Tag Archives: peace

5 May 1970 – when the Seed sprouted

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. 🦋🌳

https://shrimataji.org

“Happy Easter!”

Behind every single resurrection there smiles the same power: Love
— may all your inner-upgrades be subtle and everlasting!

http://www.brigittesaugstad.com

winter’s last rain

all things green sprout suddenly after the last winter rain, here on the threshold to Narnia …

Life is a journey

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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.’

free online (real) meditation

… 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.

https://sahajaonline.com/science-health/self-improvement-traits-abilities/mindfulness/mindfulness-sahaja-is-sahaja-mindfulness-meditation/

 

by Marc Andeya-Trefny

War and Remembrance

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.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_and_Remembrance_(miniseries)

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 three 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 ascendants, 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!)

Cliff, would-be uncle of Ed, missing in action

suffering—depth of heart

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“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”
― Kahlil Gibran

non- violence peace depth

 

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filling your inner cup

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Even as the world seems to be getting drained of peace and happiness, don’t forget to spend a few minutes today filling your inner cup (by first emptying it)

🙂

http://www.onlinemeditation.org

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wishing you and yours a very corny Christmas!

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Oh boy, here we go again!

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(click on YouTube, then in the wheel —Quality, HD— to see it in high definition)

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(Ed’s version of the Christmas Song is available for free download here …)

http://edsaugstad.com/AUDIO-files/EdsChristmasSong-2014.mp3

(ctrl+click audio file)

___________________

(and Mousie Marvin’s Rainbow Christmas …)

http://edsaugstad.com/AUDIO-files/MousieMarvins-RainbowChristmas.mp3

(ctrl+click audio file)

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in a world full of danger and pain, there are precious pockets of paradise

meditation: no longer just a fad-3

(more about the benefits of Sahaja Yoga Meditation)

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(and click the photo to see an article from New York City)

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meditation: no longer just a fad-2

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cooling candles for global change

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www.coolcheck.org

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a moment that will change the quality of your life forever

Try it. Enjoy it. Share it.

🙂

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Vienna, old and young

Howdy from Starbucks, Vienna! (where seldom is heard a discouraging word)

While waiting yesterday afternoon to pick up someone in centuries old ‘downtown’ Vienna, I decided to park and stroll around a bit. An unworthy but practical excuse (I needed to find a lavatory) brought me for the first time into the magnificent City Hall — surprising, as I’ve lived here for almost a quarter century. You’ll get an idea of how un-downtownish the heart of Vienna is by these photos I took spontaneously with my phone.

Back in my hometown in the Canadian (suburban) wilderness, you don’t normally come across such exquisite architecture. Vienna budding with eternal beauty for the eye and ear. But there are a lot of advantages we take for granted over in the New World, like the fact that our homeland has never been ravaged by World Wars. We don’t know what it’s like to hear bombs falling outside our bedroom windows onto Canadian soil. The collateral and subjective damage that caused children to grow up emotionally challenged can sometimes be seen in the eyes of the elderly over here. Let’s hope the new generations — East, West and in-between — pool all their energies into creating that which uplifts and preserves the soul.

You can spend hours and days discovering the aesthetic graces of Vienna. Most of the ancient beauty survived the cataclysmic aggressions of war, and the population is even getting friendlier as younger, more universal people take to the stage.

(And here’s a glimpse from my hotel room beside Woerthersee in Carinthia last weekend where I was attending an ancient Indian celebration … yeah, it actually does resemble a British Columbian lake)

over on the other side of Austria

natural working-holiday therapy in rural Italy

Okay, not everyone can make this kind of rejuvenating getaway (it helps if you have some building skills and personal means of transportation) but if you ever get a chance, try something like this. A couple of weeks ago I loaded the car with tools, screws, brackets and wooden posts, and drove over to northern Italy to help someone build some steps … think of them as steps to a peaceful, stress-free state – that’s what you get from sleeping under the stars and doing woodwork in the late-spring sunshine by an ancient riverbed near the Mediterranean Sea. The steps actually expanded into a beautiful, split-level terrace, that good folks from all over the world will enjoy for years to come.

Ahhhh.
Gelato anyone?

😉

(click on the sunny Italian postcard to visit the ‘site’)
(a ‘Ganesha’ statue in nearby Genova by my artistic wife)
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world peace begins in each heart …

Despite the fact that the world family is growing closer and closer together in communication, love and understanding, there are still certain hot-spots on our planet that require patient, collective attention. One such healing wound is called Cyprus. In mid-January, 2009, the voices of a few international artists and enthusiastic children brought cooling balm in the form of ‘Elephants for Peace.’ This was the beginning of a world-tour art/peace project created by German artist and historian, Rose Marie Gnausch, and the Art Initiative Naturalmente RoMa.

My wife and I were honored to be present for this inauguration, to be able to share our creative talents for such a noble cause, and to meet so many local, influential people whose hearts are set on peace for future generations. The next event in Cyprus will be along Ledra Street in Nicosia on both sides of the border – May 9 and 10, for the one year anniversary of this border opening – before the growing exhibition moves on to other countries. Here’s my little film collage of the initial ‘sprouting’ (higher resolution, 480p,  can be selected at the bottom after you start)

if that doesn’t work, go to this address and wait a few minutes for high resolution streaming before playing:

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reaching in

reaching in

Oh, hi – so glad you could drop in!

I was just doing a bit of surfing and was overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of messages out there. Unfortunately, those trillions and zillions of statements don’t always steer a person in a constructive direction. The web of words can be our downfall, as our history has so clearly pointed out. If we can just climb up to a higher vantage point to get our bearings, then our life takes on a meaningful pattern and we can head out in the right direction.Sahasrara 2

As May 5th becomes a specially significant anniversary in the lives of more and more self-realized persons, I would like to offer my best wishes (pure desire) to you on this most illuminating of days. May you have the personal, golden opportunity to reach into the Source – into the Silence – where peace and clarity will recharge your worn batteries. Welcome to the soothing Sahasrara.

As-Salamu Alaykum

Sahasrara 1