Om Ganesha,
Evening Pujas and Prayers
June 12, 2004
Namaste my chelas all over the world.
I may teach of scenes that have vanished to the deepest reaches of our hearts.
I may speak of Death’s Own Flesh and the Soul’s Release from the prison of the bodies pain.
My heart is so empty and yet filled with the past in the present moment.
You write your Ma of coming Home for our Jimmy’s Memorial and I wait for my chelas.
I may speak of what might have been, and yet the moment is filled with yesterday’s hope and today’s Gods and Goddesses.
I may speak of secret sadness in the Mother Guru’s Heart or the joy of having my boy in such a way that only a Mother could know.
I may speak of troubled times and deep silent despair or I will talk of of the place where the Kingdom of Heaven invites all to walk through its golden gates.
No full heart left out, full hearts is the ticket in.
I sit on our Ganga Porch where I can see the Dead Coming into the sight of every Mother.
A mournful silent sound of the Ganga Fountain welcomes my heart Home.
I think of the Fire Puja to be done for our Jim’s memorial.
Where the flames leap to heal, out of the Sacred Fire.
And then I remember our boy’s love of the Fire Puja as you will see in the pictures.
And know all of the Fires Flames would never expire.
For all of you who have lost, i write these words just as I have always done.
All of us mingled in our minds eye.
No one pain greater then the other.
And so I write and write and write.
Death does not change love, nor does love stop Death.
I can hear the mourners, my chelas grieve and others blessing Life and Death.
At peace, at peace, at peace, they cry out into cupped hands.
The same hands that pranam to their Baba and their Ma.
We must attend our dead and make sure their lives burst into joyous flames of recognition of the end of suffering.
Suffering quenched by death leaves those who are left behind filled with the Spirit of Love though we are somewhat broken, we bend with the pain and remember life.
So many memorials and so much Sacred Ash or sand from cemeteries from every part of this earth.
We who have lost, and those who have not, have neither anger or pride.
It is said that in days gone by, one screams out BLESSED BE GOD FOR HE CREATED DEATH.
And yet in the Psalms of David life is celebrated as His Voice can tremble past time and space into our waiting hearts of the now.
My own heart becomes the grave or the funeral pyre always burning for the many or the few or the one.
Our Dead are never neglected.
Stillness keeps them alive and their remembrance always Here in the moment.
My Achariya went with my Uma to bring beauty to my son’s grave.
They went for their own hearts and for their Guru Mother, while the rest of the satsanga served under the boardwalk the homeless who still are alive and perhaps can stay alive by the Service my chelas do.
All will be no less dead then the moment’s memory can bring this Mother’s Heart of all those laid to rest, due to AIDS, on my Mother’s Breast.
AIDS and despair always there to remind us of life.
Reminds us to bring all we can to our children’s lives.
Grief can not take away the joy of remembering.
Those deprived of the vital prana can breathe in each beat of our hearts.
Nothing can sink the Soul.
It lives as all and every thing fades away.
It is said the Jesus Blood flowed for us all.
If so then all are free from the moment of yesterday’s action.
And yet I know in the depth of my heart that be She Rachel or Mary or Ruth or Solomon’s Queen, I know that they hold the dying until death and then hold them even tighter as the last breath escapes.
Each morning our Baba’s Breath awakens the Great Kashi Sky and demands a song of life even for our dead.
A bright jewel falls from the sky each night in the form of a star.
Falls to the earth bringing a soothing caress to the eyes.
I call on all the Gods and Goddess to give me the strength to serve in the name of every Mother’s child.
I ask my Baba to guide my steps as I myself walk toward eternity with my chelas so close behind.
Embrace them my Baba and ease their hearts.
Give them all your noble prize of your smile my Neem Karoli Baba and Bless them Bless them Bless them, the living and the dead for indeed they are the same.
This is my Puja and this is my Prayer.
My Lady of Guadeloupe He Sleeps In Your Arms, my sweet son that death has claimed, yet he is mine, he is mine.
I love you all so very much.
Love Ma Jaya
Tenzin Yangchen
Jai Kali Ma Ki Jai
Always at His Feet, Our Neem Karoli Baba Ki Jai
