Dervish Healing Order
Stories
Once upon there was a dervish named Saul.
Hidayat & Saul
February 2000
Dear family -
Happy Valentine's Day to us all. This is just a short report on my visit to the Urse of Hazrat Inayat Khan in Holland, and two meetings we held in Germany. Firstly, allow me to say that I was given every honor at the Temple in Ketwig. Murshid SAM would be very pleased. After the formal service, I was asked to bless the cake and water - they called it praying in "the Oriental manner." We would call it singing Fathia. It was a wonderful and very moving experience. The Urse was also a wonderful opportunity to meet with some of the leadership of the Movement. I took it upon myself to encourage them all to attend the Leadership conference in April in Charlottesville.
As an aside, it seems that the heads of the 3 healing activities, will meet together in April. Alhamdulliah! Arjuna from the Movement, Himayat from the Order, and myself from the DHO. Ya Shakur. We are all hopeful that this is but the first steps in the cosmic dance of Love, Harmony & Beauty.
From Holland I went onto Germany: In Hanover and Berlin we had meetings with the German Healing Order, and after some strong prompting from Ananda, I initiated a number of new mureeds into the Ruhaniat. I look forwards to also moving some of the DHO'ers at our Spring meeting in North Germany formally into the Ruhaniat.
After all, who has a better and more coherent study program for new mureeds than us Inayati's. In addition, it is a program that all of us "old timers" have gone through. Alhamdulliah! We shall be setting up Gatha/Githa study programs for Germany.
May the Message of God Reach Far & Wide.
I send you all my love and blessings on this Day of Loves Remembrance.
Hakim Saul
p.s. Jam Ahm announcement to be sent out in a few days - whew.
Observations of a Meeting Between Remarkable Men
One of the most powerful aspects of Murshid S.A.M.'s manifestation was his accessibility to his mureeds. For me it meant that I was permitted to be present, observing him, during his interactions with others, and with other teachers.
I should say that my previous training (with Mother Mary at Mount Shasta) was almost Shamanistic: we were expected to be aware of all that occurred around us, and not to expect ready answers to the phenomena we observed. We were also encouraged to be stealthy in our approach to the teacher. In other words, there were mysteries to be discovered - Spiritual Keys to unlock the doors of this illusion we call reality.
It is, perhaps, this training which allowed me to "over-hear" a number of illuminating conversations between Murshid and a number of his contemporaries: Vosha Fisk, Joe & Gwin Miller, Frida Waterhouse, Theodore Reich, Gavin Arthur, Vilayat Khan, Samcher Beorse, and the subject of this reminiscence, Nataraja Guru.
It was the early summer of 1969, I was still living at Rancho Olampoli, outside of Novato, California. I was a mureed since February, and feeling a bit lost amidst my new spiritual family. It was a glorious day with sunshine and bird song, and during a walk on the grounds of the ranch I saw in the distance an orange robed figure strolling towards me. Some of the folks who lived there were all agog about the upcoming visit of a swami they had met in India and then invited to come to California. Thinking this must be the one, I walked toward him.
Sure enough it was a swami. "Namasti," I said, bringing my hands together, "are you Swami gimmymoreanada?" "No," he replied also with clasped hands, "but, since there is only one teacher, you may treat me as him."
His reply caught my attention, and I found myself giving him my spiritual lineage. He bypassed Murshid, and fixated on Mother Mary. "A Holy Mother," he exclaimed, "here in America. You must take me to her immediately!" After I explained that she was on retreat, and not seeing people, he relented, and asked to see a picture of her. I agreed, and went to my room to get my picture of her. When I returned, he demanded that I give it to him, which I declined, claiming that it was not mine to give away, only to hold and honor.
He then looked at me with an intense gaze, and I found my self posturing in a totally involuntary and unthought of mudra - left hand at heart with right hand pointed upwards from the heart. "Ah," he said, observing me. "Very good. I am at the next level."
Needless to say I was astounded. He gave me his card, with his San Francisco address and phone number on the back, and walked away.
I got to Murshid as quickly as I could, he was at the Mentorgarden in San Francisco, and related this story to him. He went to the telephone and called the guru and made an appointment to meet with him the next day. "Since you started this," he said, "you had better be there with me." So, the next day Murshid and I went to meet this Guru together.
On the way to meet with Nataraja Guru I remember one of those seminal moments that stay with you for decades there after: We were driving to our appointment, when Murshid started crying. "One of my mureeds lives there," he answered to my question. "He is in a lot of pain, and won't come to me for help. All I can do is feel his pain. It is terrible."
In the next few blocks we came to the apartment where the guru was staying. As we climbed the stairs to his apartment, he came rushing up the stairs behind us. "I'm so sorry I'm late," he said. "I suddenly realized there was no food in the house to serve Presad with." "Water will be fine," Murshid answered. "Or, if you will allow me, I'll help you prepare the food." I watched them chat around the kitchen - cutting vegetables, and mixing sauces. Murshid gave his linage - with special emphasis on his Hindu connections. The swami said that he had met Swami Papa Ramdas, and honored both him and Mother Krishnabai. That presently he was teaching the yoga of right eating, and had a large ashram in India.
Nataraja Guru suddenly looked up from his food, and in a very strong voice he asked Murshid: "Why are you here? We need you in India. Come to India to teach. Please. I will give you half of my disciples if you do."
I was very surprised by this. But what Murshid answered shocked me even more. "Please," Murshid replied, "we need you in America. I have too much work for me here. Please stay and teach, and I will give you half of my disciples." I remember thinking - I hope he doesn't include me in the half he gives away. I mean, I wasn't even a vegetarian, although I was responsible for bringing them together.
Anyway, their offers seemed (I hoped) to be a form of politness, and Murshid asked the Guru to address our group this coming Sunday at the Garden of Inayat in Novato. I remember that a lot of us were expecting a formal address on Hinduism, or yoga, or at least vegetarianism. What we got as a 45 minute talk on the time he met Hazrat Inayat Khan in Switzerland (when he was a young student from India), and how important it had been in his life.
For a long while nothing more seemed to occur which related to this series of events, and then many years later, when I was running the Rainbow Bridge Book Store in San Francisco, I looked up to see a tall man looking through our selection of books on the Bhagavadgita. He seemed so familiar to me, and yet I couldn't put my finger on where I knew him from.
As I walked up to him the words just came out of my mouth. "Excuse me, but do you know Nataraja Guru?" The man looked me in shock. "How did you know?" He asked. "I am his successor" And then he turned and ran from my shop, and I never saw nor heard from either of them again. At least so far.
Hakin Saul
Observations of a Meeting Between Remarkable Men:
Stories from my time with Murshid S.A.M.
It was an afternoon in San Francisco in 1970. Not unlike other afternoons. Nothing inner or outer alerted me to what was about to take place. I had stopped by the Mentorgarden between my "split-shift" job as a school bus driver for handicapped and retarded children (as I usually did) just to check in with Murshid. "Are you busy tonight?" he asked in passing. "I have a meeting with my Zen Master, and I need a ride." I was overwhelmed. Murshid's Zen Master? I didn't really know he had one. At least not still alive. All his stories came back to me - involving Nogen Senzaki, Paul reps & Fra Samangalo. It felt important. I was psyched. "I'm free," I answered. "What time shall I pick you up, and where are we going?"
"Be here at 7:30," he answered. "We're going to the Avenues."
Well, at 7:15 I was ready and waiting. Murshid came out in his gray Buddhist robe. He rarely wore it, and I felt for the second time that something special was going on. As we drove to that area of San Francisco called the Avenues, Murshid was unusually silent. He fet preoccupied. He still gave me explicit directions on where and how to drive, but in-between directions his usual monologue was absent. I was now certain that something momentous was about to occur.
A little before 8 p.m. we arrived at a modest house and parked the car. "Come with me," he said, and walked with a purposeful stride into the house. Sun - Mars - Jupiter in action. I followed in anticipation.
We entered the house through a corridor of people with shaved heads in black robes - sitting very straight and staring at the walls. The energy of the space was very focused, almost unsettling. I found myself in a state of nervous reaction. I remember feeling that all this energy was pointed towards me personally. My mind spun out of control. "This feels like its initiatic energy," I thought hopefully. "I bet Murshid set this up for me." And, "Why did he get so many people here? This must be a big deal. I wonder what kind of an initiation this will be?" Fleeting visions of Mount Shasta and the Great White Brotherhood spun through my fevered mind.
I followed a very exuberant Murshid into the house. Every space in the hallways was also filled with sitting monks. He rushed towards the back of the house, moving past all the sitting monks as through they were not there. I can see that the room he is heading towards is filled with people in robes sitting in chairs and talking. A short Asian man, also robed, sees Murshid, and runs out into the hallway to greet him. Murshid was very excited. He returns the greeting, and then remembers me. "This is Saul," he says. "My factotum." "Saul this is Doctor Sao." Sao smiles at me. His energy hits me like a padded mallet. I find myself sitting on the floor of the hallway.
I quickly climb up the ladder to my feet and follow them into the room. No one seems to have noticed my loss of center. This becomes just another part of the puzzle.
We are offered chairs. I am so thankful to be sitting. I try to focus my self. I watch my breath. When I am centered enough to become aware of the room around me again, I realize that Murshid has been giving a repor, and that Doctor Sao is his living Zen Master. "I'm just back from Lama Foundation," Murshid says. "There are a wonderful group of young people there, and I led them in the Maha Mudra. It's the first time this has been done in America." Murshid is very proud of himself. I feel myself sharing in his glow.
I am finally more grounded and can focus on the other people in the room. I watch their reactions to his report, after all I had heard it all before. But then I become aware of this older couple. They have gray hair and he has a sharply pointed goatee. I could not believe my ears, they were making fun of what Murshid was reporting. And in such a loud voice. Who were these people? I found myself sitting up straighter, and felt my solar-plexus expanding. My bodyguard mentality started to take over. "Who in the hell do they think they are?" I asked myself. "Where do they think they get the right to make cutting comments to Murshid while he gives his teacher a report?" "Maybe I ought to just 'pop' him one." I thought. "That might improve his manners."
Then I notice that Murshid is smiling, and giving back as good as he was given. I relax. Once I am out of my head, I can see that they are good friends, and just playing with each other. I become embarrassed, and to this day I still feel embarrassed when I remember my reactions to my first meeting with Joe & Gwin Miller (my friends and God-Parents for over 25 years), and Doctor Sao.
Hakim Saul