No matter how exalted a teaching is, the student is still left with the arduous task of living it. Wisdom is presented; in other words, but only to the intellect at first. It has yet to seep into the whole being and be easily lived. Vernon Howard told students to always begin on the physical level. One might not be able to lift his heart to universal truth, but anyone can lift the head and look up at the sky. He might be able to read a book with wisdom in it. But the next thing he knew, he would find himself lost in an endless argument with a loved one. All of the teachings would be forgotten and he would be hurling bitter words at his partner.

So one step of the teaching is to learn when one goes astray from the knowledge that we are all one. If that is true, how come the divorce rate is so high and crime can never be erased from human behaviors? We learn to divide ourselves into two consciously. Man A is a student of truth. Man B is still lost in his own personal world. There is no blame attached to this. It is simply how it is. “We are the fallen people,” a woman said to me while visiting Vernon Howard’s group. He taught us how to get back up and go on.

These days the nondual community is bending under the weight of everyone espousing instant perfection and ongoing enlightenment. What a load of fertilizer. Youtube is crammed with people  yammering on and on about how they came to be one with everything. Give me a break. I need a moment. Talk amongst yourselves.

While Bob was in treatment for his cancer, we attended The Wellness Community. Our favorite activity was Art for Recovery. We would sit around the table and draw how we were feeling and talk about our pictures if we liked. Edna, the art therapist, made each session feel like pure gold. We would leave and then have a leisurely lunch at a nearby restaurant and return home feeling so much better.

One day in the class, I drew a picture of Swami Z and talked about it. “I have been inventing this little swami and he keeps getting me up at all hours of the night. He is very high energy…like my aura is a peaceful blue-green and his is vivid orange!

This spring A Guru in the Guest Room came out. In it, I explain how Swami Z came to me. “Vicki’s suffering opened the door for me to come in,” he says. “I bake her cookies.” The obvious charm of his character is offset by his pesky little habit of never taking me seriously. That leads for some quirky material in the book.

Essentially it is a story of awakening to the teacher within. In the midst of devastating sorrow, and I do not overstate that, I learned that laughter and wisdom don’t go away. In fact, they are continually inviting us to open the door and let them in.

I will let Swami have the last line in this essay. “Listen up, you people, I didn’t move in with Vicki for herself alone. I did it for the universe. And so far, the universe really likes my cookies. As it said to me just the other day, “Swami, you are a universal force for good.” And I replied, “Have a cookie, World. Have two….” (And now the universe has high cholesterol, but it is getting very, very wise.)

A Guru in the Guest Room is available here.

 

 

I got up excited this morning. I have a new reason for being. I’m gonna be a tai chi student! I couldn’t wait to tell Swami. I was in the kitchen early, eating a bowl of cereal and having my usual cup of chai tea. I felt like a girl again. When Swami came in for breakfast, I burst into a spasm of words. “Swami, guess what?”

He looked at me warily, as if he were afraid to hear the answer. “I don’t have a clue,” he said. “Where do I go to buy one?”

I ignored his feeble attempt at sarcasm and said, “I”m gonna take tai chi!” I stood there in all of my beginner’s mind and heard him say, “I’ll have some, too.”

“No, no, no,” I said. I didn’t say “chai tea; I said “tai chi.” Looking confused is one of the tricks Swami carries in his psychological bag. So he just stood there looking puzzled.  “Why did the chicken cross the road?” he asked, trying to confuse me as well as himself.

I glared at him. “To get to tai chi class!” And by the way, I said, you don’t have any…class, that is.”

He didn’t bother to reply. He just ambled over to the stove and turned the heat up under the kettle.

“Vicki, I know you. I know you through and through. The next thing I hear, you’re giving it up because it’s too hard. Once a quitter, always a quitter. You have taken ‘Stop it’ to a whole new level.”

He was right. He poured his tea and sat down at the table with me. How many times had we had chai tea together? Countless times. Now I was bringing tai chi into the chai tea space and boy was I lost. I began to cry—my excitement now going over the dam along with my upturned canoe and all hope of surviving in this cruel world. Swami was useless and clueless as always.

Why on earth did I manufacture this useless piece of a guru and think he could change my life? I never wanted him; he just waltzed into my life when it was coming apart at the seams. He installed himself in my kitchen and began to bake cookies. We always had them with our chai tea.

As if Swami were reading my mind (and he was), he said, “Are you all through, Vicki? Can I say something now?”

“I couldn’t stop you if I tried,” I said.

* “Look over there,” he said. I looked in the direction of his pointing finger and all I saw was everything. But I looked. Yep, I was right. All I saw was everything.

“Welcome back to the world,” he said. “I think you have chai tea and tai chi all mixed up, but I bet it’s delicious,” he said. “In fact, I know it is.”

*I had told the tai chi instructor that my neck was stiff. She gave me two exercises I could do at home. One was to pretend I was following the movements of a child on a swing. The second was the “Look over there” exercise. As always, when we help the physical, we also help the mental and spiritual for they are all one. As I “look over there,” I am looking with new  eyes at a new world.

You may order A Guru in the Guest Room here.