What would Bapuji do indeed? That question is the chorus for this “Breaking up” blog saga of mine. Last time, I shared how a virtual cold shoulder by my once beloved spiritual home left me saddened and confused, about my relationship with Kripalu and my life purpose as a whole.
My dilemma seems small now, even to me, in light of the suffering unleashed by the Super Storm, not to mention the exigencies of the election. And before that, your comments were balm for my wounds. Still, I am moved to continue my strange saga, eager as I am to get to the bottom of it, and claim my role—and help you illuminate yours—in a world so in need of our light.
I first approached Kripalu soon after publishing Bare Naked at the Reality Dance because I had a great idea. It arrived one morning in a flash of inspiration, as if it were God—or Bapuji—given. I suddenly knew I was meant to share Bapuji’s teachings, as embodied in the down-to-earth America woman I am, with Kripalu Yoga teachers. And I wanted to do it at their fall 2012 conference just as a friend had done with her related book last year. It felt so right I could taste it.
In May, I emailed a well-placed former colleague there. She referred me to the person running the conference, whom I emailed at once. No response after several weeks? No problem! I was passionate and I was determined. At the suggestion of another old Kripalu friend who’d read and loved the book, I sent signed copies with notes to the planner and others she felt could help me. When, after sending more emails, there was no response by September, I left a warm, detailed voice message for the conference planner. Surely I would hear from him now.
But I didn’t. It’s been five months since my first attempt, and I’ve had nary a peep from anyone at Kripalu about my offer, not even “Got your email” or “Thanks for the book.” Nada. How can that be? How to make sense of such total disregard of a sister seeker, one of their very own?
Given my two dedicated decades as an early Kripalu Yoga student, teacher and, for ten years, a Network regional leader (I received their Global Service award for “exemplary leadership” in 1994, for God’s sake); and given that the source of inspiration for the book I long to share is the self-same Bapuji on whom the entire Kripalu enterprise is founded, the complete brush-off I experienced feels beyond bizarre. Even if I had no connection to Kripalu, such silent treatment in the face of a well-founded offer to contribute one’s time, energy and life work is hard to fathom.
Trond, who was brought up in the polite European culture of Norway decades ago, is incredulous. Still, we both recognize that most people are absurdly busy and can easily miss or be overwhelmed by missiles arriving en masse. But while I am online a lot and growing accustomed to an increasing non-responsiveness all around, I really, really don’t like it.
I don’t like it because it’s leaving me out in the cold, of course, at Kripalu and elsewhere in the world I’d hoped to enter with my work. But I am even more disturbed because of what my experience suggests about where we are and what has happened to us, as communicators and as human beings. Far too many of us—myself sometimes included—are not being who I know we mean and want to be in a world that craves our best selves—our souls.
Caught up in the frenzied pace of life on and offline, even we whose express purpose is spiritual awakening and compassion can lose sight of each other (and ourselves) in the rush to an elusive end. More and more, we ignore and run over each other in a race that no one can win. Precious few of us make the quiet quality time it takes to love and respect, and see and hear, each other in the way we ourselves want to be loved and respected, seen and heard. I for one am extremely grateful to those of us who do respond to efforts to reach out and touch each other with love.
As for being ignored by my former spiritual home, I suspect that I (and probably many others) have simply gotten lost in the “too much to do to notice you” Kripalu shuffle. What a shame!
What would Bapuji do?
I can’t be sure obviously. But I suspect that having exerted his considerable will, as I’ve exerted mine, Bapuji would surrender. Rather than pushing against a wall that, for whatever mysterious reasons, seems unwilling to yield even the slightest bit, he would give it up to God and let it be. Bapuji would trust there was something he didn’t understand at play and return his attention to the most critical “play” of all—the divine play of realizing the Supreme Self that we all essentially are. Let go and let’s see what else the universe has in store. That is what I will do.
Besides, kids, it hurts to bang our heads against a wall, and hurting ourselves in the interest of helping others can never be a good idea!
PS Reviewing some Kripalu related material the other day, I noticed that the Kripalu Yoga Teachers Association conference, where I wanted so much to share, kicks off with its opening ceremonies…today (which is to say the day in October when I drafted this post). How ironic and sad. That day, by the way, is the day when I finally let fly with some choice expletives and felt better than I had for a long time about Kripalu and me. And, okay, while I bet Bapuji never used the F word, that may just be because he didn’t speak English.
Please add your expletive-inducing or heart-warming experiences to the conversation so that we may learn from and support you. And thanks, as always, for your loving support of me.
Categories: A Writer's Life, Surrender