Our parents try to install their beliefs into us. They create an image of God for us to keep us from being naughty. Monster God is a useful tool to curb our desires to acquire things that belong to others. Parents have authority over us and God has authority over everything else. Same way the poor are controlled by the belief that one day they will be rewarded for not revolting against their poverty created by the rich who control the worlds resources. Some prisoners escape these beliefs and engage in anti-social ways to acquire the means to get their way. These are the only people the rich are scared of that leads to the existence of police, law and justice system. They are all created to protect the rich from loosing their wealth. Then some clever mind thought of the word charity and welfare. These are also but ways to keep people from revolting against the rich occupying all the wealth and natural resources of the earth. Since God is the creation of rich to control poor, they don't want to tax their own Churches etc because that's where they hide their black money. Churches and temples are just meeting places for recreation purposes.God has no real place in the materialistic world.
These were my thoughts until one day I heard the news that my father died. I cried uncontrolably, I screamed, I ran like a mad person. I felt my tummy churn. I didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to talk to anyone. He was only 62 and I was 26 with a one year old baby. I didn't know what else to do, so I took out my prayer book and did some prayers for my dead father. I didn't know how else to connect with him and send him love. As per my father's desire which he had shared with me when I was in college, I called some religious brothers from the community to do a singing session for his soul. I sat in the back of the prayer hall at the gurdwara / temple. With my eyes closed, I remembered my father and complained with a heavy heart, " You died without giving any notice to me, so I couldn't visit you in the last moments of your life. Come now, attend this prayer that I have organised for your soul." To my surprise, he came within a few minutes. With my eyes closed, I saw his smiley face and head only, flying through the air. He was so happy. He bowed to the scriptures, as per the gurdwara rules, turned around and said, "You called me, so I have come, but I can't stay any longer. There is a very important function happening for me elsewhere and I have to be there." He rolled away.
Three years went past, it felt like my shield had been lost and I was being attacked from every direction. The relationships with in-laws fell apart, who in turn tried to reck my relationship with the only man that could be my support, my husband. My little child was my only light in life who came one day demanding that he wanted his own brother because the Aunty next door didn't let this 3 and half year old child pick up her new born baby. He was furious, "Mum, I want my own baby brother to pick up." I fell pregnant but relationship didn't improve. I was on one side and the rest of the family on the other. So alone, one day I walked under the mango trees in the backyard and cried so hard. "I will leave them all and go somewhere else to live. So what if they won't let me take my son with me, I will go while I am pregnant and I will have this baby." I convinced myself. "Don't go, you won't be able to look after this baby alone.", said this invisible male voice, so close to my ear. Why not, I wondered but no reply came. I suspected something wasn't right with the baby that will be born. Deep down, I didn't want to leave my husband because he was the only person I still loved and wished this baby could do the magic of bringing my husband closer to me again.
The baby was born. " Why don't any of my children have your eyes?, I said in frustration. I love my husbands eyes. Nonetheless, I was happy my family was complete. "Can you believe we have two boys now!" Said my husband while taking me out of the birthing room. "It would have been a balanced family if this child was a girl but anyway it's a boy now", I thought.
A few hours later the doctor came and threw her bomb of words. "Your baby is Down syndrome", she said. She kept talking, probably trying o console me but I had turned deaf after hearing those words, even thought I didn't know exactly what they meant. That must mean he is severely mentally challenged, I had assumed. My husband had gone home by then. I cried alone. Why me? I have never done anything wrong to anyone, then why me. My husband came and we cried together again and again. The specialist came later and threw another bomb, "The baby has a hole in the heart." He must have his open heart surgery within four months or he will die before he turns one.
The day came for his operation. They took the baby for anaesthetics and we were left standing in a room with lots of cards from parents hanging on the walls thanking the doctors for trying to save their baby. Some successful stories and others where the baby didn't survive the operation. Oh God, I hadn't even contemplated about the second option before. I was thinking it was a great day for my baby..... Oh, I couldn't bare the thought that the baby might not survive the operation.
I went in my room, opened my prayer book and started praying. I didn't know what else to do. The operation was six hours long and I had fallen asleep within first hour.
In my sleep, I heard a voice, not my voice, saying if this child dies on the operation theatre, you will not be blamed for his death and then you can have another child that will be normal and you can live a normal life. It was a proposal, needing my consent. A proposal that shocked me. Such a lowly proposal in bargain for a normal life? How can I get an innocent life loose his right to live, in exchange for my luxury of a 'normal' life. With tears rolling down my eyes, I begged, "Give this child his life back, and I promise to never complain about him not being normal."
Three days later, when they reduced the amount of morphene and other medications being given though the big machines, the tiny body covered with pipes started to come alive. We had just returned from a trip in the open air and as I entered the room, my baby saw me coming in the room and looked straight into my eyes and took his arm out of the white sheet covering his bare body, and threw it towards me. It shook us all. Never before had this child made eye contact with anyone, he didn't know how to and he didn't have so much control on his muscles to pull his hand out so straight but today he had accepted me as his mother and he was showing that it's not me accepting him as his son as he is, it's him accepting me as his mother for the first time.
Eight months gone past since the operation, I was too busy with the two children, one in kindergarten and the other receiving physiotherapist services to help him learn to roll over and sit down. He had little muscle control to eat or drink, hold his head or sit properly but he was a happy baby without any complaints. He was a delight of our life. Only occasionally when the boy wanted to play with his little sibling, he would say, "I wish he was a normal baby", only out of love and only to play better with him but I would thank God again that the baby is alive.
One day, I had enough time to sit for 10 minutes to properly thank God for giving the child's life back and for listening to me that day. I closed my eyes and tried to be one with him in gratitude without any expectation. I started imagining a shower if rainbow colours over me. I was at peace when I saw a river of colourless pure water started flowing from above inside my body. It was so serene. suddenly my body started shaking really hard. I remembered that I was sitting I the gurdwara and people were sitting around me. I didn't want to look silly for they wouldn't know what I am seeing and feeling. With reluctance, I opened my eyes to stop my body shaking. To my surprise I noticed that I was actually sitting so still and straight as a rock and nobody had noticed anything weird about me. I regretted opening my eyes so soon but cherished the memory of the fountain and peace that flowed with it ever since. That day I knew, there was something within me that I need to connect to, to find peace. God or not, this was something special, more special than the beliefs given to me by the parents and the society and this experience was dearer than the rebellious beliefs I had about God and society.
I have to free myself of all beliefs in favour or against God and just learn to sit in gratitude to experience that magic again. Now I would follow anyone that will help me get more of that experience without their religious background because I am not attached to religion but am interested in achieving my new goal. Is this spirituality?
For many years afterwards, I kept asking question to holy looking men without any satisfactory answers. Infant I puzzled them with my questions and by sharing my experience. Only then I realised that I had experienced something very special and now the only guidance I can trust is my inner guidance that showed me the path in the first place.
These were my thoughts until one day I heard the news that my father died. I cried uncontrolably, I screamed, I ran like a mad person. I felt my tummy churn. I didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to talk to anyone. He was only 62 and I was 26 with a one year old baby. I didn't know what else to do, so I took out my prayer book and did some prayers for my dead father. I didn't know how else to connect with him and send him love. As per my father's desire which he had shared with me when I was in college, I called some religious brothers from the community to do a singing session for his soul. I sat in the back of the prayer hall at the gurdwara / temple. With my eyes closed, I remembered my father and complained with a heavy heart, " You died without giving any notice to me, so I couldn't visit you in the last moments of your life. Come now, attend this prayer that I have organised for your soul." To my surprise, he came within a few minutes. With my eyes closed, I saw his smiley face and head only, flying through the air. He was so happy. He bowed to the scriptures, as per the gurdwara rules, turned around and said, "You called me, so I have come, but I can't stay any longer. There is a very important function happening for me elsewhere and I have to be there." He rolled away.
Three years went past, it felt like my shield had been lost and I was being attacked from every direction. The relationships with in-laws fell apart, who in turn tried to reck my relationship with the only man that could be my support, my husband. My little child was my only light in life who came one day demanding that he wanted his own brother because the Aunty next door didn't let this 3 and half year old child pick up her new born baby. He was furious, "Mum, I want my own baby brother to pick up." I fell pregnant but relationship didn't improve. I was on one side and the rest of the family on the other. So alone, one day I walked under the mango trees in the backyard and cried so hard. "I will leave them all and go somewhere else to live. So what if they won't let me take my son with me, I will go while I am pregnant and I will have this baby." I convinced myself. "Don't go, you won't be able to look after this baby alone.", said this invisible male voice, so close to my ear. Why not, I wondered but no reply came. I suspected something wasn't right with the baby that will be born. Deep down, I didn't want to leave my husband because he was the only person I still loved and wished this baby could do the magic of bringing my husband closer to me again.
The baby was born. " Why don't any of my children have your eyes?, I said in frustration. I love my husbands eyes. Nonetheless, I was happy my family was complete. "Can you believe we have two boys now!" Said my husband while taking me out of the birthing room. "It would have been a balanced family if this child was a girl but anyway it's a boy now", I thought.
A few hours later the doctor came and threw her bomb of words. "Your baby is Down syndrome", she said. She kept talking, probably trying o console me but I had turned deaf after hearing those words, even thought I didn't know exactly what they meant. That must mean he is severely mentally challenged, I had assumed. My husband had gone home by then. I cried alone. Why me? I have never done anything wrong to anyone, then why me. My husband came and we cried together again and again. The specialist came later and threw another bomb, "The baby has a hole in the heart." He must have his open heart surgery within four months or he will die before he turns one.
The day came for his operation. They took the baby for anaesthetics and we were left standing in a room with lots of cards from parents hanging on the walls thanking the doctors for trying to save their baby. Some successful stories and others where the baby didn't survive the operation. Oh God, I hadn't even contemplated about the second option before. I was thinking it was a great day for my baby..... Oh, I couldn't bare the thought that the baby might not survive the operation.
I went in my room, opened my prayer book and started praying. I didn't know what else to do. The operation was six hours long and I had fallen asleep within first hour.
In my sleep, I heard a voice, not my voice, saying if this child dies on the operation theatre, you will not be blamed for his death and then you can have another child that will be normal and you can live a normal life. It was a proposal, needing my consent. A proposal that shocked me. Such a lowly proposal in bargain for a normal life? How can I get an innocent life loose his right to live, in exchange for my luxury of a 'normal' life. With tears rolling down my eyes, I begged, "Give this child his life back, and I promise to never complain about him not being normal."
Three days later, when they reduced the amount of morphene and other medications being given though the big machines, the tiny body covered with pipes started to come alive. We had just returned from a trip in the open air and as I entered the room, my baby saw me coming in the room and looked straight into my eyes and took his arm out of the white sheet covering his bare body, and threw it towards me. It shook us all. Never before had this child made eye contact with anyone, he didn't know how to and he didn't have so much control on his muscles to pull his hand out so straight but today he had accepted me as his mother and he was showing that it's not me accepting him as his son as he is, it's him accepting me as his mother for the first time.
Eight months gone past since the operation, I was too busy with the two children, one in kindergarten and the other receiving physiotherapist services to help him learn to roll over and sit down. He had little muscle control to eat or drink, hold his head or sit properly but he was a happy baby without any complaints. He was a delight of our life. Only occasionally when the boy wanted to play with his little sibling, he would say, "I wish he was a normal baby", only out of love and only to play better with him but I would thank God again that the baby is alive.
One day, I had enough time to sit for 10 minutes to properly thank God for giving the child's life back and for listening to me that day. I closed my eyes and tried to be one with him in gratitude without any expectation. I started imagining a shower if rainbow colours over me. I was at peace when I saw a river of colourless pure water started flowing from above inside my body. It was so serene. suddenly my body started shaking really hard. I remembered that I was sitting I the gurdwara and people were sitting around me. I didn't want to look silly for they wouldn't know what I am seeing and feeling. With reluctance, I opened my eyes to stop my body shaking. To my surprise I noticed that I was actually sitting so still and straight as a rock and nobody had noticed anything weird about me. I regretted opening my eyes so soon but cherished the memory of the fountain and peace that flowed with it ever since. That day I knew, there was something within me that I need to connect to, to find peace. God or not, this was something special, more special than the beliefs given to me by the parents and the society and this experience was dearer than the rebellious beliefs I had about God and society.
I have to free myself of all beliefs in favour or against God and just learn to sit in gratitude to experience that magic again. Now I would follow anyone that will help me get more of that experience without their religious background because I am not attached to religion but am interested in achieving my new goal. Is this spirituality?
For many years afterwards, I kept asking question to holy looking men without any satisfactory answers. Infant I puzzled them with my questions and by sharing my experience. Only then I realised that I had experienced something very special and now the only guidance I can trust is my inner guidance that showed me the path in the first place.
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