Endings and beginnings always dovetail one to another—a birth leads to an end, and a closure opens a new door.  When we began this North American Pilgrimage we had a skeletal plan as to the course of our circumambulation of the continent. We were directed by God to seek out Nature’s Cathedrals, be led to places of saints and holy sites, look upon all people and situations as expressions of God, and explore the spiritual roots of the creation of this great American experiment proclaiming the rights of the individual and the audacious idea of popularly elected leaders.

A great wealth of this North American continent is her natural wonders. Pristine landscapes hold special meaning for each one: for the sightseer it is the rugged beauty of magnificent outdoors, for an artist it is a canvas of inspiration, for the mystic it is a profound feeling-vibration of a place and unveiled depths of realization—these being unrivaled by any other experience. We have journeyed from Utah’s Bryce and Zion Canyons, Nevada’s Valley of Fire to Glacier, Black Hills, Yellowstone, Grand Tetons, Redwoods, Joshua Tree, Palm Canyon, Borrego Springs Desert, New Mexico’s Gila Cliff Dwellings, Florida’s Suwanee River, Georgia’s Skidaway Island and Tallulah Falls, South Carolina’s James Island, North Carolina’s and north on the Blue Ridge Parkway, Greenbelt National Park in D.C., Maine’s Acadia National Park, Pemaquid Point Lighthouse and Bass Harbor, Michigan’s Mackinac Island, and Alberta’s Banff and Lake Louise. Though this reads on this page as a simple list, each of these places holds an experience for us—highlights in the body of God—genuine spiritual upliftment was felt at these wonderful Natural Cathedrals.

Besides these Natural Cathedrals we were privileged to have the darshan of man’s cathedrals and places of worship: Idaho’s Old Mission, Utah’s Mormon Tabernacle, Master’s retreat in Encinitas, Tucson’s Native Pow Wow and Mission San Xavier del Bac, San Antonio’s St. Joseph Church, Savannah’s St. John the Divine Cathedral and the Congregation Mickve Israel Synagogue, Daufuskie Island First Union African Baptist Church, The National Cathedral, Quebec City’s St. Anne’s Basilica, Montreal’s St. Mary’s and Brother (Saint) Andre’s St. Joseph Oratory. We found the vibration of God in these and many other places of worship powerful and uplifting.

For inspiration on spiritual roots of the making of a nation we had the opportunity of taking in the sites of Mt. Rushmore, the Little Big Horn, Huston Space Center, Forts Sumpter and Polaski, Colonial Williamsburg, Jamestown and Yorktown battlefield, Monticello and Mount Vernon, Washington D.C. and the Smithsonian Museums and the Capitol Building, Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument, Pennsylvania’s Gettysburg, Massachusetts’s Concord and Connecticut’s Mystic Seaport.

I am such great gratitude for the opportunity for Carla and me to take this pilgrimage around this great continent and to take you with us in spirit and through these writings. Of course for all the places we went there are so many more that could be explored, but these are the places that God took us to, and are therefore perfect. Arriving back to Camano Island came in the natural course of our travels, but we both felt we could continue the life of nomadic pilgrims, always enjoying the starting of the engine after a stay somewhere, feeling the awakened interest, what will come in the course of our travels today? However, “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” A time for pilgrimage, its completion, and a time for home.

Upon arriving we are once again in the saddle of service, a meeting in person with all those in our “virtual office,” those helping with putting Mother’s talks and transcripts into usable form and eventual books. Jerry and Lois are hosting a welcome home Service and potluck Sunday, and Monday we will say goodbye to our dear friend Win at a graveside service, then time with Kathy and family and hot fudge sundaes on the same day as a full solar eclipse (the last one was on my birthday in 1979 when Larry and I went to Eastern Washington to get a full view and experience of it). Then there is getting caught up on correspondence, the business of life, and spending time with Mother’s words preparing them for publishing, and whatever else God has slated–as I know He will fill the days and nights not only with His Divine Presence, but seva (service) to Him in all forms.

In any transition there are many things to do, sometimes there is a grinding of gears while shifting from one mode to another. It is good to be mindful of transitions in life, both small and big. Leaving or arriving home from work is a transition, going on vacation (there are many circumstances of those going on vacation getting sick, as if they can let down, and somehow that translates into the immune system letting down as well), there are those larger life transitions, sickness and death that cause even greater ripples and sometimes tsunamis in life. Through it all: to breathe, to be mindful, and to stay connected with God so that we are ever anchored to our true Self, not swept away in the many changes that life is constantly offering us. If we were very mindful, we will notice that even the tide of breath from in to out, and out to in is a transition. May you ever move into life’s new situations with a calm, knowing oneness with your Heavenly Father, Divine Mother ever with you, guiding you, and giving you inner assurance that no matter the changes, all is well, all is well.

Picture: Glacier National Park

While in Banff, Lake Louise and while heading west and south we have been party to an abundance of smoky skies, depending on the winds sometimes thick with smoke, sometimes clear blue skies. It is said that this is the worst year for forest fires in over half a century. Going down a canyon road we drive by a hill with multiple fires on the hill next to us; helicopters flying overhead with large dangling buckets of water going to their appointed tasks of dampening spreading flames; brave hardworking forest firefighters taking a break next to the road with smoke blackened faces.

Up at Williams Lake Dianne D. is performing seva (even while their own home may be threatened) by issuing vouchers to those who escaped from fast running fires, leaving their threatened homes, some with nothing but the clothes on their backs. For the forest’s sake it can be beneficial for the lightning induced fires to burn what they will, renewing the forest in its wake–surprisingly few animals are killed in a forest fire as they flee or find shelter. But it is a hard thing for those who have homes and property in the forest, to lose all according to the whims Agni, god of fire, that consumes one tree and leaves another next to it untouched. Our hearts and prayers go out to those affected by the fires, and for the safety of the firefighters.

As we motor further south the smoke filtered skies go with us–stretching across British Columbia, Washington and Oregon. From Osoyoos through the Okanagon and finally to Twisp, to one degree or another the gray residue of burning forests continues. Just 20 miles away from Winthrop/Twisp there is a fire growing in a wilderness area and we see the residue flowing in, then thinning to blue skies, only to darken once again depending on the wind direction.

Such is this creation, that preservation and destruction are intrical parts of the whole. When a little girl asked Meher Baba, “Why are there wars?” He asked her in return, “Why do you make stinky?” Not that wars are necessary to life, but when humankind lives out of harmony with natural and spiritual law then it is a predictable outcome. In a golden age when natural and spiritual law are observed and lived, then many things out of balance now will be brought into harmony. When a creation becomes so attuned to higher thought and vibrational living then a material world may simply transmute into pure spiritual Being–such things are possible and do happen. However, we are far from such harmony today–though we cannot discount that, like a rising flood, God’s power can sweep over this earth and make it new. How my heart yearns for such a lifting up of one and of all.

The constant rolling of wheels underneath us for the past weeks are currently silent. The river flows by and the earth hums quietly, bringing peace in earth’s flowing currents. It is a time to restore before making the last part of the journey. God has me in His all-powerful, blissful grip and is whispering to me, “Tell one and all to enter into their silent caves of meditation and feel My uplifting power. I yearn to give My devotees all they need to fulfill their heart’s desires, for it is in My power to do so. Tell all, ‘Come to me!’”

Win: While we are here in the Methow Valley Win Smith breathed his last breath. His heart has been pumping less and less life-giving blood. Win talked of living to 120, but his years fell short of that goal. Win has been a wonderful example of staying focused on the Guru through these past 65 years. He often said that Mother was the greatest person he had ever met, and never wavered in his faith in her. He has been generous to this work, giving regularly and generously. In the early 1980s I was injured at work and off of work for a year while I went back to school to finish my degree. One day Win came by with two large boxes of canned vegetables in thoughtful support at the time–I know he and Kathy have helped others as well. In kirtans Win sang with all his heart, he gave bone crushing hugs, and always had some witticism to offer, or a time-tested saying at the ready, and wished everyone well. I know that he is with Mother, and Mother is with him–a joy-filled, heart-filled reunion. I will miss him. It resounds in my mind his wish to all, as he smiles his smile, “Have a cheery day!”

After some long continuous travel days we arrived in the Province of Alberta. We are encamped in a peaceful coulee, a wide ravine with a river running through it here in the city of Medicine Hat. It has been warm and, now with the low humidity of the interior, it is a reminder of the summers where I grew up.

The name Medicine Hat has a very interesting origin. The Blackfoot nation tells of an event that happened a long time ago. It was a bitter winter with starvation howling at the door. The Council of Elders gathered to discuss the matter. They decided a brave young man should be sent to a special place known as the “breathing hole;” an opening in the ice of the Saskachewan River where the Great Spirit was known to be present. After many days of arduous travel the young man finally arrived here. He made camp and settled into fasting and prayer in order to summon the spirits. After intense prayer the Great Spirit appeared as a serpent. The serpent told the young man to spend the night on a small island (Strathcona). He was told, “In the morning when the sun lights the cut-banks, go to the base of the great cliffs and there you will find a bag containing medicines and a saamis (holy bohnet).” It was a hat to be worn only during battle and it would ensure victory. Aided by the saamis the young man found food to save his starving people–he became a great Medicine Man.

This story has many interesting symbols and I see in it a tale that contains tremendous inner meaning for the mystic. For the seeker of truth the dark winter and starvation is the darkness of ignorance–not having joy and enlightenment which feeds the soul. The Council of Elders is inner direction, and the young warrior represents a newly formed intention. The breathing hole is pranayama, or a breathing exercise done in prayer and meditation. Pranayam kriya breaths and deepened meditation awaken the Great Spirit in the form of a serpent, the transformational kundalini force in the spine. The arising of the serpent force makes it possible to see the morning light–the great light seen in the ajna or point between the eyebrows. The “bag of medicines” are the powerful spiritual uplifting energies coursing through the body and healing it of spiritual sickness–ignnorance. The bonnet of feathers or a hat is the consicousness lifted up to the top of the head, or what in yoga is called the sahaswara, the thousand petalled lotus (such “hats” are used to symbolize uplited consciousness such as the tall hat of the pope or the crown worn by a king). This medicine hat given by the serpent assures the warrior victory, the spiritual aspirant power to overcome ignorance of separation from the Great Spirit in the “battle” of spiritual practice. All the people are then fed by the continuous flow of dynamic spiritual energy and consciousness flowing throughout the entire system–feeding all the people. Thus, I find encoded in this ancient story a clear trail leading to spiritual illumination for a Medicine Man or a spiritual adept.   

Truth is universal, and is it fascinating and inspiring to know that it is, and has been available to those who sincerely seek it in all parts of the world. Stories around the globe are adapted to the physical and social environment of the aspirant, but truth is one.

A Ram Nam Note: as we have circumambulated this remarkable North American Continent we have chanted God’s Name as part of this spiritual pilgrimage. While moving down the road I feel the spiritual aura radiating out through the power of the name (Nam) as a gift from the Infinite–awakening and resonating with the Divine vibration underliying all creation. God alone knows the full purpose in our pilgrimage, but the power of God’s Name is definitely a part of it. Since my earliest days with Mother, in fact the first time I met her, she instilled in me the holy mantra “Om Sri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram.” She received this chant directly from Papa Ramdas and it is embued with an all-powerful uplifting Grace. Not only did Papa use the chant to gain full realization of God, but others have done so before and after him with God’s name ever being chanted. The transformed consciousness of those who attain spiritual heights through the Nam further surcharges it with ever greater and greater power to help others do the same. Imagine the vibration of so many devotees chanting this holy mantra in full devotion for the Infinite–helping to raise the consciousness of this world and all its inhabitants. The Lord knows this world is in need of upliftment, and though we may be in disparate places, we are all in union with our infinite Beloved through chanting and harmonizing with His Holy Nam.

 
We pay special tribute to Babaji on July 25 as co-founder of our Guru-lineage. Master said that it was Jesus who requested Babaji to send someone armed with the science of yoga (union with God) to the West to re-awaken original Christianity. In the early formative years of Jesus ministry, and that of his disciples, it was well acknowledged that God and the kingdom of heaven were to be found within. Over the years succeeding religious institutions were granted enormous worldly power and due to the influence of the Kali Yuga a formulae developed in which acceptance of a creed was thought sufficient to be saved.

To be born again is far more than intellectual agreement to a dogma, being sprinkled with, or dunked in water, and even more than an initiatory experience such as feeling the power of the Holy Ghost in a Spirit-filled church. Follow in the steps of Jesus as he is baptized by his guru from a previous life, during which he sees the power of the Holy Ghost descending , he then goes out to the wilderness where he is tested. In fact there are many steps to be taken that eventually lead to the hill of Golgotha, the hill of the skull. We learn that the spiritual journey of many steps leads to our skull, our own brain where the Holy Ghost, Christ-Consciousness and God the Father are all to be found through actual experience. This interior experience of the Mystical Crucifixion has been known by saints and realized masters around the world, yet the world at large is either indifferent to divine pursuits, or is drawn to the idea of belief through simple faith, sans the inner experience of following the Christ all the way to the resurrection of Divine Consciousness.

Great Masters such as Jesus and Babaji are ever anxious that all should enjoy the inner kingdom of heaven, so Jesus asked Babaji to send the liberating methods of Kriya Yoga to the West. Babaji had his great disciple, Lahiri Mahasaya, through whom he had already started a spiritual revolution in India through diksha, initiation into Kriya Yoga; a technique of breath and mind control that awakens the spine and brain to the higher frequencies of innate divinity. Lahiri Mahasaya had a very advanced disciple in Priyanath Kerar, later Swami Sri Yukteswarji, who perceived the underlying truth behind both the Bhagavad Gita and Biblical scriptures. Babaji then guided young Mukunda, later Swami Yogananda, to his guru Sri Yukteswarji, where he was grounded in the insights of both Lahiri Mahasaya and Sri Yukteswarji in regards to the scriptures, both East and West. Of course the work could not be carried on through intellectual conversion only, but Yoganandaji walked in the steps of realization, even as Jesus and Babaji, and discovered directly the great truths that all saints perceive in the vision of God.

Babaji prompted Yoganandaji to travel and then live in America to introduce the science of Kriya Yoga. Babaji felt the desire of certain devotees in the West were ready for these teachings–his intuitive compassion reached across time and space and he knew that such souls as Rajasi Janakananda (James J. Lynn), Sister Gyanamata, Mother Hamilton and others would take advantage of these teachings–a few bringing them to full fruition. It would be Mother Hamilton, Paramhansa Yogananda’s great disciple, who would be destined to experience and further elucidate original Christianity and the inner meanings of the Mystical Crucifixion based on her own experiences. Babaji’s awareness stretched further down through time and he knew that succeeding generations of disciples would also find those who would go the whole way to full God-realization. Of course he also knew there would be the tendency to institutionalize these teachings, and much would be lost along the way. But, implicit is the opportunity for truly realized souls to keep the flame of realization alive, and that in time it may grow beyond a cultural revolution, as we have already witnessed by the influence of the Autobiography of A Yogi, and that it may bloom into fields of realized souls scattered across the globe.

Babaji has ever been interested in the long term evolutionary needs of the world, and it is for this reason only that he has maintained a physical body for so long. He continues his influence primarily through the inner attunement of advanced devotees. It can be a tricky thing to say that Babaji said this, or appeared here or there; as the ego-mind is at work until it is completely transcended and can cause delusions. There have been many books now written about Babaji since Master penned his spiritual classic Autobiography of a Yogi. However, due discrimination must be used in this regard. Even as in social circles there may be name dropping to enhance one’s own status, so those with a spiritual interest will drop names to lend a halo of credibility to the incredible. Going to God is not a circus–it is attained by dedicated souls sincerely making effort to change their lives and attune themselves to the highest Light. We all enjoy tales of the remarkable, however God-realization is much closer to home–know it to be right in the heart and soul of the seeker.

I am prompted to relate on remarkable experience I had with Babaji. It occurred when I had first left my profession and Phyllis had generously offered me a cottage on Hornby Island. Late one night I was walking in Helliwell Park. Suddenly I was enveloped in a powerful spiritual field, I felt my footsteps guided as I made my way through the dark woods onto a small beach on the ocean side. The night sky and stars seemed to grow close, or I seemed to grow large, and it felt I could reach out and touch the twinkling lights. The thought, “Babaji could come down to me as one of those lights,” came to my mind. However, Babaji has never acceded to my desire for outward remarkability, he only draws my mind inward. Just then I saw the wonderful five pointed star radiantly glowing. Entering the vast ocean of Spirit I was swam in God’s ocean of Bliss. Through my open eyes I saw that it was Babaji as Spirit permeating all creation. Through his Grace I pierced the personal and entered the impersonal–I describe here in words what cannot be described, but it seems right to do so anyway.

On this day of Babaji Remembrance, it is good to think on him and to read about him in the Autobiography; and better than all is to be inwardly attuned with him and open to his Grace. Of course we seek out God Omnipresent beyond form, and on the way up we are inspired by realized masters and saints, and rightfully so. Going beyond all form we find God is all-pervasive, everywhere present. In the universal vison we find His voice being spoken through all: in a child, someone in ignorance, and most lovingly from His perfected ones. Babaji’s words soaked in love and bliss are an encouragement to all to rise above the thralldom of everyday concerns–know the Supreme One, the One who is ever-present within you.

Travel Update: We have continued our westward march and find ourselves encamped at a pretty spot just outside Winnipeg, Manitoba–Birds Hill Campground. Well known Canadian writer Gabrielle Roy (1909-1983) called Birds Hill, near where she grew up, her most sacred memory of Manitoba. It has a wonderful feeling here. We are taking a day’s rest after several days of uninterrupted travel. As soon as we arrived here God took me upstairs and has largely kept me there. In writing about Babaji today he seemed so close, guiding my choice of words and making his will known to my receptive mind. Tomorrow, the 25, we will caravan further west, and will be in thought of Babaji and of you. 

We have left the eastern cities and toured west, even dipping into the States for a campground in Sault (pronounced Sue) Ste. Marie. While there we thought to take an excursion to Mackinac (pronounced Mackinaw) Island. Today the island is reached by a 15-minute ferry, the island has no motor transportation, but it is bicycle, ped power or horse drawn carriages only. We brought our bikes and took the 8.2-mile ride along the stunning coastline. We also sprang for a posh lunch at the classic Grand Hotel, where the movie Somewhere in Time was filmed.

One thing of note about the island, we consistently felt a quiet calm on the island, even though it is a tourist destination. Even the lunch we enjoyed, a room of a thousand dinners seemed tranquil. As we rode around the island there were signs with the history of the island, the story being told one sign every mile or so. This island was called Michidimackinac (Land of the Great Turtle) by the Ojibwas and Odawa People and is considered sacred, the turtle having a mystical meaning. The waters on the great Lake Huron were a wonderful color of aqua to deep blue, the sun shining—a perfect day.

Continuing back up into Canada we have travelled to Thunder Bay along the coast of Lake Superior (the Ojibwas called it Gitche Gumee: The Shining-Big-Sea water). It is wonderful to chant Ram Nam as we move along the highways, some rough, some smooth, a lot of summertime road work in an area where winters are rough on all the infrastructure. There have been wonderful vistas along the way of these great lakes. Nature’s Cathedrals are in great abundance here, and what stands out is that God is present in all the places we have travelled, seen in all people—enough to represent all the races and many of the nations of the world.

“Oh Lord, You are the all in all. You have taken your pilgrims upon this journey so that we might know that Your Spirit is to be found in all places, all people. This vast creation is Your playground, and while it can be rough play, nevertheless You are ever-present—a Guide, Comfort and Protector for Your devotees. Certainly, life can take a deleterious turn from a human standpoint, but when seen correctly, it is only You, only You. Oh Beloved, take the scales from your eyes, unstop our ears, and open our hearts so that we may see only You, hear only You, love only You.”

I have been looking forward to our time in Quebec City and Montreal for pilgrimage to the holy sites of St. Anne’s Basilica, Montreal’s Notre-Dame and Brother Andre’s Saint Joseph’s Oratory (prayer) Basilica. Our first stop outside of Quebec City is Saint Anne’s, holy mother of Mary. We drove to a little village that sprouted an immense Basilica out of the ground. It has two bell towers and is a remarkable work of architectural art. In fact, we have been treated to the most beautiful Basilica’s across North America; they simply, from an architectural and artistic point of view, must rank amongst the world’s great treasures. St. Anne’s is not only beautiful inside and out, but radiates a blessing of a holy site, worthy of pilgrimage.

It is interesting to consider Anne, mother of Mary. Said to have immaculately conceived the holy Mother, she is a personage of great spiritual worth. As Jesus’ grandmother, she must have held his little body in her arms; being spiritual sensitive there could be no doubt that she felt something wonderful holding this incarnation of God. It has been said that the Essenes prepared for this birth for generations, each successive generation making themselves spiritually pure for the potential to bring a perfect incarnation into earthly existence. Who could have known what those spiritual seeds would become, seeds that were planted in an obscure part of the world–not in the worldly capitol of Rome, nor in the intellectual capitol of Alexandria, but a village of no account to a humble family. In the caste system of Judaism of the time Mary and Joseph would have been from similar family backgrounds; Joseph a carpenter–a respectable, but hardly of a higher caste. Anne then, would have been from a respectable family, and she bore in her body a pure spiritual being who was destined to be mother of a great savior. Surely, she is venerable herself, and has been the inspiration for this great Basilica. We stayed for Mass that was half in French and half English. The priest spoke very lovingly of sacrifice. The woman who led the singing sang as with the voice of angels. As we left the sun was setting, but a glow kept growing inside of us from this sacred visit.

After spending a day in old Quebec City, where my high school French from so many years ago was not of any use at all, we caravanned on to Montreal. Having seen the pictures of the Basilica of Notre-Dame, dedicated to Mary, mother of Jesus, I was curious to see what could only be described as wondrous pictures of unearthly beauty inside the Basilica. We drove to the center of the city and found the Basilica there amongst narrow streets that could have come from a European set design. Upon walking in I was even more wonder struck being there in person. The color of Mary is a beautiful deep blue, this is contrasted the 23 karat gold-leaf stars on the ceiling. The neo-gothic wooden structure has intricately painted columns, gold statuary, master paintings and unusual wood carvings that appear to be a city in profile in the front; it all combines to transport one more to a heavenly astral world than this material one. The building’s architect was American-Irish, and a Protestant–for this very French Catholic Basilica! The guide was relieved to tell us though, that at the end of his life he converted to Catholicism—all God’s fun!  This is a very fitting house of worship dedicated to the divine mother of Jesus and carries a beautiful vibration to it, though it is a tourist center, complete with a cover charge.

In the afternoon we traveled across town to our Brother Andre’s Basilica. Unlike many cathedral’s later turned Basilica by decree of the Pope, this church was designated a Basilica from its first foundation stone. Brother Andre, if you will remember from an earlier edition of the Cross and Lotus Journal, was orphaned at a young age and taken in by a priest named Andre, whose name he later adopted when he took vows. After travelling to the states for work after the American Civil War, he returned to Montreal and desired to become a monk. He was uneducated, could barely spell his name, and it was a question of how he could serve. It was decided he couldn’t cause too much trouble being the doorman of the Montreal Notre-Dame College; checking in students and visitors. With a life-long Dedication to St. Joseph, father of Jesus, Andre amazed local people when healing happened for those whom he prayed. More people came for his divine healing, and he moved his ministry to a nearby train station to avoid crowds at the college. He used the money he collected for giving haircuts, $300.00 in all, to build a little chapel on the hill to carry on his work for God.

A local doctor, perhaps jealous of his prerogatives, protested that an uneducated Andre should not be healing people of their maladies, he didn’t have the right background! One of Andre’s superiors asked if Andre would stop this work if asked, he was assured that Andre had taken vows of obedience and would. The director said the work could continue for the present. Crutches abound in the little chapel, that was also home for this little man (five feet tall) with a big heart. What a wonderful feeling at the altar in this small chapel, and upstairs we saw his apartment just as he had kept it. The largest Basilica in North America now towers over the little chapel, and also sports numbers of crutches from those healed, no longer needed. The interior of the Basilica is modern, not to my liking, but Saint Brother Andre had nothing to do with that. However, the feeling in the little chapel, and the chapel deep under the Basilica is very wonderful.

We feel so blessed to have come to these holy sites, each dedicated to a family member of Jesus. In truth, it was for this purpose we have come at all. In all these places, we prayed deeply to the Holy family of Jesus for those who are having physical problems, among those are Micheline with tumors, Dianne T. for dangerous bone spurs in the neck, Barbara L. for stroke symptoms and tumors, Win S. for heart problems, and others held in my heart who are all in definite need. All three of these sites are charged spiritual centers–the prayers made there were deep and sincere.

“Oh Lord, you see to it that the highest good of all be fulfilled. You are the miraculous healing power that regenerates a cut into repaired skin, brain damage into renewed wholeness, a weakened heart to become a vigorous pump once again; so many conditions and You are the sole source of healing in little things and large. You are the immense power that explodes as this universe, You are the regenerative ability for rapid, complete and most perfect healing, You make what many call miracles without a pause or difficulty. Oh my most beloved One, miracles abound all about us every day when the sun rises or in the blush of an unfolding flower–exercise Your ability to bring about healing for those who suffer, comfort for those in need, and most of all Your supreme bliss for Your awakened souls who desire You above all other things. We pray in the name of Your Infinite Self, the masters Jesus and Babaji, Lahiri Mahasaya, Sri Yukteswarji, Master, Mother, realized masters and saints around this world who You use to carry out Your will here on earth. Be it so—Aum Amen.

Driving down the roads of Lancaster County PA there is a dark covered buggy pulled by a single horse, a bearded man staring ahead is holding the reins, and a mother with her children in the tiny compartment behind. It could be a scene from the seventeen or eighteen hundreds, but this is modern day America, with cars, trucks, semis also competing for the same road. We are in Amish country–as we see another, and yet another buggy making their way down the busy roads.

At a time when the emphasis in modern culture is on the latest upgrade, Amish have chosen the opposite way. Striving for humility drives their decision making process. Far from wanting to stand out from the crowd, Amish want to blend into their community. They have embraced a few changes since their coming to America: use of propane, diesel engine/generators, tractors to use the power-take-off capacity to operate processing equipment (not for use in the fields), and occasionally cell phones for business (never in the home). These innovations are often in response to the demands of the world around them, and I am sure each have been considered from every possible side before being adopted by the local district. Some use of modernity has been in response to the law of the land. For instance power is needed for milking machines which are required, so a electric generator is used, but power is never taken from the grid. A carefully considered interaction with English (anyone not Amish is referred to as English) means a truck can deliver goods to an Amish home loaded with lumber or propane, but an Amish would not own or operate such a truck. An Amish may work as a carpenter for an English, but it is preferable to work at home, on the farm or in a cottage industry.  

Far from diminishing in numbers, today over 90% of young Amish choose this traditional life. Amish are part of the Anabaptist movement, baptism only occurs when an individual can make it a conscious choice. Between the ages of 16 and twenty-something, during which time they can freely mix with the outside culture so that they may make an informed choice, a young woman or man can then choose to be baptized. Baptism is entering the community as an adult and can marry, only another Amish. If one chooses not to be baptized, then they may continue to have contact with the family and community. Many of those who do not continue as Amish become Mennonites, who have similar beliefs but are more liberal in dress and lifestyle. In the past 20 years the Amish population has doubled, from 100,000 to over 250,000 Nationwide. The estimate is that in another twenty years the Amish population will double its number again, currently  about 31,000 in Lancaster County; it is not unusual for a family to have seven or more children. If an adult chooses baptism, but then later leaves the community, they risk being shunned, no communication or support, with the idea that the wayward soul will come back–baptism and marriage are considered to be commitments for life; although remarriage is encouraged if there is a death of a spouse.  

Three key teachings of the Amish concern: the rejection of pride or arrogance (Hockmut), cultivation of humility (Demut), and calmness (Gelassenheit). To promote these values they dress simply, a single color (no plaids), black, gray and purple are common colors. The men wear beards but no mustache–mustaches were once a source of pride for men. Modern day conveniences, such as electricity, cars, trucks, or cameras are eschewed due to the probability of competition and pride, or taking time and focus away from the family and community (no Air Jordan’s or $150 jeans for the kids). You have to carefully consider going to the store if you are being pulled by a horse, versus jumping into your car. The idea is to be more grounded in the earth through farming or a cottage craft.

The Amish originated in Switzerland (German speaking Swiss)  in 1683 by Jakob Ammann (The name Amish is a derivative of Ammann). Due to persecution in Switzerland and Germany they moved to Pennsylvania, where William Penn, a Quaker, practiced tolerance for all religions. It is theorized that when asked where they were from, they responded Deutschland (Germany), and it was thought they were saying Dutchland; so went the association that they were from Holland (not true) and it has stuck (much like first nations in North America are stuck with being Indians, even though it has been well known from early on they are not from India). At home and amongst themselves Amish speak a dialect of German. Over time that dialect has changed to such a degree that a native German cannot understand an Amish. English is learned when children go to school.

All Amish we have met, mostly men and women vendors selling goods, have been friendly, not standoffish, they speak very good accented english, and are overall a very handsome group of people. Parking lots regularly have signs for hitching posts for horses, even at Costco. They have large family gardens, but also buy goods from local stores. They are not particularly focused on modern day health food standards: they use pesticides on crops, grow tobacco for a cash crop, and a favorite recipe is Amish Peanut Butter: peanut butter and marshmallow combined! Only a third are now full time farmers, others have branched out to cottage industries–too many for farming to support. Amish are famous for making furniture, also various crafts of high quality. Schooling, in their own one room school, which ends at grade eight, and no further. Then for boys, it is on to  unpaid apprenticeships.     

Church is every other week, held at a family location. There are districts within the community, an average district will be about 80 adults plus children. Service begins at 8:30 with a short talk, slow singing (an average song lasts about 15 minutes), followed by silence, then a longer talk. After Service there is food, which is an important part of any Amish gathering. Community norms are enforced: no drinking, no drugs, no smoking. They will use modern hospitals, but do not have health insurance and they do not collect social security, older adults live at home with the family. They pay taxes, but do not use the schools or other government services. They are pacifists, so no military service. If someone is in trouble, if a house or barn burns down the community bands together to meet the emergency and skilled labor shows up to rebuild.

A tragic and touching story came about in 2006 that tells much of how Amish live their values. A deranged man came into an Amish schoolhouse and shot ten girls, killing five and seriously wounding the others; then he killed himself. The Amish put into practice forgiveness when they respectfully came to the killer’s funeral after attending the funerals of their own girls. Not long afterward, the Amish community gave money to the killer’s family, his wife and three children who were now without a husband and father. One can only imagine the shock and horror of a close community when a local man kills their children, and what it would take to then be mindful enough to think of the needs of a sudden widow and her children of the murderer. It is quite a thing to do.

As we travel in the county today we are mindful that the Amish do not care to have their photographs taken; no graven images of God (little figurines of Amish by a local artist have blank faces)–it may also turn into a source of pride. I am sure that every compromise with the society they live in is very carefully debated–each district to some degree sets their own rules; so you do see variations. Carla mentioned during our time here, it has felt peaceful. And it is true. After a week of being here, longer than we had initially thought to stay, and contending with all the usual traffic, seeing the box stores and outlet malls, there is even a “Dutch” amusement park nearby, but underneath it all there is a quiet vibration that makes this a special place.  

A young Amish man is drawn to our campground by a single horse. His buggy with his wife and children tucked in behind has has a small trailer he is towing. He is sweet natured, selling canned “chow chow,” delicious pickled mixed vegetables, fresh lemonade, he has a whole miniature store in his wagon. He stops and very quickly a crowd is around him buying his goods. What root beer he sells in quart jars, fabulous. Pickled beets, the best I have ever had. We see him a couple of times over the days we are here. He is soft spoken, his wife demure in the back, one of the kids, a small boy, has his bare foot up over the top of the tailgate of the buggy, and while the word quaint naturally comes to mind, they are not trying to be quaint–they are simply living their faith.

It does provide an interesting counterpoint to our constant movement on this pilgrimage of ours, our vehicles, our use of electronic gadgetry as I am writing these words on an electronic tablet that I will send out on the world wide web. And while I do not choose their lifestyle (the closest I would have come is when I was in silence and seclusion for a year), nevertheless I find there is an appeal to living so close to the earth, and the absence of our many modern conveniences, that often come with hidden costs that can derail us from simplicity. One takeaway is that we can choose simplicity in our daily life. Perhaps walk to someplace close by, or ride a bike (Amish do not ride bikes, but foot powered scooters), take time away from electronics–find ways to be a little Amish, to be simpler in day-to-day living.

Rural north Maryland was the unlikely home of a remarkable daughter of God, Elizabeth Ann (nee Baley) Seton; the first canonized American saint of the Catholic Church. Born two years before the American Revolution, daughter of a wealthy and socially connected doctor in New York, wife of a wealthy shipping magnate, mother of five, widow, and convert from the Episcopal Church (grandfather was rector of St. Andrews) to  the Catholic faith after the passing of her husband while they were in Italy.

From early on Elizabeth had an ongoing connection with God as demonstrated by her remembrance of a day when she was fourteen years old:

”found an outlet in a meadow; and a chestnut tree with several young ones growing around it, found rich moss under it and a warm sun. Here, then, was a sweet bed -the air still a clear blue vault above-the numberless sounds of spring melody and joy the sweet clovers and wildflowers I had got by the way, and a heart as innocent as human heart could be, filled even with enthusiastic love to God and admiration of His works …. God was my Father, my all. I prayed, sang hymns, cried, laughed, talking to myself of how far He could place me above all sorrow. Then I laid still to enjoy the heavenly peace that came over my soul; and I am sure, in the two hours so enjoyed, grew ten years in the spiritual life …. The wintry storms of time shall be over and the unclouded spring enjoyed forever.”

This was a special memory, but her conversations with, and faith in God were a constant in her life. Every loss, every sorrow found consolation in her connection with her Lord.

During the last days of her husband’s life who was suffering from T.B., imprisoned in an Italian quarantine area, with no heat, locked in a cell because they had just disembarked from a ship from New York that had an epidemic of Yellow Fever, she drew her strength and comfort from God, for she had no other:

“WeIl, I was alone; dear indulgent Father! Could I be alone while clinging fast to Thee in continual prayer or thanksgiving, prayer for him and joy, wonder and delight to feel assured that what I had so fondly hoped and confidently asserted really proved in the hour of trial to be more than I could hope, more than I could conceive? That my God could and would bear me through the most severe trials with that strength, confidence and affiance which, if every circumstance of the case was considered, seemed more than a human being would expect or hope? But His consolations, who shall speak of them? How can utterance be given to that which only his spirit can feel?”

After the death of her husband, and while still the guest of a wealthy Italian family, friends of her husband and now her friends as well, she was taken with the eucharist ceremony, differing from the Protestant conception of communion in that the wafer and wine are actually converted into the body and blood of the living Christ. Elizabeth struggled with the idea, but God seemed intent on opening up this reality to her sincere search for God:

February 24.
How happy we would be if we believed what these good souls believe …When they carry the Blessed Sacrament under my window, while I feel the full loneliness and sadness of my case I cannot stop the tears at the thought …. The other day in a moment of excessive distress, I fell on my knees without thinking, when the Blessed Sacrament passed by, and cried out in an agony to God to bless me, if He was really there, that my soul desired only Him.

On her return to New York the family did not take well to Elizabeth’s conversion. In part it was family history. They were Huguenots, protestants persecuted by the majority Catholic population of France precipitating their move to the religious freedom of the colonies. Also, at the time in New York, being Catholic was associated with poor Irish immigrants, and there was discrimination and even violence against the Irish and their priests. The Seton family became even more enraged when Elizabeth’s 15 year old sister-in-law converted as well.

As a result of their withdrawal of support, Elizabeth, and children, went from socialite to impoverishment, from connections in society to being shunned, from protection of a powerful family to being on her own. One source of support was her husband’s previous business associates from Italy who directed their bank to advance Elizabeth funds, which she only drew upon when absolutely needed for her family. She attempted to start a school, but was torpedoed by the Seton family and the minister of the Episcopal Church; Elizabeth’s prior spiritual advisor.

Her plight was seen however, by those in the Catholic hierarchy and she was offered a position in Baltimore, and so the move of her family took her there. She was asked to lead a group inspired by the Daughters of Charity, an order from France that was connected with the work of St. Vincent De Paul. She took vows, and brought her children and now two sisters-in-law with her. She became Mother Seton, head of the order of Sisters of Charity; education and service to those in need was their mission. The school and growing list of sisters were given a home and acreage in Emmitsburg Maryland. Several of her daughters succumbed to T.B., and so eventually did Elizabeth at age 46. She created a network of sisters in education, care for orphans and  those in need.  

We visited the magnificent Basilica where her bones are kept, and was given a tour of the grounds which included her first school house and the “white house,” built later to accommodate the growing number of sisters and students. She promoted a novel idea of free education for those who could not afford it. There was no effort to convert protestant students, all were treated equally. She was also not in favor of corporal punishment, she disciplined with love. Mother Seton had a special veneration for St. Joseph. Saint Seton was canonized in 1975.

Visiting the Basilica a day after Gettysburg, we felt a spiritual baptism that washed away the suffering we had continued to feel from those battlegrounds and its history. It is easy to think of Mother Seton and Mother Hamilton as kindred spirits. Both were married, loved their children, both had T.B. (Mother’s was healed by her guru, Swami Yogananda), both disciplined with love, had very strong wills, bucked their families intense desires that they remain in the own church, and both were strong women who pioneered new pathways to God. It was a blessing to have her darshan. 

Carla on Mother Seton–The Power of a Saint

Going to see a where a saint lived and worked is a highlight for me in this pilgrimage. I just happened to see a billboard that advertised the “Seton Basilica and home of a saint,” and of course, what else could be better than to go and visit.

After a tour of the grounds and Mother Seton’s home and teaching areas, we hurried up to the basilica before they closed–I was awed by the magnificent Light-filled space. The physical beauty was inspiriting and one of the most lovely churches I have ever seen. A volunteer said that Mother Seton was buried along the far side of the church, and that there was a relic (a bone) of hers that was on the alter. It reminded me of Anandashram and the special opportunity to touch  Papa’s bones on the altar there.

I walked over and touched the wooden carving where the bone was kept underneath and immediately felt a very powerful spiritual charge. It was a delightful and surprising gift after hearing about her life and all the wonderful things she had done. The information they gave about her was interesting, but felt more like reading a biography. But, when I touched the altar I was clearly shown that this was a great God-woman. I sat for as long as they allowed (too short, but God arranged it perfectly) and just melted into that powerful feeling of love and bliss.

It felt like a huge spiritual waterfall of healing that continues to fill me with such gratitude to God, Gurus and Saints. You never know how, when, and where God will direct you so that His Grace and love can be seen, and most of all felt and experienced!

We travelled north through the beautiful Maryland countryside and broke across the Pennsylvania border in a very different manner than General Lee’s army did a 150 years before. The year, 1863, it is hot and muggy approaching the month of July. The American Civil War is raging, battle casualties range in the tens of thousands in a day or two–the war is a test of wills between state rights to secede, versus federal authority to maintain the union–and the war is far from over.

Lee’s idea is to build on the South’s recent successful battles and strike hard into the north, destroying the Army of the Potomac, then attack Philadelphia, Baltimore, or even Washington D.C. Such a blow will further demoralize a war weary north into a negotiated peace–allowing the South to become a new nation, to maintain and expand its valued slave population and its way of life. This goal is a very likely outcome if Lee and his army are successful. Using the Blue Ridge Mountains to screen his advance of 70,000 plus men, and a handful of women disguised as men, he races northward as fast as marching soldiers in murderous heat can. They are in high spirits, feeling that their general has a golden touch; a subtle but real collective energy Napoleon called moral force; a confidence, or what today in sports might be called momentum or being on a winning streak.

A Federal cavalry unit spots Lee’s advance men and sets up a line of defense just north of the small hamlet of Gettysburg; a hub with spokes of ten roads spreading out in all directions making this a vital strategic spot. It is to be a three day battle that has the highest casualty rates of the war, over 50,000, of an already deadly war–the stakes cannot be higher. Three days earlier Lincoln relieved the commanding general of the Army of the Potomac for incompetence, and places a reluctant General Meade at its head. The North has been pummeled in several battles and the spirit of the soldiers has suffered. Nevertheless they rush in great numbers to meet the newly arrived Confederates–a tremendous battle ensues. Though not unanticipated by Lee, neither side could have planned for the battle to occur precisely at this time, or in this place.

General Meade is the right man; he proves it time and again by making correct decisions–from the formations of his corps in a fishhook appearance that stretched Lee’s army, to the speed of Federal troops responding to the fluid conditions that occur in any battle. A brand new General Meade out-generalled the leading general of the South, and Gettysburg sends the Army of Northern Virginia back home with tremendous losses of men and supplies; both of which it cannot easily replace. This is a change in the fortune for the North and a pivot point in the War; Gettysburg coincides with a brilliant victory by another Northern general, U.S. Grant, with the taking of Vicksburg and the surrender of a Confederate army of 30,000 soldiers on the fourth of July.    

We arrive at Gettysburg, which is now a National Park. Its peaceful countryside betrays nothing of the three day battle that explodes with 160,000 troops over these fields 150 years ago. President Lincoln, a great soul in God, is convinced, as many of the founding fathers were, that this United States republic is an experiment that will be a model for governments around the globe in years to come. Its ability to survive the election of a president that did not win a majority of votes and that half the country deeply mistrustes is essential to this vision. It must continue in order to lead the way, not only for itself, but for the good of the world. It is divine Providence that Lincoln feels is at work here, and the union must stay united–not be fractured into smaller nation-states. This raises the stakes beyond the moment of simple politics, power, or force; it makes it a spiritual mission that supersedes the lives of individuals, including the president himself. Although Lincoln abhorres slavery, it was not his intention when he took office to do away with it, rather for the sake of the maintaining the union it would continue to exist in southern states; hopefully one day to die out due to its inherent inefficiency. It is only when the great cost of lives and resources mountes in the war that he resolves that slavery will not continue. This is celebrated by some, and decried by many others in the north for various reasons. However, the stage is being set for the repugnant stain of owning a human being to be abolished forever.

We spend a full day touring the vast field of battle, larger than what you can see from any one vantage point. We have an excellent tour by a retired career military officer who had taught military strategy as well as being involved in the NASA program; he is eminently qualified to talk about this battle. He also spent years walking these fields, imagining the foot soldier enduring the noise, confusion, fear,  pain and exhilaration of battle. He wants us to immerse ourselves as well, not as casual visitors, but as far as possible to be a participants of those events. He relates personal stories, speaks of the terrific sounds that haunted men’s lives forty years after the battle. Imagine the sights and smells as the battle rages all around: sulphurous smoke stinging and blinding the eyes, cannon shell exploding overhead with fragments zinging all around, mini bullets sounding like angry bees zipping by, comrades dropping, screams of agony, pushing forward or defending against an onslaught, calm minds focused on the business at hand, panic filling another’s eyes, standing shoulder to shoulder, officers calling out commands, not knowing what is going on, who is winning or losing, when will help arrive, rumors mostly wrong spreading like wildfire, the fog and confusion of battle all around, “Will I go home? Will that be my amputated limb left on a pile stacked like cordwood? Will I be brave or will I run?”

In the midst of this time of battle there are extraordinary acts of courage and compassion. As the first day of battle is engaged, a caring officer helps a mother and two young children move from their home, that happens to be in the middle of this quickly evolving battlefield. Exhausted, with too few men to defend the army’s left flank on Little Top hill, an officer and all his soldiers are out of ammunition–he leads his men in a frontal bayonet charge that carries the field. Countless heroes on both sides. A desperate battle that can hinge on the seemingly smallest of factors that decides who will win and who will die. It is a tour and a day to remember.

After this guided tour on the field we move through the museum, and then follow a CD voice tour (Bruce and Janice have loaned us) as we drive from site to site following the historian’s description of the action where the battles actually ensued. It was all interesting, engaging, and exhausting. Not exhausting just because of the physical demands of the day, but emotionally and spiritually engaging with the horrors and sufferings, the heroism and selfless sacrifice that are, to this day, poignant beyond words. It is a feeling that continues to cling to us.

As President Lincoln said a year and a half later in his second inaugural address (below), describing the karmic consequence of slavery by a nation that allowed it, even embraced it in contradiction to its own Declaration: that All men are created equal. Obviously all men are not created of equal physical strength, intelligence or moral fiber. However, all humankind is equal in the sight of God, all deserve respect, dignity and the unalienable Rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Lincoln said:

“Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman’s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said ‘the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.’”  

The day after this experiential tour of the battlefield we had a very different kind of experience. Previously, when driving north through Maryland we saw signage that alerted us to the fact that Emmitsburg had been home to a Catholic saint–the first canonized American.  In anticipation we were thrilled to think of having the darshan of the Samadhi Basilica of this first recognized Catholic saint of America–but the description of our time with her will have to wait for another posting….