No Further Study Necessary

I've been thinking about writing for a few weeks now, and even tried last week, but as happens sometimes, everything felt too big and heavy to write about. It's a strange feeling when this happens, given that this is how I sort things out, but some days, I just can't -- and find myself not wanting to wade around in everything that is happening, for fear of being taken under.  It's been a hard couple of weeks, with Ma getting physically weaker (we had quite an experience at the top of the stairs the other day, where she sort of crumpled in slow motion and then I had to figure out how to get her back up off the floor, the answer being a slow, seated trip down the stairs --and here's a shout out to a well placed banister on that one!) and an emotional melt-down after the movies (mainly due to a maddening eye itch inside her eye, leftover from the shingles) that made me feel so helpless that for the first time, I wished her freedom from all of it. From the daily struggle, from a body she has little control over, and a mind that is being slowly squeezed into a smaller and smaller space. Shit.

At any rate, I've mainly been pondering how to write about an experience I shared with Ma last month, when we went to see her spiritual teacher, Ram Dass, on Skype at a Unitarian church downtown.  I think what was most incredible about it was watching her watch him on the big screen, how bright her face got, how she didn't miss a word. He says much less than he used to, given his stroke several years ago, but I always take away something from what he says.  Much of what he focuses on is going inward, staying connect with your true self (or God, or that inner voice or intuition) as much as you can, and trying not to get caught up in the distractions of the world. The idea or theory being, that what we really are is love, and by focusing in on that and radiating it out, we can remain centered and loving and pass that on to those around us. But it's not something that necessarily happens by visible action, and it's nothing that can be forced upon anyone else. (He gave the very funny example of protestors at a peace rally all angrily chanting "Peace, peace, peace!") So it's a simple concept, yet impossibly hard in the real world, as it involves not judging, not living in reaction or acting out on all the slaps and bruises inflicted on our fragile little egos.

In action, Ma always has been (and is still, of course) my best example of this, and it was brought home all the more that night. She simply radiates love.  Yet, even now, she is still trying to learn how to live the best way she can.  Someone in the audience had asked a question about how to stay centered in the midst of a crumbling world, natural disasters, corrupt governments, etc. Ram Dass essentially said that you can't learn how to live by watching the news, you have to go back to the holy texts and studying the ways those people overcame the same kind of chaos in their time  He was also saying again to go inward, instead of directing all your energies outward into the chaos. Now, Ma insists on reading the NYTimes on Sundays and watching the PBS news hour every night, (the cast of which I've dubbed the "sad sacks" because each anchor or expert is more dour than the last and after ten minutes, I can't watch anymore), but she likes it, says it keeps her engaged, and I think it makes her feel that she's still a part of something bigger, given how small her world has been forced to become.

Anyway, among many other things she took away that night, she decided that she needed to study Maharajji's teachings (Ram Dass's guru, also Ma's, an Indian saint) instead of watching the news at night. (Note: My mother has more spiritual books than I've ever seen outside of a New Age bookstore. She has read and reread and read again everything there is about Maharajji, and probably about most of the great Eastern spiritual teachers.) I wasn't sure this was exactly what Ram Dass was advocating, but I went along. "So does that mean no more Sunday New York Times?" I asked her.
"Hmmm," she said. "No. Baby steps."
 The first morning after her self-imposed abstinance from the sad sacks, I asked her what she did instead.
"Read about Maharajji."
"Was that more satisfying?"
"No," she said, and scowled.
"You know Ma," I said. "I think Ram Dass was talking about people who get so wrapped up in the news and these far flung events that they have no control over that they stop paying attention to their own lives, and the people they impact more immediately. So he was telling them to read the texts that might encourage centering and love, from where they are right now. Um, I don't think this is a problem you have."
"Oh!" she said, her face lighting up. "Really?"
"Really," I said. "I think spiritually, you are right on track. No further study necessary. Watch those sad sacks if you want, who cares?"
"Phew," she said, letting out a long breath. "Thank God."
And the next night, there was Gwen whats-her-name, along with a gaggle of grim Wall Street/political pundit types, forecasting what can only be described as just short of the end of days, their light and sound flickering out and filling Ma's bedroom. The look on her face was one of pure bliss.