On Wednesday, we went to Sadhana Mandir to take part in special ceremonies on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the ‘maha samadhi’ of Swami Rama. Sadhana Mandir is the ‘mother ashram’ so to speak, created by Swami Rama, my teacher’s teacher. When Sadhana Mandir became too small for the number of people arriving and the projects Swami Veda had in his head and heart, Swami Veda built another ashram not far away. He is the spiritual director of both. Samadhi is the state of union with the Supreme Consciousness (you can call it God or use any other word you choose), a state which spiritually highly evolved people can obtain during meditation – or even maintain at all times - and which the most evolved enter upon death (except in Yoga we would not call it death but ‘leaving’ or ‘dropping the body’. Our true nature being eternal, the body becomes like old clothes we do not need anymore, and just leave behind at a certain moment).

So, in the context of Swami Rama’s leaving the body (13 November 1996), a ‘yajna’ was to be conducted, a ritual with fragrant herbs being offered into a fire while chanting sacred texts. Its effects are highly purificatory on many levels. We were going to be there in the morning, so I decided I would do my shopping after lunch. I still did not feel like it, but better get it done with.

I felt uplifted by sitting in on the ceremonies, and as we walked home (2900 steps, 25 minutes) I felt even more joyful than before. I was walking along the Ganga (or Ganges, the holy river) together with some of the Brahmachari (young celibates living under the teacher), when one of them asked me if I would like to take a dip. THEY obviously wanted to. And so did I. I had not brought any swimming gear or towel of course, but bathing suits are not used anyway for this sort of occasion.

So I took off my waist pouch with passport and the likes (since you are obliged to carry identification in Holland, I feel I might as well do it abroad), my mala (a kind of rosary used in the yoga tradition), my teva’s (sturdy sandals, very comfortable for walking), and my little back pack with my water bottle and my ‘seat’ (for meditation; a light weight firm pillow to slightly elevate the hips off the floor when sitting), and proceeded into the water. Ganga is a glacial river, and even at the end of summer, the water is cold. As I mentioned before, I do not thrive in the cold, but on former occasions I have taken dips in the Ganga and found it very invigorating. Even so, it was an advantage to have to keep my clothes on for the sake of decency…

“Dive, dive!”, said two brahmachari who staid at a safe distance from Ganga, while I gingerly put my feet in, then my wrists, and then, painstakingly slowly, moved down the steps (all along Ganga there are ‘Ghats’, long steps going into the river to facilitate its access and the dips). Every step that I went in, I had to wait for my breath to return to normal. But in the end I did take a sort of dive and when my breath was more or less calm, I took full dips (head under) for a whole lot of people: family, members of AHYM-Bénin (the yoga club back in Benin, which I co-founded) and of AHYM-Burkina Faso (the yoga club in Burkina Faso, where I was initiated into yoga by Idriss Ouédraogo, a marvelous teacher), and I do not remember for who else. Well, for Swami Veda of course, and for myself.

I felt marvelous. I suppose swimming in cold water is always exhilarating, but swimming in Ganga is something different altogether. I can recommend it to anyone. But then what did I feel clipped onto my trousers? Indeed, my pedometer. It did not enjoy the dip even half as much as I did. I took it to the shore and gently laid it beside my stuff, but it seemed I needn’t be so gentle: it had obviously dropped the body… Oh well, tough. I already knew the number of steps from Swami Rama Sadhaka Grama (where I am staying) to Sadhana Mandir (2903), and of the tour around meditation hall, offices and bookstore (214). This was as good a beginning as any to practice vairagya, ‘detachment’, one of our main aims in spiritual life...

So we swam around for some twenty minutes, then headed back home for lunch. It was so hot that by the time we arrived at the ashram, my clothes were almost dry… We were a bit late, but it was not a problem. Food, by the way, is excellent. I had not so good memories of former visits, but there is a new cook, and food is now really very good. So much for my bet with a friend, that in the next six months he will stop smoking (at least three months before I come back) and I will lose 10 kilos. (I will though. You too!!!) Then, as I left the dining hall – half an hour later then I usually would have – Radhe Rani came up with a note for the information board that no one was to leave the ashram (except to go to Sadhana Mandir) during the 15 days the fire ceremonies would last… And I swear, I was just mentally preparing myself to go into town and do my shopping. Saved by the bell! I wondered if this meant I would eventually have to go at a more inconvenient time, but thought I’d just see how things went.

Yesterday (Monday), while having breakfast, Radhe Rani said someone had to go into town and could bring back things, if someone needed anything essential. I wondered if my needs were really essential, but as they were not frivolous, I decided to mention the number 1 item on my list: an electric water kettle. Oh, said Utta, who had come back from a holiday the day before, I have one in my room of someone who is not here right now. You can borrow it. Wonderful, I said, and volunteered desire number two: a mug. Yeah, she said, you can borrow his mug too. Wow, I said, that is really great, quickly volunteering wish number three: perhaps they can bring me a thermos from town? Oh, said Radhe Rani, I have one you can borrow. So, I said, trying not to look greedy (how can you not look greedy when you ARE?), the brahmachari’s use stainless steel pots with a handle. Could they bring me back one of those, to carry drinking water to my room?

Well, I suppose you can imagine the jokes going on at the table, where, seeing my greediness, people started enumerating the most fantastic things that might be brought back from town. And I do agree that there was a fair amount of kama (desire) on my part. But then again, though they were not things I could not live without, my desires were not extreme luxury either. Anyway, the end of the story is that now, without having gone to town, I have it all! Or will have it all rather, because I have not yet seen the electric kettle, the cup and the thermos. But they brought back a wonderful water pot (‘You look SO Indian’ someone said to me as I was proudly carrying water back to my room). And I just saw a broom standing in a hidden corner of my cottage. And the other day as I came home, my pedometer had resurrected spontaneously. And when I first arrived at the cottage, the hot water boiler was not working. I tried it a number of times and another student at the ashram came in and looked at it, and I assure you, it really was not working. But after all these wonderful things, before reporting to the office that it needed repair, I thought I’d check just once more, and it works! Has worked ever since! So you see, you just have to sit at the ashram and meditate, and all problems solve themselves! What else do I ever want to do in my life?

Wishing you love and peace,
Sonia

P.s. someone just knocked on my door and brought a kettle and a high tech insulating mug….
P.p.s. And Radhe Rani just brought me the thermos…

On Sunday 12 November, the yajna (ceremony with fire offerings) at Sadhana Mandir came to an end with a big happening, lots and lots of visitors, very nice speeches and a lovely meal - served on / in marvelous plates and bowls shaped out of banana leaves. In the evening there was a concert of sacred chants (kirtan & bhajan by Vaiyasaki Das). The two weeks prior to this, we had walked over to Sadhana Mandir every morning, trying to be there at 9 to join in the puja, the worship being offered to God(s) and Guru, followed by the havana (fire offerings, see explanations below), till approximately 11:30. I also tried to go over in the afternoon, when from 15:00 to 17:30 there was again havana and puja and arti, another kind of worship with chants and light, but that was not an activity for the whole ashram and I did not manage to go quite as often as I would have liked.

Our morning puja started in a former guest room which had been turned into a little temple with four altars. The first one (from right to left) was dedicated to all Gods, and a separate object to symbolize Ganesha (the god with the elephant face) who, as ‘Lord of the hosts’ represents them all. The second one was dedicated to Narayana. It had a particularly beautiful mandala made of four kinds of dal (lentils or beans) in contrasting colors: the rich and soothing green of mung beans, the bright orange dal we find back home, pitch black urad dal, and the creamy white of split mung beans. The third altar was dedicated to the Guru. It had a large picture of Swami Rama on it, but as was explained, anyone can worship it or pay respects because it represents the universal Guru force (said to be same as the Holy Ghost in Christianity, though I am not sure this is a one on one equation), not the person of Swami Rama. In my perception this holds true for the Hindu Gods also: to me their images represent “The Divine”, so when I pay respect it is to God Supreme rather than to the different aspects of God that the Hindu divinities represent and that - being of another cultural background - I do not know very well.

The worship consisted of the chanting of sacred texts by 6 pundits, who were joined by anyone who knew the texts or could read the handouts (in devanagri script), and the offering of fruit, flowers, light and holy water onto each one of the altars by a long time disciple of Swami Rama. We would then move to Meditation Hall for more puja, after which eight young men (pundits in training?) would continue chanting for almost an hour. Then we would go to the havana, the fire offerings. A big square pit had been adorned with flowers and other decorations (offerings) for the occasion, and grains and fragrant herbs were offered. A big tent had been built up around it, nicely decorated and the floor was comfortably covered. There we would sit for about an hour and a half, while the six pundits and the disciple of Swami Rama would perform the fire ceremonies.
Reply to this 11/25/2006 7:06 AM Sonia van Nispen wrote:
Part 2 of 5

The pundits chanted a mantra that we use in our daily prayers:
Akhanda-mandalamkaram vyaptam yena characharam
Tat-padam darshitam yena tasmai sri-gurave namaha
It translates as follows: Salutations to that beautiful and benevolent Guru through whom was revealed (to me) that state (of consciousness) which pervades the entire unbroken form of the circle (of creation), moving and unmoving.

Now in the practice of mantra, as you go into deeper layers of consciousness, the frequency is higher and the repetition of mantra will go faster. I knew this to happen in mental recitation but never considered it is the same for vocal repetition. The pundits would chant this mantra faster than I could LISTEN! It was really amazing. When they started, the first two or three repetitions I could still hear the words, but after that they sped up and, even knowing the words well, I could not hear them any more. I tried writing them down and reading along (because I am used to singing the text at a certain pace), but it made no difference. At times, when my concentration was deep, I would be able to follow the words for a short while…

Sitting so much, I had all the time in the world to concentrate on my sitting posture, and on relaxing my forehead. This is a major practice Swami Veda always gives. Tensions and negative emotions are reflected in tension of the muscles on the forehead, and conversely, if you fully relax your forehead you can’t think depressed, angry or worrisome thoughts. Simple, yet it is amazingly difficult to even be aware there is tension in your forehead. I used to think mine was relaxed until a kalyani mitra, a friend on the path, started pointing out to me each time I frowned without realizing. I think during the havana I was slowly getting better, because the grains of rice that were pasted on our foreheads at the morning puja (at the level of ajna chakra, the ‘third eye’, together and on top of the red dot called a tilak) would at first fall off within ten or twenty minutes, but after some time they would stay all morning (except when in a moment of unawareness I’d scratch my forehead).

Also my sitting dramatically improved. I have set myself the goal of being able to sit for one hour without moving the legs by the end of my stay. ‘Sitting’ in this context of course means sitting on the floor in a cross legged position. When I arrived a month ago, I could not sit longer than ten minutes (my practice had really been low of late) but in two weeks time I was up to almost half an hour. Except the very first time when Swami Veda had arrived in the ashram and there was a satsang (‘sitting with the teacher’, generally with the opportunity to ask questions). I was somehow pushed to the front. I would have preferred not to be quite on the front row for different reasons; one of them being that there you should really sit very still and sit very straight.

But I thought I’d manage, perhaps changing the position of the legs two or three times in all (after half an hour, and then every 15 to 20 minutes).

Well, I held for two minutes. At the physical level, I was desperately uncomfortable. This was severely aggravated by sitting, not only on the first row but in the middle of the first row, so right in front of Swami Veda! It sure helped to take my ego down a notch or two. Fortunately I was not so distracted so as not to notice it was a VERY nice satsang. Joanne asked a beautiful question (which does not come out well in my words) on when and where the path starts, and the gist of Swami Veda’s answer (which also does not do him justice) was that it starts here and now with your very next step, and then step by step slowly up the mountain. What if you are already on the top of the mountain, someone asked? Then you go down, he said, and help the others.

I had announced a description of my daily schedule. This letter is going to be a bit long again, but I would like to give you an idea on what my day is like. A lot blends in with gurukulam activities (gurukulam = a school for spiritual development where you live under a guru; the ashram has a gurukulam on the premises and the activities of the two blend together). I am quite content with how well I stick to my program, even though it is far from 100%, because:
(i) for the time being I allow for my tiredness and often go back to sleep for an hour after the morning meditation and prayers;
(ii) there are often other activities that I take part in, like the fire ceremonies we did for two weeks, or classes that I want to attend. On rare occasions I have also gone to market to get some essentials;
(iii) I am doing some personal things like writing these letters and trying to finish the Teacher Training Program (which I could and perhaps should have done years ago, but I gave priority to consolidating the yoga center in Benin (West-Africa) rather than to doing my TTP homework) and
(iv) last but certainly not least I am doing some work for Swami Veda (contributing to an inventory of and then organizing the gurukulam lectures of the past three years; helping with some publications).
I am hardly doing any hatha up till now, but I manage do a fair bit of meditation (always the 05.00-06.00 meditation and then some others in between other activities) and walking (so I do get physical exercise even if I don’t do much hatha) and I do regular yoga nidra practices (yogic sleep, but I sometimes fall asleep during those which means it is really not yoga nidra at all…). The theoretical schedule is as follows:

5:00 meditation
6:00 prayers
6:15 hatha, nadi shodhanam
8:00 breakfast
9:00 clean cottage / do laundry
10.00 - 12.30 sit, brisk & or contemplative walking, hatha, nadi shodhanam
13:00 lunch
14:00 walk or rest or self study

15:00 sit at shiva linga (there is a lovely little temple at the ashram compound with a beautiful clear crystal Shiva linga, an oval shaped form which among many other things represents hiranya garbha, the golden womb or the golden egg or cosmic from which the universe sprang forth and into which it will eventually dissolve again). I sit more often at my cottage, though, where I prepared a very nice little corner for this purpose. Usually a little later then 15:00…
16:00 tea (general gurukulam / ashram activity I usually skip because I do not drink black tea and have little time to make my own)
16:30 yoga nidra kind of practice (Again, I start a bit later, but I usually do something).
18:00 nadi shodhanam (general gurukulam / ashram activity, I do not respect the
time but do the practice)
19:00 dinner (general gurukulam / ashram activity)
20:00 lecture or video (general gurukulam / ashram activity, if nothing is happening
I read or work or write)
21:00 prayers (general gurukulam / ashram activity)
21:15 self study (general gurukulam / ashram activity)
22:00 lights our (general gurukulam / ashram activity; most days I first do 5
minutes of sarvangasana (shoulder stand) and a
counterpose, and it is often 23:00 before I turn off the lights)

It has begun getting cold, so I am gradually putting on more layers of clothes. I have bought a juicer and am experimenting with fruit and vegetable juices, but it is currently too cold: I really want warm meals, particularly breakfast. Also, I do not think I will be taking any more dips in the Ganga until it gets warmer again. Since my last letter there has been a second dip: the Brahmachari appreciated my lazy, slow motion stile of swimming and asked for swimming lessons… On the next holiday (there are no ‘week-ends’ at the ashram, classes and activities continue seven days a week but on average, one day a week is a ‘holiday’, usually related to the phases of the moon) I tried to show them how you can stay afloat with just your breathing, even if you do not move. Obviously, I am helped by a more than fair amount of body weight, which they are not. Fat floats and bones don’t, so it was not as easy for them…

I am not on a forty day silence. Swami Veda hesitated to let me start because he said there was so much work to do. And indeed, there is. It took me a few hours to make the mental shift, but now I am very happy to make myself useful.

Should not wait so long with the next letter, because then there is just too much to say. Haven’t finished yet, but will let you have some peace now.

So, love and peace to you all,
Sonia

P.s. I have not said anything on the wonderful three day seminar on yoga and (health related) science organized by the HIHT, the Himalayan Institute Hospital Trust. Perhaps in the next letter. Those who are interested can find more info on the HIHT website (www.hihtindia.org). The program is on the site, the proceedings are not (yet) but I hope they will be at a later stage. For now I will say that the seminar ended on the fourth day with a concert by Anoop Jalota, whom I had not heard of before but apparently he is famous. Absolutely marvelous. Do look for his CD’s if you like Indian music. I certainly will!
Reply to this 12/9/2006 9:56 AM Sonia van Nispen wrote:
Part 1 of 5
Monday December 4 was World Group Meditation (WGM). For those who do not know of this: every full moon day, at different times a day so as to cover the world’s time zones, Swami Veda sits in meditation with whoever would like to sit with him. So his disciples and students but also people who don’t know him but are interested in meditation sit at the same time. Group meditation is more powerful than sitting alone, particularly when you are sitting with an advanced meditator. It can be done sitting at the same place but you can also decide on a common time and sit at different places.

I am so conditioned by WGM being in the evening (at 20.00 or 21.00) that I missed the first one (November 5), because here in India it is at 7 in the morning. I went to morning meditation (5 to 6) and then back to my cottage to work. I noticed my concentration was high and I got a lot done… I decided to make up by sitting at one of the other time zone times. So at 17.30 I sat at the Shiva Linga (which I described in an earlier letter). Though already November, there were still lots of mosquitoes and 17.30 is clearly their active time. But I was determined to sit, and I held for almost three quarters of an hour (on a chair, I could not sit that long on the floor yet then). Then I admitted defeat; my mind was becoming increasingly kshiptam, ‘thrown about’, which is much worse than vikshiptam, ‘distracted from your object of meditation’. I retired to my cottage where I completed the last 15 minutes. I felt quite content about my effort, but shortly afterwards learnt it was nothing...

There's a Chilean staying at the ashram who, for six years now, has been living under a Tibetan Buddhist master somewhere up in the mountains. He is in silence most of the time, but on Swami Veda’s request he broke his silence one night to talk to us about Tibetan Buddhism. Through our questions, his talk focused on the 3 year retreat he had started off with. I thought I was doing a fairly serious practice, but his description makes this ashram sound like a holiday camp. In the first approximately 18 months, you get up at 2 in the morning and chant mantras until 7. Breakfast, then chant till 12. Lunch, then chant again + other practices till dinner, at 19.00. Evening is for study. Luckily, the next 18 months are more leisurely. Then you only get up at 4 in the morning...

Fairly at the beginning part of the retreat, there are 100.000 prostrations to be done in a limited period of time, complete with visualization and mantra. You gradually build up capacity, and towards the end he would do 2.500 to 3.500 per day. I am not tempted by such a ‘severe’ retreat, but I deeply admire the focus it takes and that it creates / strengthens. Also, I think partly as a result of these practices, he has this warm smile and you feel a very gentle, quiet kind of inner purpose. One of the people you meet and instantly feel comfortable with, whose presence gives a sense of joy.

Of a different nature, but equally fascinating: we had a dancer from Italy staying here for some time. Towards the end of her stay, she gave a talk on ‘cosmic dance’ as well as a number of dancing classes. It was wonderful. She does a kind of fusion of modern dance, jazz, classical Indian, traditional Japanese and she enumerated numerous other inspirations and styles she had practiced in depth. She taught us a tiny bit of it, explaining the yantras (geometrical forms) created in space by the dance, the upward, downward and outward energy flows, the grounding, the air… Unfortunately she could only give three classes before leaving (one of which I missed because it was announced late and I did not know about it in time), but she will be back and said we would continue. She uses dance for healing, working with severely depressed people, with handicapped people, etc., with apparently wonderful results.

I think I mentioned in my last letter that I was making fruit and vegetable juices. It seemed to do me good, but then it became colder and these cold juices just did not seem like the right thing anymore. I stopped making them, and within a few days had bronchitis... So I was in a dilemma, until I had the brilliant idea of mixing in some hot water. With this improvement, I am happily juicing again, and feeling better then I have for a long time. Also, for the bronchitis, I took someone's advice and started using the heater at night. Just for a few nights. The bronchitis went away, though I still have a lingering cough.

For a few days I have had a 'juicing partner' which has been very good on more than one account. Like: very good company; saved me from the 'who eats alone eats in sin'; and last but not least: it stepped up my hygiene. I have been careless, even reckless, having all this raw stuff without peeling or disinfecting. You really should not in India (like Africa). Luckily he is more intelligent (and / or perhaps has a more sensitive stomach), which set me back on track (though I will have to keep it up now he’s not juicing with me anymore. It is more work, and I am not yet so transformed that there is no more laziness in the old bones).

This hygiene thing, plus other remarks he made (like: “It’s not cold here”), triggered something completely different in my mind. Have you ever heard of thermal auto regulation? I think that is the word but I may be wrong. I’m referring to the capacity of the human body to adjust to changes in temperature. It's a faculty most of us have lost through the use of central heating etc. Just before coming to India I read about it (again), and thought I might give it a shot while staying at the ashram. Because, miraculous human body: you loose this capacity through lifelong pampering of the body, but can get it back in three months! So here I was, decided not to use my heater all winter long, but ‘forgetting’ that at the first occasion that seemed valid...

I was in fact already (i) wearing my long woolen underwear - though it was really not all that cold yet -, (ii) using my eider sleeping bag with polar specification, and I had (iii) even been SLEEPING with the heater on! The only thing I could still add when the real cold weather starts was thermal underwear inside the polar sleeping bag.

My recklessness concerning amoebas and other beasties suddenly seemed very incongruous with my terror of being cold. I have faith in my body system being strong enough to endure things that have made better men and women than me really ill, but I protect myself at the first hint of cold, as if a little chilliness is sure to be the end of me. As if my body were completely unable to get over that. So, I pondered on that, and a mental shift occurred. Next day, which luckily was relatively warm (I think the Gods were helping me), I just wore my cottons. Not the woolen underwear. Not the fleece sweater & fleece jacket. Not my woolen meditation shawl. And I found out what the sturdy ones among you have always known: it is actually very nice, quite invigorating to feel a little cold and observe how your body responds, quite accurately.

So basically, what I found out is that it was not the cold that was bothering me, but my mind that at the first whiff off possible chilliness in the air would say: 'o, this is suffering, this is pain, it is cold, we HATE that, quick, do something about it'. Now, since this shift, if it is cold, my mind says: 'o it's cold', without putting on a label of pleasant or unpleasant. And I am actually enjoying it most of the time! So I use less layers of clothes, and feel better. Morning meditation I just sat in my cottons, with my meditation blanket at hand but not using it. Again, the real cold has not started yet so don’t think I am heroic. I just walked over to the Gurukulam building at the other side of the ashram, where someone has a thermometer outside his room (wearing a jacket), and saw it is 14/15 degrees Celsius, 60 Fahrenheit (at 7 in the morning).

Obviously, this is not a battle I have won once and for all. But I am aware now that when I perceive cold I tend to contract, physically and mentally. I always thought the contraction was an adequate response as the muscle tension would help warm the body. But I find notice that if I choose to relax and open up, I actually feel less cold and my body seems to react better, creating more inner heat and feeling invigorated. So, I am very pleased about this.
Reply to this 12/9/2006 10:02 AM Sonia van Nispen wrote:
part 4 of 5
I am also pleased about my sitting. This morning I sat for a little over one hour, without shifting the position of my legs. I did the same a few days ago, but I am still a long shot from being able to that at any time. So, I am becoming more ambitious. Now I do not just want to sit for one hour (more still than I am doing now, because I do shift my pelvis once or twice in a sitting), preferably on a low seat (I now use two blankets that I fold so that the height of my seat is close on 20 cm.). The new ambition is to sit for an hour, absolutely still, in a proper siddhasana, which is a cross legged position in which the soul of the left foot rests against the inside of the right thigh, the right foot crosses over, soul against the left thigh, toes tucked in downward. Then you draw the toes of the left foot up between the calve and the thigh of the right leg, so that they become visible. That is the sitting posture that is most recommended for meditation in this tradition, and it is more stable than the one I do, which starts the same (soul of the left foot against the right thigh) but then with the right leg simply lying somewhere in front of the left leg.

I am also pleased about my sankalpa shakti – willpower – to moderate my food intake, and, by consequence, loosing weight. If the scales I stood on yesterday are correct, I lost 7 kilo’s in six weeks. 10 kilos in six months seems feasible… And I am convinced that I am still taking in more food than I really need, but I won’t cut down further. I normally have juice twice a day (and a lot of vegetables and fruits go into one glass of juice), and three meals a day. For breakfast there is always fruit, usually bananas or papaya. Sometimes it is all I have, because there is also ‘chai’ (black tea prepared with milk, but black tea is not good for me), piping hot milk (which I am not having right now because of my cough), bread (and plenty of toasters around) with salted butter and often a wheat based porridge kind of thing (both of which I cannot eat because I do not digest wheat well). But sometimes the porridge is rice based, which I have, and sometimes there are absolutely delicious, lightly curried very dark chick peas, and sometimes there is a yellow rice dish with vegetables and nuts in it that is served with yoghurt, really very good. And once we had a pancake kind of thing made of dal which was absolutely divine….

Lunch is rice, dal (beans or lentils), curried vegetables (you can have non spiced vegetables instead), usually a raita (a yoghurt preparation, often with cucumber in it) and raw vegetables (carrot – which is often quite red here, cucumber, and a white root the shape of a carrot but with a very different flavour, slightly bitter, I do not know what it is called. Sometimes beetroot.) Then there is chapatti of course, pancake shaped non risen bread. As I said in a former letter, the food is really excellent, so I started by putting on weight. It took some sankalpa shakti to reverse this trend, and it still does. Food is so good I am often tempted to go for second helpings.

Dinner is a light meal. There is always a soup, curried vegetables, chapatti, fruit (a delicious small round brownish thing called Chiku, or apple, or mandarin. Apples are not so very good here), and hot milk which I try not to take in the evening because it is mucus forming.

For lunch and dinner there is ‘food service’: we take turns serving the food (and cleaning up the dining hall afterwards). This is VERY nice to do, but it has the disadvantage that you do not control how much you get on your plate. It is said that what fits into your two cupped hands is sufficient food. I take this to be per meal, and it obviously does not hold if you are doing heavy labor, but for our modern day sedentary life probably once a day what fits into your cupped hands would suffice! We use stainless steel partitioned plates, and there are lots of little bowls you can take if you for the more soupy dishes. I usually have rice and the raw vegetables served directly on the plate, and dal, vegetables and raita into 3 little bowls.

I was choosing the smallest bowls, and thought I was doing quite well on the two cupped hands thing. Then one day it was cold and I took the dal into my cupped hands, and found that this one bowl by itself it filled them. Hmmmm. So in fact, every meal I was having three to four times the amount that fits into my cupped hands, on top of the juices I was having twice a day… Plus sometimes going back for second helpings. No wonder I was putting on weight. So I decided to try to bring back the quantity per meal to something closer to the contents of my two cupped hands (on top of the juices). Not easy. You can say you just want a little bit, most people will just fill up your bowl. So I went to the market and bought the sweetest little serving bowls you can imagine: 2 small ones and one really cute baby one. The two bigger ones together probably fill two cupped hands, so for lunch I still get a bit of an overdose, but I am eating less than half of what I was eating before, and feeling good.

Gosh, there is so much I still want to write about. It will have to wait for a new letter (or perhaps it will just fade away), because for now it is ENOUGH (I hope not TOO MUCH…).

Swami Rama said it is not possible to do your practice and not have results. In my mind I responded: that's what it looks like, though. I am practicing, gently but still, and not really seeing results... But now, with my experience with the sitting postures as well as with regulating my food intake, I see that it is literally true. It seems to be the difference between doing the practice fairly regularly but still rather haphazardly, or somehow really applying yourself to it. I want to now seriously try the same with yoga nidra practices (yogic, deep, conscious sleep). So far I found two things: (i) there seems to be some improvement (the last few times I did a yoga nidra practice I did not fall asleep. And mind you, before arriving here I slept 8 hours a night, now I am getting between 5 and 6), even though I have not yet been applying myself as much as I would like because of lectures etc. at the time I had set aside), and (ii) I tend to slack on the other two (sitting and food)… So: I have to go nice and slow, but I am really decided to go forward... I know now that it will work.

I really AM going slowly and gently, though. I received concerned reactions about the lingering cough I mentioned in a former letter, and about my defying the polar climate. No need to worry. I am taking good care of myself. The cough is long since gone. And as for withstanding the cold: I am staying well within my comfortable limits, its just that my limits have moved. I have even tried pampering myself one day by using the heater while taking a shower, which was counterproductive: the cooling effect of the wind blowing on your wet body is larger than the heating effect of the warm air. And for the polar: I am not sure it gets colder than 10 degrees… (Celsius).

The other night Swami Veda (SV held one of his fiercer talks, trying to install some discipline in his students and disciples at the ashram. We were treated to expositions by our Indian friends who lived in a ‘real’ ashram in their young years (like: get up at four or 4.30, meditate, bathe in the Ganges at 6 - summer and winter - and then the rest of the day an extremely tight schedule that only once or twice leaves you ten minutes to yourself). Then he said that all the gurukulam students (not the guests) were to go on a trip next day to Prabhat Ashram, to live under some real discipline for 24 hours. Though not a gurukulam student, I was invited to join.

The excursion was understood by the students as a punishment, but in fact – though it is undoubtedly true that Swami Veda would like to see more discipline – it was (also) meant as an outing and an opportunity to see something of the ‘real’ India, as the ashram is an enclave. SVB just can’t be harsh and strict for long… When he realized people were not happy, he took the next opportunity to urge everybody to enjoy. Which we did (or I did anyway). Our discipline was not strengthened, I fear…

Gurukul Prabhat ashram is at a three to four hour drive in the direction of Delhi. It took us 5,5 hours, because of excessive and excessively long stops. Certainly the driver gets a commission at those wayside restaurants. But we ended up by arriving, (more or less) at lunchtime. We were led to a large open space, a sand surface that had been firmed up with layers of cow dung. It had the nice half moon pattern like you would get when mopping the floor if it left traces. A long jute mat was rolled out, and we were invited to sit down in a long row, facing the younger gurukulam students (in fact, we have not seen the older ones much). We had our first dilemma. You usually take your shoes off before entering dining hall, and leave them outside the door. But here, where were we going to leave our shoes? It really slowed us down; we were all looking at each other what to do. I saw the Prabhat students had mostly left their shoes right behind where they were sitting, so decided to do the same. I walked over, parked my shoes and sat down. Everybody seemed to have waited for me to do so before deciding to leave their shoes at the edge of the open space, making a very row of shoes that Swami Veda would have been proud. A little embarrassed I got up and brought my shoes in line with the others.

The ashram is fairly large, with some 70 students living there permanently. And when I say ‘permanently’ I mean just that. They go there at the age of nine or ten (still easy to discipline! The average age at Sadhaka Grama is in the thirties I should say), and stay for ten years without leaving the grounds other than to take the cows for a walk in the late afternoon (one of the chores in karma yoga, loving and skilful service to others or the general good). They don’t go home, though rumour has it that things have mellowed down over the years, and they can now go home once during those ten years … That is quite different from our gurukulam, where people often use their weekly holiday (day off) to go into town and do shopping or have lunch, and often go home for a few months in summer (when it becomes stiflingly hot, but for many to earn some money to continue their stay).

Lunch was served on brand new plates which must have been bought for us. They had never been used; the stickers were still on them. Rice, dal, vegetables, no spice and very little oil, and the best chapattis you can imagine. I later found out they grow their own wheat, and every morning the elder students grind wheat for the day’s chapattis. As I don’t usually eat wheat (don’t digest well) I just had one because I was too slow to ward it off, but in the course of our stay I gradually increased. Apart from the chapattis I preferred the food at our ashram, but others considered the Prabhat food better.

In the afternoon we sat for meditation with Swami Vivekananda, the Swami of the place. Again, the shoes were in a very neat row that Swami Veda would have been proud of. We sat on a large field in the open air, as just about everything there. They seem to go inside only for sleeping. It was a short meditation, just a half hour. Then karma yoga, which they do daily. I went with two boys to take the cows for a walk. Literally: the cows are let loose and made to walk for a certain distance, and then back, like walking a dog. Then sports. The Gurukul Prabhat ashram is famous for archery; they have people going to the Olympics. We watched two young men shooting arrows, one after the other, into a very small space. Impressive. It was a holiday for them, so no classes but a full schedule all day long…

Early evening there was a havana (fire ceremony), very nice. It took about an hour, and they do this every morning and every evening. After dinner we had a VERY nice satsang with Swami Vivekananda. Satsang (I think I mentioned before) refers to sitting with the teacher and often takes the form of questions and answers. We first received some information on the background and style of life at the gurukulam, and then Swami Vivekananda gave a very nice talk that I would love to listen to again on a recording, but of course it was not recorded. Nor did I take notes. I liked it so much I thought I would remember, but I don’t. I just remember that he talked about how giving into the desire for the amenities of the world draws you deeper and deeper into the material manifestation part of the universe (which in yoga and Vedanta and Sankhya terms is referred to as prakrti), and this by definition leads you further away from the consciousness principle (referred to as purusha).

We were told that next morning we would be woken up for morning meditation at 4.30, but then they said, well, you know, we do not get together for morning meditation, everyone meditates in his own room. So why don’t you just relax until 6.30, which is when the havana starts… We did. I thought I would wake up early and do my five o’clock meditation anyway, but set the alarm for 6 o’clock just in case. It woke us up from deep sleep…

So, we sat in on the Havana (again one hour), had breakfast (I had the impression our line of shoes was a little less straight), and watched the gurukulam students ‘at work’ i.e. in their studies. As I said, everything happens outside. They were scattered all over the place, sitting in groups or alone. Some were reciting (early on in their stay they have to memorise the 4.000 sutras on grammar by Panini), some were sitting with a teacher, mostly older students teaching the younger ones, others were in groups working among themselves, without teacher.

I went for a walk to the nearby village of Tigri with the faculty member in charge of our excursion. The district of Meerut, where the ashram is located, is clearly sugarcane country. It was harvest time. As we walked the dirt road along the canal, we passed many buffalo drawn carts, heaped high with sugarcane. We even got to do a good deed: helping to push a cart from the fields up to the road when the buffalo could not on his own, whip or no whip. The farmer looked surprised but accepted our offer, and we got behind the cart to push... With an additional hand of another farmer who was passing by, it was easy. Quite satisfied we continued our walk.

We were offered a ride by someone who had just delivered his sugarcane so his cart was empty (just a flat wooden surface). We declined because we wanted to walk. As we entered the village (large village or small town; some 4.000 inhabitants), he invited us to his home. The purpose of the trip was to let us see some ‘real’ India, and we were to meet with Swami Vivekananda only at 11.30, so we accepted. The village was picturesque. ‘Our’ farmer showed us his artisan sugar ‘plant’, and how jaggery is produced. Very interesting, though not necessarily appetizing. But we obediently nibbled the jaggery we were handed (delicious; very sweet but with a lot of flavour and a nice tang).

Our host was obviously relatively wealthy, and well educated. He spoke enough English for us to communicate fairly easily. Sometimes when we got stuck, I managed a few words of Hindi!!!. His wife spoke no English and had not had much school education, but she was quite self assured and comfortable with our presence, very nice to see. We were offered milk I assumed it would have been boiled and, knowing that my stomach is strong anyway, said yes, while my companion was not so sure it would have been boiled and wondered how to politely get out of the spot I put her in by accepting. But we were given Chai instead, tea with milk, well boiled, so no problem. And a lovely sweet dish of carrots called halva. Delicious.

Back at the ashram, we learnt that there had been a miscommunication, and the meeting with Swami Vivekananda had been at 10.30… Oh well. Our visit was running towards it end. At lunch, the line of shoes was decidedly not straight anymore. As we met with Swami Vivekananda to say goodbye and receive his blessing, they were definitely kshiptam, flung about, even more than my mind is when I try to meditate! All in all, it was a delightful excursion, but I do not think it increased our discipline…
Reply to this 12/28/2006 4:46 AM Sonia van Nispen wrote:
Part 5 of 5

Well those were my last weeks. More to come if I find time to write. For now, I have two things I want to mention, to see if anyone has any suggestions or another reaction. Apologies in advance to those who do not wish to read this. Just pretend you never did!

I have received the suggestion to get these letters published. There are already many books out there, but I would like to try. As a youth I wanted to be a writer... However, I do not have a clue of how to go about it, and not much time to invest. Does anyone have suggestions? Like: which might be an appropriate publishing house to contact? Perhaps tips on how to approach them? The letters would obviously need some editing. That can be done if the option of sending to a publisher comes nearer, not before. Or even after? Don’t want to waste time.

Secondly, you know that in Benin I have co-founded the Himalayan Society of Yoga Meditation of Benin. I care about their survival – and want them to remain in touch with the source of the teaching, which is the ashram where I am staying now. I also want to continue to strengthen the Himalayan Society of YM of Burkina Faso. There is going to be a teacher training event in Rishikesh in March. A number of people from Benin and Burkina will be coming. Also, in June / July, we will organise a teacher training event in Ouagadougou. All this is costing a lot of money, and salaries in Benin and Burkina, certainly of most of our members, are extremely low. I have been sponsoring but now have no income so it is becoming more difficult. I received the suggestion to see if I can find co-sponsors. Perhaps someone among my readers considers this an interesting ‘charity’ (though most of you are not at all into yoga), or perhaps someone has suggestions. We are talking quite a lot of money. We are trying to make some 15 people come, and one air ticket is something like EUR 1.000.

Well, sorry about if you really did not want this. But it is in my heart, so I decided to share.

With love,
Sonia

P.s. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

If anyone would like to react to my questions but not on the blog, you can write me at soniavannispen@yahoo.com.
Reply to this 12/31/2006 3:02 PM Joanne wrote:
Dear Sonia,

I saw you at meditation and also at chanting, but it is fun seeing you in the blog too. Thanks for your lovely observation!

Sorry I have been remiss at writing.

Tonight, we celebrated New Year's Eve here with chanting by candlelight in the Meditation Hall followed by hot cocoa in the Dining Hall.

Many Koreans who are friends of Heejang and presently staying up the road at Sadhana Mandir came too. The powerful and sensitive chanting was led by Maa Chetan Jyoti, a Canadian woman Swami whose master was silent for decades.

She also knew Swami Rama. They used to walk their dogs together sometimes.

She said he came to her ashram twice, once, she strongly suspected, to visit her dogs (They are BEAUTIFUL & deeply spiritual---more than me, I think), and once to bring seeds he had collected from his garden at Sadhana Mandir for her ashram just up the road a bit.

Krishna Das sang on her small roof, overlooking the Ganges about a week ago, and I went. Wonderful. The Ganges was blocked by an Indian blanket though so you could not see the view but it was cold and dark anyway and would have been colder and darker with the night view. Winter here. Brrrrrrr.

Happy New Year, Everybody!

Love,
Joanne
Reply to this 1/4/2007 2:57 AM Dirk Gysels wrote:
Dear Sonia and others,

With great fascination, I have been reading your testimonies. They are tremedndously inspiring.
I met you briefly on a silence retreat in Holland and it feels god to read what a senior sadhaka is going through.
Concerning your book, you may try to contact Koenraad Elst, a flemish Indologist and author who publishes in India with considerable success:
koenraadelst@hotmail.com

Dirk
Reply to this 1/9/2007 5:19 AM Sonia van Nispen wrote:
Dear Dirk,

Thank you so much for your encouraging reaction. And for the compliment, though I am really only a very junior sadhaka. Looking forward to seeing you again during the next European silence retreat, and perhaps here in Rishikesh?
Reply to this 1/10/2007 5:45 AM Dirk Gysels wrote:
Dear Sonia,

I will visit Rishikesh with my family but it won't be in the coming months. I was once in Lakshman Jhula residing in the Yoga Niketan guesthouse on my way to Gangotri. At that time (1999) I was not aware of Swami Veda's Ashram in Rishikesh. Most likely, I was not yet ready to enter the path of the Himalayan yogis. My most impressive darshan at that time was of a live bear at the lakeshore of Nachiketas Tal above Uttar Kashi though on a spiritual level, meeting Swami Krishnananda and Swami Chidananda was certainly more enriching.

On Sunday 24 December we had the consecration of a beautiful white marble statue of mother Mary & Jesus. It was quite a fusion of cultures, with Hindu-style offerings of fruits & flowers, Swami Veda washing the feet of mother & child with holy water he had brought back from the spot in River Jordan where John baptized Christ, mixed with holy water from Mother Ganga. There were chants in different languages, even Gregorian chant. I was in the ‘choir’ for the latter - awful lot of practice for 2 minutes of chanting. It was fun that I remembered enough Latin to understand the words!

On Christmas Eve we had a small party, with bible readings, a German gurukulam student talking about Christmas in her childhood, and Christmas Carrols. The end was less serious; we gave and received small gifts that we had to trade at least once against somebody else's gift. Right at the end we played musical chairs with the small group that was still up. Once, as the music stopped, I dashed forward to a chair and the young monk before me dashed backwards to the same chair. He ended up sitting on my lap... Of course a monk is not supposed to touch someone of the opposite sex. Poor man, he was so embarrassed. I suppose he is quite a handsome young man with his saffron turban (he is a Sikh), but what is most noticeable about him is the gentleness of his expression. He used to greet me with this timid, unusually gentle smile of his which just goes straight to your heart, but now when our paths cross he keeps his eyes firmly on the ground, face expressionless, like someone who is in a severe form of silence called kashta mauna, “the silence of the log of wood”…

New Year’s Eve is not really celebrated here because it is not linked to any particular constellation of stars & sun & moon. It is therefore not a cosmic date, but an arbitrarily chosen one. Still, we had a very nice evening with Ma Chetan Jyoti chanting kirtan with us (sacred chants in which everyone participates - or is supposed to). Then there was hot chocolate in the dining hall. I was in bed by 11, no sound of fireworks anywhere.

Those were some anecdotes for amusement, but in fact very different things are keeping me busy right now. I am currently going through a difficult time, have even been bordering on depression. Until quite recently I was on top of the world. I felt part of a community, interknitted in some way with all the people I was meeting and greeting - even when in most cases we were not really speaking to each other. I felt full of love to everything and everyone, and I felt carried by their love. Now I am depressed, and feel there is no one I can talk with. The only thing that has changed is me, my perception... Interesting, no? It is of course nonsense. For one thing, there are people I can talk with; there are people I do talk with. But the feeling is there.

There are some ‘objective factors’ contributing to this situation. I think it started when my sleeping rhythm was disrupted for a few days. Then I did not get up at 4.30 so I lost part of my meditation and hatha practice. To compensate for not feeling good I started eating sesame cookies, and sugar is not good for me. Also, it has been really quite cold for a number of days, with frost on the grass in the mornings so I guess temperature must have been diving (just) below zero. I was not enjoying the cold anymore. Nor anything else, in fact.

Then I had a talk with someone, a very good talk but quite confronting. I said something and he riposted “Yes, typical. You are not respectful of people”. We talked for a long time and he said a lot of other things. Most of them were positive and encouraging, but this one just went in like a bomb and I have been churning it in my mind for a number of days. It was such a bomb partly because I thought that respect for others is one of my strong points. That is also the feedback I had been getting so far. And it is a strong point in one sense, but I see quite well that in another sense it is not. For one thing, when I feel sure about what needs to be done, I move ahead in what I perceive as (also other people’s) best interest, without necessarily paying much attention to whether they want me to or not. This is something I have to look at carefully. Not so much in terms of whether in the concrete example we discussed what I did was the right thing to do – I am still inclined to think it was – but more in general this tendency to disregard other opinions when I think I know best. Luckily, I am often doubtful about what should be done; otherwise I would be quite obnoxious!

Being already in a relatively depressed state, this talk and the mental churning that followed did not help in lifting me up. Then there is work. I am a member of what is called the ‘Core Team’, a small group of people that is preparing the big event that will take place here in the month of February. There will be some 150 people participating in one week of mainly spiritual work and then one week of more operational reflection on (re)structuring our worldwide organization. It is a lot of work, and I am not sure we have all the capacities in our midst that we need. Though much has been done already, much more remains to be done and time is very short.

We have been meeting every morning. These meetings last longer than we all agree they should, and it has just been suggested to step up to twice a day... For a number of days – exactly during this depressed period - I felt we were moving in circles, rather than forward. It’s amazingly easy to fall back into stress reflexes, to feel righteous in my sense of urgency and resentful towards people going off the agenda on things that have already been discussed. I felt I was loosing my center because I have so little time for practice, but of course this is my practice: to learn to operate in a context where things don’t always go as you wish, but somehow as a team, as harmoniously as possible, lovingly do the work you have been put in place to do, as an offering, to the best of your capacity. Without being stressed, without showing impatience… In fact, not without showing impatience, but without being impatient.

I looked at this as an example of the disrespect of people that I mentioned above (churning churning…). My irritation in the meetings springs from believing I know better how the meeting should evolve (even if I am not capable of giving the contributions needed to move us forward). I noticed that when I think people are off agenda for too long – and sidetracking us from what I perceive to be the real urgencies - I tend to stop listening. The solution I have been trained to apply is to be stricter on the agenda, allot time slots per item etc. (luckily for the others I am not presiding, though I have not been able to keep myself from interfering with the chair). (Those who know me from the work context will snigger, because tightly leading meetings is not my strongest point either).

As a result of all this churning I am trying to apply another approach, which is to listen more deeply. If people go off agenda on subjects that I think have already been dealt with – and we are a group of intelligent, capable people – then probably the particular issue has not been dealt with in a satisfactory manner. Rather than rejecting the intervention, I am trying to reach a deeper understanding of the (perceived) problem, and move forward from there.

As I am writing this, things are again in an upward spiral. I first cut down on the sweet stuff (but was still needing comfort food, so bought potato crisps…); I am regulating my sleeping rhythm and slowly picking up my hatha practice again etc. As a result I am feeling better. I have been more relaxed during yesterday’s and today’s meetings, and I have found that between us we are finding ways of being more effective. These improvements to our functioning do not need my frustration; in fact the frustration if anything is probably an impediment...