A Miracle in Every Moment

"Wow, Can you believe that? What a miracle!" 

Most of us have made such an exclamation at some point in our lives, but what is it that we believe constitutes a miracle? 

If asked to describe a miracle that had happened to us, we would probably talk about how a number of unexpected things simply fell into place at just the right time and something really good came out of it that made us happy, maybe even overjoyed. 

In other words, there will be an element of improbability in that perfect coalescence of factors, as if the event was somehow an exception to the laws of nature. Ordinary, everyday or mundane events, like making a new acquaintance or arranging a cab, would not likely to be seen as miraculous. And when an "unhappy" event occurs—like when we are passed over for a promotion, don't win the lottery, or see the end of a dream that never came true—we're not likely to deem it a miracle. Right?

This certainly reflects what my own understanding of miracles has been and this is why I was so intrigued when I read what an esteemed guru had to say about miracles.

Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj once said, "I know nothing about miracles, and I wonder whether nature admits exceptions to her laws, unless we agree that everything is a miracle. As to my mind, there is no such thing. There is consciousness in which everything happens. It is quite obvious and within the experience of everybody." (quote from I AM THAT!)

Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

Personally, I would prefer to agree that everything is a miracle, rather than accept that there is no such thing. But Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj's words have made me think about miracles in a whole new way.

I've realized that miracles are not about the coalescence of improbable factors that end in a happy outcome.

Instead, I now believe that everything that happens, every encounter, every action, every happenstance is pregnant with the miraculous, regardless of how it turns out. It is the emergence of all things in the unfolding of life that is the miracle, not whether or not things came together in just the right way to give us what we want.

This means that such ordinary events as making a new acquaintance, booking a cab, not getting a promotion and not winning the lottery can indeed be considered miraculous events, or parts of a larger as-yet-unrecognized miracle.

It may sounds strange, at first, to think that the miracle is not what happens in the end but about the whole process of life unfolding, regardless of the outcome. But really it is not so strange at all. It seems easy enough to recognize such unfolding of miracles as they occur every day in nature.

Photo by Katmai National Park. Creative Commons License 2.0

When we consider the incredible life cycle of salmon, for example, we don't look to the end to find the miracle.

One salmon lays up to 10,000 eggs. Of these only a handful will survive to adulthood. To spawn, the adult salmon leaves the ocean and travels hundreds of miles back upstream to its breeding ground. This is a journey that relatively few survive, and those that do survive live only long enough to lay their eggs before dying of exhaustion. The dead salmon are eaten by wildlife or simply decompose in the river, adding nutrients to the water where their eggs have been laid. And the cycle starts again.

Would we look at the life cycle of an individual salmon and consider it only a miracle when timely escapes from predators and successful jumps upstream have culminated into a handful of surviving eggs?  What does that mean for the thousands of salmon that didn't survive? Is their journey not part of any miracle?

Looking at this example in nature, it is perhaps easier to recognize that the miracle is not about the outcome but about the abundance of opportunity, the multitude of pregnant moments of possibility that continually unfold in the cycle of life.

Remembering Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj's words, if we choose to believe in miracles at all than everything is a miracle, because "there is consciousness in which everything happens." 

There is consciousness, or what I have referred to as spirit, in which an abundance of opportunity happens! Life is rich with seemingly ordinary events that are all a part of the play of spirit. 

Photo by Ricky Thakrar. Creative Commons Lisence 2.0

I have tried to embody Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj's words for myself throughout my daily practice. I look at a new acquaintance as a part of the miracle of spirit, just as the booking of a cab is such a miracle. My new acquaintance may or may not play a role in making something wonderful happen for me in my life; the cabbie may or may not deliver something of tremendous importance just when I need it—though both of these improbable and happy events have happened.

The happy outcome I am dreaming of may or may not occur in the way I want it to... It might happen in another way, an unexpected way ... or not at all. 

It is not the outcome that is important, but the source of all that unfolds in life, the abundance of possibility this source provides, and the whole process of unfolding that constitutes the miracle.

Lindsey Arnold is the author of The Land of Happiness: Reflections on a Journey (non-fiction) and The Six Realms of Samsara: Stories for Awakening (fiction) which are available at her Author's Spotlight.

The Guru is Always With Us

My Young Son Has Been One Of My Greatest Gurus

The Ethics of Spiritual Awareness

Spirit Can Tell Us How to Engage Each Other Ethically

Recently I watched a fascinating video about a remarkable woman named Anna Breytenbach, an "animal communicator," who helped facilitate the healing process of Diabolo, a traumatized black leopard who had suffered at the hands of previous owners.  

Diabolo had been rescued by the Jukani Wildlife Park In South Africa, but despite his improved quality of life, he was not showing any signs of healing, and continued to be angry and unapproachable. Out of concern and desperation, his new caregivers called Anna Breytenbach for help.

Anna was able to communicate to Diabolo how his new caregivers were different from his previous owners and, in turn, was able to understand and explain to his caregivers the big cat's concerns, including his dislike for the name he had been given.

In this way, Anna facilitated an understanding between the humans and the big cat—who was thereafter referred to as Spirit—and the process of healing began.

Indeed, what Anna did was assist in creating a relationship of ethics and care between the human caregivers and the big cat, Spirit.

Photo of Spirit. Junkani Wildlife Sanctuary

What can we learn, here, about how to create opportunities for engaging the Other ethically in our own lives? 

And by "others", I mean all Others: Human others, such as friends, family, those unfamiliar to us and people from other cultures; and animal others, such as our pets, animals on farms and in captivity, animals used in agriculture, and wild animals; and I mean environmental others, such as forests, wetlands and glacier icecaps.

Anna describes her ability to communicate with animals as a receiving of primarily non-verbal messages in the form of "sudden knowings" and "mental images" that just come to her mind.

Though some might assume that Anna has some form of psychic ability, Anna herself describes her ability as something that has been practiced within some indigenous cultures. And she encourages people to try and communicate with their own animals in the same way, through the receiving and sending of mental images. (See an Interview with Anna here.)

I would suggest that the receiving and expressing of non-verbal messages is something we can all do. Indeed, we do do it ... to varying degrees. Unfortunately, for the most part, we don't do it consciously and/or are out of practice and so don't do it well or make the effort to do it often ... or at least not often enough.

One way in which we can begin to practice our ability to receive and express non-verbal messages is through a concerted effort to attend to our own and other's body language. When in conversation with our friends, we can begin to attend to the subtle movements of their body or face that express feelings and thoughts that are not being spoken.  

Photo by Scott Johnson. Creative Commons License 2.0

People often refrain from saying what they want to say or say things they don't actually mean, but they regularly express what they are really feeling through their body language.  

When we are oblivious to these additional or even contradictory messages from the body, we  cannot respond appropriately to our friend's subtle communications.  Sometimes, we pick up on subtle signs, but cannot or do not bring our observations into conscious awareness, and we respond to them, but perhaps not appropriately.  

It takes a concerted effort to consciously attend to the subtleties of body language and thereby be in a position to choose a response that is most appropriate. Being attentive to the subtle non-verbal expressions of a friend is one way in which we can receive messages that will help guide our response and help us know how to engage the other more ethically.

By extension, it is possible to also see how paying attention to the non-verbal expressions of our environment, such as a sudden change in animal behavior, like dramatic shifts in the biodiversity of wetlands areas, can be heard as a message or even a warning from the environment.  Attending to this message can help us choose to take appropriate action that both responds to the needs of the creatures that live there and protects our shared environment.

Photo by Wendell. Creative Commons Lisence 2.0

These forms of communication are subtle and non-verbal and a heightened attention to these forms of communication can encourage the development of our awareness to even more subtle forms of communication, such as the "sudden knowings" and "mental images" referred to by Anna Breytenbach.

"Spirit" is the source from which we have all emerged. In Spirit, we are One—though we think of ourselves as individuals who are separate from each other and separate from spirit. We live in the state of what is referred to in Buddhism as "ignorance," which is a state of forgetting or unawareness of our true state of Oneness with spirit.

Because our true state is one of inter-connectedness or Oneness, spirit can be witnessed in every moment of every day ... if we pay attention. 

People often refer to messages from spirit as "receiving a sign." "Signs" come in many forms, and while sometimes these signs are verbal, including things people say to us or even words or expressions that suddenly pop into our minds, they are often non-verbal, like the sudden onset of a feeling, or the strange occurrence of a dream or a synchronicity. The problem is we often dismiss these "signs" as meaningless.

It is necessary to be attentive and open in mind and body in order to receive messages from spirit, and much can be learned from a heightened attention to the phenomena of the world around us.  

Increasing our attention first to the subtle expressions of others around us and then to the even more subtle expressions from spirit can assist us in developing the ability to communicate with Others better. And, thereby, help us to respond appropriately to those others in our life who are most vulnerable, those others who are in most need of being engaged ethically.

The trick is make a concerted effort to bring the phenomena that is happening all around us, within the purview of observation, into the conscious attention of our mind.

For more, please see my books The Land of Happiness: Reflections on a Journey and The Six Realms of Samsara available through my Author's Spotlight

When Fear and Joy are One

That Inexplicable Feeling That Shakes You to Your Core! 

In 1748, a fearsome storm threatened to shake apart the ship of John Newton, an English sailor, poet and slave trader. Thinking he would soon die, John Newton started to pray, and in the midst of this storm, he had a spiritual conversion. Eventually, his entire life was transformed, and he stopped his involvement in the slave trade and became a strong supporter of the abolitionist movement.

It was John Newton who wrote the well-known hymn Amazing Grace, which describes his spiritual epiphany.

Being within the presence of Grace, he tells us, has a "sweet sound"; it simultaneously teaches our hearts to fear and relieves all our fears.

Hearing these words, I have to wonder, Why does John Newton describe Grace in such a paradoxical way? How can Grace teach us to fear, and still be reassuring and even invoke joy?

Photo by Mark Maxwell. Creative Commons License 2.0

There are stories from many religions that describe this mixture of joy and fear and comfort that happens when someone is in the presence of Spirit. 

One that easily comes to mind is the story of  Jesus's disciples who become terrified during a storm at sea and are reassured by Jesus that they have nothing to fear.

In Mark’s version of the story Jesus is asleep in the boat and the disciples are filled with fear at the ferocity of an approaching storm.  They awaken Jesus, telling him of their fears, and after Jesus calms the storm, he turns to his disciples and asks them, “What are you afraid of?”   (Mark 4: 35-41)  Here, Jesus shows the disciples that he is not afraid of the storm,  that there is no reason to fear, and that he has the power to calm it. Jesus is able to allay all their fears. 

In John’s version of the story, the disciples have gone out in a boat leaving Jesus behind on the shore.  In the midst of a fearsome storm, the disciples see Jesus approaching, walking on the water, and they are terrified.  To calm them, Jesus says, “It is I; Don’t be afraid.”   (John 6: 35-41)  Here, Jesus and the storm, together, are the source of the disciples fear.  The sight of him approaching amidst the storm is  terrifying. Again, Jesus is able to calm the storm and reassure them. 

The above versions of the story tell us that, on this occasion, Jesus's presence, like the presence of Grace experienced by John Newton, made his disciples fearful and yet also calmed their fears.

From these stories, we can understand that in the presence of spirit, fear and joy are one.

I believe that at some point in our lives we will all experience this, perhaps more than once, but whether or not it leads to a spiritual epiphany depends upon our response.

Photo by Fr Lawrence Lew, O.P. Creative Commons License 2.0 

Spirit is always present, but there are times when we are open to experiencing the presence of Spirit in a way that has the potential to dramatically move us along our spiritual path.

Often these "openings" are sparked by a traumatic event in our lives, like a life-threatening experience (such as a terrifying storm at sea), or the onset of an illness, the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or the loss of a career.

When events like these occur, our sense of self can get shaken. It is as if the external death or loss sparks an internal "death" as well. Depending upon the loss we're facing, we might not be able to continue to identify ourselves as, say, a "daughter or son," "wife or husband," or "worker," or at least we might not be able to identify ourselves in these ways as we had before the traumatic event.

Suddenly, a crack appears in the armour of our identity.  Everything we knew about who we are, about who others are in relation to us, and about what we had expected to happen in our future becomes unstable. The permanency of our own sense of self is exposed as an illusion.

Photo by Summer Skyes 11. Creative Commons  License 2.0

What shines through the cracks in our armour is Spirit. 

In Buddhism, nirvana (the state of no self, or what I refer to as spirit) is our true state. It is always already within us, but it is obscured by samsara (the cycle of rebirth), which is experienced by those whose states of mind are affected by the "three poisons"—ignorance, grasping and aversion. Identity is an effect of samsara.

We create narratives about who we are and who others are in relation to us as a way of maintaining our sense of individuality, and this process of constructing our identity maintains our ignorance about the source from which we have all emerged.

In other words, our identity is like a suit of armour that we wear, and we think that it protects us. It seems to give us a sense of being in control, though this is an illusion.  And instead of protecting us, our identity armour in fact obscures our true state, which is the state of oneness within spirit. 

 (For a more detailed explanation see First the Self and then the 'Three Poisons'.)

When we are in the throes of those moments in our lives that destabilize our sense of self, the armour of identity we wear is weakened and we become more open to sensing the presence of spirit. Because this feels as if we are losing control, we are fearful.

We must try and remember, just as Jesus tells us, "It is I: Don't be afraid."

Recognizing that being in the presence of spirit can create such paradoxical feelings will hopefully enable us to set aside our fears and let go of control. We can become conduits for the spirit that is trying to shine through, and in this way, discover that spirit removes all of our fears. We will then feel only joy. 

For more, please see my other blog postings by clicking on "older posts" or "newer posts" below, or by visiting my other blog here The Six Realms of Samsara. My books are available through My Author's Spotlight  Thank you!

On Having Compassion & Helping

What Does Acting Through Compassion Look Like?

When I was a little girl, I loved animals ... as most kids do. 

I didn't have any pets of my own (I had five older brothers and my mother said that was enough). Instead, I loved all the pets in my neighbourhood, especially the cats, and I would cuddle any I could catch. I remember that the girl next door had a dog, and I was thrilled when my best friend's hamster had babies. 

Of course, I loved little kittens best of all. Holding kittens was akin to heaven for me, even while they wriggled and mewed to be set free.

© 2015 Lindsey Ann Arnold. All rights reserved.

I also remember that I became quite distressed whenever I came across the bodies of little creatures who had died, like birds or squirrels. My dad told me they were "sleeping," but I knew better, and a few times I ceremoniously laid them to rest under the forsythia bush in our backyard. 

Thinking back on my burial arrangements, I realize I had made some crucial errors. Not wanting the poor, dead creatures to suffer the elements of weather, I lovingly wrapped them in polyester batten and gently placed them in a plastic bag before covering them with freshly dug dirt.

In other words, even though I had a compassionate heart and nothing but good intentions, my actions interfered with what would have been the natural unfolding of the cycle of life. I wanted to help, but in the end I made things a tiny bit worse.

Of course, given that I was a child doing childish things, the "errors" I made were minor. 

As an adult,when I see all the suffering in the world, I am still moved to want to help. But I have to stop and asked myself ... How can I best make a difference? How can I help eliminate suffering? How do I know that what I am doing is the right thing?

A few years ago, while I was volunteering in a beautiful, peaceful and developing Himalayan country, these questions arose for me in very concrete ways. There were many occasions when I became painfully aware of my presence as an "outsider" trying to "help" others who lived within an economic and cultural context that was very different from the one I had always known.

© 2015 Lindsey Ann Arnold. All rights reserved.

I quickly learned that I could not assume my interpretation of any given situation was always correct, nor could I assume my ordinary response was the right response within my new setting. 

 I encountered, for example, children who were happy, healthy and well-cared for, but who were not attending school. Some of these children were working as domestic help.

The country I was in was making significant moves toward improving the quality of life for its people. It had a relatively new public school system and parents were being encouraged to have their young children educated. But it was not required. There were laws regarding child labour, and there were government and police divisions responsible for the welfare of children.

As an educator, coming from a place of economic privilege, my first inclination was to do something to intervene on the behalf of these children. I contemplated using the limited resources available to "rescue" them from illiteracy, which I assumed would limit their future success and happiness.

Fortunately, I had by that time begun to recognize that what might be the right thing to do back home was not necessarily the right thing to do in this very different context. I did not act on my initial compulsion, but instead looked once again at the situation as it truly was.

Every morning, while walking into town, I was greeted by a smiling girl of about seven-years-old who helped do light chores for a nearby household. I often heard her singing in the garden and laughing with the children she was minding. She didn't go to school, but she was clearly being well cared for, lived in a comfortable home, and enjoyed playing with her young charges.

I had to consider the fact that the children I'd observed were not "at risk," and the limited resources that were available to children would be needed for those who were in dire circumstances. I had to recognize that, without a more systemic infrastructure for children's aid, any action I took might actually create an even more impoverished circumstance for those I was trying to "help."

Based on these reflections, I chose not to act.

This does not mean that there aren't situation where something has to be done and action has to be taken. It is a matter of knowing when to act and when not to. 

The spiritual leader of Shia Ismaili Muslims, His Highness the Aga Khan, offers us guidance in these matters. And it is to him that I have turn to for answers to my questions.

The Aga Khan encourages us all to give. He reminds us that giving takes many forms, not just funds but the sharing of time, ideas and professional skills. Volunteers, he says, play a critical role in development around the world.

His Highness the Aga Khan. Photo© 2015 Aga Khan Museum

The Aga Khan teaches us that pluralism is the key to establishing peaceful relations and is "integral to the very definition of genuine quality of life." 

When helping others, it is important to refrain from falling into the trap of believing that our way is the best way. We need to resist the desire to control by setting the standard to which all others must conform.

He teaches us to have patience, and to allow for the eventual unfolding of events that mark change, and to listen. Some things, like the establishment of good governance (which may or may not come in the form of democracy), equality (between the sexes and among groups), and peaceful relations take time.

Change cannot be forced upon another person or society, and actions that attempt to force change are far from helpful. They only serve to increase the suffering.

It is through the combined effort of equals—who meet across difference—that enables true, lasting change.  Cooperation among equals can establish an environment that maintains dignity, encourages and mobilizes creativity, and fosters independence and hope.

The words of His Highness the Aga Khan can be a guiding light for all those who wish to help others in a way that is truly helpful. 

His teachings on volunteerism and more can be found in summary in this selection of quotes from the Aga Khan's speaches.

For more stories about my experience living abroad, please see my book The Land of Happiness: Reflections on a Journey available at my Author's Spotlight

Thank you.

A Buddhist Blogger Meditates

Quiet Morning Cartoon for Bloggers who Meditate

For more, please see my other blog postings by scrolling up or down here, or by visiting my other The Six Realms of Samsara.  My books are available through My Author's Spotlight  Thank you!

© 2015 Lindsey Ann Arnold. All rights reserved.

The Guru-Therapist Cartoon

A Seriously Lighthearted Saturday Morning Cartoon For Buddhists, Therapists, and Buddhist-Therapists.

The Guru-Therapist Is IN ... 5¢

Tilopa's Six Words of Advice for Naropa

Translation by Ken McLeod. Creative Commons License 3.0

Don't recall ~ Let go of what has passed

Don't imagine ~ Let go of what may come

Don't think ~ Let go of what is happening now

Don't examine ~ Don't try to figure anything out

Don't control ~ Don't try to make anything happen

Rest ~ Relax, right now, and rest

For more, please see my other blog postings by clicking on "older posts" or "newer posts" below, or by visiting my other blog here The Six Realms of Samsara. My books are available through My Author's Spotlight  Thank you!

© 2015 Lindsey Ann Arnold. All rights reserved.

Acknowledging Our Ethical Debts

The Debt to the Mother~The Debt to the Child

In a beautifully poetic text entitled A Rose For Your Pocket, the esteemed Zen Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh asks us to consider whether we have loved our mothers enough and he reminds us of the debt we owe to our mothers, which is so great it quite possibly can never be repaid.

Thich Nhat Hanh. Photo by Red Wylie. Creative Commons License 2.0

When I think of my own mother, I am filled with love and gratitude for the care that she has always given me and my five siblings, and to our children, her eleven grandchildren. As my mother's child, the truth of Thich Nhat Hanh's message resonates deep within my heart. 

Thich Nhat Hanh's words apply to any primary caregiver who has nurtured a child when they were young. Indeed, The mother can be read a metaphor for the generous and nurturing earth that sustains us, and for The Great Mother, the source of all life, which is Spirit. 

Having acknowledged a debt to our mothers, we are then asked us to treat all others as we would treat our mothers. In this way, we are encouraged to recognize our ethical obligation to give back for the comfort, support and sustenance we have so generously been given.  

Four years ago, I had a personal experience that affirmed and expanded upon this notion of the ethical debt to the mother/other.

In this case, the debt that needed to be acknowledge was the debt owed to those who are the weakest, most vulnerable, and who have had (as yet) nothing to give.

Photo by Shobeir Ansari. Creative Commons License 2.0

Just prior to the adoption of our youngest son, I consulted my own spiritual mother, my Lama (whom I refer to as Mother Khandro). I had been experiencing feelings of fear and inadequacy as a potential caregiver for such a vulnerable child. I needed reassurances that I was doing the right thing by the boy we were about to adopt, as well as by the loving "foster" family he'd been living with. I also had concerns about the sudden change we were all about to experience as a family. 

The guidance Mother Khandro offered that day not only allayed all my fears but also taught me an invaluable lesson about the parent-child relationship and about the meaning of service to others. 

Mother Khandro told me that children come to us in this lifetime, seeking to be nurtured, for two reasons.  

Photo by John Eric. Creative Commons License 2.0

She explained that our children come to us (by birth or by adoption) because we have already spent past lives together and have prayed to be together again in this lifetime.

She also told me that during a past life—in our prior forms, within a relationship that was not necessarily a parent-child relationship—the soul who are now seeking our help to enter this lifetime must have performed for us a tremendous service. In some significant way, he or she had assisted us in moving forward along our spiritual path. And so now, it is our turn to provide them with our services and to nurture them as best we can. 

In other words, by providing our children with loving care, while they are in their most dependent, most vulnerable stages of childhood, we are in fact paying off a debt we have always already owed them.

This framing of the parent-child relationship is very different from what can sometimes be witnessed within our culture, where we parents can on occasion be overheard exclaiming regret or disappointment that—despite all of our hard work and sacrifice—our children do not ... what? Make the most of what they've been give? Behave in the way we have raised them to behave? Or appreciated all that we have done for them? 

Photo by Bradley P Johnson. Creative Commons License 2.0

Mother Khandro tells us that as mothers and fathers we owe a debt to our children, not the other way around; Likewise, Thich Nhat Hanh tells us that as grown children we owe a debt to our mothers.

In other words, we have an ethical obligation to fill our hearts with love and offer our service to those who have attended to our needs and to those who have come to us completely helpless,vulnerable and with nothing to give us but love. 

In every case, when we are face-to-face with the Other, we are in a position of humility and ethical obligation.* The services we offer are performed without expectation. Paying off debts means that we are owed nothing in return. 

Yet, the return and reward for our servitude will be beyond measure.

(*note: philosopher Emmanuel Levinas is another "Guru" who writes of our proximity to the other as a relationship of ethical obligation.)

For more, please see my other posts above or below, or on The Six Realms of Samsara. My books are available at My Author's Spotlight. Thank you!

Unconditional Love

What's it like to express unconditional love?

Photo by Maessive. Creative Commons License 2.0

Most of us would claim to love someone unconditionally. Imagine a parent who even suggests that they don't unconditionally love their own child! Impossible!

But what exactly does unconditional love look like? How does it differ from other types of love? Do we really feel and express unconditional love for our parents, our spouse, or even our children?

To distinguish "unconditional love" from other types of love, it is helpful to consider two very different, perhaps even contradictory, notions of the word "attachment."

In psychology, the term  "attachment" describes the deep emotional bond that connects one person to another. It is said that if a baby does not experience attachment with a caring adult within hours or days after birth, she can develop an "attachment disorder" that could affect the rest of her life. 

Clearly, a "deep emotional bond" is fundamental to our health and well being and is perhaps the basis for all of our loving relationship ... but is this what defines  a love that is unconditional?

In Buddhism, the term "attachment" is often used to signify one of the "three poisons" that are the source of all our suffering (the other two being ignorance and aversion). Here, the notion of "attachment" refers to the state of mind that engages others in a way that is grasping, that uses the other to fulfill one's own needs and expectations. 

Through such an "attachment" the person we love no longer exist for us in any other way except in how they help to construct our own identities (as a spouse or a parent), or in how they help to satisfy our own emotional needs (so we don't feel lonely). 

To distinguish between these two very different definitions of "attachment," I prefer to refer to the psychological notion as "bonding" and the Buddhist notion as "grasping."

Recognizing this difference is precisely what we need to do in order to understand exactly what constitutes unconditional love.

When we are capable of have a deep "bond" with another, we can experience love, but ... only when our state of mind is free from "grasping" are we capable of experiencing unconditional love!

How do we know if our attachments are based on "bonding" but are free from "grasping"?

We can witness the degree of our grasping in our reactions to loved ones who are not conforming to our expectations, or who we think are not behaving in ways we want them to behave! Who hasn't become angry or frustrated with their spouse, children or siblings when they do things that we oppose or disagree with? Who doesn't feel rejected or dissatisfied when a parent, partner or friend isn't as attentive or considerate or generous as we want them to be? 

Yogi Paramahansa Yogananda

In his Autobiography of a Yogi, Paramahansa Yogananda recounts a story that illustrates what unconditional love looks like.

As a young boy, Yogananda yearned to go to the Himalayas and practice meditation in seclusion. When he became a young man, he met Sri Yukteswar, who eventually became his beloved guru. But at first, Yogananda did not recognize the significance of his relationship with Sri Yukteswar, and he still maintained his childhood dream. 

One day, he asked his guru for permission to leave, so he could go and meditate in the mountains. Sri Yukteswar responded with neither approval nor disapproval. He simply pointed out to that a mountain cannot be a guru. 

Noting that his guru had not explicitly denied him permission to leave, Yogananda chose to go off and seek spiritual wisdom by himself.  After some months, Yogananda recognized that his journey was not unfolding as he had believed it would, and he finally understood the meaning of his guru’s parting message. 

When he arrived back at the ashram, Yogananda asked his guru if he was disappointed or angry with him for departing so abruptly. 

Sri Yukteswar replied, “No, of course not!  Wrath springs only from thwarted desires. I do not expect anything from others, so their actions cannot be in opposition to wishes of mine. I would not use you for my own ends; I am happy only in your own true happiness” (Autobiography of a Yogi, 1946/2005: 165).


Unconditional love is a deep emotional bond that is free from expectation or obligation. It does not use the other to fulfill one's own ends, but instead experiences happiness when another has found true happiness.

For more, please see my other blog postings by scrolling up or down here, or by visiting my other The Six Realms of Samsara.  My books are available through My Author's Spotlight  Thank you!

Abundance In An Instant

OMG! The Winning Ticket!

Okay, I'll admit it ... my heart will start racing at the thought of winning the big prize whenever I occasionally buy a $2 lotto ticket. Just imagine what it feels like to answer that last million dollar question correctly and go from completely broke to staggeringly wealthy in an instant. Wouldn't that be something?

But we all know that there's a difference between wealth and abundance, and only one of them truly leads to happiness, right?

Sometimes, doing something that seems completely out of character (like quitting a lucrative job to follow the dream of living off grid), or having something rather unexpected happen (like losing your job and learning that it is possible live on less), can actually help to put things into perspective. 

Very few of us would ever dare to make the choice to live on less. The vast majority of us, however, have been forced to do so (given the economy and the rate of poverty around the world), but we're not very happy about it. This is because we primarily think in terms of wealth and not in terms of abundance.

The source of abundance is deep within all of us.  Some would say it's in our hearts, others would say it's a state of mind. Abundance can be understood as the opposite of what in Buddhism is referred to as "grasping," which is one of the "three poisons" of the mind, and is associated with "attachment."   

To "grasp" or to be "attached" is to relate to everyone and everything in the world in a way that uses them for our own purposes, in order to fulfill our own needs. It sounds harsh, but it can be witnessed in every moment of every day: we work to get ahead, to have a comfortable home and enjoy some leisure time; our friends and family make us happy and we like to have them around to keep us company and take care of us when we are sick. This doesn't sound so bad, but when we lose our jobs and possessions, or when our spouses leave us and our children don't turn out quite the way we raised them, it is possible to see the degree to which we have needed them to fulfill our own ends.

The shift from "grasping" to "abundance" begins with recognizing the abundance in the world around us. The warmth and light of the sun and the rejuvenating rainfall are examples of abundance; they are given to us freely and without expectation. This abundance can flow through us as acts of kindness, service to others and generosity--when they are offered freely and without expectation. Paradoxically, the more we give, the more we will receive.  

In his autobiography, By His Grace: A Devotee's Story, Dada Mukerjee offers numerous stories that explain the nature of abundance from the life of his guru, the Indian saint Neem Karoli Baba (Maharajji). Dada describes how the storeroom in Maharajji's ashram was always stocked with enough food and supplies to care for all the travellers who came to him for respite. This sometimes raised suspicions regarding how Maharajji made his money. He had so much to give that people expected to find corruption in his practices or hypocrisy in his teachings, but there was neither.

Neem Karoli Baba (Maharajji)

Maharajji explained that everything, including money, came from Ram (an aspect of Shiva worshipped in the Hindu tradition ... think God or the universe, according to your preferences). And he said that "if you use it properly and avoid all misuse and wastage, there will always be enough." 

In addition to avoiding misuse (which includes over-consumption), Maharajji taught another important lesson regarding the flow of abundance.  He accepted all offerings that were freely given and he did not accept any offerings from people who were attached to their money. If there was an ulterior motive for giving and the offering came with "strings attached," he would not accept it; nor did he accept offerings that were given begrudgingly in a show of generosity.

The offering itself was not important to Maharajji. It was the intention behind the offering that mattered.

Everything Maharajji accepted went toward the running of the ashram. He himself owned and required very little. He had no attachment to any of the things that surrounded him, but his ashram was well supplied.

By having no attachment (never using things, other people and the resources of the world to fulfill one's own ends), by consuming only what we need and avoiding waste, and by accepting only what is freely given and in return giving freely, we will always have enough and we will be content with what we have. 

And this can happen for each us in an instant.

For more stories and insights, please see my other blog postings on by scrolling above or below, and also on The Six Realms of Samsara. My books can be found here in my Author's Spotlight. THANK YOU!