 She’s not that old for a cat. Eleven and a half. A year ago she climbed into a seat that I had made for Swamiji covered in silk sarrees. These seats or asanams hold powerful energy and are only for Swamji. But when Leah curled up and lay in Swamiji’s lap for almost 24 hours, I thought something was wrong with her. Leah knew it, and sought out the best place for healing.
After a full day of sleeping in the lap of Swamiji, she went outside. When she came back to the house, she was dragging both back legs, paralyzed. Over the summer she gradually regained most of her mobility but by fall she had lost muscle control of her bowels. Saskia nursed her through the summer, giving up her bed to Leah and sleeping on the floor, anything to make Leah more comfortable. Brian and I took over Leah's care when she went back to University. I gave the technical care, feeding and cleaning up the daily messes, which I hated. Brain sat with her every night and loved her. A few weeks ago I called Saskia to tell her that something had shifted in Leah and I thought the end was near. There was no outward symptoms, she just seemed much lower energy. Then suddenly a few days later, she was bleeding from a mass on her hind leg that had appeared almost overnight. We took her to the vet who said it was most likely cancer, but in the end the diagnosis was inconclusive. She received antibiotics and some homeopathic remedies. And her energy totally shifted. She ran down the hall, jumped up on a chair, jumped on a bed, and seemed more mobile than in ages. She pooped in the litter box which had not happened in months. I couldn't believe she had looked so close to death.
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 How many times do you have a deep knowing but without any logic or facts, or even reasons to support it? You just know it and want it. Once instance of this was naming Saskia.
My husband and I named our second daughter Saskia, an unusual name, but a name we both were drawn to instantly. It is a name that people find difficult, that my daughter feels has a harsh sound. I can understand why she feels that way with the with the sk consonants - the same sk sound that for me brings up images of Vikings. But that was not the feeling I had when we named her. The feeling the name evoked in me when I heard it is exactly what I think of as Saskia.  Today was the last day for skiing. The world is opening the way for Spring, revealing hidden streams, mucky mud, and new life.  Jattas are coiled on top of my head Jatta Dharini! As I walked out of a store in India, someone called these words out to me. I didn't know what it meant. In India, a woman who wears jattas (dreadlocks) is a rare sight. Jatta Dharini simply means a woman who wears Jattas. Today is the four year anniversary of my hair transformation into Jattas or dreadlocks. For four years I have been wearing the traditional hairstyle of a Shiva devotee, following the guidance in the Shiva Agamas that covers all aspects of living one's life. My guru, HDH Bhagawan Nithyananda Paramashivam, in reviving Sanatana Hindu Dharma (Hinduism), has introduced us to ways of living that lead directly or indirectly to enlightenment. In the Shiva Agamas, there are specifications on the wearing of Jattas. I have 36 jattas waist length jattas. So what is it like? It is complicated like any relationship. I love them. I love them more than I hate them. I love having them but I find the care challenging. I want them to look neat and tidy but much of the time I think they look messy. I fight with them at night and when trying to get shirts over my head that have neck holes that are too small. I am worried about them not drying out completely when I wash them. When I want to dress up, I find it challenging to find a hairstyle that fits the look I want. But when it works, it is beautiful and powerful. In the last few years there has been a hairstyle of keeping a small bun on the top of the head. In addition to my own bun, it looked like there were a lot of young shiva's running around the high school. When we practice manifesting powers we are encouraged to keep he jattas up, coiled on the top of the head in a bun - to concentrate the energy and center it on sahasrara. But most of the time my bun falls out because they are not long enough yet.
 Today Brian put the taps in the maple tree. It's hard to believe that we have tapped this maple every year for the last 10 years. We also have two smaller maples that don't yield as much sap, but together give us a nice supply of syrup right from our yard. Even a small maple will offer up its delicious sap, nectar from the trees.
 One of the loves of my life is skiing. Cross country skiing, downhill skiing, water skiing - all share the same exhilaration and joy. Sledding can be included. Since moving to Ohio in 1985, my participation in this sport was drastically reduced until this year. The year of Covid. The year of taking a giant winter rest due to some inefficiencies of my heat. The year I got the skiis out and was able to ski in the meadow for 20 consecutive days.
 The snow kept falling every day, and every day I kept thinking, "This is Ohio, it will be gone by tomorrow." But it wasn't. It kept snowing from February 2 through February 20.
I had only been skiing in the meadow by our house. I had never even thought of skiing in any of the local parks. But Brian had said he had seen ski tracks at Gallant Woods, which meant it was skiable. And I had confidence and energy to try the parks, as I had been skiing daily for a couple of weeks. So I proposed that we try to ski the trails in at least three of our local parks before the snow melted.  Brian and I went out early, in 9' F cold, to ski at Gallant Woods. We had tried to go the day before, but there was so much new snow that the road into the park was not yet plowed. so we had to turn back. We were the only humans at the park and the the skiing was intensely beautiful, going from wooded shadows, into glittering bright sunlit meadows.
 photo credit: ebay Yesterday, I suddenly thought of a gray metal musical powder box that my grandma had given me.
Not given to me directly. Grandma and grandpa split their belongings 16 ways - one set of items for each grandchild - and put each set of items in its own metal fireproof safety box. Each grandchild would receive the box when they got married. I watched each of my siblings and my cousins grow up and open their boxes and we would all exclaim over the objects that we remembered from their home. The day finally came when I got my box and got to open it. It was a long shiny shallow metal box that could slide under the bed - with my name on it. |
Bodhanaa NithyanandaWriting to Discover and En-spire. Archives
April 2021
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