This blog contains personal reflections on Sahaja Life by practitioners of the Sahaja technique. Sahaja is the path of enlightened knowledge, as opposed to other forms of yoga and meditation, which profess singular paths like devotion-only (bhakti path). Growth in Sahja happens by experiential knowldge acquisition.
Said Alanis, Bite off more than you can chew, To become stronger, rise higher. I agree, but laugh at my seeker ways From seeker days, when we learnt Our philosophy from popular music, When sting, Dylan and others, filled in For the lack of better prophets.
"In my own country there is a saying in Sanskrit, "Yatra nayra pujyante tatra ramante devata", which means that "Where the women are respected and respectable, there resides the Gods of our well-being"
The listening to and the respecting of our Aboriginal Mothers in our parliment for the first time was perhaps of highest importance, and reminiscent of the great significance of needing to do so, as highlighted in the Mahabharata.
Mother, I bow to thee! Rich with thy hurrying streams, bright with orchard gleams, Cool with thy winds of delight, Dark fields waving Mother of might, Mother free. Glory of moonlight dreams, Over thy branches and lordly streams, Clad in thy blossoming trees, Mother, giver of ease Laughing low and sweet! Mother I kiss thy feet, Speaker sweet and low! Mother, to thee I bow.
Who hath said thou art weak in thy lands When the sword flesh out in the seventy million hands And seventy million voices roar Thy dreadful name from shore to shore? With many strengths who art mighty and stored, To thee I call Mother and Lord! Though who savest, arise and save! To her I cry who ever her foeman drove Back from plain and Sea And shook herself free.
Thou art wisdom, thou art law, Thou art heart, our soul, our breath Though art love divine, the awe In our hearts that conquers death. Thine the strength that nervs the arm, Thine the beauty, thine the charm. Every image made divine In our temples is but thine.
Thou art Durga, Lady and Queen, With her hands that strike and her swords of sheen, Thou art Lakshmi lotus-throned, And the Muse a hundred-toned, Pure and perfect without peer, Mother lend thine ear, Rich with thy hurrying streams, Bright with thy orchard gleems, Dark of hue O candid-fair In thy soul, with jewelled hair And thy glorious smile divine, Lovilest of all earthly lands, Showering wealth from well-stored hands! Mother, mother mine! Mother sweet, I bow to thee, Mother great and free!