Monday Night Meditation

Tea and Cookie Interview. Meditation. Chanting.

Please be sure to visit my wonderful friends at the The Order of Tea and Cookie, including Caren Prentice who conducted these interviews.

Download The Tea and Cookie Interview-Part One

Download The Tea and Cookie Interview-Part Two

Download The Tea and Cookie Interview-Part Three

I like to imagine that Radhe listens to this song and smiles at me when she hears it. I hope Krishna smiles too. And thank you Elaina for the photo of the some of the Yachats Chipmunks. That's me in the middle.

Download Yachats Krishna

And download Yachats Radhe too. This song is magic for me. Yachats Rahdhe:

Also, here is a complete meditation, which was recorded live.

Download Monday Night Meditation Part One

Download Monday Night Meditation Part Two

Download Monday Night Meditation Part Three

Neesha the Tiger

Neesha is a Tigress

Many, many years ago, in a land far away, a Tiger roamed the jungle. Her name was Neesha and she lived in a country that has long since passed from the memories of those who keep track of such things.

It is said she was beautiful beyond what we can believe in these days where magic has been replaced by faith. It is said her fur glistened in the moonlight when she hunted, and so great was her brilliance that she blinded her prey to all but her eyes; for her eyes reflected the moonlit hues of the jungle flowers so that no one, not even her closest friends, knew the true color of her eyes. Yet it was those beautiful eyes that many a beast last saw before falling to her fierce hunger.

All the beasts of the jungle loved Neesha, for she killed quickly and she killed only when there was need. She ended the suffering of the ill and the lame. All who understood the way of things understood she did this as part of the unfolding of life.

When she was not hunting, she would talk to other beasts, including even a man named Raj, who lived in the village and had met her when they were both very young. They played in secret on the edge of the river in the shade of the giant Revol trees; where mothers were loathe to seek for their children; for the leaves of the Revol tree stung the skin of all whom they touched. But Neesha and Raj never felt the sting of the Revol trees, not even once; because the Revol trees delighted in the laugher of the two young ones.

Neesha had not seen Raj for many moons times many moons, for had not King Bastian roared that it was not the nature of her kind to be kind to men? Had not the king further said that all tigers must destroy all men on sight without question or mercy? He had. But still Neesha longed to see Raj. And as is the nature of these things, she got her wish.

One day, as she walked through the jungle toward the river, she thought of the king and shuddered; for his hatred of men had spread to all living things and had made him sick. He killed for the joy he found in it. She had seen him slay young deer for sport. Neesha feared no one except for one, and that was Bastian, the king of the tigers, and the ruler of all the beasts in the jungle, including her.

As she walked toward the river, she heard a low moaning voice call, “Neesha, my friend, help me.” She recognized that moan. It came from the grove of Revol trees ahead. It was Raj. Forgetting her fear of Bastian, she rushed to the grove. Upon the bloody ground sprawled Raj, and he said, “Neesha, be kind and slay me so that my suffering may end. My cuts are many and deep. My arm is mauled, broken, and twisted. Even should I live, I will not use it again. And my face, Neesha, will never be beautiful again.”

Neesha said, “Who did this thing to you?” But she knew.

Judgments about Judgments

Dear Friends,

When I was a boy, my elders taught me about God. I was told that those who stood with him would flourish, and those who stood against him would perish. I was taught to fear and obey this god; and when I could not please him, which was often, for he was very demanding, I was taught to feel both guilty and afraid.

Though I think I am wiser than that young boy, I am not. I say I have stripped this vengeful god of his wrath. I say I have silenced his roaring voice. I say that no longer do I tremble in his presence; for I have destroyed this god and buried him forever.

I say I have replaced him with love. I say I believe in positive thinking now. I say I believe in setting my intent. I say I believe in manifesting my own reality. I say I believe in karma. I say believe in reincarnation. I say I believe in healing. I say I believe in meditation. These beliefs of mine are my new god. The god of anger is dead.

But wait. Do I feel my knees shaking? Do I hear my heart thumping hard in lonely nights? Do my eyes glance at shadows? Do I hear voices whispering, “Is the old god really dead?” And do I hear other voices replying, “He lives.”

Yes, he lives, and he is with me everyday. What a fool I was to think him dead. He goes by other names now, but he can be as vicious and as cruel as in days of old. He can cause me to feel shame. He can cause me to hate my very breath. He can cause me to feel despair. His name has changed, but he has not.

Today I call him love. Today I call him positive thinking. Today I call him setting my intent. Today I call him manifesting my own reality. Today I call him karma. Today I call him reincarnation. Today I call him healing.

And though I know him by other names, still he demands more than I can give. For I will never find love that meets my expectations. My positive thinking will falter and fail. My intent will miss the target. I will manifest disease. When I reincarnate, if I reincarnate, my karma in the next life will be what my life is today. And though I may be healed again and again, I will die.

I have taken the crown of god, and put it upon my own brow, and it is heavy. I do not bear it well. Though I have changed gods, making myself into god, nothing has changed. Fear and guilt are my companions. Must this be my fate? Shall I always be a slave to this hateful god? When will I change?

And as I look about me at my friends, I see that they too suffer. I see that no matter what our beliefs, sooner or later we suffer. And I see that our suffering will either embitter us or humble us. But there is hope; for I also see that if our suffering humbles us, we may then possibly listen to the ancient gods within us. These are the gods of flesh and bone. And they are much wiser than the gods we have created with our minds and placed on heavenly thrones to rule us.

If we listen to the gods of flesh and bone we will hear rejoicing. And the rejoicing we hear will be our own; for if we listen to these old gods, we will set aside our perceptions of an outer world separate from us, and we will express life rather than judge life. These are gentle gods; and though we have hidden them and all but forgotten them, they love us yet. Listen with me. What will we hear?

With our ears we will hear the gentle sigh of a summer breeze. We will hear the buzz of a bumble bee. We will hear the giggle of a child. We will hear the joyous laughter of our own breath. And if we do not judge, we will rejoice.

With our eyes, we will hear the smile our lover. We will hear the brilliant redness of the sun setting in the sea. We will hear pale red of a ripe rose. And if we do not judge, we will rejoice.

With our nose we will hear the fragrance of a hot desert wind blowing over the sage. We will hear the scent of tumbling, frothing water in a free river. We will hear the beckoning of sweet smelling hair as our child nestles in our arms. And if we do not judge, we will rejoice.

With our mouth we will hear the taste of a kiss. We will hear the taste of a warm, moist cinnamon roll fresh from the oven. We will hear the taste of a crisp apple as juice bursts from its skin and gives us life. And if we do not judge, we will rejoice.

And with our touch we will hear the softness of a smiling cheek. We will hear the shout of joy as we sink into a hot bath. We will hear our feet melt as a friend rubs them into ecstasy. And if we do not judge, we will rejoice.

And so it is that if I hear the bumble bee, I am awake. But if I judge the bumble bee, I have nothing but my judgment. If I hear the smile of my lover, I am awake. But if I judge the smile, I have nothing but my judgment. If I hear the sweet smell of hair on the head my child, I am awake. But if I judge the hair, I have nothing but my judgment. If I hear the taste of a kiss, I am awake. If I hear the softness of a cheek, I am awake. And if I do not judge, I will rejoice.

And so it is that we can set free the wrathful god, and in so doing free ourselves. We need do nothing but remember the gods of flesh and bone. We need do nothing but remember who we are. We need do nothing but rejoice.

Blessings,

John C. Conley

Questioner: But how are we to let go of judging? How am I supposed to embrace rejoicing? These are nothing but words! Let go! Gibberish! Rejoice! More gibberish. Gibberish and nonsense.

Baba Ram Jahn: No, my Child, it is very simple. So simple that only the children among us, the very young children, understand this secret. We must turn inward to the ancient wisdom of our flesh. It is here that we find stillness. We do not find it elsewhere. It is not out there in our perceptions and interpretations of reality. It dwells within us. We need only sense it, literally.

Questioner: In other words, Baba, if I were to become absorbed in my senses--which may be the source of my concept of “I” as separate from my concept of “That”--then I might paradoxically cease perceiving the world as separate from myself and therefore lose my identity as a separate “I” in time and space?

Baba Ram Jahn: Yes.

Questioner: Gibberish. Besides, I cannot stop thinking or judging. And we both know John is sometimes goofier than a loon.

Baba Ram Jahn: Ah, my Child, here is the real secret, think all you want, but do not judge yourself for thinking. Dive into your thoughts. Get lost in them. Who cares? And if you judge yourself for thinking, then do not judge yourself for judging yourself.

Questioner: Gibberish. I’m going for a walk.

Baba Ram Jahn: Yes! I think you’ve got it!

Questioner: I think I’m going to listen to the cheek of a handsome man.

Baba Ram Jahn: Wait! There are dangers inherent in all spiritual paths!

The Goddess of Light

Dear Friends,

Once many years ago, there lived a Goddess, and her name was Light, and she was the bringer of the dawn. Her father was the Sun, and her mother the Earth and they called this little girl Owl, for she was endlessly curious. And it was a good name for her because owls also bring the dawn. As a little girl, Owl dazzled her mother and father with her beauty, her wit, her charm, and her intellect. For playmates, she had only her own brothers and sisters, and they too delighted in her; for when Owl was near, they felt brighter. Her joy filled the farthest halls of her home with light.

The creatures of the earth also loved her. The horses in the stables neighed when she came near and would nuzzle her hand for treats. The dogs in the kennels barked themselves into a frenzy when she came to pet them and wiggled ecstatically when she scratched their heads. Even the rats in the kitchen paused in their endless scurrying when she walked by. The rats would bow, quickly of course for they were after all still rats, and say, “Good morning, Princess.” And Owl would smile and the rats would sigh as they hurried back to their bits of cheese and bread.

And then one day, her mother and father summoned her to the throne room, which was the center of her home, and the center of a much larger world she had never seen. Her mother said, “Owl, my Sweet One, it is time that you shouldered the responsibilities of our race, and went into the larger world to shine your light.”

Her father said, “Must we send her now? Do you not think she is yet too young for what we ask of her?”

And Owl said, “I am not afraid father! We have spoken of this day many times. I am ready. I am prepared.”

And her mother replied, “None of us, Child, not even I or your father, were ever ready. Prepared, yes, we were prepared but not ready. I must speak to you sternly now, for yours is the hardest of all tasks, harder even than mine or that of your father; for you are to show the men and women of this world who they are.”

And her father said, “But few will see. You will grow tired and in those times you must remember us, your mother and father, least you forget who you are.”

“I will never forget you,” replied Owl and her smile lit the hall and cast shadows on the hearts of the two had created her.

And so it came about that Owl, bringer of light and truth left her home and walked into the world, this world, our world. And she came upon a robber and smiled at him. Her light entered the man and shone through him, casting a shadow. And this is what he saw and this is what he said. “This world is a filthy place. I take what I can and show no mercy. No one can be trusted. And everyone is my enemy.” And the robber cast his shadow on all he met, and caused much sorrow.

Owl’s smile dimmed, just a bit. And she walked on and came to a young mother with two children in tow. Owl smiled and her light entered the mother and shone through her, casting a shadow. And this is what the mother saw, and this is what she said. “I hate men. There are no good men in this world. How could he do this me? How could he betray me? How I did love him. How I hate him.” And the mother cast her shadow on all she met, and caused much sorrow.

Owl’s smile dimmed yet more. And she walked on and came to a priest who was speaking to a large assemblage of men, women, and children. Owl smiled and her light entered the priest and shone through him, casting a shadow. And this is what the priest saw, and this is what he said. “All who walk this world are born evil. God created us men and women, but we became sinners and all of us, even the most righteous among us are sinners and condemned to everlasting hell. Therefore we must repent our evil ways and punish those who persist in evil!”

Owl staggered. This was not true. This man was speaking of her Mother and Father. Not one thing born of them was evil, and all that was in this world was born of them. Her smile dimmed and on she walked.

She came to an old man who sat by the banks of a broad river. Owl smiled and her light entered the old man and shone through him, casting a shadow. And this is what the old man saw, and this is what he said. “My life has been for nothing. My children are gone to far lands and do not come home. My wife is dead, killed long in a senseless war. And I am old now and useless. I am wrinkled and faded. Soon I will not be able to care for myself. I will through myself in the river.”

Owl shouted, “No! Do not do this horrible thing. Do you not see who you are?”

But the old man could not see or hear. Groaning, he picked herself up, and edged toward the river, stepped in, and stood in its shallows. Then he backed away and whimpered, “I cannot do this thing. I cannot even end my own life. My life is worthless, yet I cannot end it.”

Owl moaned. Shadows slunk toward her, reached her feet, and crept upward and upward until they came to her heart. Owl said, “This world is an awful place. No light can shine through these shadows.” She cried as the shadows scampered around her heart and clinched it tight. “I am the light.” Owl whispered. “I am the bringer of the dawn.” The shadows laughed at her and began to steal her thoughts. “Everything in this world is evil.”

Owl bowed her head and closed her eyes. “Why am I here?” she wondered. “Why did my mother and father send me to this awful place?”

A shuffling of feet came toward her. And a voice said, “Child, why do you cry?” Owl opened her eyes. It was the old man from the river.

Owl answered, “I cry because no one sees me.”

“But I see you,” said the man.

Demanded Owl, “Who do you see?”

“I see a young woman, barely more than a child, and she is crying.” The old man knelt beside her. “I too have cried in my life.”

Owl felt the light stir within her. “Tell me, man, who do you see?”

The old man looked harder. “I see a young woman full of grace and beauty.”

Again Owl said, “Tell me, father, who do you see?”

The man said, “I see strength spreading like an endless sky, and courage cascading like a mountain river.”

Owl felt the light flare within her and she said, “Tell me, who do you see?” The man averted his face. “Look at me and tell me who you see!”

The man put one hand to his heart. “I see myself. But that cannot be.” The man stood. “It cannot be.” Yet, even as he uttered his denials, light shone from his eyes; and the shadows that had clung to him, like mist, fled into the light and were no more.

“Tell me, friend, he without whom I cannot shine, who do you see?”

The man stood, tall now, and said, “I see light, and that light is full of wisdom, and it is a light that cannot be extinguished no matter how vast the ignorance that covers it.”

Again, Owl said, “Tell me, brother, who do you see?”

“I see that you are within me always and that you ask for nothing, except that I become as you.”

Owl smiled. She would let him have his little error for now. And the shadows fled from her, one after another, and never again did they dare come near her, for always, no matter where she went, she found those who did not hide her light in shadows.

Blessings,

John Conley

Questioner: Baba, I think it is obvious the shadows are our perceptions. And these perceptions block the light within us, a metaphor for truth, from shining.

Baba Ram Jahn: But who would call their child Owl? Bird lovers? Mouse haters? Who lovers?

Questioner: Forgetful journalists? Owl anthropologists? Winnie the Pooh?

Baba Ram Jahn: The goddess of light was Phoebe. So I would agree with you that the young goddess was a metaphor for truth.

Questioner: Whoo. Whoo. Whoo.

Baba Ram Jahn: You don’t sound like an owl at all. And Winnie the Pooh is not a real character. And, Questioner, you must mend your ways. We were having a serious conversation, and you sidetracked us into this ridiculous exploration of God knows what! In any case, I think it’s more like whoho whoho. WhoWho. Whoo. Whoo.

Questioner: Father, that is lame, to put it in spiritual terms. And those who do not have a track cannot be sidetracked.