nmah4997.xml
Title
nmah4997.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-09-16
NMAH Story: Story
I was in Vienna, Austria, at the time of the attacks. I had just gotten off the bus and was about to board a boat on a Hundertwasser tour of the city (he is an Austrian architect and artist). It was 3:45 PM their time, which is 8:45 AM in New York--I later discerned this, when I reflected on events. I felt the spirit of my late beloved Uncle Felix Taube, whose fortune I've been living off of, mainly, ever since his death in 1996 from a heart attack in Cairo, Egypt, on a tour with my Tia Melida. His presence was palpable--almost like he was standing right before me again. He told me that he knew how to make money, but he wasn't happy, and I was smart to want to seek enlightenment. I had been on retreat with Thich Nhat Hanh, the venerable Zen master, a few weeks prior to that, in late August at UC San Diego. I had taken the five mindfulness trainings from him there, along with masses of others. In them, we commit not to kill, even in our minds, among other things. He and Sister Chan Khong, his senior disciple, are prohibitted from teaching in Vietnam to this day, I believe, because of their opposition to the war there in the 1960s. He is one of the great peace-makers of all time, and I'd been an informal student of his for several years, already, and also a practitioner at Green Gulch Farm Zen Center, which is a different lineage, near where I live at Muir Beach, California. This visitation of my Uncle Felix's spirit felt supernatural, in the most literal sense of the word--I did not panic. I later was meditating, and his spirit came to me again, and said he'd been looking for relatives that day. His spirit has often come to me since then, with the same basic message, with variations on the theme--that, for instance, he knows that no one else in the family is trying to seek enlightenment, but it is a worthwhile goal, as it is life's highest. I had learned this as a student of Ayurvedic medicine some years ago, in Cambrigde, Massachusetts.
Anyway, after this spiritual visitation from my Uncle Felix, which I didn't relate consciously to any terrorist attack for quite a while, I got on the boat designed in the style of Hundertwasser for a tour of the Danube River. It was there that I passed "The Millennium Tower," as it is called, a tall skyscraper, which had a video monitor on it that read, in German, which is not easy for me anymore--"Terrorism in the US." My first inclination was to believe that this was a false alarm, perhaps--certainly nothing this big, and I did not panic. But later, when I met an American named Robin Fowler on the tour--also someone, who, by chance, lived in the San Francisco Bay area, like I do--we found out from a street vendor wanting us to go to a beer garden on the world-famous Kartnerstrasse about the devastation of the attacks. We'd turned him down--Robin in a more hastened way than I. Being part Austrian, I didn't want the man to think me impolite, and I stayed back for a moment, as she moved on. He asked, "Are you Americans?" And we answered, "Yes." He said, "The World Trade Center no longer exists," and I knew it was true. I just had to see it with my own eyes for it to register. So we went to her hotel room nearby to watch it on CNN before dinner. We must have watched, in horror, about 50 times, as the planes struck their targets over and over again on various forms of videotape. I think only then did it sink in.
Robin was going to Italy the next day, so she was not my companion anymore after that night. I did have friends in or near the city, from when I lived there as a child. Vienna is where my father was born, and I hadn't been there in 28 years, not since I was 12. I went on the advice of a Vedic monk now named Swamini Mayatitananda, but then called Bri. Maya Tiwari, who wrote several books on the ancient healing practice of Ayurveda. I called and visited old family friends, from before World War II, when my father and his family, including my Uncle Felix, had to flee Austria, due to Nazi persecution, when they were in the teens, still. In fact, my father had been a Gestapo prisoner at the beginning of the invasion of Hitler and his armies. Both my parents are Holocaust survivors. My mother is German, and she was 13 when her family had to sell everything it had for very little and flee to the jungles of Puyo, Ecuador, where they farmed bananas and raised cows, though my grandfather had been a lawyer in a prestigious firm before the Nazi takeover.
My Austrian friends were sympathetic to me. My flights home to the San Francisco area on British Airways to London and then Virgin Atlantic out of it, were canceled. I think we were all in shock for some time. They'd say things like how Bush is a "warrior" and the terrorist attacks were not war, though he and his administration and the media clearly would declare them to be. I was not surprised to learn later that he and his administration "knew" about them ahead of time. I did not vote for George Bush. No one I know did. He is a fraud, and I think this country is still getting over that tragedy--that more than 200 years after so-called "independence" from England, we still don't have a just system that elects, rather than selects, a president. It's embarrassing. I feel like I live in a lawless nation. I feel betrayed as an American citizen. Anyway, my Austrian friends--indeed everyone in Austria--the desk clerks at the hotel where I stayed, the cab drivers who'd drive me back there every night after my sightseeing, would all say the basic same sort of thing--that war is not the answer. I wholely agree. I loved this about my father's country, which used to be the seat of much military power, when Hitler invaded, many years ago. My father, too, had sold the house he inheritted there, by some miracle, the one the Nazis didn't take during their takeover, during the 1980s, when Kurt Waldheim was in power. He was afraid of a Nazi takeoever again, and that he'd lose it--he got a fraction of what it was worth from the next owners, who then sold it after some refurbishing. The present owners, the Bittners, let me see it inside, and I'd say things like how I recognize this or that after 28 years and a lot of work on it.
Eight years ago, I lost my last full-time, paid job with a military contractor called EDS in Virginia, because I discovered I love everyone too much to work for anything so "life-disrespecting" as that, as I called it then. Now, I'd call it worse--the military is "death-worshipping," to use a term Alice Walker coined. I do wish the war in Afghanistan would end. Killing thousands of innocent victims in the name of the "war on terrorism" is not the answer.
Of course, we are hurt. We can be angry, too--but taking it out on them is not the solution. "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind," as Mahatma Gandhi said.
I had to wait five extra days after my original flights home to get back to the States, where I live and was born. I had to stay the night in London on the 19th, as Virgin required check-in 3 hours in advance, and no flight out of Vienna left that early, as mine from London was scheduled at 11 AM that day. I stayed the night in a Quaker hotel, the Penn Club, where I'd been before my trip to Vienna. I had stayed there as a volunteer for the Foundation for Women's Health, Research, and Development (FORWARD), which is opposed to female genital mutilation, a cause I believe strongly in. I'd been a supporter for a number of years, but in the current stock market--I rely on it and my parents' generosity almost solely for my income--it is harder to contribute, and I don't do so regularly anymore. I'm appalled, too, my tax dollars are going to fund this war I don't support morally, and never really have, in my heart. I'm a pacifist, and that seems like a revolutionary act nowadays, whereas before, it was more commonplace--a right we all have as citizens.
Anyway, while in London, I'd also help homeless people I'd see on the streets there--mostly men, but also some women refugees from Afghanistan, I believe. They'd come up to me with two or three small children each, also with their little palms outstretched, desperate for alms--large amounts of them, which I'd give, unbelievably. Women at FORWARD couldn't believe I'd do this--give, say, 10 or 20 pounds to one woman, desperate for herself and her children, but I did. The concierge of the fancy hotel they'd panhandle in front of would "shoo" them away, almost as if they were flies.
In Austria, there was hardly any homelessness--I saw relatively few people on the streets in Vienna my whole time there, and most of those were musicians who seemed fairly well off--with homes, anyway. The tour guide told us that 40% of the housing is subsidized there, and this is very important to them. My friend Renate Bock said that the military wanted more planes, and didn't get any. The government cares about its people and won't war elsewhere now. I love that about it. True, I'd still come across some anti-Semitism, such as when a cab driver who took me back to the hotel said that the Jews were to blame for the terrorist attacks. I remained calm, though half my ancestry is Jewish. I said I heard Bin-Laden did it. I still don't know if this was true. I hear varying reports about whether he confessed to the crime. One thing I think Austria should do to improve itself is integrate the people better. It had been nearly 30 years since I had been in a major metropolitan city that was mainly white, though Uno City in Viennna, is slowly beginning to integrate it.
The terrorist attacks were a crime, and should be tried as such in an international tribunal, when the correct parties responsible are found.
Another thing I loved about Austria--they have no death penalty there, so when I told friends from Kritzendorf, Frau Schima and Frau Putz, about the case of Mumia Abu-Jamal, who was on death row for a crime he did not commit, killing a police officer, Daniel Faulkner, it was difficult to get the point across. How do you explain death row in a country where it does not exist? They were flabbergasted the real killer, Arnold Beverly, had confessed, and yet Mumia was not set free. I said it's because he is black and this is a racist system. Beverly had been hired by the mob and corrupt police to kill Faulkner, who was not "on the take" to let them run their drug, gambling, and prostitution rings. By some "miracle"--more on this later--Mumia's death sentence was lifted late last year, though the real killer confessed in 1999, from what I understand. I feel afraid just writing this, as if you will hold it against me, and "turn me in." This is how much I believe our basic rights of freedom of speech have been withdrawn by the fraudulent Bush administration.
While in Austria during this time, I went to numerous services for the victims of the 9/11 attacks--several at the world-famous Stefansdom, in the heart of the city, where I'd light candles for us all. I'd meet American citizens who were struggling with their feelings, too. One couple at the Augustinerkirche, also near the heart of the city, I spoke with had a relative in the Pentagon. They were clearly frightened and alarmed. During this service, the Mozart "Requiem" was played in honor of the terrorist victims. It was most moving in the beautiful, ancient cathedral. I also went to Schonbrunn, the summer palace of the Hapsburgs a century ago. There, I met two American men hosteling across Europe, and we commisserated about feeling guilty about "enjoying" ourselves despite this tragedy.
In a way, I was kind of "glad" to be in Austria longer, as I could visit more places, believe it or not. My original proposed stay of five days was too short to get to all the places I wanted to see after all these years. I'd revisited churches from my childhood and so on. I went back to Kritzendorf for lunch with Frau Schima and Frau Putz, though their children, who were more my age, did not come, too. I learned a lot about the ancestors. For one, my sobriety date--I'm in recovery for drug and alcohol abuse--is the same as the Founder's Day at the Stift Klosterneuburg, which is the monastery dedicated to the Virgin Mary, near where I started drinking in 1973, on my last visit there at the age of 12 with my parents. True story. I'm not making this up. And I learned that there is a tomb for Schindler in the cemetery where some of my ancestors called Janacek are buried. I think this too is not a coincidence, given our histories.
I lit candles for the terrorist victims after the Augustinerkirche "Requiem" and I felt the presence of the Madonna strongly. I heard Her voice in my head say to study from the Vedic monk whose idea it was for me to revisit my do than England and the US, which is in a similar situation--letting people live on the streets and go hungry, while its military gets most of the funding for its many war efforts. I believe he considered going to Austria one day...It was just so nice to be in a country again where war is not the answer, believe me. I also view the terrorist attacks as a direct response to the way this country wages war on innocent people and has for decades. And I feel very brave for writing this to a national agency for its archives. Nothing I write here is meant to inflame politics. I simply write my truth. I have a cold, at present, so forgive me if I sound bitter, please.
Anyway, after this spiritual visitation from my Uncle Felix, which I didn't relate consciously to any terrorist attack for quite a while, I got on the boat designed in the style of Hundertwasser for a tour of the Danube River. It was there that I passed "The Millennium Tower," as it is called, a tall skyscraper, which had a video monitor on it that read, in German, which is not easy for me anymore--"Terrorism in the US." My first inclination was to believe that this was a false alarm, perhaps--certainly nothing this big, and I did not panic. But later, when I met an American named Robin Fowler on the tour--also someone, who, by chance, lived in the San Francisco Bay area, like I do--we found out from a street vendor wanting us to go to a beer garden on the world-famous Kartnerstrasse about the devastation of the attacks. We'd turned him down--Robin in a more hastened way than I. Being part Austrian, I didn't want the man to think me impolite, and I stayed back for a moment, as she moved on. He asked, "Are you Americans?" And we answered, "Yes." He said, "The World Trade Center no longer exists," and I knew it was true. I just had to see it with my own eyes for it to register. So we went to her hotel room nearby to watch it on CNN before dinner. We must have watched, in horror, about 50 times, as the planes struck their targets over and over again on various forms of videotape. I think only then did it sink in.
Robin was going to Italy the next day, so she was not my companion anymore after that night. I did have friends in or near the city, from when I lived there as a child. Vienna is where my father was born, and I hadn't been there in 28 years, not since I was 12. I went on the advice of a Vedic monk now named Swamini Mayatitananda, but then called Bri. Maya Tiwari, who wrote several books on the ancient healing practice of Ayurveda. I called and visited old family friends, from before World War II, when my father and his family, including my Uncle Felix, had to flee Austria, due to Nazi persecution, when they were in the teens, still. In fact, my father had been a Gestapo prisoner at the beginning of the invasion of Hitler and his armies. Both my parents are Holocaust survivors. My mother is German, and she was 13 when her family had to sell everything it had for very little and flee to the jungles of Puyo, Ecuador, where they farmed bananas and raised cows, though my grandfather had been a lawyer in a prestigious firm before the Nazi takeover.
My Austrian friends were sympathetic to me. My flights home to the San Francisco area on British Airways to London and then Virgin Atlantic out of it, were canceled. I think we were all in shock for some time. They'd say things like how Bush is a "warrior" and the terrorist attacks were not war, though he and his administration and the media clearly would declare them to be. I was not surprised to learn later that he and his administration "knew" about them ahead of time. I did not vote for George Bush. No one I know did. He is a fraud, and I think this country is still getting over that tragedy--that more than 200 years after so-called "independence" from England, we still don't have a just system that elects, rather than selects, a president. It's embarrassing. I feel like I live in a lawless nation. I feel betrayed as an American citizen. Anyway, my Austrian friends--indeed everyone in Austria--the desk clerks at the hotel where I stayed, the cab drivers who'd drive me back there every night after my sightseeing, would all say the basic same sort of thing--that war is not the answer. I wholely agree. I loved this about my father's country, which used to be the seat of much military power, when Hitler invaded, many years ago. My father, too, had sold the house he inheritted there, by some miracle, the one the Nazis didn't take during their takeover, during the 1980s, when Kurt Waldheim was in power. He was afraid of a Nazi takeoever again, and that he'd lose it--he got a fraction of what it was worth from the next owners, who then sold it after some refurbishing. The present owners, the Bittners, let me see it inside, and I'd say things like how I recognize this or that after 28 years and a lot of work on it.
Eight years ago, I lost my last full-time, paid job with a military contractor called EDS in Virginia, because I discovered I love everyone too much to work for anything so "life-disrespecting" as that, as I called it then. Now, I'd call it worse--the military is "death-worshipping," to use a term Alice Walker coined. I do wish the war in Afghanistan would end. Killing thousands of innocent victims in the name of the "war on terrorism" is not the answer.
Of course, we are hurt. We can be angry, too--but taking it out on them is not the solution. "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind," as Mahatma Gandhi said.
I had to wait five extra days after my original flights home to get back to the States, where I live and was born. I had to stay the night in London on the 19th, as Virgin required check-in 3 hours in advance, and no flight out of Vienna left that early, as mine from London was scheduled at 11 AM that day. I stayed the night in a Quaker hotel, the Penn Club, where I'd been before my trip to Vienna. I had stayed there as a volunteer for the Foundation for Women's Health, Research, and Development (FORWARD), which is opposed to female genital mutilation, a cause I believe strongly in. I'd been a supporter for a number of years, but in the current stock market--I rely on it and my parents' generosity almost solely for my income--it is harder to contribute, and I don't do so regularly anymore. I'm appalled, too, my tax dollars are going to fund this war I don't support morally, and never really have, in my heart. I'm a pacifist, and that seems like a revolutionary act nowadays, whereas before, it was more commonplace--a right we all have as citizens.
Anyway, while in London, I'd also help homeless people I'd see on the streets there--mostly men, but also some women refugees from Afghanistan, I believe. They'd come up to me with two or three small children each, also with their little palms outstretched, desperate for alms--large amounts of them, which I'd give, unbelievably. Women at FORWARD couldn't believe I'd do this--give, say, 10 or 20 pounds to one woman, desperate for herself and her children, but I did. The concierge of the fancy hotel they'd panhandle in front of would "shoo" them away, almost as if they were flies.
In Austria, there was hardly any homelessness--I saw relatively few people on the streets in Vienna my whole time there, and most of those were musicians who seemed fairly well off--with homes, anyway. The tour guide told us that 40% of the housing is subsidized there, and this is very important to them. My friend Renate Bock said that the military wanted more planes, and didn't get any. The government cares about its people and won't war elsewhere now. I love that about it. True, I'd still come across some anti-Semitism, such as when a cab driver who took me back to the hotel said that the Jews were to blame for the terrorist attacks. I remained calm, though half my ancestry is Jewish. I said I heard Bin-Laden did it. I still don't know if this was true. I hear varying reports about whether he confessed to the crime. One thing I think Austria should do to improve itself is integrate the people better. It had been nearly 30 years since I had been in a major metropolitan city that was mainly white, though Uno City in Viennna, is slowly beginning to integrate it.
The terrorist attacks were a crime, and should be tried as such in an international tribunal, when the correct parties responsible are found.
Another thing I loved about Austria--they have no death penalty there, so when I told friends from Kritzendorf, Frau Schima and Frau Putz, about the case of Mumia Abu-Jamal, who was on death row for a crime he did not commit, killing a police officer, Daniel Faulkner, it was difficult to get the point across. How do you explain death row in a country where it does not exist? They were flabbergasted the real killer, Arnold Beverly, had confessed, and yet Mumia was not set free. I said it's because he is black and this is a racist system. Beverly had been hired by the mob and corrupt police to kill Faulkner, who was not "on the take" to let them run their drug, gambling, and prostitution rings. By some "miracle"--more on this later--Mumia's death sentence was lifted late last year, though the real killer confessed in 1999, from what I understand. I feel afraid just writing this, as if you will hold it against me, and "turn me in." This is how much I believe our basic rights of freedom of speech have been withdrawn by the fraudulent Bush administration.
While in Austria during this time, I went to numerous services for the victims of the 9/11 attacks--several at the world-famous Stefansdom, in the heart of the city, where I'd light candles for us all. I'd meet American citizens who were struggling with their feelings, too. One couple at the Augustinerkirche, also near the heart of the city, I spoke with had a relative in the Pentagon. They were clearly frightened and alarmed. During this service, the Mozart "Requiem" was played in honor of the terrorist victims. It was most moving in the beautiful, ancient cathedral. I also went to Schonbrunn, the summer palace of the Hapsburgs a century ago. There, I met two American men hosteling across Europe, and we commisserated about feeling guilty about "enjoying" ourselves despite this tragedy.
In a way, I was kind of "glad" to be in Austria longer, as I could visit more places, believe it or not. My original proposed stay of five days was too short to get to all the places I wanted to see after all these years. I'd revisited churches from my childhood and so on. I went back to Kritzendorf for lunch with Frau Schima and Frau Putz, though their children, who were more my age, did not come, too. I learned a lot about the ancestors. For one, my sobriety date--I'm in recovery for drug and alcohol abuse--is the same as the Founder's Day at the Stift Klosterneuburg, which is the monastery dedicated to the Virgin Mary, near where I started drinking in 1973, on my last visit there at the age of 12 with my parents. True story. I'm not making this up. And I learned that there is a tomb for Schindler in the cemetery where some of my ancestors called Janacek are buried. I think this too is not a coincidence, given our histories.
I lit candles for the terrorist victims after the Augustinerkirche "Requiem" and I felt the presence of the Madonna strongly. I heard Her voice in my head say to study from the Vedic monk whose idea it was for me to revisit my do than England and the US, which is in a similar situation--letting people live on the streets and go hungry, while its military gets most of the funding for its many war efforts. I believe he considered going to Austria one day...It was just so nice to be in a country again where war is not the answer, believe me. I also view the terrorist attacks as a direct response to the way this country wages war on innocent people and has for decades. And I feel very brave for writing this to a national agency for its archives. Nothing I write here is meant to inflame politics. I simply write my truth. I have a cold, at present, so forgive me if I sound bitter, please.
NMAH Story: Life Changed
Prior to September 11th, I was in the process of seeking enlightenment anyway, and had been for several years. In 1998, I moved to Northern California, because I agreed with the great writer, Alice Walker, when she wrote in the introduction of "Horses Make a Landscape Look More Beautiful," that her spirit feels fully expanded here. I loved that feeling and it was worth moving here for. I had come here for the first time for panchakarma, which is Ayurvedic rejuvenation and detoxification, in the summer of 1997. It was just as the Princess of Wales and Mother Teresa died within days of each other. That was a very devastating event for me, too, and they inspired me to self-publish a book of poems I'd been writing called, "Cherry Tree Lane," for a charitable fund I started with some of my own money, as it didn't sell well. I ended up giving it to Prince William and Prince Harry, the former of whom held a press conference some months afterward, in which he too defended his beloved mother against slander in the press. That is where my book comes from--in defense of her after such attacks. It never sold well, as I don't do readings. But now that I've survived the terrorist attacks, its ultimate theme of peace seems more relevant than ever. Also, Mumia's death sentence was lifted and I write of the movement to free him in it. Sister Nirmala, to whom I also sent the book and a first revision after editorial feedback, had put his name on Mother Teresa's tomb, among other things. The Sisters of Charity prayed for his release, too. I have had post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), since I was about 12, and the slander about Diana was regarding her having a similar disorder, borderline personality. I figure if the author of that book, Sally Bedell Smith, can publish her "work," I might as well publish mine. I actually would like for a real publisher to pick up the manuscript, as I don't market it well.
Since the terrorist attacks, I have suffered some more PTSD symptoms, related to them, such as grief at the anniversary, which was just recently. I also feel more of a sense of foreboding about the future--which is iffy. Do I have one? I find myself grateful for each and every day I'm alive, lately, and that's a blessing.
I don't feel like I've "lived up to" my dead Uncle Felix's advice that day--to seek enlightenment. I've tried. It hasn't been so easy. Not everyone accepts a person with PTSD. Green Gulch didn't for a two-month practice period I'd applied to do before I even left the States last year in late August. I'd made sure to go to Althorp, where Diana is buried, and which I'd visited the previous year, on my first trip to England since 1985. I'd wanted to go back right away, and planned to the next summer, but I had a nervous breakdown that summer after a friend of mine with the New York City Ballet named Joseph Duell killed himself. I didn't go back in all that time, so returning was like keeping an age-old promise to myself.
In June of 2001, however, I had the good fortune to meet the great "hugging saint of India," Mata Amritanandamayi, or Amma, as she is affectionately known. Her biography had just come out and the author, Judith Cornell, gave a reading at Book Passage, one of my favorite Bay area bookstores. I went to Amma's main ashram in the US, which is in San Ramon, where she was giving darshan, which means to be with a great soul, on her nearly perpetual world tour. Judith's book was full of miraculous healings Amma had performed with her darshan, so I definitely had to go. My first darshan was nice, with lots of people milling about, good food, a bookstore that benefits her many charities, and bhajans, which are great devotional songs. I was ushered right up and got darshan immediately, which was nice--a privilege for first-timers. The next darshan, two days later, after I read more of Judith's book, I asked Amma for specific healings. I handed her a note, asking for them--not all for myself, mind you; I also gave her the Arnold Beverly confession, which was in the depositions in the Mumia Abu-Jamal case. The next day, I was talking to my friend Michaela on the phone, talking of going to Amma for these healings. I was rubbing my ankle, which the podiatrist had diagnosed with a sinus tarsi problem, and he'd wanted to inject it with corticosteroids. The moment I told Michaela of this, while rubbing this ankle, it got better, after half a year of not being able to rotate it much without extreme pain. It was my first in many "Amma miracles," I'd witnessed or felt in my own body or heard about. Some time later, Mumia's death sentence was lifted, too, and I consider that an "Amma miracle," as well.
In November, she returned to the M.A. Center, which is her ashram in San Ramon, on her second world tour that year. She is considered an incarnation of Devi, the Divine Mother, by millions of devotees world-wide, many of whom attest to such miracles. Anyway, I'd told myself I'd go back there as much as possible when she is here again. I had pre-arranged to do a sesshin, which is a seven-day meditation retreat, at Green Gulch, the previous summer, so I missed her retreat at the ashram then, where she is in the mood of the Divine Mother for Devi Bhava, where she gives darshan all night to the thousands who come for that, free of charge. She also feeds the more than 1000 people who come for the retreat itself, in a place called the "Area of Refuge," which normally warehouses the vast amount of donations for AIMS, her full-service hospital for the poor in Kerala, India, where she was born self-acutalized. She was a servant in the family from the age of 9, when her mother fell ill, but she'd always called to God, from birth on. She endured many hardships, such as a severe beating when she' stole her mother's jewelry to give it to those poorer than themselves, though they were not well off. One day, she incarnated as Lord Krishna before people whod' been reading a story about His life. They'd wanted a miracle to "prove" it--and she reluctantly told them to come back another day, though she said that if she'd performed one, they'd want more. On that day, she turned water in a bowl into pudding that fed the masses that came, and ever since then, she's had devotees.
I got a mantra from her that Devi Bhava, where I also got one of her Devi Bhava saris, which is made of real gold and silk--all proceeds of what she sells is for her many charities, which include not only AIMS, but schools, orphanages, at least one other hospital and hospices. She's building 25,000 homes for the homeless in India, where she also has 50,000 pensions for poor widows. After the earthquake in Gujurat, she adopted the three worst-hit villages in Bhuj, and they have been largely rebuilt and were renamed after her.
Needless to say, I became more devoted to her all this time. This summer, after wanting to tour with her for months, I went on the US tour with her. Iwent to seven out of eleven cities in 6 weeks. Not bad, for a first-timer. I visited two sites associated with the terrorist attacks--where the World Trade Center was and also the Pentagon. Outside of the one where the World Trade Center stood, which was at the time just a 6-story pit 16 acres wide, many people had left prayers for peace. I particularly loved the origami cranes of peace from all over the world. Some had Asian handwriting on each little wing--true masterpieces, strung together in huge bunches. The legend has it 1000 cranes of peace represent the peace we all want. At St. Paul's Chapel across from "the site," were at least 1,000,000 cranes of peace from all over the world. Truly moving. And people left banners, which they'd signed. One was written by someone who signed, "Felix," and I felt my Uncle Felix's spirit again, as I have often over the year. I know he didn't personally write that, as he's been gone for 6 years now, but it was nice to feel his presence again, and remember what "he" said to me that fateful day. I left a note thanking everyone for their prayers and saying I had survived the terrorist attacks, too--and that we all had. And inviting people to join us for Amma's program at Columbia University at that time, where she was giving darshan to the masses, as usual. I wonder how many came. I also left a similar note at the Pentagon, where a much smaller, less personal memorial had been left. Two trees had been planted on a hillside within about 15 feet of each other and people put mementos there--mostly red, white, and blue plastic flowers that seemed more patriotic than anything else. I met a man there who was with his girlfriends' daughters and he expressed interest in driving to Manhattan to see "the site" there, as well. I said it's well worth a visit. I gained a lot of comfort reading the prayers for peace people left, though some wanted war. The note I left outside the Pentagon, which seemed very quiet, even for a Saturday, which it was--only about 1/3 of the parking lot was full, if that--said that I lost my last full-time permanent job with a military contractor over 8 years ago because I love everyone too much to work for the military anymore, and it is my sincere hope and belief that everyone has this capacity. Then, we wouldn't have need for a place like the Pentagon to begin with. :)
True story. After I got back to the States, I checked the websites of Amma and Maya Ma, as Swi. Mayatitananda is called affectionately. They both said that praying for peace is the most important thing we can do at this time, and I agreed. Both gave specific instructions, though Amma's said to chant, "Om lokaha samastaha sukhino bhavantu," which means, "May all beings have peace and happiness," in Malayalam, her native tongue. We were to do this before a lit candle, with eyes closed, seeing the light becoming divine and shining on all beings in the Universe for fifteen minutes each night at 8 PM for two weeks. So I did this, as best I could, and I liked doing it so much that I kept up the practice way over the two weeks. It extended into months. Then, when she was here in November again, I told myself I'd do this again after she was gone, because at the ashram, we chanted this, as usual, only three times, during satsang. Later, I began to write a book about my first year devoted to her, which was just to be an essay, at first, but it grew. I filed a drafts in my essay folder on my computer--only it had a new folder I never created called, "Ammachi.org_Householder's file." In it was what looked like the website where the prayer for peace was relayed. Only I never downloaded this site--I wouldn't know how to do that to my Word system, anyway. No one else could have done that but Amma, though she's never been over to the little apartment I lived in then downstairs from where I live now, in the main house, which is rented out boarding-room style. And the weird thing about this Ammachi.org_Householder's file was that about the only file I could read from the many "saved" there, was the prayer for peace I chanted nightly before her return to San Ramon in November.
Another irony--I'd been aligning my menstrual cycle with the new moon, following ancient Vedic tradition that Bri. Maya Tiwari wrote of in her book, "The Path of Practice." Doing so is apparently central to women's good health, according to these texts. I became very attuned to the moon's cycle, during this time, as some of the practice has to do with moon-bathing the first three nights of the full moon, and so on. Sound familiar? It does to me. Anyway, I don't know if this is related, but I was driving down to Santa Cruz one day on Route 1, which I sometimes do, as it's a beautiful drive. Santa Cruz was where I was when Mother Teresa died and I saw her and the Princess of Wales' funerals on TV in a hotel room there during my panchakarma that summer. So it has sentimental value to me. And I stopped the car to go for a walk on one of the many beaches along the way. I went into a hut made of found logs on the beach and felt a shift occur. I felt so connected to the Earth through my womb. I believe part of it has to do with the new moon sadhanas, as Maya Ma calls them. I knew I did not want to self-impose exile to Switzerland, which is considered neutral in times of war, though I read that it gave Nazis aid during the war, for which it has sorely made up in recent times. When the bombing of Afghanistan started, my first desire was to move to Switzerland, which I hadn't been to in 35 years. But I didn't go. I read you need a lot of money--something like a million dollars to a foreigner to move there, and I don't have anywhere near that right now. I was born here, and I don't want to leave the land of my birth, I knew in that moment in that hut. Just then, I felt a shift in the Universe, as I sometimes do, and I knew there'd be a change in world events, too. The next day, the newspapers screamed that Bush wants peace in Israel, as war had started up again there, too. Just the previous day, they'd said that he backed the war. So the Lord works in mysterious ways, no?
I have also renewed the five mindfulness trainings, recently, on retreat with Thich Nhat Hanh, at UC San Diego, once again. But I'm not as enlightened as I'd like to be. I believe I'm a lot more enlightened than the present administration, though, which never attempts to make peace much, only war. Those headlines changed, by the way. They always do.
Since the terrorist attacks, I have suffered some more PTSD symptoms, related to them, such as grief at the anniversary, which was just recently. I also feel more of a sense of foreboding about the future--which is iffy. Do I have one? I find myself grateful for each and every day I'm alive, lately, and that's a blessing.
I don't feel like I've "lived up to" my dead Uncle Felix's advice that day--to seek enlightenment. I've tried. It hasn't been so easy. Not everyone accepts a person with PTSD. Green Gulch didn't for a two-month practice period I'd applied to do before I even left the States last year in late August. I'd made sure to go to Althorp, where Diana is buried, and which I'd visited the previous year, on my first trip to England since 1985. I'd wanted to go back right away, and planned to the next summer, but I had a nervous breakdown that summer after a friend of mine with the New York City Ballet named Joseph Duell killed himself. I didn't go back in all that time, so returning was like keeping an age-old promise to myself.
In June of 2001, however, I had the good fortune to meet the great "hugging saint of India," Mata Amritanandamayi, or Amma, as she is affectionately known. Her biography had just come out and the author, Judith Cornell, gave a reading at Book Passage, one of my favorite Bay area bookstores. I went to Amma's main ashram in the US, which is in San Ramon, where she was giving darshan, which means to be with a great soul, on her nearly perpetual world tour. Judith's book was full of miraculous healings Amma had performed with her darshan, so I definitely had to go. My first darshan was nice, with lots of people milling about, good food, a bookstore that benefits her many charities, and bhajans, which are great devotional songs. I was ushered right up and got darshan immediately, which was nice--a privilege for first-timers. The next darshan, two days later, after I read more of Judith's book, I asked Amma for specific healings. I handed her a note, asking for them--not all for myself, mind you; I also gave her the Arnold Beverly confession, which was in the depositions in the Mumia Abu-Jamal case. The next day, I was talking to my friend Michaela on the phone, talking of going to Amma for these healings. I was rubbing my ankle, which the podiatrist had diagnosed with a sinus tarsi problem, and he'd wanted to inject it with corticosteroids. The moment I told Michaela of this, while rubbing this ankle, it got better, after half a year of not being able to rotate it much without extreme pain. It was my first in many "Amma miracles," I'd witnessed or felt in my own body or heard about. Some time later, Mumia's death sentence was lifted, too, and I consider that an "Amma miracle," as well.
In November, she returned to the M.A. Center, which is her ashram in San Ramon, on her second world tour that year. She is considered an incarnation of Devi, the Divine Mother, by millions of devotees world-wide, many of whom attest to such miracles. Anyway, I'd told myself I'd go back there as much as possible when she is here again. I had pre-arranged to do a sesshin, which is a seven-day meditation retreat, at Green Gulch, the previous summer, so I missed her retreat at the ashram then, where she is in the mood of the Divine Mother for Devi Bhava, where she gives darshan all night to the thousands who come for that, free of charge. She also feeds the more than 1000 people who come for the retreat itself, in a place called the "Area of Refuge," which normally warehouses the vast amount of donations for AIMS, her full-service hospital for the poor in Kerala, India, where she was born self-acutalized. She was a servant in the family from the age of 9, when her mother fell ill, but she'd always called to God, from birth on. She endured many hardships, such as a severe beating when she' stole her mother's jewelry to give it to those poorer than themselves, though they were not well off. One day, she incarnated as Lord Krishna before people whod' been reading a story about His life. They'd wanted a miracle to "prove" it--and she reluctantly told them to come back another day, though she said that if she'd performed one, they'd want more. On that day, she turned water in a bowl into pudding that fed the masses that came, and ever since then, she's had devotees.
I got a mantra from her that Devi Bhava, where I also got one of her Devi Bhava saris, which is made of real gold and silk--all proceeds of what she sells is for her many charities, which include not only AIMS, but schools, orphanages, at least one other hospital and hospices. She's building 25,000 homes for the homeless in India, where she also has 50,000 pensions for poor widows. After the earthquake in Gujurat, she adopted the three worst-hit villages in Bhuj, and they have been largely rebuilt and were renamed after her.
Needless to say, I became more devoted to her all this time. This summer, after wanting to tour with her for months, I went on the US tour with her. Iwent to seven out of eleven cities in 6 weeks. Not bad, for a first-timer. I visited two sites associated with the terrorist attacks--where the World Trade Center was and also the Pentagon. Outside of the one where the World Trade Center stood, which was at the time just a 6-story pit 16 acres wide, many people had left prayers for peace. I particularly loved the origami cranes of peace from all over the world. Some had Asian handwriting on each little wing--true masterpieces, strung together in huge bunches. The legend has it 1000 cranes of peace represent the peace we all want. At St. Paul's Chapel across from "the site," were at least 1,000,000 cranes of peace from all over the world. Truly moving. And people left banners, which they'd signed. One was written by someone who signed, "Felix," and I felt my Uncle Felix's spirit again, as I have often over the year. I know he didn't personally write that, as he's been gone for 6 years now, but it was nice to feel his presence again, and remember what "he" said to me that fateful day. I left a note thanking everyone for their prayers and saying I had survived the terrorist attacks, too--and that we all had. And inviting people to join us for Amma's program at Columbia University at that time, where she was giving darshan to the masses, as usual. I wonder how many came. I also left a similar note at the Pentagon, where a much smaller, less personal memorial had been left. Two trees had been planted on a hillside within about 15 feet of each other and people put mementos there--mostly red, white, and blue plastic flowers that seemed more patriotic than anything else. I met a man there who was with his girlfriends' daughters and he expressed interest in driving to Manhattan to see "the site" there, as well. I said it's well worth a visit. I gained a lot of comfort reading the prayers for peace people left, though some wanted war. The note I left outside the Pentagon, which seemed very quiet, even for a Saturday, which it was--only about 1/3 of the parking lot was full, if that--said that I lost my last full-time permanent job with a military contractor over 8 years ago because I love everyone too much to work for the military anymore, and it is my sincere hope and belief that everyone has this capacity. Then, we wouldn't have need for a place like the Pentagon to begin with. :)
True story. After I got back to the States, I checked the websites of Amma and Maya Ma, as Swi. Mayatitananda is called affectionately. They both said that praying for peace is the most important thing we can do at this time, and I agreed. Both gave specific instructions, though Amma's said to chant, "Om lokaha samastaha sukhino bhavantu," which means, "May all beings have peace and happiness," in Malayalam, her native tongue. We were to do this before a lit candle, with eyes closed, seeing the light becoming divine and shining on all beings in the Universe for fifteen minutes each night at 8 PM for two weeks. So I did this, as best I could, and I liked doing it so much that I kept up the practice way over the two weeks. It extended into months. Then, when she was here in November again, I told myself I'd do this again after she was gone, because at the ashram, we chanted this, as usual, only three times, during satsang. Later, I began to write a book about my first year devoted to her, which was just to be an essay, at first, but it grew. I filed a drafts in my essay folder on my computer--only it had a new folder I never created called, "Ammachi.org_Householder's file." In it was what looked like the website where the prayer for peace was relayed. Only I never downloaded this site--I wouldn't know how to do that to my Word system, anyway. No one else could have done that but Amma, though she's never been over to the little apartment I lived in then downstairs from where I live now, in the main house, which is rented out boarding-room style. And the weird thing about this Ammachi.org_Householder's file was that about the only file I could read from the many "saved" there, was the prayer for peace I chanted nightly before her return to San Ramon in November.
Another irony--I'd been aligning my menstrual cycle with the new moon, following ancient Vedic tradition that Bri. Maya Tiwari wrote of in her book, "The Path of Practice." Doing so is apparently central to women's good health, according to these texts. I became very attuned to the moon's cycle, during this time, as some of the practice has to do with moon-bathing the first three nights of the full moon, and so on. Sound familiar? It does to me. Anyway, I don't know if this is related, but I was driving down to Santa Cruz one day on Route 1, which I sometimes do, as it's a beautiful drive. Santa Cruz was where I was when Mother Teresa died and I saw her and the Princess of Wales' funerals on TV in a hotel room there during my panchakarma that summer. So it has sentimental value to me. And I stopped the car to go for a walk on one of the many beaches along the way. I went into a hut made of found logs on the beach and felt a shift occur. I felt so connected to the Earth through my womb. I believe part of it has to do with the new moon sadhanas, as Maya Ma calls them. I knew I did not want to self-impose exile to Switzerland, which is considered neutral in times of war, though I read that it gave Nazis aid during the war, for which it has sorely made up in recent times. When the bombing of Afghanistan started, my first desire was to move to Switzerland, which I hadn't been to in 35 years. But I didn't go. I read you need a lot of money--something like a million dollars to a foreigner to move there, and I don't have anywhere near that right now. I was born here, and I don't want to leave the land of my birth, I knew in that moment in that hut. Just then, I felt a shift in the Universe, as I sometimes do, and I knew there'd be a change in world events, too. The next day, the newspapers screamed that Bush wants peace in Israel, as war had started up again there, too. Just the previous day, they'd said that he backed the war. So the Lord works in mysterious ways, no?
I have also renewed the five mindfulness trainings, recently, on retreat with Thich Nhat Hanh, at UC San Diego, once again. But I'm not as enlightened as I'd like to be. I believe I'm a lot more enlightened than the present administration, though, which never attempts to make peace much, only war. Those headlines changed, by the way. They always do.
NMAH Story: Remembered
I'm not sure I can add anything to what I've written, already. I wrote far more than I thought I'd write, and I have a cold, as I wrote before.
NMAH Story: Flag
I thought it was a cheap shot of "President" Bush to ask us all to fly an American flag after the events of 9/11. We did not elect him. What if some of us don't feel that kind of allegiance to the flag, which perpetrated such a fraud against the American people? I have never flown an American flag. I never will. I have never owned one. I exercise my right as a US citizen not to, actually. As a child, I'd exercise this right, too, in school--when other children stood and pledged allegiance to the flag, I remained seated. Believe me, I am terrified writing you of this, as if it's illegal not to pledge allegiance to the flag. It's not. Bush and his administration need to know that. We aren't going to watch our basic human rights as citizens eroded in the name of his "war on terrorism," which has a vague recipient, at best. I did, however, fly a yellow ribbon from the antenna of my car for a while, until the automatic car wash I went to torn it all off--including the antenna. Now, I have one less source of media coverage to contend with as I drive, and I guess that's a blessing in disguise.
Citation
“nmah4997.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed November 23, 2024, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/41514.