Following is a letter from one of our woman vet graduates:

Since I was Blessed to be able to attend the “Project Welcome Home Troops” seminar ,I have noticed a lot of positive changes within myself. First and most important for me and the quality of my life, I have had deeper, more restful sleep. When I used to only be able to sleep for maybe an hour and then wake with a startle or sleep so light that I was tired when I woke up, this is a huge improvement. I also have a happier outlook towards my life and my future. I am more tolerant of people just being people. I feel better. I feel less vulnerable. However, the most impressive thing is the change in my husbands’ reaction towards me and his outlook on his life. He has noticed a huge change in me. So much of a positive change, in fact, that he is now anxious to attend the next seminar.  He saw the change in me, daily, as I attended the Power Breath workshop. He sees the continued change in me. He sees the building inner peace and look of love in my eyes. He sees the change and wants that change in himself. He struggles with PTS as well, and his daily life is, well, difficult at best. We have both been helped by this power breathing, immeasurably. Thank you is not a powerful enough term for the changes you have initiated within our circle.

 

May All Saints of All Religions Bless you.

 

Sincerely,

… in the last days of our online campaign, please consider supporting us so that more vets like the graduate above ,can begin to change the quality of their lives…

http://www.stayclassy.org/fundraise/edit?fcid=295296

IMG_6263I opened up this blog site tonight and found , to my surprise that its been almost a year since I wrote my last entry… I wondered why its taken me this long to write again, and then looking back over my last year’s calender I saw that it had been one of my busiest years in 25 years of teaching … over 100, 000 miles of travel and more courses than I could easily count…some months last year I was home only four or five days…
Of all the courses that I’ve taught, the ones that are sticking in my memory tonight are the courses I taught to returning veterans and their family members , many of whom were suffering greatly from various forms of combat trauma.
What has become clear to me over time, is the value, not of what I was able to give on these courses, but of what I have received and have learned from them… My vet students have taught me the value of courage… the kind of courage that is able to face the deepest kinds of fear, terror and self-destructive emotion and to learn to move beyond  them … The values of loyalty and commitment to those they served alongside… of being willing to risk their lives in order to protect those they care about the most … their families and their fellow soldiers…and the desire to continue to serve even after their military commitment is completed.

When these veterans begin to recover from their trauma and emotional wounds they start to ask themselves what they want to do with the rest of their lives and many of their answers are to me both inspiring and astounding…
Anthony was a vet I taught in Wisconsin… he’s the one on the left in the picture above…When I met him he was working at a vets drop in center called Dry Hootch in Wisconsin. One day his buddy Tom, also a vet, told him he was needing to take some time away from his normal life and was planning to walk across the country. Anthony thought that was a great idea and asked him if he could come along… within two weeks they had planned a route across the country, found sponsors and turned their walk into a fundraiser for vets organizations in Wisconsin. They ended up walking over 2700 miles and finished their trek last weekend at the edge of the Pacific in my home town of Santa Monica. They asked me if I’d like to walk the last few miles with them through LA and I was honored to join them. On the walk I asked Anthony what he had learned on those 2700 miles of walking… I’m sure I’ll never forget his reply…
He said “I learned that there is a difference in life between those who say they support a cause or an idea… like helping vets… and those who are actually willing to take action to move that cause or idea forward. He decided , after completing his Project Welcome Home Troops Course in Madison that he wanted to live the rest of his life as someone who was willing to take action to support those things he believed in most… like helping vets.. and when the opportunity to do just that came along he jumped on it…

I too am surrounded by people who say they believe in and want to support various causes and ideas,and many of them do, but not all of them are as willing to jump in and take action… Anthony has both taught and inspired me by his actions and his commitment (he and his buddy Tom have raised almost $100,000) to this year be more about acting in support of those things I believe in most…spending time with the people I care about most, and focusing on those causes and ideas that mean the most to me…and really doing something to strengthen them and help them to grow… We at Project Welcome Home Troops are in the process of raising money to help even more vets this year and our first goal is $50 000. I am aiming to raise at least $10,000 of that myself from family and friends. If this is the first you’ve heard of our work with Vets please go to our website at http://www.pwht.org and if you would like to support our work please click on this link

http://www.stayclassy.org/fundraise?fcid=295296

Tonight I’d like to shout out to all the vets who have had the courage and determination to complete our course, over 800 of them so far, and especially those, like Anthony and Tom who have then decided to devote their time and energy to serving other vets, still struggling, and still in need of our help… I was deeply moved when Anthony told me that it was his experience on his Project Welcome Home Troops course that inspired him to take action.

22 vets are committing suicide in this country every day,and over 300,000 have come home from Iraq and Afghanistan with some form of combat trauma and post traumatic stress. These folks belong to us. They’ve risked their lives to keep us safe, and now, on their way home, its our turn to reach out and support them in whatever way we can. Next time you see a vet in uniform go up and thank them for their service… if you see a homeless vet , and they’re everywhere these days, offer to buy them a meal… help a vet find a job…and if you believe in folks like Anthony and what they’re capable of contributing when they’re back home in their local community, please consider supporting our work at Project Welcome home Troops!

This is the last night of our Project Welcome Home Troops Online Fundraising Campaign ! To all those from all over the world who have donated, we and the troops that we serve are really grateful… to those who are still on the fence, please put us over the top!!! When you subtract out the fees that the Stay Classy crowd sourcing website will charge us, we are still several thousand dollars away from our final goal…
Please consider giving whatever you can, large or small… and thanks on behalf of our staff, graduates and the thousands of troops who are still waiting to take our workshop! http://www.stayclassy.org/fundraise?fcid=295296

Divali and the Light Givers

 

Tonight is the last night of Divali, the festival of light celebrated by hundreds of millions of people, primarily in South Asia, but now all over the world… it’s a festival celebrating the victory of the forces of light in the world over the forces of darkness…On Divali people light lamps, eat sweets and wish each other happiness, joy and abundance in the year to come… and sometimes set off fireworks to scare away any lingering impulses of darkness or negativity! This year I received Divali greetings from many countries, so for me at least, it’s beginning to feel like a universal celebration!

 

Actually every culture has a festival of light somewhere around the darkest days of the year… As a child I remember stringing Christmas lights in the trees outside our home in the darkest, snowiest days of winter, with candles in the window. My Celtic ancestors built huge bonfires on the night of the Winter Solstice giving thanks for the triumph of light in even the darkest of times, celebrating the reality that “ the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it…”

It’s part of our human nature to want to not only experience, but also to share and celebrate that light in some way, by lighting a candle, sharing our light and love with friends or by extending our hand to someone in need…

Its not that we need to light that light inside us… it’s already there…we just need to know where to find it and what to do to help it shine…

I had a chance to experience this reality in a huge way last weekend while teaching a Blessings Course in the Bay Area… this is a course which helps to take away those impressions and experiences which keep that light inside of each of us from shining brightly…

Of all the courses that I teach in the Art of Living this one may be my favorite because of the huge transformation and change that happens to virtually everyone on the course, including me! By the end of the course I was feeling a need for sunglassesJ…not only was there a tremendous amount of light shining from every face in the room, but there was also a real commitment and a sense of profound gratitude for being able to share that light with any and everyone in need…

Yesterday I was on the phone with many of my students excitedly sharing their experiences of blessing others and the feeling of peace and joy that welled up in them when they were able to offer that gift to another… I was deeply moved by a message I received that read in part…”I have noticed that the very act of sending a blessing is incredibly purifying internally… I feel a cleansing that is pure and innocent… I feel like I am being bathed in abundance and I feel empowered to give back in every way I possibly can…”

Imagine each of the students on that course moving through their day, coming in contact with others, while at every moment conscious of the light that they are at every moment radiating and offering …Being that light for others and growing stronger in the sharing of it may be the highest calling that any of us can wish for on this planet…

So here’s to Divali… and all the celebrations around the world that honor the triumph of light over darkness…. and to the light givers, who in every moment nurture, honor and radiate that light to all of us from deep inside…

 

 

 

 

It’s near the end of a busy day, and I’m writing this at sunset on the beach near where I live in Santa Monica…I often come here at this time, to meditate, chant or to just be still and be part of something larger than myself… The sky has just turned this incredible combination of rose and azure blue…a warm breeze is blowing gently in from the desert,and in this moment all is peaceful in my world…

It’s definitely the turn of the seasons here in California…we have seasons at different times than in the rest of the country.  Most of the Summer we have fog and marine layer for at least part of the day, but now after Labor Day the skies clear up, the weather continues to be warm and sunny, the sunsets are spectacular and you can swim in the ocean all the way until the end of October–clearly my favorite time of year!

It’s also the time when kids go back to school and everyone starts back to work after whatever vacation they’ve been able to wrest away from their busy schedules… hoping that their vacation time can sustain them through the hectic months ahead…

This Summer was a busy one for me… I just returned from a month of travel that included four courses, four musical events in different locations and a lot of travel…

What sustained me through it all was the time this Summer I got to spend at home… not home here where I live now  in Santa Monica, but home where I grew up, and where a part of my spirit still abides on a beautiful crystal clear lake in upstate NY.

The lake’s name, Skaneateles, says it all.

In the native Iroquois language, it means the place where the pure water flows…

These days I travel for a living and am never in the same place for very long, but every year, come what may, in July or August, I aim my compass for home… or more exactly to a family cottage ten miles down the lake from the village where I was raised…

Skaneateles is much more than a quaint and scenic town and lake for me and for everyone who lives there…it’s more like its own state of consciousness.

Whenever I bring friends to visit, sooner or later they always remark in some astonishment, “This place is so beautiful…and so peaceful! What is it about this place?”

The village was settled on the north end of the lake right after the Revolutionary war and in some ways hasn’t changed much in appearance in the past 100 years…

My roots here go deep… my grandfather courted my grandmother on a steamer that took excursions up and down the lake almost 100 years ago, and my own immediate family has lived here year round or in the Summer for over 50 years…

My parents always thought that raising us here was one of the greatest gifts that they were able to give us, and although they are no longer around, I still come back every year for rest and to reconnect with myself in a deep way…

Something happens to me in that first moment I hit the water after a long time away… I am not only refreshed and renewed but I am returned to an earlier and simpler way of being.

My childhood in this place was in many ways idyllic…hours every day in the water, swimming, sailing, canoeing, water skiing, or just floating on an inner tube that provided a kind of stillness that inevitably dropped me into myself…

The lake was for me a huge reservoir of silence and peace that nourished and sustained me all through my childhood. It gave me in its own way, a clear glimpse of  something greater than myself at a very early age…

When I got older one of the reasons I learned to meditate was the memory of some of those early times at the lake and wanting to return to that feeling that I knew was still somewhere deep inside me …

Often when I return, it’s for a family reunion with my brother and sister and their families, but this year I had the cottage all to myself, so I invited a couple of friends who were, as it turned out, up for some adventure… we swam, kayaked, water skied, hiked up a waterfall, cooked outrageous meals and at night swam out to a raft and lay there watching the moon rise and counting shooting stars… one of my guests wrote a poem about his experience on that raft:

A boy sits in darkness on a raft alone

Wondering how long he has sat, just watching

Unsure of whether it is still night or now almost morning….

The moonlight, a reflected silver streak lighting up his world

He gazes across the lake

Sensing the air above and water below

Two elements in balance…

Their union changing as small waves come and go…

The wind moves the water

The water leaps up to meet the air

playing off each other…

Air and water …becoming each other…

He stares across the open water

Hearing something he has never heard before…

He hears nothing

amidst the cool stillness of the lake

The boy is afloat, on that bobbing raft, resting easy

Still shivering from his swim,

He holds his knees tight, feeling the lake slowly rocking him close to itself

He peers down into the dark lake

The lake peers back at him

Overseen by moon and stars

A reflection rippling in and out of view

The lake wonders, when will he jump in?

The boy wonders, how did I come to be here?

That’s what the lake seems to do for almost everyone who experiences it… you never leave it in the same place you were in when you arrived…

When I was little I thought a wonderful Being lived in the lake because every time I dove in I emerged happier, more awake and more peaceful than I’d been the minute before.  Evidently others shared my view, because from its early days people claimed its waters had healing powers, and not far from our cottage are the ruins of a sanatorium that included “taking the waters” as part of its treatment.  Today that building is long gone but the lake remains a strong and unchanging touchstone for me… I always leave after a week or so filled up not just with that fresh and alive energy that the lake offers but with a stronger connection to who I really am deep inside…that changeless part of me out of which everything else in my life pours at every moment…

By the end of my stay I am filled up for another year–a year of travel, teaching and staying in other people’s homes… but always with a part of me that remains there close to the lake, always listening for it…

William Butler Yeats had his own lake and his own strong connection to it, and he wrote about that connection in one of my favorite poems, Lake Isle Innisfree

“I will arise and go now, for always night and day… I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore… While standing in the roadway or in the pavement grey, I hear it… in the deep parts core…”

                                       Sunset at Santa Monica Beach

I am grateful tonight on this beach for many things; for the beauty that I live in, and the work that I have that I love to do, for the love of the friends and family that surrounds and nourishes me, but most of all, tonight, for a home that I get to return to year after year, a mirror reminding me, as the years roll by, of a part of me that has never changed.  That waits there for me still…

Jo Jo Kelly is an artist, author and activist who lives in New York and Los Angeles. She is also my friend and student.

She recently asked me some questions for her blog “Vertical Clearance”…For those of you who are interested,

Here is the link to that Q and A session:

http://verticalclearance.net/archives/110

Enjoy the Holidays

Peace

John

(cont. from last week’s post)

That night I am sent a message to meet Guruji and several others early in the morning to travel to yet another satsang, this one in a remote area best reached by helicopter. Early the next morning, five of us pour into a small chopper, with my guitar taking up most of the baggage space. As the helicopter shakes violently as it lifts off the ground, I smile grimly over to my friend Sameer, who with his video camera is with us to record this event for posterity. We travel at low altitudes for about forty-five minutes over an incredibly beautiful landscape of mountains, valleys and lush green rice paddies. We start to come down over a large field, which at first appears to have a lake in the center of it. As we get closer to the ground, I see that this lake is instead a huge assembly of people streaming in from all directions, a crowd later estimated to be somewhere around 50,000. This crowd includes many village elders and yuvacharyas, or community organizers, from our YLTP (Youth Leadership Training Program), who work in community development in thousands of villages all over India. A detail of military security meets us at the landing pad and escorts us quickly up on stage, where a group of singers smiles at me expectantly, as if they were waiting for me to arrive. Someone plugs me in to an already well-tuned sound system, and within five minutes of having left the chopper, I’m leading a bhajan for 50,000 people in the middle of nowhere. After I finish the bhajan, Guruji asks me to stand up in front of the crowd, most of whom speak only broken English. “This is John,” he says, “a teacher and singer from A-ME-RI-CA!!!” I wave a little sheepishly, and they cheer.  Later on, Guruji sings along with the second bhajan that I begin; the focus shifts entirely to him, and I am feeling quietly content to have played a small role in this large, happy, noisy gathering. Thirty minutes later, we’re back in the helicopter, and the crowd again becomes a lake outside my window, and then disappears from sight. On the way home I reflected on what had just happened. Leading bhajan or kirtan group singing is a very different experience from traditional musical performance…you’re there not to keep the attention on yourself, but to lead the entire group into an experience of musical transcendence and then to disappear into the centre of that experience, somehow allowing yourself and the group to move beyond the music into the silence that underlies it. From where I stand, there’s no higher calling as a musician on this planet and no greater joy than having the crowd drown you out as they forget about you entirely and move as one in the rhythm and the joy of the music in that moment…I could not then and cannot now find words to express the gratitude I have for these moments…Minutes later we touch down, join the larger group, and we’re off to yet another satsang. The beat goes on…

Often people ask me what it’s like to travel in India with Guruji, and especially what it’s like to travel as a musician. That experience is always changing for me, but two examples from this Northeastern tour come to mind as fairly typical. The first is a medium-sized satsang in an urban area where 20,000 to 50,000 people are expected. These events are usually held outdoors in soccer stadiums or arenas and involve large stages, sound systems, and include cultural offerings such as local music and dance, etc. At this event I arrived thirty minutes early in order to do a sound check on my guitar and voice, as I’m hoping to join the musical part of the program. Lo and behold there are no musicians or sound engineers in sight, and although I see some musical equipment, there is nothing set up. I sit down in the midst of this equipment, tune my guitar, and wait for signs of life.

The next thirty minutes pass amidst some chaos, with some people moving expectantly around the stage and finally some equipment being set up, but not enough. The starting time comes and goes…still no sound check, still no additional musicians. And then about fifteen minutes later, a huge flurry of activity. A large group of professional musicians, and then singers, arrives, each demanding his or her own sound check. Because I don’t speak the local language I find myself somehow at the end of this line. Some other volunteer musicians show up and mill around, unsure of where to sit, with everyone jockeying for the best positions. We’re now thirty minutes behind schedule. Still no sound check.

Finally someone comes up and gives me a cable with which to plug my guitar into the sound system. I tap my mic. Some strange sound faintly emerges, followed by fifteen seconds of ear-splitting feedback. The sound man smiles. He’s happy to have any sound at all coming out of his system. Musicians and volunteers are still milling around, not yet in their places. The audience is beginning to look a little bored and/or annoyed.  Some have laid down and appear to be sleeping. I groan inwardly after receiving the news that tonight we will have not one, not two, not three, but five different folk groups performing traditional music and dances before the rest of the program goes on. I relax momentarily. And then someone else who appears to have at least some authority suddenly appears and comes rushing over to me and tells me we need to have music playing RIGHT NOW and that I must begin playing immediately. Do I have any sound at all coming out of my guitar’? Do I have a microphone that works?? Do I have any other musicians to play with me??? Are there any back-up singers available anywhere on the stage????

No matter – evidently it’s show time. I start to play, tentatively at first, a bhajan dedicated appropriately to Ganesha, the remover of obstacles. Miraculously, sounds begin to come out of the speaker. Musicians smile and join in. People sleeping in the audience are awakened and sit up. People stare at me with the wonder of never having heard a white person sing a bhajan in Sanskrit before. The feedback comes and goes. The dancers mill around in painted face and elaborate costume. Occasionally I get a glimpse of my audience. And then I finish and the other musicians smile and nod at me, as if thinking to themselves, we’re glad it was you and not us that had to start off this crazy, chaotic event. The five dance troupes take almost twice their allotted time. We’re now an hour behind schedule, and I am now an expert on indigenous Indian folk music and dance.

Finally, Guruji does show up and a huge roar rises up from the audience. Musicians are now all at their place, and although I’ve heard better sound systems at many high school basketball games, somehow the music gets out, people are up and dancing and of course the event is a huge success. I support the other musicians and sing one more song later in the evening and am happily taken to dinner by the other musicians and organizers of the event afterwards. Happy to have contributed in even a small way to this event, I also have discovered that I still have a modicum of patience to gain in my role as itinerant Art of Living musician.

To be continued…

I’ve been in India for almost a month now, at first guiding a tour of American first-timers mostly in our facility in Bangalore, but also on a guided trip to Kolkata, which ended about ten days ago.  I then joined Sri Sri and a smaller group, which was headed to the Northeast part of India: Tripura, Assam, and Arunachal Pradesh. This is a part of India largely populated by indigenous peoples and tribes, where Art of Living has done a lot of humanitarian work. As it turns out, we have two small ashrams there, one in Guhati and one in Arunachal, the construction on which was just being completed as we arrived. This was such an unbelievably beautiful part of India. Assam is where much of the world’s tea supply is grown, and everywhere you look there are vast tea estates, with lush, green tea bushes in neat rows growing in every direction as far as the eye can see. Arunachal Pradesh requires a special visa to enter…it’s been a sensitive area since India fought a border war there with China in the 1960s. Where we traveled is very close to where Bhutan, Tibet, China and India all come together. It’s one of the most sparsely populated parts of India, and the huge forests which once covered most of India are still largely untouched there. One feels surrounded by the power of nature everywhere, and you can feel a strong connection to it, especially when you close your eyes and meditate. The area’s dotted with lakes and rivers, including the Brahma Putra, which is the largest river in India and runs through Tibet and China as well. Indigenous people there look like Tibetans or Mongolians, although they also strongly identify themselves as part of India. They worship the sun and the moon in their native religion and still live lives extremely close to nature. I went mainly to visit some of our service projects there, including some schools for indigenous children. Even though AP, or Arunachal Pradesh, is still largely closed to tourists, its fragile culture is under an onslaught from a variety of forces, including Western material culture, a Maoist guerilla insurgency, and a sharp rise in Christian fundamentalist conversions. We were there to help the local people sustain human values amidst these influences through both our schools and service projects. People there were extremely friendly and hospitable and made us all quickly feel at home. We lived under somewhat primitive conditions, but everyone in the group looked after one another, and we all felt very happy to be there.

Last month I had the chance to return to a place where I had lived earlier in my life, and where a lot of important moments of spiritual growth had happened for me…that place is Fairfield, Iowa. Fairfield is of course a home to much of the TM movement’s activities in the United States, including Maharishi University of Management, and it’s a place where I lived for a few years in the 1980s. I had only been back to Fairfield twice in the last twenty years, once for a personal visit, and once to teach the two first Art of Living courses taught there in 1990. My life had moved in other directions since then, and I had no thoughts of returning until two things happened at almost the same moment. One, a dear friend’s son sent me an invitation to his wedding in Fairfield and two, I had a conversation with Sri Sri in Bangalore where he asked me to once again go back to Fairfield…”There are more people waiting for this knowledge there,” he said…

Fairfield is an interesting town in many ways. In some ways it resembles your basic small Midwestern county seat with a town square, a courthouse and stores which serve folks from smaller communities for miles around. The main industry has traditionally been farming and livestock production. When the TM movement bought a local university and set up shop almost thirty years ago, it brought with it a culture which at first conflicted with the local community and its values. One of the things I’ve noticed on my most recent visit was how those two communities have now grown closer in a more cooperative spirit during these first thirty years. Fairfield is also becoming known as a center of innovation and entrepeneurship, largely but not completely fueled by graduates from the Maharishi University of Management. And finally there is now a community of spiritual seekers in the town, many of whom were originally associated with the TM movement, but who now lead their own independent lives with widely varying spiritual interests.

In a series of conversations with local Art of Living chapter, it was decided that when I visited Fairfield, I should offer several different kinds of programs: a concert of world music open to the public, and another talk and slide show about my experiences in teaching Art of Living around the world over the last twenty years. This visit, coinciding with my friend’s wedding, set the stage for my second visit, which ultimately included an Art of Living Intro course and a Part II course in silence. Both turned out to be really rewarding experiences for me personally. The Part II course, which numbered roughly fifty people, brought out a lot of people who had learned Art of Living many years before and were practicing our breathing techniques on their own, but who had not experienced a course in a large group setting for many years. The course also drew participants from all over the Midwest, including places like Oklahoma, Michigan, Illinois, Kansas and Missouri. The silence was deep and the questions raised by the participants profound. That course served as a springboard for the Part I offered in the next weekend, where we had a variety of participants both related and non-related to the TM movement. Sometimes the people that are the most grateful on our Part I courses are folks who have been meditating for many years. Immediately, they see the benefit and often the quality of their meditations improves dramatically even after one or two days. The gratitude and re-dedication to their own meditation practice which results from these experiences really lights me up as a teacher…

Fairfield is in some ways a very challenging place to teach – there has in the past been an atmosphere of fear surrounding people’s relationship to the TM Movement, and there’s so much spiritual knowledge floating around that community and so many people who feel like they’re “experts” in spiritual growth that it’s sometimes a challenge to find an open and clear space in which to teach. But it’s also a very fulfilling place to teach, because people are  so hungry for spiritual experience. When people first learn Sudarshan Kriya, it opens up in them a deep experience of their own unboundedness and connection to others, and by the end of the course their faces begin to radiate a new sense of bliss, freedom and awareness. I’m including below some of the comments from the graduates of that course.

This was an especially poignant visit for me in that it came after Maharishi’s recent passing. I have an immense feeling of gratitude to him and to the TM Movement for starting me off on the beginning of my spiritual journey in this life some forty years.  Part of going back to Fairfield for me personally was a desire on my part to contribute again to that community and the people there who had supported me so strongly earlier in my life.

I was also able to catch up with some old friends, both in and around the TM Movement. When I began teaching the Art of Living course in 1989, I discovered, sadly, that my new activities had put a strain on some of my close friendships in the TM Movement, and that separation was for a time a source of disappointment for me. In restoring some of those connections on this last trip to Fairfield, I felt like I reconnected to an important and fulfilling earlier part of my life. My travel schedule for the next few months is looking very full…none the less, I hope I get to return to Fairfield later this year.

Embracing an additional practical spiritual practice doesn’t take anything away from existing meditation programs. It enhances them so richly and effortlessly.

Since I started, my meditations have been very deep and silent…I find that I can ‘relax’ more into challenging situations and feelings, and be more accepting of the present. I feel a new and growing enthusiasm for life!

The course was a great gift and blessing in my life.

Time has passed since the elation I felt during the course, but I still feel deep gratitude in my heart for the humanity and wisdom that was imparted.

Bangalore, India

Feb., 2010


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