The house in Tiruvannamalai where Shivashakti gives darshan
Shivashakti, an awakened being who gives silent darshan I am going to have to back up in time a little because I neglected to share a few interesting experiences I had during the first few days I was in India.. On Sunday morning, the third day, I went with a small group to visit an awakened being named Shivashakti, who gives silent darshan (the opportunity to spend time with a holy person) in the lower floor of the house where she lives in Tiruvannamalai in an area near the Ramana Ashram.. We found the house, which was well marked with signs, and entered a large ground-floor room with several large paned windows.. The room was empty of furnishings except for a rattan chair in the center against a long wall. It was about a third filled with people, who were sitting on mats and pillows on a tiled floor. Nobody asked for money, and there were no baskets or signs suggesting donations.
We took places on pillows in the second row in the center and waited about a half an hour, during which time the room filled up with people, Indians and Westerners alike.. A little while after the advertised starting time, Shivashakti made an unassuming entrance into the room from a side door. A tiny older woman with streaks of gray in her hair, she was barefoot and wearing a peach-colored sari. She walked slowly and deliberately to and fro in the empty space in front of the group, making eye contact with virtually every individual as she passed by, smiling and emanating deep peace and love.. The feeling in the room became still and a sweetness prevailed. She never spoke a word, just slowly walked back and forth, gazing beatifically into the eyes of those who had come to be with her. When she made eye contact with me, I could feel a lifting of the anxieties that had been plaguing me, and my mind settled into an open spaciousness. It wasn’t an earth-shattering experience, but it shifted me into a much more tranquil state of mind. She continued slowly walking back and forth, giving this silent darshan for about 20 minutes, then as quietly as she arrived, she left, and people began filing out of the room.
Our minds silenced, a few of us wordlessly walked a short distance down a side street and without much discussion went into a dark little shop with rows of shelves stacked with clothing of all types neatly folded in plastic bags.. It was a bonanza for us all, including the shop-keeper, as most of us found things we liked and wanted to purchase. I bought three blouses, one for myself and two to take home as gifts, forest-green silk pants and a three-quarter-length forest-green dress with a rainbow-colored tie-dye patterning to wear over the pants.. I spent $30 altogether. With these purchases, I felt like I had enough loose-fitting clothing to last me through the month without having to hand-wash every day.
We took places on pillows in the second row in the center and waited about a half an hour, during which time the room filled up with people, Indians and Westerners alike.. A little while after the advertised starting time, Shivashakti made an unassuming entrance into the room from a side door. A tiny older woman with streaks of gray in her hair, she was barefoot and wearing a peach-colored sari. She walked slowly and deliberately to and fro in the empty space in front of the group, making eye contact with virtually every individual as she passed by, smiling and emanating deep peace and love.. The feeling in the room became still and a sweetness prevailed. She never spoke a word, just slowly walked back and forth, gazing beatifically into the eyes of those who had come to be with her. When she made eye contact with me, I could feel a lifting of the anxieties that had been plaguing me, and my mind settled into an open spaciousness. It wasn’t an earth-shattering experience, but it shifted me into a much more tranquil state of mind. She continued slowly walking back and forth, giving this silent darshan for about 20 minutes, then as quietly as she arrived, she left, and people began filing out of the room.
Our minds silenced, a few of us wordlessly walked a short distance down a side street and without much discussion went into a dark little shop with rows of shelves stacked with clothing of all types neatly folded in plastic bags.. It was a bonanza for us all, including the shop-keeper, as most of us found things we liked and wanted to purchase. I bought three blouses, one for myself and two to take home as gifts, forest-green silk pants and a three-quarter-length forest-green dress with a rainbow-colored tie-dye patterning to wear over the pants.. I spent $30 altogether. With these purchases, I felt like I had enough loose-fitting clothing to last me through the month without having to hand-wash every day.
My magical little friend whose name I don't even know After that, I parted company with the others and headed over to the Ramana Towers dining room to get a quick lunch before heading up to the roof to set up for satsang. The dining room was virtually empty, and a beautiful little Indian girl with enormous brown eyes, whom I concluded was the daughter of an employee, approached my table.. About 4 years old, she was barefoot and wearing a purple cotton blouse and a gathered purple silk skirt with gold embossed patterning. She was magical, a combination of pixie and princess, and seemed as enchanted with me as I was with her.. Throughout the course of the meal she kept returning to my table and smiling, shyly at first, then more easily, and trying to make contact. I could only smile back and try to communicate my interest and appreciation without words, fishing through my purse to find some little trinket to amuse her with – to no avail. This wonderful exchanged lifted my spirits enormously and made the time fly by until, to my regret, her mother gathered her up, and they left the restaurant. Fortunately, I had my cell phone with me and was able to take pictures to remember her by.
.To be honest, I am a sucker for children, and I had also fallen in love with an adorable infant who frequented the dining room at the ashram, the daughter of somebody on the kitchen staff. She was just a little over 1, plump and cherubic, always barefoot and wearing a diaper and shirt, an ankle bracelet and spangly beads around her waist. One morning after breakfast, she came toddling over while I was drying my dishes and delighted me by playing with my spoon, which probably was a novelty to her since Indians don’t use silverware. While we were enjoying this little interlude, a woman from the staff came over several times with a wad of something soft on her index and middle finger and shoved it into the little girl’s mouth, who barely seemed to notice so entranced was she by the spoon. In fact, I never saw her swallow, but she must have, for there was always room for more, though quite a bit of food ended up on her face..
It was impossible for me to tell who her parents were, for at one time or another I saw her in the arms of virtually everybody on the staff and all seemed quite proprietary toward her.. Though all were very loving and affectionate, they were also strict, and more than once I heard one or another of them admonish her in a stern tone of voice when she would do something that violated their sense of propriety, though in all honesty I could not tell what she might have done wrong. The subtleties of cultural mores were beyond me in this case.. In this observer mode, I felt a little like an anthropologist. It was so easy to see how cultural values are instilled beginning at such an early age. I marveled at the mystery that brings us into this world, all so alike, and then imprints us in ways that result in such different mannerisms and orientations toward life itself. Each of us is part of the same human family, which is a fundamental unity, and yet our life experiences lead us to the conclusion that we are so different. If only we could remember that we all are children of the Most High, and at core, we all want the same things, perhaps we wouldn’t have to struggle quite so much to get along.
I’d like to close with a poem that I wrote during the first week.
Paying Attention
The fan is constantly whirring overhead,
What unceasing love and devotion!
If you’re really paying attention,
The feel of the air
Caressing your body
Incites ecstasy.
It is possible to lose yourself completely,
In the most mundane things.
If you’re really paying attention.
It was impossible for me to tell who her parents were, for at one time or another I saw her in the arms of virtually everybody on the staff and all seemed quite proprietary toward her.. Though all were very loving and affectionate, they were also strict, and more than once I heard one or another of them admonish her in a stern tone of voice when she would do something that violated their sense of propriety, though in all honesty I could not tell what she might have done wrong. The subtleties of cultural mores were beyond me in this case.. In this observer mode, I felt a little like an anthropologist. It was so easy to see how cultural values are instilled beginning at such an early age. I marveled at the mystery that brings us into this world, all so alike, and then imprints us in ways that result in such different mannerisms and orientations toward life itself. Each of us is part of the same human family, which is a fundamental unity, and yet our life experiences lead us to the conclusion that we are so different. If only we could remember that we all are children of the Most High, and at core, we all want the same things, perhaps we wouldn’t have to struggle quite so much to get along.
I’d like to close with a poem that I wrote during the first week.
Paying Attention
The fan is constantly whirring overhead,
What unceasing love and devotion!
If you’re really paying attention,
The feel of the air
Caressing your body
Incites ecstasy.
It is possible to lose yourself completely,
In the most mundane things.
If you’re really paying attention.
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