Love is in the Air at LOTUS

Saturday was a dreary day but I had planned a road trip for myself and wasn't going to be thwarted. I headed south, avoiding interstates, and drove with clouds clinging to the mountains and faint rumbles of thunder threatening storms above me.

 After nearly 3 hours I arrived at Yogaville, where my destination lay, tucked behind thick woods and down at the bottom of a hill. There had been no signs to alert people of its location so I was rather surprised when I finally turned into a lane with a huge pink arch, a massive declaration of what was located here, large LOTUS letters attached to it and underneath smaller letters, The Light Of Truth Universal Shrine. This was the LOTUS Temple, which I'd discovered online, and after seeing photos, had wanted to observe firsthand. Yogaville is a spiritual community, other shrines are within it, and all of them embracing world faiths.
I was amazed when I arrived to find Stanley would be only the third car in the parking lot. In fact the owners of one of them were just leaving and I discovered the lady working in the gift store owned the other car, meaning that I had this place all to myself. I decided to leave the shrine to later and walk around the lake first. Thunder was booming across the valley and the sky darkening, I hoped to arrive back at the building before the rain fell. But it wasn't to be. As I reached the shore of the lake large droplets pummeled my head and shoulders. I rain to the gift shop for shelter, but not before I'd got a soaking. Chatting with the lady in the store I learned that major renovations were in progress. There was scaffolding and tarpaulins over one half of the domed shrine and none of the fountains were working. Work may not be completed for another year. I was disappointed but visiting without a flood of tourists was a major compensation, and I would just have to strive to take photos without the repair work in them.

The rain eased off a little, enough for me to trot through the gateway and down the long walkway to the temple without getting much wetter. Two huge black elephants stood at the entrance, ebony rivulets of rain running down their granite flanks. These represent the earth element and also knowledge and strength; they definitely looked powerful. If the reflecting pool had contained water this would help us to reflect our own lives as we walked its length. But with the renovations, the pools were empty and the waterfalls silent.

Inside the All Faiths Hall, it was quiet and dimly lit by lotus flower lights. The walls had glass cases showing different religions of the world, uniting them here in one room thus representing harmony. There was a calm ambience in this space as I walked around reading parts of scriptures and quotes from religious leaders. In the center of the room is a vault with a beautiful glass sculpture lit from within. There were 2 spiral staircases, marked up and down, so I climbed upstairs.

It was very dark inside. The photos on the website had shown an illuminated interior but I wasn't sure if I was allowed to turn on lights so I decided against it. Maybe they wanted it dark during restoration work. But once my eyes had adjusted additional lighting wasn't necessary. There were dim lights on the ceiling that cascaded down to the walls and a dramatic column of light was the central feature. I know it definitely wasn't intended but my first impression was that I was in a Star Trek episode looking at the Enterprise's warp core, and I had to smile. I wondered if this cult TV series had any influence on this impressive feature. When I later read about the temple's design on their website I saw that it represents moving energy, so very much like the Enterprise. The website explained every design aspect of this spectacular building, yet even without having read it in full before I came, I felt and understood the building as I walked around. It's an extremely well thought out structure exuding an aura of peace, calm and well being, and of unity.

I walked around the balcony and the outside of the dome, careful of where I placed my feet. Water damage was evident and I'm very glad they're restoring this unique building, so much thought has gone into its creation and it's obviously well loved. Yet even with its damaged exterior the temple is beautiful, a huge closed lotus flower on the edge of a lake with its petals folded up against the oncoming storm. The rain had stopped so I decided to chance strolling around the lake trail again.

The thunder was still grumbling and rolling around the hills, the rain undecided, occasionally throwing down a few token droplets and then changing its mind to let the blue skies dominate the afternoon. The grass was sodden and my feet were soon drenched but the air smelled fresh and fragrant. There were so many butterflies, that flittered fearlessly directly in my face or around my head. Some were swallowtails but the brown and orange ones could have been fritillaries or checkerspots, I wasn't sure. And of course the mosquitoes were biting. I'd forgotten to apply bug spray and knew I would pay dearly for being remiss. But the view from the other side of the lake was worth the bites and imminent downpour. The temple was like a beacon sitting on its hillock, the pink and blue paint of its dome a huge flower nestled in the fields.

I had nearly completed my walk and was focusing on taking some photos of the temple through the trees, the view from this angle meant the scaffolding couldn't be seen. There was a delicious aroma of conifer berries in the air and colonies of frogs were clicking down by the water's edge.  I jumped skyward when suddenly a loud crashing of branches a few feet away followed by a loud splash heralded the presence of a large animal. I stood stock still, thinking at first that it was a bear, but then realizing it was more likely to be a startled deer. I could see large ripples spreading out from the bank but couldn't see the creature, who was as motionless as me. Not wanting to prolong its fright, I slowly backed away and returned to the temple.

After chatting again to the gift store lady and buying a few keepsakes I climbed some steps to a higher temple that I'd seen up on the hill. It was small with windows all around. The sun was shining on the glass so I had to get up close to peer inside and then got my second fright of the day. Expecting the room to be empty I saw a figure up on the alter. It was so lifelike that I was rattled about having my face pressed to the glass for too long and appearing to be rudely staring at him while he was praying, but after a few seconds I realized it was an exceptionally lifelike figure of Sri Swami Satchidananda, the founder, whose motto was, "Truth is One, Paths are Many." Incidentally, as well as being a much loved and highly respected guru, who founded Yogaville and built this incredible ashram, he also opened the Woodstock Festival in 1969, by calling music, "the celestial sound that controls the whole universe." I wish I'd been able to meet him.
I then drove up even higher to a temple in the community that seemed to be reaching to heaven, it was sitting on the highest point surrounded by more than 180 degree views. I couldn't believe that once again I was the only person there.

What a beautiful place to worship and meditate. Anyone is free to use this space as long as shoes are removed before entering the prayer room. There was also a statue of the swami, a title given to Hindu monks, and someone had placed a fresh sweet william flower in his hands. My photo of this was blurry so I haven't posted it but I will be returning once the temple has been fully restored or maybe even in the winter if it snows.
As I drove away I felt a reluctance at leaving. Even though I hadn't paused in my exploring to spend a period in prayer a sense of peace had still encompassed me. I could feel the love and respect for this guru and the influence he had established in his 600 acre community. This is a place of love, trust and deep belief that all religions ultimately lead to God. I share that belief with him.
I began my drive homewards, it would take about 3 hours but I was taking the 'country route', having no interest after my few hours of peace to sit and be surrounded by fast angry cars on the interstate.

I drove along little occupied roads, loving the names on street signs, Walking Stick Lane, Silver Bullet Lane, Hash Lane, and Wagon Wheel Drive, when I found myself in a small town called Elkton. The roads were blocked for their 4th of July Parade and not finding an easy way around I pulled over and decided to watch.

There were only a couple of decorated floats but plenty of emergency vehicles flashed and blared past, along with classic cars, horses and wagons. Candy was being flung all over the place, the kids rushing with bags to collect it, and I have to admit I stuffed a few pieces in my pocket for the drive home. Everyone was really friendly and I felt quite at home as I stood chatting and waving.
Red, white and blue flags dominated the street, fluttering noisily in the pre storm breeze as distant rumbles from dark ominous clouds closed in but the rain held off for the parade, the sky finally relinquishing its load as I drove away 20 minutes later.

I couldn't believe it when a short time later I found myself trapped once again in another small town, Stanley, because they were also having their parade. Smiling I pulled over and once again took my place on the side of the road to watch it pass. This was more of a redneck occasion but just as enjoyable, with a huge monster truck bearing one of the most awesome names I've ever seen as the next local sheriff candidate, Chad Cubbage. I also witnessed for the first time ever a toilet being pulled on a wagon, but had no idea why it was taking part. As well as candy being hurled at the spectators popsicles were also being handed out; I enthusiastically snaffled one of those before walking back to the car. The storm seemed to have taken a different direction or had decided that battering one town was enough, the skies were clear here but the air was hot and heavy with humidity.
It seemed fitting that my blog entry should finish with these two LOVE signs. One had been in the little town of Elkton and the second was my last photo of the day, taken at Andy Guest State Park, just a few miles from home and a recently erected sign. Kind of serendipitous that I should discover it today.

Retreating to SRF Greenfield

On Saturday I was let down at the last minute by a friend who I had planned to spend a day of exploring with. All my camera batteries were charged and I scratched my head for a while wondering where I could go on my own. I didn't really want to go too far afield and the day was promising to be sweltering, the air already thick and heavy with humidity, the sun bearing down unmercifully, and it was only 10am. I suddenly remembered a place close to home that Margie had discovered on line the day after my housewarming party. We'd been too late in visiting it that day but I had time today so I jumped in Stanley with my small Canon and set off.
I pass this location every day when I drove to and from work, the sign by the roadside for some reason making me assume it was the grand home of an old retired military general or someone similar. I couldn't have been farther from the truth. In fact, this is SRF Greenfield, a self realization fellowship retreat, where people learn to express and encourage the good in humanity. They allow visitors when they don't have functions and today, when I checked, their schedule was clear.
I drove down the long driveway slowly, canopied by trees with a large lake down below me to the left. A guinea fowl sign was on the side of the dusty track but I couldn't see any. Yet. I parked next to a truck, not really sure if I could park here.

  I turned off the engine and stepped out. Even though I hear hear the traffic from the road I still felt a sense of silence, a quiet and peaceful serenity. The birds were singing and an occasional bee buzzed by me. Swallowtails floated back and forth, settling briefly on the prolific blooms of a nearby buddleia bush and then fluttering around in circles before landing again. Thankfully the shade from the trees protected me from the intense sun and the grass was still heavily damp from the morning dew. I looked about and saw no-one. Not wanting to interrupt anybody, I stayed away from the buildings and walked the paths, trying to step as silently as possible on the gravel and stones.

The newly blooming bee balm flowers barely moved, there was no breeze but bees and insects buzzed around them. I spotted a stink bug having a nap in a trumpet vine flower and then heard a cheeping. Four guinea fowls were sitting on the damp grass in the shade. I cheeped back but they weren't interested in me or in having a conversation. They slowly pulled themselves up, stretched their legs and strolled over to the bushes. I felt bad for having interrupted their peace and backed away leaving them to hopefully resume their quiet banter.
As I crossed over the track to another part of the gardens I saw the back of a man with a wide brimmed hat disappear into a large shed. Maybe a gardener? I would have loved to have met someone so I could ask questions. Where was I allowed to walk? Would I be disturbing a group if I went into any of the buildings? But there wasn't a soul to be seen, it was almost eerie but I also experienced a sense of wonder that I was enjoying this little haven all to myself and I kept getting the feeling that I was expected to enjoy and relish the peace without worrying that I was stepping on someone's toes. It sounds really daft but I actually felt a few times as I walked about that I was being watched, but in a good way, and that whoever was watching was wanting me to find my peace here. And strangely enough as I turned up another path, I was a lady in flowing loose clothing quickly walk behind a hedge. I didn't feel that she was avoiding me, rather that she didn't want to break the quiet serenity of my visit here. Strange, but kind of wonderful too.

 Everywhere in the gardens were quiet places, chairs and small tables placed under shady trees, offering a quiet haven for those that wished it. Small statues were dotted about and chimes tinkled occasionally. I spotted some that were hanging by macrame ropes and made a mental note to do that myself at home. Many years ago I used to make macrame plant hangers with rope and beads. I have some old metal bells as the ones above and will hang them the same way. The insects were loving this garden, so many buzzed, flitted or zoomed past my head and I even spotted a couple of ants and a ladybug drinking crystal dew drops on leaves. Giant yellow coneflowers, like golden scepters, stood erect, slowly nodding from side to side on erect stems.
I began to walk across the grass and down towards the lake and suddenly, as though I'd hit a trip wire, the fountain started, throwing a tall column of water into the air, causing ripples to gently knock against the banks. The lawn twinkled and sparkled as I ambled down the slope, the dew soaking my shoes. Thick Japanese stiltgrass and clover made the lawn as soft as a carpet, the creeping charlie emitting a lovely minty, spicy aroma as I stepped on it.

I kept in the shade as much as possible, which wasn't difficult, there were so many trees hanging low over the lake and the trails. Little paths detoured off into the foliage and I had to investigate them, often following a mowed path until I entered a small glade, always with a wooden seat or stone bench thoughtfully placed at the end. I watched a flutter of swallowtails enjoying a damp muddy patch, drinking from shallow puddles and even stood silently as a doe, in a pool of sunlight, drank from a creek that bubbled over rocks. She was aware of me and stood stock still, as did I. She wasn't sure where I was until I spoke softly then she looked at me directly. Another sip from the cool water and then she disappeared into the dark leaves.

At the far end of the lake I sat briefly on a bench under an osage orange tree, noticing that the fruit were already large. I peered through the heavy curtain of leaves to the lake and the main house up on the hill. There were so many well placed seats around the gardens that I felt I had to try each of them out, even if it was for just a couple of minutes. It still seemed strange that I was enjoying these surroundings all on my own, it really felt that people knew I was here and were purposefully keeping out of my way so I could enjoy this tranquil time on my own. The dragonflies hummed and swished back and forth over the grasses while bullfrogs croaked, sounding like strumming elastic bands. I tried to photograph them, even pointing my camera out in front of me, ready to press the shutter at the slightest movement, but they were too quick. All I ever saw were ripples on the surface after very loud plops as they disappeared in the water.
I was aware of the time and knew the retreat had something on their schedule at noon. It was after 11:30 and I didn't want to encroach on their private time. I made my way back up to the car, noticing the multitude of bees collecting pollen from the clover. From the abundant insect life here it was apparent that no chemicals were used on the garden, a paradise for pollinators.
I got back in my car and drove very slowly back down the dusty trail and there on the lawn, which I'd walked over just a moment or two ago, were a group of people, bent over and potting some flowers into terracotta pots. Had they waited until I'd finished my quiet time before coming out? They didn't make eye contact as I passed and I was reluctant to call out, but I left SRF Greenfield after having experienced what the retreat had promised, a sense of attunement.

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