Tuesday, August 25, 2009

8/23/09 Sunday with Prem/Bapuji

Yes,  Virginia.  I was up for 8:00 a.m. prayers.  The smells and tastes of morning are different.    Luke and I talked about our years living in an Ashram.  You got up for 6 a.m. prayers (showered and dressed for the day).  Still it's been years.  I've since gone back to my night person incarnation.

But I did get up and showered.  Luke brought needed coffee and we were off to the Dave's house.  The prayers were different than those I grew up with,  but beautiful and fun to follow.  I always luck out and sit next to someone who can keep me on track.  Today was no exception.  

Bapuji came in looking healthy.  This was His true birthday.  The meditation tent looked like India--festive and happy.  There's always something to celebrate in India.  He walked to the front of the tent,  honored His Guru,  Ranga Avaduta,  and sat down.  The prayers continued.  

Several people spoke.  Dennis gave an touching and personal talk about his love for the community that has grown up around Bapuji.  (It goes without saying that he and Pat love The Bapuji.  They are with Him wherever he goes in the states,  and often join Him in India. ) Dennis has such a peace about him.  As he talks,  he says what I have always thought--that a divine garden grows up around Prem/ Bapuji.  Wherever He is everyone and everything is touched with magic.

My sister brought a nun and a friend from Church.  Both very religious.  Both crying with joy for the opportunity they had to be with Prem.  

After prayers we had a feast type breakfast with a sweet carrot dish that I would like to make at home,  chapatis,  noodles,  and other yummy dishes.  Lots of chai tea to wake up with.  We ate inside.  I'm allergic to the sun,  so I try to stay in the shade.

Teja was there.  She took notes on the Gujarati talks from the birthday celebration at the Indian temple,  and was willing to share with us.  I will share those notes at some point.  Teja is one of Judy B's best friends.  Judy lived in Jersey for awhile.  She's a great soul.  We did sit outside,  but in the shade.  

It's interesting.  Last night I was wishing that I understood the speeches and there is Teja,
who took notes,  willing to share with me.  I didn't get one of Prem's new books. (I was talking to my sis and the books ran out).  I just new one would come to me.  First,  Bill F asked me to take care of his book while he ate outside.  He could have taken it with him but  . . .  Then I gave my card to the gentleman in charge of e-mailing people about community and Prem related events.  He said he'd mail me a book.  

After breakfast we talked to Alan,  another amazing man.  We talked about India and our experiences there.  Nayna came by and told us that we should take a nap.  We went downstairs to the basement.  Pancaj,  Nayna's husband,  was already sleeping.  Since Prem brought two guests with Him,  Pancaj is sleeping on the floor of the basement.  What a great soul.  

We lay down on comforters.  Usually I am very sensitive to a hard bed,  but in the Guru's presence everything works.  I feel right asleep.  MKate and I woke up before Luke.  We decided to go for Coffee and ice cream.  You need sweets to stand up to the powerful energy around Prem.  We went to Dunkin Doughnuts.  No.  We didn't get a doughnut.  We got coffee,  a small 88 cent ice cream (I didn't eat the cone)  and shared a low fat blueberry muffin.  

Back at the Dave's house,  Luke was up and getting sun in the back yard.  We joined him.  Now remember.  Everything that happens around Prem is hightened and blessed.  I was feeling high on the Shakti.  Standing somewhere between the world and heaven.  

At some point after prayers and breakfast,  Bapuji went outside to say goodbye to the Canadian devotees.  Everyone came out to say good bye as well.  Such joy and playfulness.  Bapaji said good bye to us as well,  and Bapuji let MKate take a photo of us.  

You know.  I want Bapuji to heal somehow.  But I realized at some point that He could if he wanted to.  

Well,  Sunday was like a year. . .  my writing time is over for today.   




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