another Amritapuri experience

[Guest guest]

Om Namah Shivaya -

In reading more of Jyotsna's (hope I have the right name!) diary

and enjoying it like many others here, I've decided to offer a

little of my recent experience (last month!) at Amritapuri to the

group. I wrote this piece for my monthly email newsletter.

Therefore, I've explained some concepts that I know all of

you don't need explained, but it's written for a wider

audience. It's fairly long, so feel free to skip it if you don't

have time to read it.

 

As an aside, thank you, Peter, for your interception of the Sai

Baba issue. I support you fully.

Blessings,

Achintya

 

"Just Sweeping," by Connie Habash

 

I had been at Amritapuri, the ashram of my spiritual teacher,

Mata Amritanandamayi (known in the west as Ammachi, or

Amma - "Mother" - as her devotees call her) about a week

and a half, and one of my sevas - the "selfless service" done

for the ashram daily, such as cleaning or chopping veggies -

was coming to an end. I decided that I would like to sign up

for another one, so I ambled over to the Seva desk after breakfast.

"We need someone to sweep the temple at night after

dinner," the coordinator said. Wow. Sweep the temple, I

thought? I had these mixed feelings of "what an honor", "that's

really important", and "I'll be too tired after dinner," as well as

"you should be willing to do this, even if you're too tired".

Ignoring my inner voices, I agreed to take this on, as he briefly

explained how to unlock the closet where the brooms were kept,

and that was that.

I didn't give it much thought until dinner rolled around, and

I started to become a little anxious. The whole temple floor,

by myself. How long will that take? He didn't give me any

idea, nor was I given any guidance as the best way to do it,

where to start - nothing. As was my experience with most

things at Amritapuri, you just had to figure it out by yourself.

This quality of the ashram gave me no end of opportunities for

personal growth, as I was desperate to figure it all out, do it

right, and have control over the process. Again and again, I was

met with not knowing what to do, accepting that I made mistakes,

and letting go, surrendering to the process.

Dinner was over, and I headed over to the temple. I was

forewarned that there would still be small groups of people on

the floor at that time for discussion of the day's Satsang, so I'd

have to wait until they finished before I could get started. I

gazed across the expanse of the sacred space - four gradually

tiered levels of tiled floor, leading down to the main stage

where the inner temple was, with the special sanctum that had

a beautiful statue of Kali encased inside. Kali was put to bed

for the evening, the carved wooden doors of her chamber

closed, and the inner temple was empty, so I figured I could

begin there, hoping everyone would be gone soon.

After finally figuring out which broom, dust pan, little hand

broom, and bucket were the ones I was to use, I went up to the

inner temple floor, just a few steps up from the main floor.

The outer doors to the main floor were closed, so it was all

dark, and I noticed a large circuit board to my left. Which

switches controlled the lights to this chamber? I felt silly

fumbling in the dark, flipping lights on and off who knows

where in the main hall until I finally found one of the correct

ones, and then I could see where the others were indicated,

fortunately in English, not Malayalam, the local language!

Already, I was sweating. Evenings were warm in the

Southern-most part of India, and inside the temple, the humid

air was quite close. But I'm going to make the best of it, I

declared. This was an important seva, and I want to do it

well. My intention was to clean as good as I possibly could

(perhaps better than anyone else has!), with a positive

attitude, and to remember to chant my mantra. I wanted to

imagine doing this for my spiritual teacher.

I began sweeping, trying to figure out the most efficient

way to cover the territory. Things were going along OK,

and then I found the feathers. Just a few feathers here and

there, no big deal. I swept them up into a pile, and was

about to get the pan and wisk broom to scoop them up, when

just a little draft, probably caused by my movement, made

some of the feathers fly away. This became a little dance

of the feathers and me - chasing after the feathers, and them

drifting off just a bit ahead of me. Should I just stop and

pick them up one at a time? Arrgh, no! I will sweep them

up. After a few more tries, I finally gathered them up and

got them into the bucket. Onto the next section, on the main

floor.

I was sweating. Running the broom back and forth, chasing

after more feathers, was working up the perspiration. What

is it with these feathers? Did a bird die in here or something?

Then, I put the hand broom in the bucket with all the dust, dirt,

and feathers. When I pulled it out again to scrape up the latest

pile, out came all the feathers again! AAARRGGGHH!! How

could I be so stupid? I hadn't realized yet that my attitude was

getting to be less than happy. I had to sweep around and under

chairs, finding corners filled with sand and other debris - hadn't

anyone cleaned this properly before? Or did all this stuff

really show up here in just one day? I started to wonder how

the next few nights would be, doing this over and over. Anxiety

and frustration were building. I had completely forgotten about

my mantra.

There's a word in Sanskrit - Leela. It roughly translates

as a "Divine Play", the drama (comedy or tragedy!) that spirit

plays within the manifest world. And what a Leela my sweeping

was - a drama in my own head! Feelings of self-importance

quickly dissolved into the realization that all I was doing was

sweeping. Nothing special about it, anyone can do it - I'm just

sweeping, and I'm awful at it! I felt that my body was dragging,

incredibly slow. The overwhelm takes me over as I look at the

rest of the temple, and at my watch, and back at the territory to

be covered again. I feel so alone, and miserable, dripping with

sweat now, unappreciated. No one cares that I'm sweeping the

temple! Well, that's sure an opportunity to be humble. Can I do a

job that no one cares about, and still do it with love? I pull myself

together and refocus on the job. Don't think about the time, just

try to do the job right.

Several asanas, or sitting-mats, were left on the floor by

Amma's seat, in hopes that she would come out to spend time with

her devotees before she left the next day on the North India Tour.

I carefully picked them up and moved them to the side, mostly with

the help of some Indian female renunciates, or Brahmacharinis.

They must think I'm quite the sight, a ragged-looking western

woman with sweat dripping from her face. I smiled my

appreciation, feeling quite meager, and continued my work.

Now, more emotions washed over me - look at these

Brahmacharinis. They are so devoted, and stay up all hours to

help, and they seem so effortless, kind, and full of energy (my

perception, certainly, was a bit distorted, as most of them look

quite tired from their long hours of work). To me, they looked

like embodiments of perfection, and here I was, pathetic. I can't

even handle the simple job of sweeping the temple without

feeling exhausted and inept. I should be doing more than this -

why can't I? As I always say, comparison is the root of all

depression. I slipped into feeling sad and helpless, at the mercy

of these self-degrading thoughts.

Wake up! Another Leela was playing out in my head, and I

needed to snap out of it. I'm not a better or worse devotee - I'm

just sweeping. Refocused on the task, I went back to chanting my

mantra and trying to stay above the maelstrom of reactions that

were so easily stirred by the motions of the broom. The dust

that kicked up served to agitate my insecurities, bringing them

out for me to see clearly.

Just Sweeping became my mantra. Whenever I'd start to play

out the drama in my head - this is too big of a task for one person,

I must look like a wreck, Amma would be proud of me for

doing such a good job, I'll bet I can do this better than anyone

else, who are you kidding, you're taking forever! - I'd remind

myself, "Just Sweeping". That's the only thing that's going on

here, and anything else is just something I'm making up in my

head. It's not important, it's not unimportant, right or wrong,

good or bad - it's Just Sweeping.

I came upon a sad, young woman who would not get up

from the place right by Amma's chair, she was so forlorn

that Amma was leaving tomorrow. I instantly felt compassion

for her, understanding her sadness at losing the closeness of her

spiritual Mother for a few months. She saw me coming close

and started to get up, but I motioned for her to stay. Let her

be where she needs to be. I felt like a good person for letting

her remain there and sweeping around her - aren't I considerate

and compassionate? Oh no, there's the self-importance again.

Just Sweeping. I'm Just Sweeping, and that's all that's really

going on.

The Leelas were not going to end. As I moved up to the

third level, there were three devotees sitting on chairs and

benches (oh great, obstacles to sweep around), working on

folding up the quarterly magazine the ashram produces.

Naturally, because of the heat, they had the ceiling fan going

above them. And, of course, there just had to be feathers

nearby. Feather Leela! What to do? Every time I tried to

sweep up the feathers, they ran off in other directions,

almost laughing at me as I scuttled after them, desperately

trying to chase them down. The fan would blow them here

and there, and my emotions would flip flop between a

detached amusement at the absurdity of the moment to total

frustration. Somehow, turning the fan off didn't even occur

to me!

My energy was dissipating fast - it's getting late! I've

already been at it two hours, and I have two more levels

to finish! Why didn't anyone show me how to do this -

there must be an easier way! I tried to redouble my efforts,

and struggled over and over with Just Sweeping. My mind

wanted to make it so much more than what it was - the

attachment to emotional drama was apparent.

After two and a half hours, and my clothes stuck to my

skin, I finally finished. I was clearly the last one there.

Hobbling back to the flats to take the elevator up to my

room on the 14th floor, I felt dejected - I am so tired! How

will I ever do this every night after dinner? My skin was

boiling and my feet were burning. I clearly hadn't drank

enough water that day. Am I making more of this than I

needed to? No, this was too much for one person to do! I

was determined to quit the job the next day, and find an easier

seva. I don't care if I'm a whimp, I can't do this!

Upon waking the next morning, I was confused. What to do?

If I quit this, will anything else be that much easier, or will my

mind yet again find the problems, the drama, and get frustrated

with the difficulties of whatever new task it may be? Perhaps

the opportunity here was to overcome my mind. I don't have

to do this job forever, but while I am doing it, maybe I can learn

something more about myself. I had an opportunity to do

something for the ashram that was helpful - without needing

it to be something really important. Perhaps this seva was

given to me so in order to help me overcome my ego (you

betcha!), my thougths, and also to help me see that I'm capable

of doing more than I believe I can.

I set out the next night even more determined - this time, to do

just a good enough job (not perfection), be as efficient and

quick as possible, and to experience Just Sweeping. Focus on

the dust, sand, broom, floor. Let go of the drama of the mind as

the Leelas unfold. I wanted to shave off about an hour of the time

it took the night before. Of course I can do this. Half of the

difficulty is in my mind itself.

As the thoughts and emotions arose, I reminded myself that I'm

"Just Sweeping". Every obstacle turned into Just Sweeping.

I was hit with the stark realization of how often I'm not in the

moment and not seeing things for how they are, but so caught up

in the inner drama that I'm no longer Just Sweeping. I could

see it happening in every facet of my life.

Just Sweeping became Just Doing My Laundry, Just Singing,

Just Doing My Yoga Practice, Just Waiting for the Bus. It

became a wonderful tool to handle my out of control mind,

especially when the circumstances were out of my control.

(In India, just about everything seems out of your control!)

Just Sweeping allowed me to cultivate humbleness and patience

while developing my inner focus and ability to be present.

That second night went much smoother, and I shaved an hour

off of my time. I was elatedly-exhausted going off to sleep.

Physically, with increased heat and exhaustion, I only lasted

2 more nights on the job. But those four evenings of the simple,

physical chore of sweeping the temple gave me a lasting

awareness that I was grateful for.

 

copyright 2003 by Constance L. Habash

 

Connie Habash, MA, MFT

Awakening Self - Counseling & Psychotherapy, Yoga, Spirituality

Palo Alto and Menlo Park, CA

(650) 996-2649

http://www.awakeningself.com