Om Ganesha,

Morning Pujas and Prayers

Feb. 13, 2006

Namaste my chelas all over the world.

I am sending my son’s my Guru Jaya Das’s letter to you all.

I know you have been waiting for it.

To tell you a little secret, so have I.

He is so delightful.

And the way he serves with my other children especially my Rivers always touch my heart.

I am very proud of my L.A. Ashram.

Our Swami Bhava Tarini Jaya never stops serving nor does our Yoga Achariya Laxman Das Jaya.

Our Grandma Achariya Shiva always has my heart.

In fact I am very proud of all of you all over the World.

( and I certainly have some very wonderful cutie pies in L.A.)

We live to serve and serve to live.

Like our Baba says, FEED EVERY ONE AND INDEED WE DO.

I touch the Feet Of Our Baba saying all of your names.

I love you all so very much.

Know this love.

For it is unconditional.

Love Ma

Jai Kali Ma Ki Jai

Always at His Feet Of Our Most Divine Neem Karoli Baba Ki Jai.

Namaste my beloved Ma,

I talk always with you my Guru, in my heart. This one small segment of our conversing is written, my monthly love letter to you. With deep gratitude you have taught me, a former cynic, an infidel, to serve from the path of devotion and that there is nothing as sweet as serving those in need. When I retired from a life of the lunacy of being a corporate VIP, with dozens of direct reports calling me boss, managing a multi million dollar business, traveling in private jets, a world traveler, wearing Armani suits, I thought nothing could replace the sizzle. I was so wrong, happiness even sizzle can be recreated, for someone as old as dirt, me! I discovered “Viagra” for my soul, “God Save The Queen” and she did, I met you.

It’s Global Darshan day again and I awake in the dawn, sharing a bed with the usual suspects, my partner of 25 years, Vasu “Cookie” and my true soul mate, my dog Phoenix. No person ever gave me kiss face like my dog does each morning the very moment I open my eyes. David still sleeps. My other beloveds, my 2 wives, my Rivers, Ganga and Yamuna are already at the Ashram for early morning yoga while it’s my turn to do the bakery pick up, the still delicious day old bread, bagels, and rolls to make our sandwiches with the added gift of Danish pastry. How about those Danes, disrespectful cartoons, but great cakes. Yamuna is also Danish, and she can be disrespectful but sweet too. I love you Yamuna!

The early morning streets of “LA LA” land are pretty empty, except for Mexican day laborers hanging around Home Depot, the homeless, and Chassidim off to synagogue. To the uninitiated the Chassidim look like they are from 19th century Poland, wearing beaver hats, black satin dusters, lace up boots, little kids with wide brimmed hats as big as them, the cast from “Fiddler on the Roof”, fiercely fundamentalist, with the freedom to worship exactly as they please. My temptation is to drive by and scream out the window, “I’m queer, I’m Jewish, I’m queer” but Mr. big mouth drives by and says nothing.

I stop at the STOP sign of a quiet street corner, across from the fire station, still playing it cautious with no one in sight, I look to the left, and then hear a huge thump on my right, and to my horror, I quickly turn to the right. I see a man half sprawled on my hood, as if I had hit him. In that split second it seemed my life was over, thinking I would go to jail, lose my license, that I injured a pedestrian, my worst fear realized, after all these years of driving. Half dazed I exited the car to see that the groaning pedestrian was driving a bike, which was under my car. I then realized he was driving his bike on the sidewalk, which is against the law, and couldn’t stop in time, so he hit me. He seemed in pain, holding his knee, he spoke little English. I raced across the street to the convenient, thank you Ma, fire station, and a team of paramedics were there in seconds. A witness recounted the accident, and the man was not seriously hurt, and the fireman, told me that it was okay to go, not even taking my name, thank you again Ma. As I walked away I noticed these were the hunkiest, cutest, guardian angel fireman, like a bevy of Chippendale go-go dancers. I happily drove off with the most mischievous grin on my face, so grateful no one was hurt but oh my aching heart.

Breakfast was in progress when I arrived at the Huntley Drive Ashram, but Swami Bhavatarini’s famous egg’s were still available, but not a seat at the table. My heroine, Sita Jenni, immediate got up to offer me a seat. Since she had her stomach stapled and reduced to the size of her thumb, she eats so little now, and how she loved to eat, but it is replaced with big portions of joy and good cheer. She announces of all things that she has already lost 108 pounds, then noting the significance of the number, then passing out Valentines. I embrace her and we kiss each other and I celebrate with her, a life saved, a new beginning. I recall a short time ago when Sita tried to harm herself, was committed, visiting her in the Psycho ward, wondering if she would live, and to see her now, given a second chance, trusting in her divine self, reaffirming life.

Finally we three, Ganga, Yamuna and I hit the streets. It has been a while since we were all together on a run, they had been to India, Peter had teamed with me, so did R.G. the young man from Bangladesh and his fiancee Lynn. We never missed a beat, continued to serve, but nothing can replace the chemistry that exists between us three; bickering, sometimes, but always the love, and we pulsate with the vitality of the mother, we rock as a team, in the name of the mother. Thomas our “Outback Man” shares with us he again has been robbed, especially noting they stole his bible. On the streets the oppressed become the oppressor, and many homeless prey on each other, robbing what they can, often to secure drugs and booze. Thomas is resilient “I’ll just have to start up all over again”. To be on the streets, how often one must have great courage. Just around the corner the women is lying on the cold hard pavement on a few pages from a newspaper. She wakes startled hearing me approach, asks for change, I clean out my pocket, she “God blesses” me and I leave her some food, wondering if I’ll see her again next week, or will she be swallowed up and disappear like so many before her.

A quick stop at Echo Park and we are stampeded by a small army. I learned you don’t ask if someone is homeless, you can see the hunger and desperation in their faces, so you feed everyone, making sure there is some food left for your regulars. Rolando is a regular, living behind a dumpster in a parking lot. Rolando a sweet man, always manages to shake my hand, refers to me as “my amigo, my friend”. A former resident behind an adjacent dumpster, missing for months, calls out, “I’m back” as he reaches his hand out to receive the food and water. “I’ve been away but I’m back” No questions asked, just feed everyone, that’s what we do. Purely by accident we spot Irma of Irma and Louie fame, our oldest customers, the full eight years, who had been missing for months. They appear on a bluff, high up on a hill, in back of a billboard. We reunite like kinfolk, genuinely happy to see each other. In this service one becomes awakened and compassionate learning with ones heart to ease the pain of others. It is standing on this bluff I see clearly learning to serve others fills in all the karmic spaces of my past life, and brings the wisdom of the now into the moment. Thank you Ma!

Soon we are back crossing town to hear Global Darshan. We are your devoted children in the little box, your L.A. Satsang and to tell the truth I vote for us to be your other “cutie pies”. Move over Atlanta, you have no monopoly. We have Bette Davis Janaka Jaya, Baba Hanuman, Laxman Das, and you should have seen me 40 years ago. Ma as you enter the room, a flash of such high voltage energy travels across the miles, above the chanting and the children’s voices. We all feel the hand of the mother on our hearts, you who take our pain and grief, you who love us unconditionally, serving others in your name. You Ma, who offer us no hollow words, who taught me to live the best life I can, creating positive karma serving others, generating love for others as i learn to love myself.

With love always,

Your devoted son,

Guru Jaya Das