In case you’d like to hear Edward talk spontaneously about Creativity for a few minutes (from the SY Cabella Camp!) …
PUBLIC ONLINE INTERVIEW IN CHINA First video: “How do you keep the inspiration flowing continuously and bring forth the new ones in your artistic works? Have you ever felt the inspiration exhausted? Can you share the secret of persisting in creation for decades?”
Second video (scroll down): “Modern people’s creations can easily be displayed, for example, when they are posted on the Internet, they can easily receive affirmation and cyber attacks. For a creator, being criticized may hurt his creativity. How can he protect it?”
The abdominal chakra is the second chakra of the subtle system. In the body, this chakra provides the energy needed for the liver, spleen, pancreas, intestines and cerebral cortex to function properly. It expresses creativity and execution. This is a very important chakra: it creates all our desires on the left side, while the right channel starts at the location of the abdominal chakra. The main quality of this chakra is creativity, but this chakra also produces fat cells which, upon reaching the brain, are converted into an energy supply that helps the brain to think and process all the information it receives.
The Trait of the Abdominal Chakra is “Creativity” The origin of all creativity is Love. Without Love, there is no creativity. When Kundalini nourishes this center, people become very creative. All great creative work has vibrations. All works of art that vibrate are held together by time. All work without vibrations is destroyed by nature and forgotten over time.
—Ten Days of Yoga—
(IMAGES – Brigitte Saugstad artworks)
She (Kundalini/Saraswati) teaches us through nature: listen to the sounds of birds, the gurgling of a creek or the thunderous roar of a waterfall, the rustling of the wind over the leaves or the forceful blowing of a canyon.
Look at the many greens in the garden, look at the sky, look at her paintings in the clouds. How many colors she uses when the sun rises over the sea or when the sun sets, enjoy her creations.
The origin of all creativity is love. Without love, there is no creativity. She holds a veena on which she plays the most beautiful music to inspire everyone.
Not only did she teach us beautiful music, but she taught us how to dance, talk, sing, write books, paint, and build. When we meditate, she exposes us to all the knowledge we can grasp.
Yesterday my wife and I felt a deep peace filling our nervous systems and I heard the same from friends in various parts of the world. There is definitely a general change of frequency taking place on Earth which is fine tuning, but also exposing embedded corruptions, individually and collectively. For over forty years I’ve been advising others to develop subtly by meditating (long before most doctors discovered its usefulness).
Please take a few minutes a day for this. The only way out of all this mess created by human beings is in-and-up. Otherwise the shaking and quaking is going to be experienced more and more intensely, and the roots of the chaos in us cannot be replaced by harmony.
I’ve enjoyed sixty-three Christmases with family and friends. Most of them were at home in the suburbs just south of Vancouver, and in the charming old heart of Vienna. A few were in rural India. One was in New Jersey, and one in North Carolina. Although all of these occasions bring back colourful memories of abundance and joy, one of the most memorable happened when I was, internally and externally, quite down and out — at the bottom of a long dive that was about to transform into a steady ascent that is still bringing me higher and higher today. Forty years ago, Christmas 1981 (before portable telephones, personal computers, The Internet, etc.) I was living in a ‘shack by the railroad track’, on the edge of a wealthy neighbourhood. At this time of my life I used to have my place open to parties with local peers on the weekends. On Monday I would cash-in all the beer bottles to buy a bit of food for the week. My fridge was always empty (except for all the alcohol from Friday to Sunday). On this occasion I came back to my humble home late Christmas evening and opened the fridge for some reason. I can’t describe to you my utter surprise when I FOUND IT PACKED FULL OF EVERY IMAGINABLE FOOD! Although I tried to find out who did it, none of my many smiling friends would admit to doing the deed. I still don’t know. When I moved back to Canada twenty years later, a mature married man who had traveled the world and enjoyed undreamed of wonderful experiences, it was about a year before I ran into one of the old crowd (back in the 1970s, a couple hundred teenagers, and then young adults, in North Delta). My heart sprang open and my chest was filled with gravity-defying mirth! Then that same day I ran into three more old buddies in various locations, between ten and thirty kilometers apart, something I consider nothing less than a miracle. (As a result I ended up organizing a reunion that brought about a hundred and fifty of us back together for a nostalgic gathering.)
One thing that life has taught me is that Friendship is the highest form of love (collective consciousness). Even in a family, if the members aren’t ‘friends’, there’s no real bond. May the whole world become a family of best friends.
An artist’s depiction of possibly the first historical mention (Bible) of the cool breeze https://wemeditate.com/subtle-system/kundalini (“Wind of the Holy Spirit”) and flowing waves of light (“Tongues of Flames”) above the heads of Self-realized human beings:
Brigitte and I happened to see a documentary last night (in German on Austrian national television) about the life of Prince Philip’s mother. Wow! And we think we have difficulties sometimes! A very spiritually oriented person, obviously a deep seeker, she went through hell (not just personal, but also, dealing with others, like bandaging soldiers with missing body parts on war’s frontlines as Princess of Greece and Denmark) but was able to maintain her benevolent, selfless attitude.
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Prince Philip’s life was chockfull of drama and controversy with his three sisters being married to Nazis.
However, the one person in his family who was known far and wide for her noble services was his mother, Princess Alice of Battenberg.
Despite links to the Nazis, Princess Alice was honoured for rescuing the lives of Jews during the Holocaust, before she turned into a nun.
The life lived by Queen Victoria’s great-granddaughter was filled with spirituality and struggles as she was born congenitally deaf but could speak clearly.
The family was exiled from Greece and had to settle in Paris where Alice found solace in religion and was said to have started hearing voices that she claimed were divine messages.
Alice was diagnosed with schizophrenia and had her womb irradiated with x-rays to thwart her supposed sexual desires, upon the advice of Sigmund Freud.
She was then admitted to a Swiss sanatorium against her wishes when her son was nine years old. She stayed there for two years and after her release, remained homeless, seeking refuge in a number of German inns.
It wasn’t until her daughter Cécilie passed away in a plane crash in 1937 that she met Philip again, then 16 years old.
She eventually found a home in Athens, Greece and was known to have given shelter to a Jewish family during World War II at the top floor of her house.
She was honoured by the Holocaust center Yad Vashem in Israel, which in 1993 bestowed her with the title of Righteous Among the Nations.
She sold last of her jewels to establish her own religious order, the Christian Sisterhood of Martha and Mary after which she formed a convent and an orphanage in Athens.
She spent her last years in Buckingham Palace with her son after she was forced to leave Greece in 1967 following a military coup.
Before she passed away in 1969, she had inked a heartfelt note for Philip, her youngest child, that read: “Dearest Philip, Be brave, and remember I will never leave you, and you will always find me when you need me most. All my devoted love, your old Mama.”
We all seem to be climbing a great mountain, some slower, some quicker. Up here near the summit we discover that we are free from the bindings of our egos, conditionings and physical bodies — that we exist permanently above and beyond these limitations. In Rhonda Byrne’s new book, The Greatest Secret, I was happy to hear that deep experiences I’ve been having for almost forty years, through the teachings of Shri Mataji and the practice of Sahaja Yoga meditation, are becoming mainstream. This isn’t because of mass media, but because human beings are asking the right questions and feeling reality within themselves. But I find that this new book, although it beautifully describes thoughtless-awareness and natural detachment from internal and external complications, is missing much of the detail that so many of us have experienced through daily, actual meditation. Among the most prominent phenomena is the amazing ‘cool breeze’ that flows in our central nervous systems when human beings attain joyful equilibrium. Also missing are the details of the workings of our subtle-systems of energy centers and channels, and the benevolent Kundalini energy in our spines.
Of course, the highest priority is the deep, silent meditation itself, a natural, essential state that should be achieved by all. But The Greatest Secret is only a glimpse through the window of enlightenment. Just sayin’. https://wemeditate.co
• Meditators showed around 7% more grey matter, the largest published difference between healthy groups.
• As grey matter decreases with age and with most mental illnesses, this difference throughout the brain is associated with a younger and healthier brain.
• The grey matter difference was more marked in areas related to the control of attention and emotions.
An investigation on the influence of mental silence in the human brain has just been published in the magazine Plos One. The article is entitled: “Larger whole brain grey matter associated with long-term Sahaja Yoga Meditation: a detailed area by area comparison”. The original text is available at the following link:https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0237552
It is said that, for more than forty thousand years, human beings have a language that allows us to communicate with precision, that language is reproduced within our brain as thoughts without interruption. When negative thoughts are repeated in vicious cycles, our mental health can be affected with issues such as stress, anxiety or depression.
Today there is plenty of scientific literature that shows that being with the attention in the present moment, in the here and now, is beneficial for our psyche and our general health. Unfortunately, thoughts take us out of the present moment and to stop the thoughts for a long time is not easy, especially when we are not doing tasks that demands much attention.
Yoga includes many different techniques, among which meditation (Dhayana in classical yoga) plays a leading role. The first yoga treatise, “The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali”, mentions that “yoga is the suppression of the modifications of the mind.” In ancient yoga a higher state of consciousness has been described, called “Nirvichara Samadhi”, which can be translated as “mental silence” or “thoughtless awareness”. In this state, the mind is calm, with a feeling of inner bliss, and with the attention focused on the present moment. Sahaja Yoga Meditation puts into practice the goals of classical Yoga to achieve the state of Nirvichara or mental silence.
Researchers led by Professor Sergio Elías Hernández from the University of La Laguna in Tenerife (ULL), in collaboration with scientists from King’s College London University, Jaume I University of Castellón and Sermas of Madrid, have been exploring for more than ten years the benefits of the state of mental silence on the human brain.
The study was carried out at the ULL MRI scanner, where the researchers recorded the brain anatomy of 23 meditator volunteers, experts in Sahaja Yoga meditation, and 23 non-meditating volunteers. Both groups were made up of healthy volunteers and both groups did not differ in age, educational level, ethnicity, proportion of men and women, etc.
To better understand this study, we must mention that the brain tissue is classified, according to its appearance, into three types: grey matter, made up of neuronal bodies and interconnections, (dark grey in resonance images); the white matter, formed by nerve fibers or long connections between distant areas, (light grey in the resonance images), and the cerebrospinal fluid or watery substance that fills the interior voids and serves as protection and transport of chemical substances.
The study of brain anatomy showed that meditators had, on average, 7% more grey matter in the whole brain. This type of comparison of the grey matter of the brain has been made in recent years among other groups in: athletes, musicians, taxi drivers, Buddhists, mindfulness meditators, etc. In these cases, the analyses showed that the group studied had local differences, greater grey matter, in brain areas associated with their specific practice, but the difference was never in the whole brain as it is the case with mental silence. The difference of 7% larger grey matter is especially significant if one takes into account that our brain loses between 0.15% and 0.3% of grey matter per year and small differences in grey matter can mark whether or not we keep intact our cognitive functions. It should be also noted that diseases, typical of the elderly, such as Alzheimer’s, senile dementia or Parkinson’s are also associated with loss of grey matter.
An advance of this study was published in the same journal Plos One in 2016, but the available methodology did not allow a detailed study to be made to see how the grey matter differences were distributed in the different areas of the brain. Given the uniqueness of the group differences observed throughout the whole brain, the researchers had to develop a specific statistical method (ad- hoc) to be able to evaluate these differences, area by area. Of all the brain areas, the grey matter difference was significantly larger in meditators in the right temporal lobe, an area associated with emotions, and in both frontal lobes, areas associated with cognitive and emotional self-control functions.
Study authors: Sergio Elías Hernándeza*, Roberto Dortab, José Sueroc, Alfonso Barros-Loscertalesd, José Luis González-Morae, Katya Rubiaf
a: Departamento de Ingeniería Industrial, Universidad de La Laguna, Tenerife, Spain.
b: Departamento de Matemáticas, Estadística e Investigación Operativa, Universidad de La Laguna, Tenerife, Spain.
c: Centro de Salud Jazmín, Sermas, Madrid, Spain. d: Departamento de Psycología, Universitat Jaume I, Castellón, Spain. e: Departamento de Fisiología, Universidad de La Laguna, Tenerife, Spain f: Institute of Psychiatry, Psychology and Neuroscience, King’s College, Londres, UK.
*Author for more information: Email: sehdez@ull.edu.es
Two weeks before May 5, 1982, I learned how to meditate (really meditate, in thoughtless awareness, feeling the benevolent effects of my very own kundalini energy in me). Now Sahaja Yoga is celebrating 50 years of establishing global transformation, from a time when meditation was viewed as an esoteric hobby, to the present when it’s recommended worldwide by health experts for its universal balancing and integrative effects.
How time flies. Today it’s been half-a-century since that crucial sprouting that’s since risen into this majestic tree. Then, for me, it was still a 12-year-old sapling that has gradually lifted me into reality.
It’s so peaceful and fulfilling up here. Thank You, Shri Mataji, and everyone that has dedicated their lives to establishing this essential metamorphosis. 🦋🌳
We’re about to enter the decade that history books will remember as the one that ushered in the END OF KALI YUGA, the Age of Darkness.
As we find ourselves moving more and more beyond duality we will soon discover all the precious treasures in ourselves and others.
So, HO-HO-HO! HOLD on to your hat and enjoy the sleigh ride 🛷
HAPPY NEW AGE! 😁 (Optimism is contagious 😉)
Lots of love💗
Edward and Brigitte
🌈🌹
Year 2020 will be the last one of the age of materialism…
✨“The biggest and grandest alignment comes on December 21, 2020 when Jupiter joins Saturn in what’s referred to as the great conjunction. “✨
✨“These grand conjunctions come every 20 years, but this meeting has extra gravitas. It marks the end of a 200-year cycle of unions in earth signs that’s brought the age of materialism, banking, capitalism and corporations.”✨
✨“December 2020 kicks off a new 200-year cycle of unions in air signs. What that will bring isn’t entirely clear yet, but early indications are that thought, philosophy and truth will prevail. This is going to be a big shift.”✨
Here in the twenty-first century, moving amongst us are personages of past renown marked now not by outstanding appearance or popular appreciation, but by the inner treasures they radiate: universal benevolence and the germinating power of enlightenment. A Sunrise approaches that will reveal all the sublime glory of life — not on any media display, but in the hearts of human beings. Look within. That precious hour is upon us.
~Edward Saugstad
“We are indeed larvae, eating our way through Earth’s resources in a mindless, caterpillar fashion, but I believe that the imago is already beginning to stir within. When the ‘climate’ is right, it will break out not as some sort of super computer but as an organic being [collective consciousness] that will embody all of the Supernature and look back on technology as a childhood toy.”
Unlike the highly acclaimed new Joker movie, The King’s Speech depicts the struggle from childhood trauma up into the noble realms of bravery, compassion and liberation. (With 12 Oscar nominations, it is among the most nominated films of all time.) Decadent Gotham City and megalomanic Nazi Germany rise up darkly as universal threats to the shattered child, as does the wanton destruction of our biosphere and essential moral integrity today. As a victim of deep childhood trauma that has taken decades for me to transcend, I find it tremendously compelling and inspiring. How many of us can indeed be born again like a phoenix from the ashes of our past?
Everything we’ve generally accepted about human beings is quickly changing. As soon as we discover that we are much larger and more precious than our familiar shells, all the Game rules change. Our limited perception is expanding out into beautiful reality. This is what it’s all been leading up to.
More about the mysterious, enlightening ‘cool breeze’ appearing in our modern culture, and forgiveness that enables ‘thoughtless awareness’:
Sarayu = Wind: The name is the feminine derivative of the Sanskrit root सर् sar “to flow”; as a masculine stem, saráyu- means “air, wind”, i.e. “that which is streaming”.
“Happy Diwali 2018!” Festival of Light 🌞💗🌞💗🌞💗🌞 (benevolent grace in Greece)
If the ancient waters and coastlines could speak, what amazing tales they could tell us!
Have you ever spontaneously flown somewhere, not knowing what to expect but feeling a rare thrill rising in your heart? When my wife first heard that many of our friends were booked to fly to Greece to celebrate Diwali, the Hindu Festival of Light, she took out her smart-phone and booked two seats for us.
I’d never been down to that fabled peninsula in the Mediterranean Sea, but my first impression was similar to that of India, an ancient world that I’ve had the privilege of visiting many times. This initial intuition that began when my wife came home and announced that we would soon be going there, was boosted when we eventually boarded an airliner half full of laughing, singing, childlike Indian women, all of whom had also strongly felt the calling.
My first impressions there were that everything was familiar. It was easy to get around in, like any other Western country. The freeways were almost empty and everyone seemed to drive slowly, which was very relaxing(although it did occur to Brigitte and me that maybe due to the economic hardships the locals are experiencing, not many can afford to speed, or even to drive). Then a massive wall of dark grey-purple cloud rose up and washed the landscape clean with a brief rain. We found it to be a significant welcome for all the pilgrims showing up that weekend, and I was reminded of the ancient demigods who were believed to inhabit this land in prehistory. (Human beings, in particular one or two ‘poets’, long ago wrote perverted interpretations of these titans’ lives on Earth, lowering them to the level of incest and murder, ideas unfortunately still generally accepted today.)
My wife’s favourite thing in life is to wake up early near a beach and go for a long walk and foot-soak there. We were sheltered near the scenic end of a bay, and because it was outside of the busy summer season, there was hardly anyone around. In Greece, even the stray dogs and cats seem at peace as they stretch out beside strangers and give the impression of being completely fulfilled (when actually they’re cleverly making friends to get something to eat!). Every morning our hearts would stretch out to the distant islands and mysterious waters so our souls could consume the vast beauty and deep history around us. We attended colourful Diwali functions, enjoyed ourselves immensely with many new and old friends, and even ascended the ancient inland hills to the Centre of the World, the Navel of Creation! (Weeks later, Brigitte hasn’t lost the inspiring heart-boost that she still rides on daily.)
They say that Zeus, king of the demigods, in order to determine the centre of the world, sent two great eagles flying, one from each extreme, east and west. They met in the place that was later named Delphi. A most magical place! I really felt like I was back in India where everything began thousands of years ago, not in young Europe any more. There’s even a natural free-standing stone in the original centre of the sacred grounds, recognizable as the Hindu child-god, Ganesha, emitting amazing vibrations (light and cool).
All two-hundred-and-fifty of us felt light and joyous, many reminded of the old tours of central India that we used to go on in the nineteen-eighties. In contrast to the great subtle significance of this location, Brigitte pointed out that the manmade history was just full of ego. Pompous conquerers would display statues of their officers there to show the gods and all the world how very important they were. Even down in the so-called civilized nation-state of Athens, such a great, benevolent genius (I would go so far as to say divine messenger) like Socrates was killed by men-on-ego. And here we are, thousands of years later, repeating the same patterns in our heads, hearts and actions.
Descending back down to the twenty-first century at the end of the day, I remembered how, as a twelve-year-old child in Canada in 1970, I had suddenly been overwhelmed to write a long Social Studies essay on the Greek gods, accompanied by a hand-drawn wall mural; and in Art class I passionately attempted to carve a plaster-of-Paris bust of Socrates. I didn’t know what overcame me at that time, but now I guess it was personal insight into a higher realm of existence. Forty-eight years later I’ve breathed those essential airs and walked upon the very roots of legend that send the restless mind up into soothing meditation.
If you’ve never been to Greece, go there soon — with an open mind and heart.
Long, long ago in Canada, when I, as a small child, was hiding in my bedroom listening to the drunken fights of my parents; or, at fifteen, hurrying terrified through a dark suburban neighbourhood seeking rescue as my first massive dose of LSD ripped through my brain; or, as a young adult, begging for coins on a city street or curled up on the concrete under newspapers, trying to catch glimpses of my unreachable dreams,
I could never have suspected that I would someday be enjoying a good book in the living room of my homestead on the other side of the world, loved and respected and at peace with my soul and the universe.
It all comes from within us, every bountiful drop of life manifesting.
Seek the silence of the present moment whence abundance springs.
Union is the key to the front door.
Life is a journey. Step out of the pain shadows into the comforting light And always carry your true home in that beautiful heart of yours.
Victoria:
‘We were reminiscing about Cabella. Our daughter Joy said “For us children, Uncle Eddie was King” and “When I grow up I’m going to follow his tradition of making all the children happy.” Then she told us about the coins you used to bury in the sandpit and how they found enough to buy an ice cream, and other lovely stories and memories.’
36 years ago today I crossed an essential threshold and embarked on an epic journey …
into enlightenment.
Almost every day since the 20th of April, 1982, I’ve been able to attain clarity, and briefly glimpse blissful Reality through the instrument of my central nervous system, and the state of thoughtless awareness.
The upward spiral unfolds, with wonderful surprises arising just around every curve.
More than anything else, I wish this for you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(for full-size headphones or bass intense speaker system!)
In separation have I suffered long, But now am glorified in the eternal bliss of Union.
And from my core, That once was small, The sound of Light Expands to all.
Never will I shrink again Into a ball of doubt and pain. Forever forth, in inner sky, I spread my wings and upward fly.
All Life pulsates within my breast.
I have become The hollow drum.
~Ed Saugstad 20 April 2018
—special thanks to Linda Dzus (wife of one of my old best buddies, Doug) who took this amazing photo in their neighbourhood on Mayne Island, British Columbia, the oasis that I briefly took refuge in after attaining self-realisation, 36 years ago—
Despite the chaos of alcoholism, I survived childhood.
At the age of twelve I wrote an emotional essay on the insanity of war
that raised many eyebrows, but echoed away into silence,
ineffective.
With sixteen I enthusiastically came across the theories of meditation
and the age of enlightenment, only to be mislead by
imposters.
But my desire was pure, and the light that I came to believe might just be imagined,
turned out to be real and all-pervading.
Despite the fruitless jungle of youth, with its years of aimless wanderings under the influence of narcotics, I stumbled out into adulthood, and, step by step,
made my way up the mountain
— thanks to our fourth, natural (and now thriving) state:
thoughtless awareness.
Here, on the brink of universal change, when darkness takes its last stand, I am firmly rooted in the belief that each of us carries the seed of the highest ideal in us, about to sprout, or already stretching out its magnificent boughs.
We need to nurture that.
We are not these shells.
I have felt, again and again, the immensity of who we are.
I was born into the realm of the Wild West when Elvis was king, at the height of social freedoms which were slipping steadily down into the mists of abandon. Unlimited alcohol and tobacco consumption were a household norm for many families, with few or no suspicions about their ill effects — gross and subtle.
My first eight years took me along an often bumpy road, with the scary shadows of evermore chaos lurking just around the next bend. But there was also love. I grew up with some delightfully humorous and caring souls. My best memories still shine from those joyous occasions when we, once a year, exchanged presents, had fun together, and temporarily forgot all our fears and worries: Christmas Days!
Just before my eighth Christmas in 1965, my Dad returned home, sober, after a four year absence. From that time on, everything seemed to get more prosperous and abundant — including the number of siblings. Within another three years we would be eight brothers and sisters celebrating at home together!
I was then blessed to live through a period of wealth and wellbeing that most children in the world will never know. Looking back at my long climb as a human being, I recognize how very lucky I’ve been this time around.
May the liberating Innocence, that we call Luck, fill the hearts of good people, everywhere.
Wishing you and yours Love and Light at this special time,
your friend in this abundant moment, Ed
(We were, oldest to youngest: Dad, Mom, Darlene, Cheryl, Rick, Ed, Glenn, David, Allan and Don. Christmases were also celebrated at Nana and Grandpa’s place, Mom’s Finnish parents. Almost half-a-century later we would be three more, Tia, Karen and Cliff, senior siblings divided from us by Dad’s first divorce.)
Rick, Mom, Nana, Glenn, Eddie, Darlene and Cheryl, Grandpa and David
Rick, Cheryl, Eddie, Glenn, Darlene and David
Eddie’s haircut, May 1965 (a month before the end of grade one, and still half a year before that special Christmas that marked the end of Dad’s long drunken absence)
Glenn, David and Eddie
Darlene, Mom, Cheryl, Rick, Eddie, Glenn and David
David, Glenn and Eddie
Cheryl and Darlene, Glenn, Eddie, Rick and David
Darlene, Rick and Cheryl (the ‘Big Kids’) and Eddie, Glenn and David (the ‘Little Kids’)
Cheryl, Glenn and David
Darlene, Mom and Dad, Eddie, Nana, Rick, Cheryl, David and Glenn
Eddie, Rick, Darlene, Dad, Allan, Mom, Cheryl, Glenn and David
Eddie, Rick, Darlene, Dad, Allan, Mom, Cheryl, Glenn and David
Rick, Allan, Mom and Nana
Allan and Cheryl
Glenn, David and Eddie
Allan, Glenn, Eddie, Don and David
Darlene, Dad, Eddie, Don and Rick
Rick, Cheryl, Darlene and Eddie, Dad with David, Mom with Don, Allan and Glenn
I was born into the realm of the Wild West when Elvis was king, at the height of social freedoms which were slipping steadily down into the mists of abandon. Unlimited alcohol and tobacco consumption were a household norm for many families, with few or no suspicions about their ill effects — gross and subtle.
My first eight years took me along an often bumpy road, with the scary shadows of evermore chaos lurking just around the next bend. But there was also love. I grew up with some delightfully humorous and caring souls. My best memories still shine from those joyous occasions when we, once a year, exchanged presents, had fun together, and temporarily forgot all our fears and worries: Christmas Days!
Just before my eighth Christmas in 1965, my Dad returned home, sober, after a four year absence. From that time on, everything seemed to get more prosperous and abundant — including the number of siblings. Within another three years we would be eight brothers and sisters celebrating at home together!
I was then blessed to live through a period of wealth and wellbeing that most children in the world will never know. Looking back at my long climb as a human being, I recognize how very lucky I’ve been this time around.
May the liberating Innocence, that we call Luck, fill the hearts of good people, everywhere.
Wishing you and yours Love and Light at this special time,
your friend in this abundant moment, Ed
(We were, oldest to youngest: Dad, Mom, Darlene, Cheryl, Rick, Ed, Glenn, David, Allan and Don. Christmases were also celebrated at Nana and Grandpa’s place, Mom’s Finnish parents. Almost half-a-century later we would be three more, Tia, Karen and Cliff, senior siblings divided from us by Dad’s first divorce.)
Rick, Mom, Nana, Glenn, Eddie, Darlene and Cheryl, Grandpa and David
Rick, Cheryl, Eddie, Glenn, Darlene and David
Eddie’s haircut, May 1965 (a month before the end of grade one, and still half a year before that special Christmas that marked the end of Dad’s long drunken absence)
Glenn, David and Eddie
Darlene, Mom, Cheryl, Rick, Eddie, Glenn and David
David, Glenn and Eddie
Cheryl and Darlene, Glenn, Eddie, Rick and David
Darlene, Rick and Cheryl (the ‘Big Kids’) and Eddie, Glenn and David (the ‘Little Kids’)
Cheryl, Glenn and David
Darlene, Mom and Dad, Eddie, Nana, Rick, Cheryl, David and Glenn
Eddie, Rick, Darlene, Dad, Allan, Mom, Cheryl, Glenn and David
Eddie, Rick, Darlene, Dad, Allan, Mom, Cheryl, Glenn and David
Rick, Allan, Mom and Nana
Allan and Cheryl
Glenn, David and Eddie
Allan, Glenn, Eddie, Don and David
Darlene, Dad, Eddie, Don and Rick
Rick, Cheryl, Darlene and Eddie, Dad with David, Mom with Don, Allan and Glenn
… In Sahaja meditation, there is no deliberate effort to “concentrate,” and certainly, you do not need to focus your attention on a specific object. In fact, the goal is to avoid concentration or mental activity altogether. There’s no need to be mindful of or engage with your thoughts and feelings while meditating.
In fact, you won’t want to. Engaging your mind in such mental noise will only drag your attention back down to the first floor — that mental plane — rather than remaining in the state of thoughtless awareness. Thoughtless awareness is not simply a thought vacuum or state of thoughtless emptiness on the mental plane. It is a whole new dimension of awareness, higher awareness that is difficult to describe to someone who has not yet experienced it. We cannot fully conceive of its depth or describe it with language we’re accustomed to using on the ordinary mental plane.
… He started feeling again like he was in some kind of fairy tale, where good was setting out to defeat evil. The furry edges of all the bustling silhouettes started glowing in the increasing light of a fierce bonfire as they neared their destination. The air was filled with the sounds of stomping feet in sand, grunts and panting, powerful ocean waves, the crackling of a huge fire, and the distant cawing of many crow-type birds. All the animal, jungle and beach smells were stunningly wild. The sky was almost dark overhead, where billions of watching stars had begun to twinkle. It was a night that would forever stretch, with its colorful events from the roots of history, up into the minds of the human race throughout all generations to come.
“Humanity presently finds itself in a state of important change — from its primitive, aggressive beginnings to a more loving, advanced expression of life. To do this, we must use a balance of force and self-sacrificing kindness to expel the brutal darkness in us, replacing it with the light of subtle, loving boundaries and interactions that make our lives together more blissful and spiritually productive.” … As he tucked each of them in like a loving grandfather, he touched them gently on top of their heads with his big hand. Oakee felt the spiritual, motherly energy that he often became aware of, rising now strongly up the center of his body and out of the top of his head like a river of soothing coolness. Then he slept.
As little kids back in the sixties in suburban West Coast Canada, my best buddy and I would spend a lot of our classroom time drawing war scenes on pieces of paper. Our depictions were filled with fun explosions and gunfire. Traditionally, the good guys always defeated the bad guys. That was less than twenty-five years after World War Two, which meant Americans against Nazi Germans. (“Achtung! Schweinehund!”) Sargent Rock and Sargent Fury were two of the action comic books that I’d sometimes read under my blankets at home when I was supposed to be sleeping. The world seemed so clearly laid out in black and white, and we were the triumphant heroes. Could I have imagined back then that I would marry and move to Europe decades later, and live a pleasant life in enemy territory?
In 2003 my wife inherited a cottage and property on a creek in the Vienna Woods from a deceased friend of her grandmother (these women had survived two world wars in Vienna, losing all their material wellbeing twice in one lifetime) in a small valley with seven hills that had established inns for travellers (twelve in its heyday!) and farms from way back in the twelfth century AD. Ten years later we received a surprise visit here by an old man who’s father had built the one room structure out of hand-sawn wooden beams, bricks and improvised mortar, and dug the six meter well, back in 1934. They had received the property because the father was employed on the railroad that ran through the village. This is where our visitor had happily grown up as a child. But then Hitler rose to power and all hell broke loose. At the end of the devastating war they moved to Vienna. But young Kurt experienced the relief from oppression of the evil regime here in his rural corner of Austria. When news of the fall came, in the one desperate night before the Russians swarmed in, the impoverished villagers broke into the Nazi headquarters and SS officer training centre* (that existed on an ancient country estate then, just a few blocks from the house where we now live in the village of ‘Eichgraben’, Oak Gully) and stole everything they could carry away. Apparently some homes in the area still have oak floorboards that were made off with that night from the Herrenhof. Even cobblestones from the new Autobahn (freeway/motorway) that was commissioned by Hitler nearby were stolen. A teenage friend of Kurt was caught with an unlicensed motorcycle by the police that were later assigned to come and inspect the village and it’s inhabitants. The boy was worried that they would confiscate it, but the friendly officer simply took a hammer and whacked a dent into it, declaring that it looked broken and that he could keep it! (They still use the old wartime civil-defence siren system here to alert the volunteer fire department members in cases of emergency, giving the haunting impression every time that bombs are about to fall.)
*(The dreaded SS had many secretive training centres throughout the Vienna Woods, where young men were brain-washed into becoming cold, calculating killing machines. Young ladies from the nearby farms and villages would sometimes be invited for dance evenings at the Herrenhof to pump the egos of the budding officers.)
It took a long time for me in Austria (where I arrived in 1986 to marry my sweet Viennese Fräulein … whom I had met in India!) to realize that every war memorial statue and roll of honour here praised the so-called bad guys killed in action. The fact really came home to me one day when I helped fill a scene full of SS officers as an extra in an American Broadcast Corporation television series called War and Remembrance. I was in Vienna’s Rathaus Keller (City Hall cellar) at a make-believe banquet, dressed as a Nazi (they paid me extra to have my blond hair shaven down to a crew cut) with two hundred other scary looking men, and a Hitler look-alike raving up on the podium. (What a jerk!) This was daily life here not long ago, and it’s been equally brutal in many other countries since.
In 1989 I spent a few weeks working in a one-hundred-and-fifty year old family-run shop in the heart of Frankfurt. My boss, like his parents and grandparents before him, did exclusive picture framing work. They had also all been Nazi supporters. So many times I had to listen to his assertions that the Allies did worse things than Hitler’s well-meaning assistants. Some evenings on the bus ride home I couldn’t help crying, so intense was the physical pain in my heart from those tangible, torturing vibrations.
My father-in-law, a very kind and intelligent, now retired, government official, was spared the fate that met most of the servants of das Dritte Reich. When, as a teenager in 1941, he was drafted and forced to quickly chose between serving as a Luftwaffe gunner or an aircraft warning observer, he was able to choose the safe position. His guardian angel placed him in an observation tower** outside of Paris where he saw no fighting. (His comrade fired some shots towards the ground one night, only to discover the next morning that it had been cows moving around down there in the dark.) Then, on the way to Hamburg to deliver a package, he put his hand through a train compartment window when their car jerked, and was declared unfit for battle because of a stiff thumb. He still remembers the moaning of wounded soldiers from the Soviet front in that Hamburg military hospital where he lay until his mother, undertaking the long journey from Vienna, rescued him and took him home. (It was about this time that my Dad lost his brother, Cliff, as the plane carrying him and other young recruits disappeared from the radar screens — see letter below.) She had organized his transfer through an important doctor that she knew. After his convalescence he was allowed to continue his studies, and heard about the end of the war over the radio in a friend’s apartment in Vienna’s fourth district on the eighth day of May, 1945 (where he was staying because the Allied Forces had been carpet bombing his neighbourhood near the main train station — my first home in Europe from 1986 till 1999). If the Germans had developed their radar technology sooner, or if that train hadn’t made a sudden stop, my wife may never had been born, as her father would certainly have been sent to battle and been killed, or died slowly as a prisoner-of-war in Russia, like his father.
**(By the time of the Battle of Britain in mid-1940, the Royal Air Force had fully integrated radar as part of the national air defence. By contrast, the German Funkmessgerät was neglected, partly due to Adolf Hitler’s prejudice against defensive measures, and failings by the Luftwaffe in coherently incorporating the new technology.)
Papa went on to serve his country for one and a half decades as head of the Regional Land Use Commission, receiving the national Decoration of Honour in recognition of his outstanding integrity and dedication, from the Chancellor, when he retired in 1987.
We might not experience all-encompassing war in Europe again*** (if the Western neocons don’t provoke Russia into further defensive measures) but a similar firestorm is brewing in Asia and the Middle East as I write these words. May mankind soon choose enlightenment and benevolence over baser motivations. Surely we have been deeply prepared for that higher destiny.
Best wishes,
Edward
***(Almost one-and-a-half centuries before the last world war, here in Eichgraben, some of Napolean’s troops — actually Bavarian soldiers, speaking German like the locals — bullied one of the innkeepers, stealing his goods and insulting him. Seven of them were murdered in their drunken sleep by a few pitchfork wielding farmers, but one escaped to report back to his commanding officer in nearby Purkersdorf. A squadron came here to punish the locals with brutality and a high fine, which was mostly paid by a Viennese merchant who lived in this area.) (A couple hundred years before that, Europe was filled for thirty years with terrorist armies and mercenaries that raped, pillaged and murdered each other and innocent women and children in the name of Jesus Christ, mostly Protestants against Catholics, but even some who were on the same side — France against the, mostly Austrian, Holy Roman Empire. The terror is carried forward genetically to countless suffering descendents, even today.) (… And who knows what the Romans and Celts, and the occasional barbarian from north of the Danube, got up to here one-and-a-half millennia before that!)
(from us and our new ‘Family’!)
Self-Help 