READING FROM THE SIRI GURU GRANTH SAHIB AND MISSING SADHANA
Yes, when I can’t get there, to sadhana, I miss it, miss it gravely. It happens! If it were possible I’d be there every day but that hasn’t happened in a long time.
I remember when I first moved into Sat Tirath Ashram I was one of those impossible, annoying, unforgiving, fanatics who NEVER EVER missed morning sadhana. The “annoying” part comes from my unhesitating willingness to question in an uncharitable and scolding manner anyone who would not or could not attend regularly. Sometimes I was there alone, sometimes just three or four of us, mostly we’d have at least 15 and it was grand. It was the reason I became an ashram resident and it is the reason I still am. This lasted for about a year or so, when my own egotistical resistance kicked in and often kicked my out my habitual sadhana. Of course, over time, and with the results of actually doing sadhana for an extended period of time with good and sincere people, I have learned to be a bit more charitable, compassionate and even loving of those (myself included) who have problems or issues with getting up in the amrit vehla. Thanks to sadhana! Thanks to sadhana for many many things, too numerous to mention here.
But now, missing sadhana occurs all too frequently, almost on a weekly basis for one occasion or another: a trip out of town; a late movie; guests and, yes, even laziness. This last weekend was really special, I had lots of good excuses (no reason, just excuses).
It was Thanksgiving Week (Overeating is a sure sadhana killer), there was a three day Level 1 Teacher Training weekend (Got to be “on” for the students, right? It’s so exhausting.), and, since we had the extra day off from work schedules and a few extra people here, we decided to hold a Siri Akhand Path--a 72 hour uninterrupted continuous out loud reading of the Sikh scriptures, the Siri Guru Granth Sahib.
This holy book, housed in our Gurdwara, is at the center of all Sikh religious services. The continuous reading is considered very special and a Sikh holds it as a privilege and a duty to participate. It is often a special occasion when one is held, a wedding, a death in the family, a special holiday.
All that is required is the commitment of a number of people, willing to maintain the uninterrupted reading over three days; willing to support each other in various ways, including staying awake through the night while a relay of readers engage in the reading; being sure everyone is properly fed and Yogi Tea-d; answering the door when new readers arrive; checking the schedule to see who’s next and whether the reading should be sped up or slowed down, and so forth. It is a serious matter maintaining the vibratory atmosphere in which the words of holy men are read with reverence and enthusiasm.
We, here at Sat Tirath Ashram, are blessed in that we have a number of people who are committed to the Sikh way of life (as well as to the yoga) and for them this was an opportunity to serve God, Guru and each other.
Everything did go well. One resident, a young Indian Sikh man was the bulwark of our reading team. Anytime there was a hole, or the danger of someone getting sleepy, he jumped in without hesitation. He slept outside the Gurdwara door every night of the Akhand path, ever ready to do what needed to be done.
We also had students from our Teacher Training Class take turns behind the Guru Granth Sahib, reading it for the first time. All reported incredibly uplifting experiences, some crying some gaining new insight into their lives and others reaffirming changes they knew they had to make. We all basked in the glow of the Guru’s words. Each time I read I had my difficulties sitting comfortably, bending over the beloved pages, repeating the words sometimes in Gurmukhi but mostly in the English translation. These words of Nanak, these words of Kabir and Ravi Das, among others managed to turn my mind inward towards meditation but also outwards toward the universality that the Guru Granth Sahib speaks of constantly. Each time I read, I found somewhere towards the end of my assigned hour that I could not wait for the next reader, my anxiety increased, as the pages seemingly crawled past at a snail’s pace, my physical being wanting to escape this difficult task but when they did arrive I found myself almost resentful and unwilling to give up my place. But of course I did, crawling on hands and knees out from behind the book, turning towards the Guru, pressing my forehead to the floor, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude that my Guru had allowed me those precious minutes. I was almost immediately rested, refreshed and eagerly awaiting my next turn.
And so quickly went those 72+ hours, teaching, reading prepping karah prasad, sleeping only a little and, admittedly, neglecting the time I would usually spend reading Jap Ji, doing yoga and chanting the exquisite mantras of our Aquarian Sadhana.
Until this morning (Wednesday, Nov 30) when I finally was able to rouse myself from a warm bed, face a cold shower and return to my “assigned” place in the Sat Tirath Ashram Sadhana Room. The music CD was new to me, though I know I have played it many times before. My seat, upon a well used zafu loosely filled with buckwheat hulls was comfortable enough and entirely a fresh place. The delicate mala I held between two fingers was mine and has been for a while, but it too had a novel feel as each hematite bead slipped through my fingers.
I felt like a new person, just discovering this original way of dealing with one’s joy and pain, one’s depression and elation, one’s damnation and ecstasy. Even when it came time for Virasana and my knees and ankles and heels refused to settle into it properly and I had to accept my grave shortcomings and be content to chant and chant and chant. Even that too was new though the pain was old, very old.
And so there I was, back in sadhana where I had always belonged from the time of my birth until now. There was no turning away even though I had rolled over in bed these last few days burying my discipline among the blankets and pillows and sheets. There I was, home, in playtime for my soul, basking in the sound current adding my own off key voice, implacable and determined to wear away the enormous ego and/or karmic load that I was born with. There I was, lucky enough to have found a way out of it all and hopefully to earn a new life, settled and benign, grateful to my teacher and all that he has given me. And I finally realized that it included that time reading from the Guru Granth Sahib and I remembered that at one time I would have resented being anywhere but sadhana, the amrit vehla, 4 AM to 6:30 AM. Now I was back where I belonged but in truth I had never really left it. I was home. Behind the Guru, upon my sheepskin. beneath my shawl, embraced by my beloved.
Yes, when I can’t get there, to sadhana, I miss it, miss it gravely. It happens! If it were possible I’d be there every day but that hasn’t happened in a long time.
I remember when I first moved into Sat Tirath Ashram I was one of those impossible, annoying, unforgiving, fanatics who NEVER EVER missed morning sadhana. The “annoying” part comes from my unhesitating willingness to question in an uncharitable and scolding manner anyone who would not or could not attend regularly. Sometimes I was there alone, sometimes just three or four of us, mostly we’d have at least 15 and it was grand. It was the reason I became an ashram resident and it is the reason I still am. This lasted for about a year or so, when my own egotistical resistance kicked in and often kicked my out my habitual sadhana. Of course, over time, and with the results of actually doing sadhana for an extended period of time with good and sincere people, I have learned to be a bit more charitable, compassionate and even loving of those (myself included) who have problems or issues with getting up in the amrit vehla. Thanks to sadhana! Thanks to sadhana for many many things, too numerous to mention here.
But now, missing sadhana occurs all too frequently, almost on a weekly basis for one occasion or another: a trip out of town; a late movie; guests and, yes, even laziness. This last weekend was really special, I had lots of good excuses (no reason, just excuses).
It was Thanksgiving Week (Overeating is a sure sadhana killer), there was a three day Level 1 Teacher Training weekend (Got to be “on” for the students, right? It’s so exhausting.), and, since we had the extra day off from work schedules and a few extra people here, we decided to hold a Siri Akhand Path--a 72 hour uninterrupted continuous out loud reading of the Sikh scriptures, the Siri Guru Granth Sahib.
This holy book, housed in our Gurdwara, is at the center of all Sikh religious services. The continuous reading is considered very special and a Sikh holds it as a privilege and a duty to participate. It is often a special occasion when one is held, a wedding, a death in the family, a special holiday.
All that is required is the commitment of a number of people, willing to maintain the uninterrupted reading over three days; willing to support each other in various ways, including staying awake through the night while a relay of readers engage in the reading; being sure everyone is properly fed and Yogi Tea-d; answering the door when new readers arrive; checking the schedule to see who’s next and whether the reading should be sped up or slowed down, and so forth. It is a serious matter maintaining the vibratory atmosphere in which the words of holy men are read with reverence and enthusiasm.
We, here at Sat Tirath Ashram, are blessed in that we have a number of people who are committed to the Sikh way of life (as well as to the yoga) and for them this was an opportunity to serve God, Guru and each other.
Everything did go well. One resident, a young Indian Sikh man was the bulwark of our reading team. Anytime there was a hole, or the danger of someone getting sleepy, he jumped in without hesitation. He slept outside the Gurdwara door every night of the Akhand path, ever ready to do what needed to be done.
We also had students from our Teacher Training Class take turns behind the Guru Granth Sahib, reading it for the first time. All reported incredibly uplifting experiences, some crying some gaining new insight into their lives and others reaffirming changes they knew they had to make. We all basked in the glow of the Guru’s words. Each time I read I had my difficulties sitting comfortably, bending over the beloved pages, repeating the words sometimes in Gurmukhi but mostly in the English translation. These words of Nanak, these words of Kabir and Ravi Das, among others managed to turn my mind inward towards meditation but also outwards toward the universality that the Guru Granth Sahib speaks of constantly. Each time I read, I found somewhere towards the end of my assigned hour that I could not wait for the next reader, my anxiety increased, as the pages seemingly crawled past at a snail’s pace, my physical being wanting to escape this difficult task but when they did arrive I found myself almost resentful and unwilling to give up my place. But of course I did, crawling on hands and knees out from behind the book, turning towards the Guru, pressing my forehead to the floor, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude that my Guru had allowed me those precious minutes. I was almost immediately rested, refreshed and eagerly awaiting my next turn.
And so quickly went those 72+ hours, teaching, reading prepping karah prasad, sleeping only a little and, admittedly, neglecting the time I would usually spend reading Jap Ji, doing yoga and chanting the exquisite mantras of our Aquarian Sadhana.
Until this morning (Wednesday, Nov 30) when I finally was able to rouse myself from a warm bed, face a cold shower and return to my “assigned” place in the Sat Tirath Ashram Sadhana Room. The music CD was new to me, though I know I have played it many times before. My seat, upon a well used zafu loosely filled with buckwheat hulls was comfortable enough and entirely a fresh place. The delicate mala I held between two fingers was mine and has been for a while, but it too had a novel feel as each hematite bead slipped through my fingers.
I felt like a new person, just discovering this original way of dealing with one’s joy and pain, one’s depression and elation, one’s damnation and ecstasy. Even when it came time for Virasana and my knees and ankles and heels refused to settle into it properly and I had to accept my grave shortcomings and be content to chant and chant and chant. Even that too was new though the pain was old, very old.
And so there I was, back in sadhana where I had always belonged from the time of my birth until now. There was no turning away even though I had rolled over in bed these last few days burying my discipline among the blankets and pillows and sheets. There I was, home, in playtime for my soul, basking in the sound current adding my own off key voice, implacable and determined to wear away the enormous ego and/or karmic load that I was born with. There I was, lucky enough to have found a way out of it all and hopefully to earn a new life, settled and benign, grateful to my teacher and all that he has given me. And I finally realized that it included that time reading from the Guru Granth Sahib and I remembered that at one time I would have resented being anywhere but sadhana, the amrit vehla, 4 AM to 6:30 AM. Now I was back where I belonged but in truth I had never really left it. I was home. Behind the Guru, upon my sheepskin. beneath my shawl, embraced by my beloved.
