Category Archives: Music

Oh, what Joy! For seven days in July, the Osho RISK Summer Festival reaffirmed the words of the Sages: “This Very Body, The Buddha. This Very World, The Lotus Paradise.” The combination of meditation and love makes it reality. It’s easy. It just takes a little courage and some initiative. This is the insight I will carry in my heart from the festival.

The music was given wings by the most wonderful group of musicians: Bindu, Chandira, Diana, Harisharan, Jivan, Lars, Nadiya, Palash, and Salima. Wow! Wow! Wow! Thank you, beloveds.

There were wonderful workshops to enjoy; incrediblely tasty and nourishing food from the cooks; a great cabaret; a stellar jazz evening, several discos, good weather, and and and … even a hot tub! Everything supported by the divine, magical Nature of the surrounding countryside, so perfect for walks, being with oneself and what is.

And a special thank you to the festival organizers, Anjee, Ashiko, Subhuti and their support team for the smooth sailing we all experienced and enjoyed.

Satsang is a beautiful word from Sanskrit, the ancient language of the seers. Sat means “truth” and sang means “communion”. Hence satsang: “communion with truth”.

But what is Truth? Hmm, such a serious question. Or does it provoke a belly-laugh? One might say this distinction is what separates the unenlightened from the sages. However, the essential question “what is truth?” provides the basis and impetus for all spiritual search. Those humanity considers wise unanimously agree: truth which can be said is not the truth, but that truth is something that must be lived to be experienced.

Osho, known for his relentless hammering of disciples’ questions, says that when a question-less state of mind is reached, what he calls no-mind, is it possible to glimpse the truth. Only when all questions have disappeared and there is simply silence can the flame of awareness be passed from master to disciple. Such a silent communion beyond words and mind is the essence of satsang.

My first taste of satsang was with Osho. These were silent sittings, gatherings of disciples and master, and different from Osho’s discourses where he would speak on various topics; or darshans which were informal meetings with disciples and visitors.

Satsang with Osho almost always happened in the morning. Osho gave them a format which he would modify from time to time. They were invariably one hour long and for the most part silent sittings, but sometimes the musicians would play several improvisations. Also, there was always a humming stage in which everyone participated. At Rajneeshpuram (also known as The Ranch) I remember hearing Osho comment that the humming was the most important part. This came as a shock to some of us musicians, but I was also intrigued. Surely he must have another reason for saying this other than to hammer our delicate musicians’ egos. From this time on, though, I began to pay more attention to the silences.

On occasion, Osho would have someone read from a particular text. For example, at The Ranch during one particular festival, the readings were from The Prophet by Kahil Gibran. On other occasions, there was space set aside for the gachami’s (as we called them) which were a call and response chant from ancient Buddhist scriptures the whole community recited in unison. Slowly, I began to understand that every “technique” Osho employed, no matter what the twist, was in the service of silence —  the music, the readings, the humming, the gachami’s — even the gaps. Everything pointed to silence.

In the time since Osho left-the-body, satsang has evolved into a structured meditation in its own right, something that can be done by anyone, anywhere, anytime. The communion in my understanding is no longer something that that needs disciples and masters. The joy of the meditation is the communion in that happens in silence with oneself, or expansively, the communion of oneself with the whole of Existence.

Those of you who know the One Sky Events know that the Morning Satsang Meditation is a much-loved part of the program. Its basic format is exactly how I experienced it with Osho: a silent sitting of seekers punctuated by several improvisations from the musicians, gaps for silence, and a humming stage somewhere in the middle. Sometimes Osho quotes are played but other than this, there is no speaking or any dialogue between individuals. Satsang has nothing to do with the world of words. It is a meditation that supports relaxing into oneself and letting go into silence. I will not be as bold to say that this silent  “communion” is where truth happens, but … perhaps it is. I invite you to see for yourself.

On this note, I would like to share a morning satsang meditation that was recorded at Osho RISK Center in Denmark during the Summer Festival 2004. I discovered the recording recently while cleaning out my cupboards. I decided to give it a listen before assigning it the fate of other accumulated, old stuff of mine headed for the trash. I am not a big fan of live recordings. Perhaps this is why I never listened until now, but wow — what a wonderful surprise. The music is not only beautifully played, but skillfully recorded and mixed — a rare combination. Realizing it might be something nice thing to share, I connected with the musicians they all said YES! So I want to thank and acknowledge them, also the recording engineer, Deekshant, for allowing me to make this available. It features Palash on the Chinese harp called guzhen; Chintan on tablas; Rishi on framedrum and percussion; Chandira on keyboards; and Yoko on Japanese bamboon flute called shinobui. I had the luxury this particular morning to sit and enjoy the meditation as a participant.

To prepare the music for this sharing, I did some minor technical clean-ups then formatted the track precisely as a one hour meditation. It has a bell at the beginning, a bell in the middle signaling the start of the humming, and three bells at the end. The first of the music stages starts around the two minute mark. I would suggest before beginning to fast-forward ahead to this point and set the volume of your player to a comfortable listening level. Then roll back to the beginning to start the meditation with the first bell. In this way, you can enjoy the meditation from start to finish, undisturbed, without having to adjust your player’s volume.

Satsang remains one of my favorite meditations simply because there is not a lot of technique involved in doing it. When the music is there, I listen; when the silent gaps come, I relax and let-go; when the humming starts, I hum — all the while knowing these minor “doings” are in the service of deepening the silence. Sound like a great meditation? It is — divinely and deliciously so. The musicians and I are happy to share it here with you as a free download. Meditation is one of life’s great luxuries. I invite you to sit back, relax, close your eyes, and enjoy satsang.

Songs of the Heart featuring Neera, Yoko, and Milarepa

Recorded live, Sendai, Japan 1999

This music has a little story.

In 1999, I did a month-long “unplugged” tour of Japan with two of my favorite musician friends, Neera and Yoko. Our little acoustic trio played all over Honshu, one of the four main islands of Japan. We also visited the north island of Hokkaido.

It was a wonderful tour. We met many beautiful people and it was a joy wherever we went. We played all kinds of venues, from temples and auditoriums to private homes and meditation centers. After many years of touring in band situations with a big sound, it was especially satisfying for me to enjoy a softer, intimate and acoustic side of music.

Prada, Yoko, Milarepa and Neera at natural hot springs

The girls were awesome. They had a heartful, easy connection with each other that made traveling with them delightful. One of our traveling highlights was taking the boat from Hokkaido to the most northern point of Honshu. The ferry arrived to a small fishing town where we were met by two sannyasin friends who ended up driving us all the way to Izu Peninsula, Shizuoka, a beautiful natural area south of Tokyo where we would finish the tour. The whole trip took about six days. Along the way we had many interesting adventures: such as visiting several active volcano areas which meant of course wonderful hotspring soaks. One of the areas had big flat rocks that were heated by the earth. They were also naturally radioactive. Busloads of old people with their aches and pains, some suffering from cancer, would arrive and simply roll out their bamboo mats and curl up under their blankets on the warm rocks, letting Nature work its magic.

Another of our stops along the way was the City of Sendai, one of the places recently devastated by the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. Here, a concert had been organized for us in a beautiful, large auditorium. It had great acoustics and we were fortunate that evening to have a professional sound mixer. The tour was almost over and after so many events, we were playing really well together. It was one of those special evenings when our on-stage chemistry was really clicking and the love flowing. We were relaxed, having fun, and the audience could feel and hear it. Our sweet little tour finished several days later and the three of us went our respective ways.

     Celebration in Nagoya City with Nivedano, Pradip, Sat Prem, Neera, and Yoko.

Fast forward eight years later. I was on a solo tour of Japan and again visiting the City of Sendai where I had since had made a connection with two new organizers, friends who ran a small coffeeshop in the countryside. It also functioned as a venue where I gave small events and concerts. Several years later, this very shop and venue was devasted by the tsunami and my friends were forced to relocate and start a new life in Osaka. One afternoon, I was having coffee, chatting away with the friends, and I noticed my ears kept going to the background music playing in the shop. As I was leaving, I inquired with my friend, “What music is that?” He smiled and said, “Hey, that’s YOU!” I was incredulous, mainly because if I had recognized it as me, I most-likely would have tuned it out. I am usually very critical of my own playing and singing. But this time was different because I hadn’t recognized myself! I simply found myself enjoying the music for what it was,while happily tapping my foot along to it’s soft, easy rythmns. Then my friend produced a cd with a hand-made label and said, “Remember Sendai? You, Neera, and Yoko? Golden Light Concert Tour?” And I said, “Wow, yes of course! But how did you get this?” And he said his friend on the mixing board that night had made the recording and given it to him. “You would like a copy?” And so, this is how I came to have these tracks.

Again, many years passed. The cd lay tucked away in my cupboard and I forgot about it. Live recordings have never really been my thing and I figured I would never be be comfortable putting it out. Yet, I always had this nagging feeling that kept coming back, how I had been caught off-guard and surprised that day in Sendai. It has actually been an interesting lesson for me — in what one likes and doesn’t like — when it comes to my own creativity. Could it be the music was actually ok when my critical mind was by-passed? Cleaning out my cupboards last year, I came across it again and decided to put it on while I worked. Sure enough, it caught me off guard again and I found myself smiling, appreciating it for what it is: not the polished professionalism of it, but the innocence and special atmosphere it has.

Beloved Neera

And here we are now, in the first weeks of New Year 2014, and I have decided at long last to share the concert. I did some small mastering to it, but no other editing or cosmetics. I present it in its flowing uninterrupted format, just like we played it. The songs are what we know as Osho Songs: songs written by various sannyasins and sung by the commune in gratitude to the Master for His endless inspiration. They express hearts touched by silence, inspired by a vision for a New Humanity blessed by the flowers of love and meditation.

Since these tracks were played, Neera has left her body. She will always have a special place in my heart. She has a voice that remains as loved today as it was when she stood by my side the evening we sang these songs. She loved Japan and had a special connection with its people. And they loved her too. Neera had a natural tendency towards ecstasy when she sang. Being next to her whenever we played was infectious and a feeling we had in common. Yoko lives in Japan, nearby the City of Hiroshima where she continues to play, teach, record, as well as share meditation. Since our tours, she has developed into a wonderful singer in her own right. Working with the tracks, I marveled time and time again at her awesome mastery of the flute. So precise and in-tune, so much awareness in every note, her playing is sheer magic.

I sincerely hope the music catches you as much by surprise as it did (and continues to do!) me.

A Tantra meditation for friends and couples.

Tantra meditations represent the path of togetherness. Yoga-style meditations represent the path of aloneness. Yoga-style meditations include vipassana, zazen — any technique done alone and by oneself. Tantric meditations invite the company of a partner. One’s partner for meditation can be another person or, in a broader sense, Existence itself. Tantra uses the life-energy derived from connecting with others as a help for going deep within. Tantra is rooted in Life. In Tantra, everyday ordinary experiences can be used as a support in meditation. Because Tantra is devotional by nature, even the act of love can be a meditation.Tantra has its source in ancient India.  It is described in the ancient texts, “The Vigyan Bhairav Tantra”: discourses given by the Lord Shiva to his consort (lover) Parvati. It is said that all meditation techniques can trace their roots to the one-hundred-and-eight techniques found in these scriptures.

The technique and music for this meditation was many years in the making. The initial idea came from an exercise good friends Anjee and Habib of Denmark shared on a beach in Corfu with participants from a weeklong meditation retreat with the band. We had no music to accompany the breathing, only the gentle sound of the sea caressing the beach. Over the years since, we experimented with different techniques for the various stages and also different kinds of music. Last summer, Chandira and I realized the stages had finally crystalized, so in a short tour-gap after the RISK Summer Festival, we took a few days to record the music. It is a lovely meditation to enjoy with a partner or alone. I am happy to share this new addition to the Stepping Stone Series.

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SACRED WAVE MEDITATION

A new meditation in the Stepping Stones Series for friends and lovers. Music by Chandira and Milarepa.

Following in the footsteps of Lao Tzu, Chuang Tzu and Bodhidharma, I finally visited China after all these years and what a wonderful experience it was. The Family Constellation group with Darshan in Beijing was both powerful and deep. I enjoyed my contribution to the workshop: sharing music, meditation, and celebration. Afterwards, I had a few days off to enjoy a bit of sightseeing: The Great Wall, Forbidden City, and Summer Palace. I was introduced to the most amazing people everywhere and made many new friends. I feel thoroughly nourished and loved. Thank you, all, for sharing your heart and transformation with me. It has been an inspiring visit and one I won’t soon forget.

I arrived in Tokyo from Beijing on April 9. It had been more than two years since my last visit to Japan. After a short stopover to visit old friends, I traveled on to Matsumoto City (gateway to the Japan Alps) where the first event was held. I was hosted in an old ryokan (traditional Japanese hotel) which had its own onsen (hotspring bath), an added luxury. From there, I moved on to Nagoya, Hiroshima, and then back to Tokyo for the last event. After the tour, I visited in Gunma Prefecture (about an hour northwest of Tokyo on a bullet train) where I had a wonderful week of rest and relaxation with dear friends before finally boarding my flight home to America on May 5.

Just like Spring brings with a sense of renewal, so did the events this time all have a fresh feeling. Japan is endlessly fascinating. In my over thirty years of visits, I am still discovering and learning new things. It is a cultural kaleidoscope from its first-class cuisine to its complex, nuanced language; from its clean, modern cities and transportation systems to its timeless countryside of terraced rice fields, shrines and ancient temples.

Being a volcanic series of islands, Japan has lots of hotsprings. Fortunately this visit, I had the opportunity to visit two of my favorites, Ikaho and Kusatsu. Every hotspring has different qualities, the therapeutic effect due to the types of minerals dissolved in the water. A long, soothing soak defines the meaning of Japanese word, “kimochi”: In other words, “Mmm, this feels REALLY good.”

Everyone loves springtime in Japan, not just because of the mind-silencing cherry blossoms (sakura), but the variety of flowers that endlessly come popping up every day, everywhere. It’s true what one hears that the Japanese love their flowers. And so do I.

I had some strong experiences along the way. One in particular, a concert I gave in the shadow of the Atomic Dome in Hiroshima. This building with its dome-like roof was one of the few structures left standing after the atomic bomb was dropped in World War ll. Now a central feature of the Hiroshima Peace Park, it stands as a poignant reminder of what can happen when nationalism runs amok, politicians’ egos spin out of control, and we lose track of our humanity.

I was touched by the many new people coming to the events, their sincerity and interest in meditation and exploring themselves. Their willingness to open their hearts, put their minds and differences aside was inspiring and made the events especially strong, nourishing, and transforming. Maybe I am a dreamer, or perhaps it has something to do with my musician disposition, but I always feel so much more is possible when we join our hands and come together in silence and love.

A word about the photos: I have arranged them more or less in chronological order. They reflect the route my travels followed as I celebrated the seasonal magic unfolding everywhere. To all my organizers, musicians, and the many beautiful new and old friends I met along the way — also to Ashik who made the long journey from Colorado to join us in Tokyo — I say “xie xie” (thank you in Chinese) and “arigato” (thank you in Japanese).

CHINA

JAPAN

Arbitrary Lines

I had to laugh the other day, how funny my mind is the way it likes to organize things such as the passing of time, into neat, convenient little blocks. Because really, when one thinks about it, is not New Year just an arbitrary line in the Sands of Time? Lines are logical, and a male invention I suspect, their linear nature giving some comfort to the mind always struggling to understand a vast, mysterious Universe it can never quite grasp. Indeed it is, a very funny thing, this eternal flow of days and years.

In my last update, I tried to give some words to the gaps I experience when the Valley yawns and swallows me up after a tour, especially one so high and as exceptional as last year’s. How, just as there are seasons on the outside, there are inner ones, like autumn when the inner muse becomes quiet and my movements around the world cease; when even my guitar sits idle (albiet content) in the corner. I received many concerned letters from friends who, after reading my poem became worried, asking: “Are you sick? OK? Depressed or something?” All I can say is, creativity has its seasons. After many years of playing, I know this. I have learned to see these gaps as something valuable. They are restful, of course. But they are creative, too, because they give me space to explore new dimensions and horizons. I try to embrace the gaps when they come now and see them as natural, not as bad or wrong, nor something to fight with nor become frustrated by. I have learned they are an important, even necessary, process which prepares me, inside and out, for the next splash of colors-on-canvas.

I started out January 1st exactly as I wished: meditating and celebrating. I welcomed in the New Year with friends in Dallas, Texas, where together we all helped in the renovation of the old Zorba Studio, transforming it into a beautiful new Osho Dallas Meditation Center.

It is late February now as I type these words and the year is moving fast. My birthday recently whizzed by in the blink of an eye. With March fast approaching, I start to worry that by the time I get this update ready, it will no longer be relevant. Winter is howling outside, and my house and car are still buried in knee-deep in snow. The tall, grey trees sleep as if nothing is happening — no dreams stirring, not even of Spring. Such is their trust. But there are signs to seen, harbingers of good things “just around the corner”, as Osho is fond of saying. On my walk the other day, I spotted the first flowers poking-up their brave colorful heads through the snow, while just as miraculously the tours and year ahead take shape. Year 2014 marks twenty-one consecutive years of the tours. I can only marvel the way things continue to unfold. On the horizon, new music beckons along with new band constellations, places to be visited, and new peaks of celebration. A few musician friends who often travel with me have other callings this year to attend, so new faces will be joining the caravanserai. I am happy to announce Nivedano will be on-board for the USA events. In the words of Teerth, this is epic. And so it promises to be, 2014, an epic New Year.

Signs of Spring

When one comes across the jewel of oneself, it is truly something to celebrate. In fact it can be said, the whole Existence celebrates. Thirty-eight years ago, March 28th, I stumbled across just such a jewel while traveling through India, a diamond called Osho. I think of it as a divine accident. It is a precious discovery that hasn’t stopped since, one that just goes on and on, and one that has made me richer in ways i could not possibly imagine at the time. Recently, I celebrated this miraculous, and somewhat mysterious, phenomenon with a series of events in New York City and Atlanta. I celebrated not just the miracle of being myself but that of Osho’s and the countless others he goes on inspiring to wake up. I can imagine no better way to say hello to the Spring, the inner and outer awakening of Nature, than with a few songs and wild, crazy dances — not to mention a slice of yummy cake.

My love affair with Portugal started in 1986. It was the last country of Osho’s World Tour. I was one of three main cook’s in the house where he was staying together with a small group of people looking after him. Mukti cooked for Osho while I shared a separate kitchen and its responsibilities with Japanese Geeta. We cooked for the rest of the household which included Maneesha and Amrito, who stayed nonstop busy transcribing Osho’s recently given discourses from Uruguay. These would eventually become two lovely books: Beyond Psychology and Transmission of the Lamp. Shunyo took care of Osho’s laundry. Nirvano was his personal caretaker. Gayan and Arpito looked after his robes and shoes. Nivedano did the shopping and helped-out with practical things around the house. Rafia, too, although he also took photographs. Anando was secretary. And Cliff was the pilot and all-round trouble shooter (and fixer of all the things that caused trouble!).

The spacious house sat deep in a pine forest, high in the hills above the historic city, Sintra, a mere twenty kilometers from Lisbon. I had the afternoon-off one day. Rafia and I had agreed to meet after lunch and take a long walk. The month was August and it was hot. Smoke filled the air from all the wildfires burning in the surrounding countryside. Lately, I had been taking note of a strange sound I had never heard before that was coming from the forest. I realized it was from pinecones literally exploding from the heat.

Rafia and I headed up the dirt driveway. We quickly reached the paved road which ran along the ridge. We had no map. We were just following our intuition. Which direction for us didn’t matter. We just needed to walk and talk. People think, “Oh, it must have been so amazing to be close to Osho and living in his house.” I would be dishonest to deny this but in reality there was a certain tension in the atmosphere — not from Osho but from the uncertainty of his situation. None of us knew from one moment to the next if the police would suddenly come and ask him to leave as had happened in so many countries before. Definitely, the house was being watched. There was always an unmarked police car parked up the road with two men-in-black. Then there was the fact that his sannyasins couldn’t be with him. So many of my friends were scattered all over the world. And I knew there wasn’t a sannyasin alive who wouldn’t have died to be in my shoes. This was the source of a nagging pain, a tension, in my heart. It did not fully disappear until Osho returned to Pune and Commune’s Gateless Gates were open to receive the world and his people. Meanwhile, Hasyo, Yogi, and Jayesh stayed busy with politicians and real estate agents, trying to secure for Osho a more permanent residence and status. All of these things combined contributed the collective tension in the household, even if on the surface things might have looked calm and collected. But, there is nothing like a long walk and a chit-chat with a dear friend to moderate such kinds of stress and anxieties.

So we walked, Rafia and I, and as we did, our talk shifted into high-gear. Soon the pine forest gave way to an open vista of dry, rolling brown hills. Neither of us was familiar with the geography of Portugal. Google Map was still twenty years in the future. Not far in the distance we could see the sea which from our perspective looked tantalizingly close, so blue and sparkling, and seemed to be calling to us. It was an obvious choice when we reached a fork in the road: we took the way that made a single, straight-line down the hill to the water.

Fast forward to Portugal, Year 2013 and the Osho Heart Festival happening in Oeiras, a suburb of Lisbon on the Tagus River. I was on a lunch break, out having a walk when I had a déjà vu. I had a strong recognition of one of the traffic circles and signs on my way. Later that evening, I opened Google Map and saw that same straight line of road down from the Sintra Hills to the sea. It dawned on me, these were the same landmarks Rafia and I had passed twenty-eight years before on our walk. How amazing we had been so close, just a few kilometers from the current Osho festival venue!

Rafia and I eventually reached the sea and, what I know now, the small town of Estoril. Having skipped lunch back at the house, we were hungry. We found a small restaurant right on the water and if I remember correctly, had best grilled sardines of our lives (I know this will make my Portuguese friends smile). Bellies full, we filled our lungs one last time with the fresh sea air and began retracing our steps back up the hill. The problem was we had talked so much on the way down we hadn’t noticed how far we had come. As we grew more silent with every step, the sun and heat were relentless, and my awareness was drawn again and again to my feet. I was getting blisters.

Thirty kilometers later, we reached the house. I swear, when we jumped in the pool, we both sizzled and popped like those pine cones I had been hearing. I imagine our adventure was entered by the gods in The Akashic Records and it remains one of the epic walks of my life. Rafia and I still laugh and shake our heads about it when we meet. When I came out of the pool, Rafia was pointing to the house with his eyes and a nod of his head. There was Osho, standing on his balcony, relaxed in his white casual robe with one hand on his hip, and watching us. He was too far away to tell if he was chuckling. But I am quite sure he must have when Nirvano told him of our adventure later that evening.

As it happened, Osho eventually was asked to leave by the Portuguese government. It was the last straw in a long saga that had been unfolding since the end of Rajneespuram, the Oregon Commune. Neelam was traveling in Europe and Osho asked that she be called to come to Portugal immediately. He had decided to go back to India and she would accompany him. The rest of us would have to use our wits and follow on when, and however, we could manage. I guess all of us must have reached Mumbai within a month or so of him, but these were uncertain times. For everyone.

All of our household-in-the-pines, plus a support team and handful of friends who had been staying in Sintra, gathered in the spacious living room of the house. We would all be going with Osho and Neelam to the airport to see them off. A convoy of cars waited outside. I had my guitar ready with a makeshift strap I had put together with shoelaces. Suddenly, the door of his room flew open and there he was in full glory, a hurricane of energy and light: Osho in full celebration mode. I struggled to keep up with him. I scrubbed away on those six steel strings of my guitar with all the energy I could summon while Osho danced like a madman with each and everyone present. Tears flow even now as I type these words. Such was the energy of the moment. Rafia was always somewhere in the background taking what would turn out to be some of the most precious photos imaginable. Since the first time I met Osho, he seemed like a faraway star, a god, which from my side created a certain formal distance with him. But what was happening now felt so human, intimate, and touching; a special feeling that only happens when hearts overflow with unbounded joy.

Osho danced on. I knew the song I was singing was everyone’s song: not just the song of those here, but the song of all my friends and the sannyasins around the world who longed, but could not, be here today. The celebration moved outside the house with Osho. Suddenly, he spotted Rafia. I will always remember Rafia’s crazy dance, his cameras swinging wildly as he tried to control them in vain. When the sun wants to dance with you, all ideas about control fly out the window. Nirvano had been keeping a respectful distance, her delicate hands folded in namaste and her tears flowing. The celebration began reaching a crescendo as Osho neared the cars and she became overwhelmed. She took a few steps towards him and fell sobbing into his arms which seemed like great wings the way the folded around her. It was a touching moment not-of-this-world: Osho holding her with one arm while with the other orchestrating the celebration and keeping the energy high — and me alive! I will never know how I managed to find the right chords and strength to play on, but I did.

Earlier in the afternoon, Yogi had asked me if I would drive one of the cars to the airport and I agreed. He asked if I needed a map and I said no. I have always prided myself with my sense of direction. But … this time I got lost. I must have missed a sign or something. Quite quickly, I found myself and my precious cargo — Neelam, Arpita, and Gayan — lost in a confusing network of small roads of Lisbon city-center. I asked directions and luckily got us back on the highway and speeding in the direction of the airport. But my stress level was off the charts. I was fifteen minutes late from the appointed time Yogi said I needed to be there. When we walked into the terminal, Osho stood surrounded by the group and chatting with Nirvano. I felt terrible and irresponsible. Later afterwards when sharing with Rafia, he said, “Oh Mila, you should not feel bad. It was actually great you were late.” As it turned out, my being late had given Nirvano and Osho a little bit of extra time to say goodbye. Rafia said this was so important.

I could not have foreseen this scenario. I would never have consciously chosen to be late. But like so many things around Osho, the most unusual circumstances can become a valuable life-lesson. I was reminded of this once again in Darshan’s Family Constellation Training last week here in Oeiras. Everything happens for a reason, and sometimes for reasons not always obvious at the time. For me, it is not easy to see the positive side of certain life situations that come my way because of the lens I see myself through. Too often, Life throws me a curve ball and I feel bad and take it negatively. Getting lost when the Master has a flight to catch is just such a curveball. Because of the unexpected way things unfolded, I could have easily beaten myself up a lot (which I did for a while) and internalized a lot of unworthy feelings. But the experience became a lesson in Trust: What Is, is.  How important it is to understand this! And to ACCEPT that things are the way they are for all the RIGHT reasons. Remembering this, I can be more loving and gentle with myself. Yes, I know there is responsibility for all one’s actions and Life choices, always. But the key is to not get too serious. Especially when things go in a direction I don’t expect or can control — which they have a tendency to do and will! My solution? Laugh, Breathe, Relax, and Roll with whatever situation, good or bad, Life presents me with.

Usually I don’t share Osho stories because it requires speaking about him in the past tense. But when I do tell a story, I always try to give it a context in the here and now because, after all, it is here and now where Osho is, timeless and eternal. Osho is another word for the energy of transformation. So whether it is August 1986 or August 2014, what is the difference as far as Osho is concerned? Osho is as much in my heart today as he was that hot Portugal afternoon when he came out of his room blazing like a hurricane.

And so it is, the mystery (and miracle) I find myself in Portugal today, here-now, still celebrating this Great Affair, a wild romance that makes my heart sing and dance. The Osho Heart Festival begins this Thursday, August 14, on the ever-flowing Tagus River where it reaches the Sea, and amazingly, just down the hill from Osho’s pine forest. I look forward to celebrating yet again the energy of transformation that makes this world a lotus paradise. Osho!

Fresh Start

The New Year is just around the corner! And what better way to welcome it in than with medita-tion? It is a good time to clean off the dust from one’s mirror, say goodbye to the past — all those ups and downs and all arounds — and step into the unknown fresh, with clear eyes and an easy heart.

I invite you to Zorba Studio in Dallas, Texas, January 1st – friends, lovers, even those new to meditation – to join me kickstarting the New Year with one of the best meditations on the planet: Dynamic Meditation. I guarantee it will be one of the BEST, most POWERFUL and LIBERATING Dynamic Meditations ever!

After Dynamic, the celebration with continue with lots more meditation, dance, song, silence, Osho, wonderful food and opportunities to meet, hug, laugh, play, share, or simply be alone. Everything will finish up around 4pm.

Meditation, Love, Celebration and a Healthy Dose of Laughter. Doesn’t this sound like a perfect start to the New Year? If so,  please join me and let’s bring it on (or IN! as the case may be).

A Long Walk

Ah, the ups and downs.
Riding the waves.
Drifting like wood, sun-bleached and silky smooth.
Rolling with the heaving swell
Breathing blue bosom of the Universe
Ah, yes.
The ups and downs
Of Life.

Letting go is how I feel, especially this time of year,
When colors change and leaves Fall,
And another energy nova-blast, the tour, comes to pause.
I won’t say ‘end’ because that’s not quite true.
Only semi-colons here, not full stops, will do.
Death may prove me wrong on this existential point
But I suspect when I have breathed my last,
Celebration will indeed go on.

Strange indeed to feel so empty,
Yet so completely full and simply
Goes the poem by Robert Frost: “Miles and miles to go before I sleep”
Simple words, yet they affirm
The feeling in these tired but happy
Bones and feet.

Van and equipment, all returned; musicians and dear friends too.
Last bills paid and now
Here I am
Cast up on the sand one more time,
One last wave.

Always is the case there follows a gap
And even so, I know
This too shall pass.
What lingers now, a sweet kind of pain
Whose only way to sooth I know the knack, and that
Is a long walk somewhere
There and back.