Doubles well for more people and I've added spinach and fresh corriander for the fun of it... Enjoy!!!

Oh, by the way, it comes from a great cookbook called Vegan Yum Yum by Lauren Ulm, published by Health Communications, Inc,and recommended by our friend Kim Weiss.

Gary Talks About Relationships on P3

2010-01-04T07:49:00.000-08:00

I met Randall this past summer in Vancouver after making an appearance on a yoga television program hosted by our friend Padma. We hit it off immediately and had a great time during the show, after we were done he invited me to record a second segment. The day was alive with excitment. It is such a joy to be around aware and loving beings! We will be in Vancouver in February and plan to have lunch together. It's time to meet his wife! Radha and I are blessed to know so many wonderful people.

excerpt from Chapter 1: "He Says, She Says"

2010-01-03T08:19:00.000-08:00

“Usually I just found a quiet, deserted place on campus, but that day something called me to the beach. I was celebrating the end of another harsh Canadian winter, and although it was off limits to staff and participants, I easily rationalized that my position of responsibility entitled my indiscretion. I drove the Institute’s Datsun down to the public beach and laid out my orange towel.”

Radha jumped in, “Wait, you gotta tell them the rest.”

I took a dramatic pause and then stated, “Oh yeah… I even had matching orange Speedos.” The entire room burst into laughter and Radha began shaking her head as she put her hands over eyes.

“So here I was, minding my own business, watching the clouds pass overhead, very serene… until she shows up,” I motioned to my left. “What was it you said, hon?”

“I didn’t say anything!” she exclaimed. “You were the one who started talking.”

“Now see, this is why you can't believe your stories. Radha and I have totally different memories about who spoke first that day. In fact, about the only thing we agree on is that it was cool and cloudy. This single situation created two very different stories, and that’s going to be the focus of our time together – learning to tell the difference between the situation and your story about it.” I saw several heads bobbing gently in agreement. “First, I'm going to tell you what really happened, and then Radha is going to tell her crazy version of that day.”

She shook her head. “Can you actually believe I've been married to this guy since 1977?”

The audience giggled and I resumed my story. “I didn’t know Radha’s name at this point, but I recognized her from the day before as the woman who had been scrubbing the stairs in a white peasant top, cut way too low.”

“It was not cut too low,” she defended. “I wasn’t wearing a bra and you were looking down my shirt.”

I laughed, “I was a swami. I didn’t do things like that. Besides, I still remember the embroidery along the chest.”

“No, that was a different shirt.”

“Well, whatever you were wearing, you should have been dressed more appropriately.” I gave her a loving smile and then returned to my story.

“So here I was, a twenty-six year old swami, wearing orange Speedos, eating cherries on the beach next to a beautiful woman with long blond hair taking off her clothes. All I could think about was what the other monks would say. To make matters worse,” I held up my hands into a small rectangle, “her yellow bikini was about this big.”

Radha began to blush and the participants broke into another round of uncontrollable laughter. I felt pleased that everyone was enjoying my anecdote and waited until they calmed down before continuing.

“What was going on deep inside was something serious, though. I felt like I was doing something wrong. Even though there was no one else on the beach, Little Gary was concerned with what people would think. Sound familiar to anyone?” A woman in the front row playfully nudged the man beside her.

“Looks like you two know what I'm talking about.”

“Yeah,” she answered. “Larry and I were talking about how that comes up a lot in our relationship.”

“How so?” I asked.

Larry answered, “Sometimes it’s hard for me to open up to Cathy.”

“What happens when you experience that feeling?”

“I try to figure it out myself,” he said.

Cathy elaborated, “He stops communicating.”

“That,” I replied, “is a very common strategy. Each of us has a default when that insecure place gets activated. That day on the beach, my initial strategy was to divert my attention, but the thoughts about Radha and what people would think just wouldn’t go away. Does anyone have any idea what my next strategy was?”

Larry replied, “Blame her?”

“Exactly,” I answered in an exaggerated voice. “It was her fault, and I started rattling off all the reasons in my head: Why was she breaking the rules anyway? She should know better. I had specifically pointed out during orientation that public areas were off limits. This entire beach is empty. Why is she sitting so close to me?”

I paused and took a sip of water. “And then came the ultimate injury – she actually had the nerve to ask me to go swimming with her.”

“I didn’t ask you to go swimming!” Radha interjected.

“You said it, hon. I know you did.”

She gave me a dubious grin.

“So," I continued, "here she is playing in the surf while I'm sitting on my orange towel - chewing each cherry carefully, spitting the pit into my brown paper bag, and furiously repeating my mantra. When I look up, I see Radha walking back to the shore and I realize she's naked...”