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The Presence By Anonymous It was about 18 years ago, after some 44 years of latihan, that I first experienced a hitherto unsuspected level of spiritual being, which I took to calling The Presence. Back then, I could only sustain this state for a few minutes, and even that was rather scary. Eventually, however, I was told that it would become normal. Sure enough, over the last few weeks, The Presence has begun to take over my life in what might be described as an inexorable way, often for several hours at a time. I experienced just such an intense 'takeover' by The Presence yesterday, which lasted for the whole day. The entire being, including the inner voice, is immobilised at such a time. It feels somewhat daunting when it first begins to make itself felt (as one might imagine does the approach of death), but with acceptance soon evolves into a 'new normal' - a condition of both emptiness and Fullness. One can almost think of it as being inwardly at Home. - - - - - God's Will, not My Will By Anonymous When my father had a massive heart attack and died in a Jakarta hospital emergency room, I was standing next to his bed while the doctors were resuscitating him. Hartati Horthy was with me, and we stood there in the ER, in a hugging embrace, praying. In my panic and desperation, I prayed for my father to live. As I was praying, a very strong firm voice said inside me: "NO, you cannot pray for that! You can only pray for God's Will for your father, not your own will." I was astounded - even in that desperate panic situation, I was still being trained about the right way to pray. My prayer changed to one of surrender and acceptance of whatever was God's will regarding my father's life. My father survived and continued his blessed life for another twenty years. I will never forget that important lesson. - - - - - Yogananda and Me By Arjunada Vitos Many years ago I read Yogananda's book Autobiography of a Yogi. I was greatly drawn to this very pure and wonderful being who has helped so many thousands of people. He later appeared to me in person and asked me to study the Bagavad Gita, reminding me that I had two copies but hadn't read yet it. Years later he appeared to me again and said that my name should be Arjunada. I have always felt close to Sufis and I spoke to the Engish representative of the Sufi Order, who advised me to follow this guidance. So I changed my name, but still did not start reading the Bagavad Gita. Only now, so many years later and wishing to keep my promise to Yogananda, am I beginning to read it. It's a wonderful book, and I am very much enjoying reading it. Also, it does not conflict with anything else in my life. How very strange life can be! Years ago, around the age of 40, a lovely large family of Hindus came to me for hand analysis, which I had studied for years before I started practising. This family gave me a beautiful copy of the Gita, and I hope I can finish reading it and keep my promise to Yogananda before I leave this beautiful but troubled planet. - - - - - A Montreal Memory By Renata Robb In August 1991, I left Los Angeles to visit my mother in Montreal and, as usual, went to the Subud Hall for latihan and to visit old friends. After the latihan, I greeted friends and one of them, Renée Grad, introduced me to some of the newer members and we sat around and chatted for a while. In 1991 Subud Montreal had bought its own beautiful building in the middle of town, but at the time I was opened in 1962 the group did the latihan in a building downtown above a prospering tavern. We reminisced about the early days. I told the ladies I had for the first time come to Subud as a probationer on a Sunday morning. Renée Grad was the only helper available to talk to me. However, she had to look after her children, both under four years old while her husband did latihan. She had asked me earlier, on the telephone, if I minded driving around with the kids in the back seat while she told me about Subud. I didn’t. We drove around Montreal, often called the city of churches. Church bells clanged melodiously as they have ever since I can remember - and still do - on a Sunday morning. Renée’s boys, in turn, bounced on the back seat chanting “I’m the king of the castle!” One would knock the other down, the victor would pick up the bounce and the chant. And Renée, quietly, in the midst of all that clamour, spoke to me about the latihan. I was opened three months later. Renée’s boys are grown. They are both doctors; their dad is a biochemist. Renée laughed when I told the story. She hadn’t remembered. I wasn’t likely to forget! - - - - - Is Subud Strange? By Anonymous Last week, I attended a memorial service for a Subud member. A lot of Subud members attended, and it was a lovely celebration. During the ceremony, somebody mentioned, almost apologetically, that he or she had met the deceased at that weird or strange Subud – not sure of the wording but the meaning was clear. That Subud is described as weird, or strange, has never failed to rile me. I don’t remember who it was, so I can’t address that person directly but, if I could, I would say: “You think Subud is strange? Explain Christianity to me!” I would love to hear how normal it was for Mary to be impregnated by God, for Angels to bring “glad tidings” to shepherds – I picture them, winged and haloed, floating in the skies above the shepherds. . . Jesus walking upon water, rousing the dead, Moses parting the Red Sea - this is all accepted as fact, and not strange at all, by those of the Christian faith. Why not? We learn of it at a very early age, from people we trust, pastors and our parents. We read it in the Bible which is regarded as holy and, by many, literally factual. Following these accepted feats, how weird is Subud? Bapak did give us his explanation of Mary’s immaculate conception, but that is not a concept believed by present day Christians who insist on interpreting the Bible in today’s terms rather than in the language and customs of Jesus’s time. That the immaculate conception means Jesus was conceived without passion, without lust, is not well understood these days because, as someone once said to me: “What’s wrong with passion?” Obviously that person has a different view of some passions than I do; I don’t look at anger and lust as a good thing, especially in terms of a person’s state when conceiving a child. In today’s terms, I guess, it’s natural. But how much more likely is it for Mary to have been impregnated by God than for people being opened in Subud to receive the contact with the life force? Sufi dances are known to bring the dancers to a state of meditation; this is widely accepted. So being moved by the life force in the latihan, by that vibration, may not be seen as strange unless the person describing it thinks it is. The latihan is the most natural thing in the world; everybody who has seen a small child playing alone - talking to him or herself, dancing, jumping, making strange sounds and laughing – has seen the latihan. I don’t have any problem talking about Subud but, if I did, I would tell them to read about Subud in Wikipedia. That’s an excellent definition. Oh, and the word “strange” or “weird” is not found in that definition. - - - - - A Roll of Thunder An extract from Moments of Truth by Rachman Mitchell While Bapak was alive, he frequently reminded us to read Susila Budhi Dharma. Even though the original was a poem received in High Javanese and accompanied by beautiful melodies in the classical Javanese style, the meaning still came through in the Bahasa Indonesia that Bapak himself translated into and conversed in most of the time. And of course great care was taken to get the English translation right. It seemed that he wished us to have an understanding of the process of development that the latihan was carrying us through. “Don’t be satisfied with just making movements and uttering sounds, but go deeper and become aware of their origin and their purpose.” In a moment of apparent resignation later he said in the mid 80s, “ If you forget everything I have told you, just continue your latihan and you will find the truth for your self” It is clear however that he did not give talks for fun, or just to be close to us But to explain over and over again the meaning, the benefit and the process of the latihan. He hoped that we helpers would understand also and assist him in the spread of the latihan to ALL Mankind. I was in the Wisma Subud latihan hall one Sunday when Bapak was giving a talk when again he advised us all to read SBD. A question arose from a young Indonesian member.” You have written about the four lower worlds of forces; why have you not written about the three worlds above those?” At that moment there was the sound of something like a roll of thunder and we were all shaking. It was Bapak being angry and shouting saying, “Stand up, you there! If you are not aware of the working and the influence of these lower forces on you, you will never ascend or become aware of these higher worlds of forces” So why did Bapak give these talks and why did he advise us to read or listen to them? Indeed how should we read and listen to them? Sometimes when I am reading or listening I say to myself, “I ought to already understand this for myself but I don’t,“ and I feel so grateful for the guidance he is giving to my understanding that wants to appear to know what is really doesn’t. So I pass on to my next story - - - - - Covid, Ancestors and Prayer By Anonymous March 2020 (In the early days of Covid) For the past three days I had a headache that affected my whole body and put me in a state of continuous and spontaneous latihan. My body was vibrating in strong latihan, and yet I was not physically moving or making any intention to receive a latihan. The vibration in my body made me so dizzy that I had to lie down and not move too much. My body, emotions and mind were incapacitated for three days, and I felt that I was somewhere else and not in my body, which is also why I could only lie down and be quiet. On the third evening, I joined the Group latihan from home, (the Hall was closed due to Covid lockdown) and my body was still vibrating, but this time I felt that my soul had returned to my body, and I was more aware and connected to what was happening to me. In that Latihan, I experienced every cell in my body vibrating, and I was shown how all the cells in my body were related to all my ancestors - reaching all the way back to Adam. The Latihan continued to expand within me, and I experienced how every cell in my body was also connected to every human being that was alive today and every human who had ever lived. I experienced the whole world in my body, every cell vibrating, praying, and asking God's forgiveness at this time in the world. The strange thing is that my heart and mind are not really concerned about the virus. The experience of being incapacitated for three days and praying for God's forgiveness and mercy for humankind, was not coming from my emotions or thinking, but it felt as if my body and soul was instructed to do this. After the latihan, I felt normal again, as if my soul had returned from wherever it had been. These past few days could be described in Subud terms as a 'crisis' - where the latihan was not able to be switched off and I was only able to surrender and not able to use my feelings or my mind. I felt as if my body, mind and emotions had been temporarily 'disabled' so that my soul was free to surrender and pray on a deeper level. - - - - - |
Beyond The Mind
By Anonymous When I read the piece about The Presence in the last edition of Reminders of Reality, describing the experience of a "a condition of both emptiness and Fullness. One can almost think of it as being inwardly at Home," I was reminded of Bapak's words about the Latihan of Subud being "beyond the mind''. I remembered my own experiences in the latihan of enormous expanses of emptiness and fullness at the same time - experiences that are almost impossible to articulate. How can emptiness be "Full"? Bapak describes our minds as a tool that has been given to us to survive in this world; a tool that is limited to this world, and cannot understand or fathom anything beyond this world. However, our eternal soul has an existence and knowledge that can go "beyond the mind", beyond this world. When the active mind and emotions are quiet, there is an "emptiness" of our earthly experience, and yet at that moment of surrender, we may be blessed with the experience of being present in the Presence of God; a door which opens to the whole universe that vibrates with the Fullness of God. Ibu Rahayu explains that when we surrender, and are empty, there is only God's creature and God's power (Code No. 07 SUB 1) "You do not surrender by saying some words. When, in your worship, you feel empty and you have no sense of ‘I’, that is the state of surrender God wants you to be in – that is the state Bapak was talking about in his talk. When we face God in that state, we are no longer individuals. Why? Because we are empty, we have no self-interest. We surrender to God, free of self-interest – that is what is meant by surrender. You cannot achieve that state with words, you have to feel it. And only you know when you are in that state. When you surrender, you cease to be, you are empty. You can say you are zero; there is only God’s creature and God’s power. In that state you can receive a clean contact and you will have a latihan which will be free of the influences of your heart and mind.” *
The Shipwreck By Anonymous After I was opened in my twenties, I had an accident which left me in a condition that required a sit-down job and because I enjoy talking to people, I chose taxi driving. This was ideal for me for 18 years. Eventually I moved on to a career job, but after that experience as a 'Cabbie' I saw what a good way it was to learn about humankind. Every person is surviving the best way they know how. One night, a young man climbed into the taxi and asked to be taken to a certain hotel. As we headed there I was thinking about the fact that as it was 1.30 am, the hotel would be closed. Then just before the hotel, he said "Drop me here. I'll be OK." Oh dear, we were at a well-known suicide jumping point where over the years many people had thrown themselves onto the rocks and sea below. I said, "I'd much rather take you for a coffee and listen to your story." He burst into tears and said, "How did you know?" We drove to an all-night place and over a coffee he calmed down and told me all. Then I drove him home. When asked about that particular place, Bapak said a ship had foundered on those rocks and sunk and that the dead were still there beckoning those who go to the cliff above to jump in and join them. A little history of that place: In 1857 at night, a fierce storm drove a clipper ship onto those rocks and fifty metre high cliffs. 121 men, women and children perished. One crewman survived. A day of public mourning was declared for the passengers and crew. Thecity closed down for their funeral ceremony and the streets lined with mourners while all flags flew at half -mast across the city and harbour. Due to sharks attacking rescuers, only twenty two bodies could be recovered and most were interred in a single large tomb in the graveyard of a small church. The appalling nature of the disaster and extreme loss of life are remembered in an annual memorial service at the victim's grave. It is recorded that there was such an outpouring of public emotion that crowds made their way to the cliffs above the wreck and witnessed the ship's final destruction by the waves. No wonder the place is described as having 'a melancholy atmosphere'. The first recorded suicide was six years after that shipwreck. Why are these spirits so unrested and why beckon others to join them? Is it because they've had an unfortunate death, don't know where to go and died believing that death is the end rather than a beginning? I suspect so. - - - - - An Unfolding By Renata Robb Keeping in mind that I was born gullible and so had the innate gift of “believing”, - there’s a positive side to every negative aspect - I always believed implicitly in the latihan and in the fact that if I did the latihan I would develop as completely as I was able as a human being. Wherever the notion came from, that’s what I wanted and what I believed was happening. I never looked for magic or proof, but I have never failed to see both, although what I consider magic may be nature or commonplace to some. In the 60s, I lived in Berkeley, California, with my husband. We were both helpers. One night, I had a terrible headache, so bad that two codeine tablets - double the dose which the doctor had recommended - could not even begin to relieve the pain. My husband, deeply concerned, called the women helpers. On the stroke of midnight, the women began the latihan, each in their own homes. I tried to stand but was only able to lie on the couch in my living room. The latihan was strong. The pain was stronger, at first. Then suddenly, pictures began rolling through my mind’s eye: - I was looking at a reel of film winding onto another reel directly below it in front of a light between the two reels, as though I was the screen receiving the pictures - very fast. If I tried to stop the pictures, my head ached unbearably; if I allowed them to roll it only hurt a little. They rolled. It seemed to go on forever and suddenly the reel stopped turning and stopped at one picture. It was a dress for a baby in apple green, lined - or was it? In mid air, the dress slowly turned and I saw that it was reversible with snap fasteners at the shoulders and sides. The dress separated into two identical flat pieces for easy washing and storing. The picture faded and the latihan was over. My head ached a little for two more days. I came home from the next helpers latihan feeling wonderful and cut out the dress that night, using a baby nightgown pattern for size. I sewed and finished it and gave it to Lorna Apgar for her little girl, Rachelle. Lorna called me a week later to tell me that it was the most practical baby dress she had ever seen. The baby was comfortable in it. When the dress got dirty, she reversed it and the baby was clean again. When it was dirty on both sides she tossed it in the washer and laid it flat in the sun to dry. She was delighted; so was I. I must not neglect to say that my family in Canada is deeply involved in the clothing business. At the time I was born and while I was growing up, my grandmother owned a yard goods store in a small town. She stayed up many nights sewing clothes for a family of 16 children; boy’s pants, girl’s dresses, coats. One of my uncles was a designer and pattern maker and another was a master tailor; they worked in a factory but they also worked at home, moonlighting. They, and my mother and my aunts all worked at the same clothing factory. In fact, another uncle was the company shipper and my grandfather was the night watchman, and even they could sew! I could use a sewing machine and knew how clothing was constructed - how could I avoid it! - but I didn’t have to, so I sewed rather ineptly, until I moved away from my family. I add this to point out that my receiving was appropriate to me - to my understanding. I felt that the headache was caused by a creative block, a block which was removed that night in the latihan, thus allowing me to carrying on a family habit, if not a tradition. Enter Ibu Sumari Bapak and Ibu were coming to visit. I wanted so much to give something I had made to Ibu. Perhaps I wanted to give her a part of myself. The baby dress whose pattern I had received in the latihan and which I subsequently made had proved to be popular. Using the same concept received in the design of the dress, I had added a bonnet, making a set. The sets were being sold at a small shop in downtown Mill Valley, in California. The week before the visit, I gathered up all the dress and bonnet sets I had at home and got some from the shop. When Ibu arrived, I went to the fine big house in San Francisco where Bapak and his party were staying to give her the baby clothes for her grandchildren. Ibu was ill. I instructed Insijah Lancaster, who was in charge of Ibu’s appointments with the members, just to give them to her but she stubbornly insisted Ibu would want to see me. On my third try - I was getting tired of walking up to the third floor - Insijah was willing to concede that I should leave the sets and I put them down on a table. As I laid them on the table and turned to leave, the door opened and Ibu walked in. Her eyes lit up when Insijah explained about the baby clothes. She sat on a couch and looked at them and then up at me. “What is your name?” she asked. “Renata,” I answered. She never asked me again and she never forgot it. “There is a Renata in England who makes pretty things with her hands,” and Ibu closed one eye at me in a roguish wink. Ibu thanked me and I left. I was still walking down the stairs, between the second and first floor, when I heard my name called. Ibu wanted to see me. Ibu sat by while Aminah, Prio’s wife, explained that Ibu wanted me to make her a kebaya (Indonesian type blouse) using an old kebaya as a pattern. I was flattered and horrified at the same time. Although my family was in the clothing business and I had, since coming to California, made clothing from commercial patterns, inexpertly, to say the least, nothing I made fit me, but I kept trying. I had never taken a pattern from a piece of clothing. But I agreed to do this. The kebaya I was to use as a pattern was a deep pink with white polka-dots. There was almost an entire bolt of the fabric I was to use, a wishy-washy pale blue background with small pink flowers and white cotton plants on a grey stem. Ugh! But the fabric itself was a close weave and satiny, a fine Pima cotton. I brought my portable sewing machine to the house and settled into the ”garden” room. I was surrounded with thick green healthy foliage gleaming in the sunlight. There was a constant gurgle of running water from a nearby fountain, hidden in the shrubbery, and the light coming in through the skylight was superb to work by. I don’t know how long it took me to take apart the old kebaya without tearing it, removing the threads, and ironing the pieces - after figuring out how they went together. The classic (now old-fashioned) kebayas are not simple blouses with fronts, backs, collars and sleeves. The front of the kebaya includes the back yoke which also incorporates the collar - all of which meet in the center of the back. The two fronts meet but do not button; instead, two narrow panels which reach from the waist to the top of the bust are inserted into the front panels. These snap together in front of the body and the sides of the front pieces open like lapels, revealing the skirt below the narrow panels and a lovely neck above the bosom. I placed the pieces on the new fabric, ready to cut. Thinking, remembering what I had observed as a child, I felt like a magician pulling brightly colored scarves out of a tube. I remembered that the threads in the new fabric had to go in the same direction as the ones in the pattern and that pieces should not be cut so that the pattern is upside down. I remembered to cut along curves so theywould lie flat. My sewing machine made a pleasant tick tick tick in that room instead of the roar it assumed at home, perhaps because the room was much larger - or perhaps it was because the garment I was sewing was for Ibu. It took me three days to finish my task and to carefully sew the kebaya I used as a pattern back together correctly. During all this time, Ibu kept sending ladies down to ask if I was finished yet. This began on the second morning. On the third morning, Ibu sent word that it would be nice if she could wear the kebaya to latihan that night. By that time, I was in a constant state of panic. On the afternoon of the third day, I ran both kebayas down to Lusijah Chung so that she could wash and iron them. I told her Ibu wanted to wear the new one to latihan. My part was done. I breathed a sigh of relief, bundled up my belongings and went home to Berkeley to get ready for the evening’s latihan. At latihan that night, sitting quietly, I watched Ibu come in. She walked slowly by me and I noted she was wearing a silver lamé kebaya. It sparkled in the dim light. Ibu never looked more beautiful to me. I could not be disappointed that she was not wearing the kebaya I had made. I thought perhaps it didn’t quite fit, and in my mind I was making plans to measure it against the other kebaya, although I had already done that several times. Next morning, I went to get the kebaya. “Honey,” Mardiwati Nicolosi laughed, “Ibu wore it last night. Didn’t you see her?” I didn’t believe her until she invited me to look at Ibu’s closet and informed me, still laughing, that Ibu wore nothing but cotton and certainly not lamé! That night, Bapak gave another talk. This talk was about Fatima. Apparently when she, a purified woman, wore an article of clothing or wore a jewel in her navel, she brought it to life and it sparkled and shone. And so it was, women who were purified brought to life all material things they wore. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I was in awe. I had been a part of and witnessed something I had never imagined possible. The next morning, Ibu called for me again. Ibu smiled happily at me when I came in. Aminah smiled too; she was holding in her hands the same polka-dot kebaya and the bolt of fabric. My heart sank. I knew what she was going to ask. Another kebaya! Resigned, but deeply grateful to have pleased, I held out my arms to accept my task. - - - - - |