Om Ganesha,
Morning Pujas and Prayers
March 28, 2005
Namaste my chelas all over the world,
Once again my SON THE QUEEN OF L.A. writes the letter you all wait for.
I must tell you all how proud I am of this son of mine.
He makes rounds and serves the poor right after he has radiation treatment.
I love you my son with all my heart and I too wait for your letters.
Love Ma
Jai Kali Ma Ki Jai
Always at His Feet Of Our Neem Karoli Baba Ki Jai
Namaste my beloved Ma,
All through these past months I have felt the shining light of you right
through me and around me, you my beloved Guru protecting me, your one and only…. “queen of queens” (eat your heart out girls, and you know who you are), shielding me from the “sizzle” of eight weeks of radiation for my
uninvited prostate cancer. When I awoke early Saturday morning of Global
Darshan Day, I still felt kind of woozy ( so call me a dizzy queen) but oh so happy the ordeal was finally over. I still awoke with the same cast of characters in bed with me, my devoted, licking my face pooch Phoenix and my other pet, but no licking, Vasu “cookie” still in dreamland, snoring away. That’s what 24 years together looks like, 24 years which we celebrated last week. We each must deserve some kind of medal, but somehow I feel I deserve one more than him. Being a saint is not easy.
More than ever this was a day to show my gratitude, wanting to give this
love of guru to others, to join my Rivers, my wives, Ganga and Yamuna on our big end of the month going on rounds, serving the homeless. As we drive cross-town this lovely sunny morning to the Ashram, I’m aware how loving and caring and a little “bitchy” we are to each other, and realize I am a third wife and probably a lesbian too, that “everything in between” you talk about.
Initially there are just a handful of us to set up under the tent, but Yamuna, cracking the whip, a genuine, “Under The Bridges Dominatrix”, also working alongside us; helps gets the production tables set up, all the food out of the tiny refrigerator, the bananas separated and gathered up from
their crates, rolls buttered, “Divas” brownie trays stacked and cut, and Under The Bridges bags stamped. I’m the chief meat package opener, it a
real man’s job (another facet of my persona), messy and smelly, that all of the vegetarians shun. We are joined by a young man, Eugene, who is on a project for student photo journalism class, who photographs the whole process, and helps us set up. The cry “breakfast is served” brakes our ranks as we proceed to the house for our Saturday ritual of eggs-a-la Swami Bhavatarini.
One of our recent Under The Bridges volunteer is an old time L.A. comedy
performer, co-founder of The Firesign Theatre, Peter Bergman, who brings a big appetite to the table, and the generosity of insisting all of the wedding presents for his recent marriage, go to Under The Bridges. Peter is also a neighbor, who married an old friend of Ganga’s, and always now joins my wives and I on going the rounds. The first time he ever made the run with us, he “got it” and we delight in his passion to serve. With 120 sandwiches loaded in the car we are on our way, now the big three becomes the big four!
The city today is bright and sunny, the torrential rains hopefully a memory, we had more rain than Seattle! I know you all who fought all those hurricanes must be laughing at us sissies. The endless coffee shops are full of holiday crowds spilling off onto the streets, everyone looking young and pretty. it’s Easter and spring vacation, and the city traffic is full of
SUV’s and Hummers, and everyone it seems drives with one hand on the wheel and the other holding a phone. It’s a city full of entertainment magic and witchcraft, money and excess, and 90,000 people homeless.
I ask our “outback man” Thomas a standard fixture at the donut shop, if he could have one wish what would it be…without hesitation he says " a new pair of socks". A lonely lady at the bus stop, with one solitary tooth in her mouth, beams as we surprise her with “how about lunch and fresh baked brownies and have a Happy Easter”. Rolando greets me with a big hug, and a couple behind a dumpster say how hungry they were and wish me a “god bless you”. As many “god blesses” as I have heard, it never fails to touch my heart.
Sadly we also note the big black man in the dark tunnel we call “Buddah Boy” with his golden smile that lights up his face when we arrive, is nowhere to be seen. He reminded me of “Big Henry”, your gentle giant Ma, who I knew
only through your words. “I think he’s dead” Peter says, but with the zany instinct our driver Ganga has for ferreting out hiding places for the homeless, I know we’ll see his smiling face again. His image lingers in my mind, and I say a silent prayer for his return.
The benches and the grass in the park adjacent to city hall was full. Many familiar faces. Soon a man in a wheelchair came right up to me and I handed him a bag and a bottle of water, he seemed so appreciative, “how about that lady in Florida!” he said to me directly, following me with his chair, wanting to talk. “Yes” I said, she is my teacher, and we serve in her name, “yes he said knowingly and I hope they don’t kill her, I sure hope they don’t kill her”. Ma he got you confused with Terry Chiavo, of all things, but he sure seemed to enjoy his sandwich, and waved goodbye, and I chuckled. “Next thing they’ll kill people like me” he said as I walked away", I turned again to explain or tried to.
That afternoon I drove back again to the Ashram for the Global Darshan, it already had been a full day, but the lingering discomfort and pain I had
felt from my radiation treatments, seemed not to bother me, because something in me changes, something that seems to overcome my discomfort, it happens each time I am out on the streets, serving. I can’t explain it, I feel it, it touches me deeply. My heart is filled with compassion, where
once it was only for family and dearest friends now it seems to be everybody. I hope I can handle it. The phone call is initially interrupted by what appears is a power shortage, “too much Shakti in the room” Swami
Bhavatarini say’s. We know immediately when you enter the room Ma, your voice carries like a siren, but full of such joy and love for the children and all of us. I am still basking in the wonderment of your trip to L.A. and so it’s s good to hear you again. I know when you say “hello my cuties” you are really talking just to me. This day I am so drenched in your love Ma, that I have learned to give to others in the form of service, and give effortlessly, that there is joy in serving the hungry. I feel the soft caress of your lips on my forehead and my cup does runneth over.
I love you,
Guru Jaya Das Jai Kali Ma Ki Jai .