Right now I am managing a third very interesting illness, of the parathyroid (not thyroid) which if not stopped, will slowly turn me into a lump of chalk because of a calcium imbalance, the sensations of which I am already experiencing. 

(In my case, it turns out that minimally invasive surgery is available. Hooray. Of all people, I have a wonderful network of healers, therapists and medical doctors in the UK who are my friends; so trust me when I say that I have explored all possibilities for healing and have great support. My surgery date is early April and if anyone wants to offer distant healing, I’d like you to send good energy to the surgeon and visualise me on a walking holiday a couple of weeks later.)

On low energy because of the condition, however, I did decide to get a tonic from Ned Reiter, a very experienced herbalist who lives locally. During our consultation, he asked: ‘And what story are you telling yourself about your illness?’

‘Many, many stories,’ I replied.



ESOTERIC HEALING


I consider myself very lucky because when I first started studying spiritual healing in my twenties, I read what I still consider to be the wisest and most helpful book on the subject, Alice Bailey’s Esoteric Healing. If you are seriously interested in illness, healing and the process of death, then in my opinion it ought to be top of your reading list.

It deals in depth with the relationship between the endocrine system and the chakras, and the various factors that cause malfunction and disease. More than that it provides a crucial overview of the causes of illness. This includes, for instance, a startling and provocative suggestion that the ultimate source of illness lies in the imperfection of God. As part of God’s body, we participate in that imperfection whether we like it or not. (I like this insight because it perceives deity itself to be in a process of change and it also releases humanity from the dismal dungeon of original sin.)



Another profound insight from Esoteric Healing is that the actual material of our bodies comes from earth and will return to earth — dust to dust; and that even while we are healthy and vital, earth exerts an ongoing magnetic pull to reclaim the material that makes up our bodies. From this perspective, when we experience an illness or wound, the tissue of that part of our body is seeking to return to earth. To heal that tissue, what can we do for it, so that it is more attracted to stay in human incarnation than return to its mother? For me, that is a fascinating elemental perspective.

Esoteric Healing also provides a truly holistic perspective on the major causes of illness. These include, for example, personal karma, group karma, the karma of the earthly matter in our bodies, negative thinking, negative emotions, war, epidemics and pure chance.



SO MANY STORIES


So when my friend Ned the herbalist asked me what stories I was telling myself, it was a great question for I had been examining a multitude of possibilities.

One cluster of stories focused, of course, on my throat chakra and how my expression, my voice, was in some way inauthentic or constrained. Did this mean I should express more love or that I should release it to full expression? More humble or more assertive? Was the source of this constriction in my emotional life, my work, my family or was it ancestral? 

Another cluster of stories worked with elements to do with the environment. I had been drinking coffee over the previous year and the PH of my body had become far too acidic. Or perhaps there was a speck of asbestos from some rebuilding I had done. Or a grain of LSD from my youth. Or the electromagnetic pollution from all the mobile phones and computers.



Was this illness purely my stuff or ancestral or collective or just one of those things that happens? There were so many possible stories.

I could have opted for immediate surgery but I chose instead to move forward at a more sedate pace (a choice I might not have made were it an aggressive cancer.) I chose to give my illness a relaxed and contemplative study so that I could look at all the possible causes. Like my friend, Ann, managing her cancer, I have milked my situation for insights and development — and for the opportunity to learn more about love, freedom of consciousness and healing.



RELEASING THE SOUL


Esoteric Healing not only looks at causes of illness but, of course, suggests strategies for healing through a series of laws and rules. The first of these laws states: 

”All disease is the result of inhibited soul life, and that is true of all forms in all kingdoms. The art of the healer consists in releasing the soul, so that its life can flow….”

This leads to the major strategic question for self-management: Do we actually know how to harmonise with the soul and facilitate its flow? 

The basic strategic answer is classic. We have to know the skill of being able to sink gently into soft breath, open heart and calm mind. 

The ambience of this calm state harmonises with the resonance of our souls. The soul’s magnetism can then reorganise and reactivate the material of our energy bodies, bringing healing and development.



So real healing begins in this profoundly soulful atmosphere regardless of the cause of the illness or the healing technique. 

In this state of calm awareness, we can also compassionately contemplate the inevitability of our own death. Here in this accepting state of consciousness, we can see that true spiritual development does not belong to this transitory day-by-day identity — our gender, our age, our habits, our daily sense of self. 

Genuine development is ultimately about the progress and liberation of our soul.

So here I am in the middle of an interesting illness. It is teaching me more about true soul growth and liberation. More love, more consciousness, more compassion. And for this, I give thanks.



All my love.

William



Seeing my bewilderment, she smiled and went on to describe how she had endured decades in an unhappy marriage with a gruff, verbally abusive man. As she spoke, I realized why my instincts were so completely off. In my misguided empathy I had committed what William James called the psychologist’s fallacy, assuming incorrectly that one knows what someone else is experiencing. With this newly widowed patient I imagined that only a life of sadness and decrepitude remained, and felt bad about it. But I was wrong. She had not fallen into the abyss. She was glad to have finally won a measure of freedom and was determined to make the best of it. As her life unfolded at the nursing home over the next year, she threw herself into new activities and relationships in a way that was quite unexpected.

All of us lapse into such mistaken impressions of old age from time to time. It stems in part from an age-centered perspective, in which we view our own age as the most normal of times, the way all life should be. At 18 the 50-year-olds may seem ancient, but at 50 we are apt to say the same about the 80-year-olds. “So what’s it really like to be old?” I often ask my patients, who are mostly in their late 80s and 90s, and the responses are unexpected. “I forgot I was so old,” a 100-year-old patient recently told me, and then excused herself to make it to bingo on time.

This age-centrism is particularly pervasive in people’s attitudes toward nursing homes. All too often we imagine that life seems to end at the nursing home door — that it is loveless and lonely, with death hovering close by. We make this mistake when we refuse to see the needs for intimacy even in the most debilitated elderly.

Our youth-centered culture equates love with sex; in contrast, I have seen with my older patients that love can be an endlessly blossoming flower, felt and expressed in hundreds of ways. A friend’s mother who suffers from Alzheimer’s disease has fallen in love with another resident on her floor, and they walk around holding hands and snuggling with a newfound innocence that perhaps only their memory loss restored.

We also project our terror of death onto the aged, assuming that fear and depression must stalk the final years of life. And yet in my 15 years of working in nursing homes, I have never heard a patient say that he or she was afraid of death. Sometimes there is acceptance, other times anticipation, but most often it is not a great concern. Life goes on in its shadows.

In the end, there is a cost to our myopic view of aging. We imagine the pains of late-life ailments but not the joys of new pursuits; we recoil at the losses and loneliness and fail to embrace the wisdom and meaning that only age can bring. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow captured the sentiment well:

“For age is opportunity no less
Than youth itself, though in another dress,
And as the evening twilight fades away
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.”

Dr. Marc E. Agronin is a geriatric psychiatrist at Miami Jewish Health Systems.
A version of this article appeared in print on March 2, 2010, on page D5 of the New York Times edition.

Be a Light Unto Ourselves

Why did Osho change the traditional order used for The Three Jewels? At first I wondered if it was just a mistake that Sheela made when introducing us to them, but later I found discourses in which Osho referred to them in the order that was presented to us:

Buddham Sharanam Gacchami – I take refuge in the Awakened One
Sangham Sharanam Gacchami – I take refuge in the Community of the Awakened One
Dhammam Sharanam Gacchami – I take refuge in the Ultimate Teaching of the Awakened One

Traditionally they are said with Dhammam preceding Sangham. We can have our own insights as to why he changed them but clearly this is the order that his work has operated on me.

First it was I bow down to the Buddha, to the Master. This is the easiest. Who can not bow down to the Master once the Master is met. For me this is was what took place in what we refer to as Poona One. It was all Him. He gave us meditations. He gave us daily discourses. He guided us through our personal issues during darshan (Ed. personal meetings with the Master). He then began working on us in energy darshans; and finally introduced us to Satsang. (Ed. meetings with the Master in silence.)

Sangham Sharanam Gacchami was more difficult; and for some almost impossible. To surrender to the commune is much more arduous, because often it means saying yes to stupidity. But it is that saying yes to stupidity that is intelligence because one understands that it is transformative. It is surrender. Surrender means putting aside the conditioning and saying yes. This then lessens the grip that the conditioning has on oneself. In fact it lessens the grip of oneself. One can let-go of conditioning with awareness.

Not saying yes because of a need of appreciation, or because of a hunger for position or power; but in the understanding that it is here that the transformation takes hold. It is here that awareness is strengthened and the ego begins to lose its grip. When I saw Osho take off in the plane from the runway at Rajneeshpuram, I knew at that moment that I would never see him again.

This was the beginning of Dhamma, the ultimate truth of the awakened one. What does it mean to surrender to the ultimate truth? It is when one starts Being the teaching. One starts living the understanding. It didn’t really start at that moment watching the plane take off, it took a little time. I was still involved with the distribution of the books. We then had to move the books to Colorado and set up distribution anew. And then because of conflict with the organization I moved further and further away until I was finally standing on my own. The call of the inner guru was heard.

For the first time the spark of inquiry was lit. Up to that point I had meditated but it was witnessing phenomena, be it emotions, thoughts or sensing. Now the consciousness was seeking its source. This is what I believe to be conversion. It is here that surrender to Dhamma begins. To me it means Self-Inquiry. It is the movement from seeking to inquiring. It is the movement from the outer guru to the inner guru. Up to this point one is living on borrowed bliss. From this point on one is relying on one’s own light of understanding that has been lit by Buddha, strengthened by Sangha and is now being stabilized in Dhamma.

This does not mean that one is no longer open to the understanding being expressed through the Masters, on the contrary one is more open than ever. And once the contact with the inner guru is established there is no fear whether some teaching is valid or not because it is seen from one’s own understanding and there is clarity. The understanding is experienced for oneself, it is acted upon, even more accurately it can be said that the understanding itself, the seeing itself is the acting, is the transformation. Finally it is stabilized and lived moment to moment in Being Understanding.

Everyone passes through The Three Jewels at their own pace but what is important is that we don’t linger too long on the way and that we continue until finally we are living the Dhamma.

Now is the time to be a light unto ourselves.

“Be ye lamps unto yourselves,
be a refuge to yourselves.

Hold fast to Truth as a lamp;
hold fast to the Truth as a refuge.

Look not for a refuge in anyone beside yourselves.

And those, who shall be a lamp unto themselves,
shall betake themselves to no external refuge,

but holding fast to the Truth as their lamp,
and holding fast to the Truth as their refuge,
they shall reach the topmost height.”

Buddha’s Farewell Message to Ananda

Dear Sambodhi, (her spiritual name)
. . . What I loved most about your book was its clarity, honesty and purity – purity? Wow, not sure where that one came from – but it feels right. I want to thank you for explaining so many things that I couldn’t possibly know.

What I found most beautiful was your gradual and steady awakening to what was really happening throughout that period of time; with all of us and also with Bhagwan. I applaud the recognition of your strengths as well as frailties, and that you ‘learned to write’ when producing your book. Without doubt you are a good writer my dear – and a compassionate and insightful one!

The following words are taken from the back cover.

This memoir recounts my experiences during the 10+ years I was a disciple of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (now known as Osho). The first half focuses on my participation at his ashram in India as well as the background and early influences that led to my becoming a disciple. The second half describes my involvement at our communal ranch in Central Oregon. My initial purpose in writing had nothing to do with publishing. I wanted to explore its potential for examining what destroyed our community from a viewpoint outside myself, on paper. I needed to understand what led to our collapse, and what part (if any) I may have played. As I progressed, however, I realized that others might welcome seeing how this destructive path came about, and perhaps notice a resemblance, as I did, between the behaviors that led to our downfall and similar behaviors in the larger world that might be recognized if we chose to pay closer attention..

I remember Sambodhi with deep affection. I remember her courage, her broad smile, her intelligence. I found this book an extraordinarily clear testament of a woman with whose life was, by happenstance, intertwined with mine for some years. Of course I want you all to read it! So, please click on the photo above and this will take you directly to it.

There are six videos and they should play one after the another. Just hover your mouse over the bottom of the screen or press the red square button to choose an episode.

Chris Woodland

There are some of you who read this site who worked with Chris at Cortijo Romero and other places before he retired to Scarborough. I received notice of his death today – and wanted to honour him in some way. We had been good friends and colleagues, it was a privilege to have known him.

On Google, I found this piece which I have taken from the Scarborough Evening News. (published on the 25th February) Chris was a much loved man, and I am sure I will be forgiven for some editing – in order not to take up too much space.

As you will see, Chris was passionate about teaching, especially teaching with creativity. But, apart from working with him as a colleague – I also knew him as a poet – it is in his poetry that he is still to be found. Persephone

Eton master had some famous pupils
By Dave Barry, from the Scarborough Evening News – February 25th

AN ETON schoolmaster who went to school in Scarborough and retired to the town in 2004 has died. Chris Woodland, 72, died from prostate cancer on Tuesday with his family around him at his Esplanade home.

A gentle, compassionate and empathetic man, Mr Woodland taught Prince William, Conservative leader David Cameron and MP Boris Johnson during 22 years at Eton. Few teachers can claim to have had these power players on their school register but the real joy for Chris was developing his pupils’ creative side in the English department . . .

. . . “There’s a mini-Shakespeare in all of us,” he said when interviewed by the Evening News in 2008. “It’s important to give that a chance to develop and show. For me it’s about respecting the individuality of each child,” he said.

Chris was born in Rotherham, where he attended grammar school and transferred to Scarborough High School for Boys after his dad got a job at the technical college which was then in Trinity Road. While at school and immediately after, he helped with the box office at the Stephen Joseph Theatre at the library, where it was launched.

After leaving school aged 19, he was offered a place at Cambridge University to take after completing two years’ national service. . .

. . . He left school teaching for higher education and became a lecturer in English at Christ Church College in Canterbury and later a senior lecturer at La Sainte Union College of Education in Southampton. . .During this period of his career, he produced several scripts for a TV series called Ways With Words. Chris said: “I had a good job in Southampton but frankly I was getting bored with the fact there was a lot of committee, paper and admin work, which wasn’t the reason I went into the job. I was much more interested in being with students in schools. I kept an eye out as to whether I could return to school teaching, possibly with a deputy headship or something that would give me a fair amount of responsibility.”

He spotted an advert in the Times educational supplement for a job at Eton to promote creativity and update its English teaching. He said: “It was a very delicate role because it involved change. They went to a great deal of trouble to shortlist people and give them a long interview. I thought, gosh, I don’t know what I’m going to make of this school. It was like a different world. When they offered me the job they said ‘we’re offering you a unique role’ and it was. I thought this is an amazing opportunity to be given a lot of creative freedom in this school. The idea was to nourish the personal creativity and spirit within every boy.”

Besides Prince William, whom he described as “a very pleasant boy to teach and wanted to be treated like everyone else”, and David Cameron and Boris Johnson, he taught actors Simon Woods and Damian Lewis. During his time at Eton he wrote five plays, which were all produced, and studied film writing when he retired.

In 2004, he returned to Scarborough to live by the sea and soon took on several projects.
He volunteered at the Samaritans because he wanted to give something back to the organisation after turning to them when his marriage broke down.

Another big part of his life was poetry, which he explored as a member of Scarborough Poetry Workshop, directing the Poetry Café at the SJT and published his work. And, with the Rev Mark Haynes, he set up Open Circle at Westborough Methodist Church, which features periods of silence, meditation, music and literature.

Chris remained friends with his ex-wife Rosemary, with whom he had two children. Rebecca and Richard provided three grandchildren, Pacha, Micah and James.

When asked what he had learnt from his life, Chris said: “What I keep coming back to is to value the individuality of everyone and to value and nurture each other’s uniqueness.”

Chris planned his funeral, which will be conducted by Rev Haynes at Westborough Church on Friday March 5 at 1.15pm. He asked that no-one should wear traditional dark mourning clothes or send flowers or wreaths. Instead, people are asked to wear bright clothes in a celebration of Chris’s life.

“People like you and I, though mortal of course like everyone else, do not grow old, no matter how long we live. We never cease to stand like curious children before the great mystery into which we were born.”
Albert Einstein

“My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it’s on your plate.”
Thornton Wilder

The point of this small introductory group – is just that, introducing you to some possibilities that may not have occurred to you when thinking about your own life and aspirations.

You may think you are too old, too young, too bold or too fearful. Actually, it doesn’t matter a jot what your mind tells you. During the day, we will discover how spurious such labels can be.

The day will be divided into three sections, two in the morning and one in the afternoon. These will include tea breaks and lunch.

There will be time to meet new people, reflect, connect and participate in some simple structures. These will all contribute to open sharing of ideas on how to live a full and satisfying life. Judging by my past experience – there will also be plenty of laughter!

Weather permitting, you may wander down to the sea and enjoy the peace of this lovely little village. We all need a real break from time to time to clarify our lives and thoughts. My work encourages gentle exploration and interaction, through structured communication, music, a little journalling and simple exercises to address any questions and concerns you might have.

For full information, bookings and any enquiries: contact me here

Persephone, I thoroughly enjoyed your piece on Golders Green. Your words brought back memories of so many things I experienced when deciding to journey through “The Holy Land.” I was not one of those that do not remember the sixties. In fact, I remember them sometimes too well.

My experience was similar to Jehane’s. (Ed. who had commented on the original article.) My mother was born into a Jewish family, but decided to marry my father who was anything but. He grew up in a small Yorkshire fishing town, amidst Catholic guilt and alcohol. On both of which he turned his back. Because of their decision to marry, my maternal grandfather disavowed all knowledge of his daughter, thus leaving me and my sister without the pleasure of grandparents. Having no real direction as far as religion was concerned, I simply followed the instruction that was served up at school.

However, in the latter part of 1966, I began to feel a strong desire to carry out volunteer work in Israel. Being half Jewish, as the Rabbi put it, he could assure me a place to stay and work. But the Jewish agency would not pay the fare. This meant that I was left to my own resources. So, I hitch-hiked from London to Israel, the journey taking twenty eight days. I arrived in the early part of 1967, the year of the Six Day War, known as the “Yomkippur” war. I stayed for the duration, and celebrated with both soldiers and civilians at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. It was then it became clear that my idea of Israel, and the reality, were most definitely not the same. Jews and Israelis are not the same.

When people talk of Israel in general, one assumes they are talking about a land full of Jewish people. It isn’t so. It would be like talking about England, and therefore expecting it to be inhabited only by the English.

There are more followers of Judaism outside of Israel, than in it. Firstly, Judaism is a religion steeped in the belief of “The One true God and The Chosen People.” And secondly, it is a true believer in the sanctity of the family. The females of the family do not share the same satus as the men. However, the mother runs the family, and to be a ‘half’ Jew – that ‘half’ has to be through the mother.

A state, or a promised land just for the Jewish people, was what Heaven is to the Christians. A place to believe in, a prayer. It was not meant to be a place to live in. When Israel was first established very few Jewish people lived there.

If you talk about Israel today, you talk about Israelis, as today I am called British. And as such, you owe alleigiance to the Israeli flag, not the Rabbi. Israel is not the land of the free. It is, and has been for a long time, a military state under constant threat of all out war. And Zionism today is strongly concerned with upholding and increasing the influence of Israel – internationally. How do you think a follower of Judaism looks upon Israel today? I would think, with despair. Surely God would not have wanted his chosen people to live in such a place.

Jehane writes: “How different the world would be if the Holocaust had not taken place.” I also believe it was an event that shouldn’t have happened. But, our history books are full of events that also shouldn’t have taken place. But they did! No one can honestly say we would be living in a “better world” if they had not. The world is as you want to see it, good or bad.

I think we sometimes miss what is right in front of our eyes. The promised land was a gift from God not the Israeli army!

When living in Australia, civil celebrancy was suggested to me by someone who knew of my people-skills. He also knew of my abilities as a writer and public speaker. For obvious reasons, if you feel daunted by the words – ‘public speaker’, then read no further! I am lucky in that I am also a musician, and have a real ‘sense’ of the mood flow of any ceremony.

When I came back to the UK in 2001 it was then necessary to be accredited by the British Humanist Association, which I was. Now, things have changed; but some training/mentoring is essential for this work.

My mentor over here lived in Bournemouth, so I was given introductions to various Funeral Directors in the area. Now, nearly nine years later most of my work is in Purbeck, where I live. However, I also travel very much further away. The Funeral Directors and their staff are a wonderful group of people. I simply love them and their considerate, simple yet professional dedication to the work they do.

Here, I give a word of warning to anyone who might be thinking of embarking on Funeral Celebrancy as a career. It is definitely an uncertain, underpaid and demanding profession. It is NOT a full-time job. However, it is probably one of the most fulfilling and personally rewarding part-time jobs in the world. I love it.

These last few paragraphs are a preamble to the following letter from the inimitable James Bonser. Here is a recent question from him that I thought might be of interest to you. I hope he sends some more:

“There are some questions I would like to have answers to, the reason being that I am inquisitive, or putting it more familiarly, I am nosey. My first question is: what exactly is it that you do at funerals? I’ve got it that you are not the Undertaker. What more can there be at a funeral, other than mourners and a dead body? Here in Denmark we often have a solo singer attached to the church, and I know that you are an accomplished musician, and yet it still does not give me the full picture. So the question remains.”

My answer: You are correct. I am not an undertaker, a mourner or a dead-body. I am not a funeral singer either! I take the place of a minister when the deceased’s family do not want the dogma often associated with a full religious funeral. They want something more personal, not necessarily aligned to any particular belief system.

First, there is an interview with the family of the deceased. This is usually in their homes, for between one and two hours. Definitely, this interview is crucial. It is when I get to understand and know the person who has died. Then I can make the ceremony as true and personal as possible. I talk the family through the normal order of service. This is usually a very simple format: Entry (with music), Welcome, Tribute, then a short time of quiet contemplation which we call the Reflection, again gentle music will be playing. After that it is time for the Committal, which is the time to say goodbye. We close with a few words and thanks, then finally everyone leaves with music playing. Anything in this format can be changed to the family’s preference.

More often than not, I will write and then deliver the Tribute. This is about the life of the person who has died; stories and anecdotes, anything that the family wants me to say. I put that all together within the framework that I have just described. They then look it over and edit if necessary, before finalising how we proceed.

It is my job to decide where it is appropriate for guests/family to say or read something, if requested. Then the final copy is written, together with a specially written one for the person playing the music (either on CD or the organ). I also provide a presentation copy in a folder – to be given to the family after the ceremony, including the CD that has been made by me.

On the day I welcome everyone and am totally responsible for the smooth running of the ceremony; paying particular attention to the timing. If we are not careful a queue can build up outside, which is the last thing that any one wants to happen. I also liase between the family and the Funeral Directors if there are any questions. In a crematorium I press the button if they want the coffin to be lowered. There is always a choice about this, many families prefer to leave it in place.

I see this work as a service in which the clients get exactly what they want, without interference from me. However, if asked, I do share my preferences, especially around any poetry or music. It is most important to me that I design the ceremony to suit each particular family. So far, after fifteen years experience, I have had no complaints!

I would like to add here that this work is a privilege. It is a privilege to be asked into people’s homes when they are at their most vulnerable and to help them deal with, what can be, a sad and difficult time. However, there are nearly always plenty of laughs when families start to reminisce about the particular life that has ended. My assessment of a ‘good’ funeral is one when I have seen a tear and heard a giggle.