Filming a YouTube video about Inner Awakening in Thailand

Filming a YouTube video about Inner Awakening in Thailand

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Silence speaks the depth of still waters- where manifestation requires no action. The story of my favourite abstract painting.


Silence Speaks the Depth of Still Waters, Where Manifestation Requires No Action

The above image of my all time favourite watercolour painting is reproduced in high resolution here as my gift to you. Feel free to copy it, paste it, print it, keep it for yourself or share it... Though I painted it back in 2009, I still get a little bubble of excitement whenever I see it, because for me this abstract piece is more than just a picture; it's a manifestation of the times of change that swept me on a journey into the greatest blessings of my life. This blog post tells the story:

Four years before painting this piece, I moved to Vancouver to attend the Emily Carr University of Art and Design. At the time of my move, something felt a little off, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why. Of course, I loved art, and I instantly fell in love with the city of Vancouver, with it's futuristic cityscape juxtaposed against a backdrop of mountains and sea... To the outside observer, it may have appeared that I had achieved my dream: I was accepted into what was then Canada's most prestigious and exclusive art school, I lived in the city of my dreams, and by luck, I had managed to score a private but affordable apartment of my own in a beautiful neighbourhood. Inside, though, I was feeling like my life was pulling me along in the wrong direction; something big was missing, and I didn't know what it was or where to find it.

During my first week of school, I went to see a Tarot card reader, whose shop was on my daily route. Something compelled me to go in and see what she might have to say. Her name was Elspeth, and she was an elderly British lady who spoke with a lilting accent, dressed in a style reminiscent of Mrs. Trelawney in the Harry Potter series. Her fee was pretty high, but I didn't let that deter me. Since I was on a student budget, I opted for a 15 minute reading, and in that quarter of an hour, Elspeth revealed for me what felt like a treasure trove of information. Though she had no logical way of knowing anything about me, she blew my mind the moment she started to describe my cards, saying, "I can see by this combination that you believe you've come here to attend art school, but you've actually come to Vancouver to discover your spiritual path." She went on to tell me that I had the same gift she has. When I asked if that was something she told everyone, she replied, "No, it's something I've never before told anyone. And I can see very clearly, in five years time, you'll be doing the same work that I do now."

Her words haunted me in the best possible way over the next few years; I wondered how it would come to pass that I would be doing the same kind of work she did, when nobody, other than her, knew that I read Tarot cards. I didn't consider myself capable of giving other people advice, because my own life was a mess. (Yes, this may come as a surprise to you, if you're one of my YouTube viewers, or if you've seen me on stage introducing Swamiji on the first day of the Inner Awakening program, but surely, there was a time- and not too long ago- when I felt like my life was doomed!)

What was going wrong with me? Now, looking back, I can see exactly where I was off course. Everything about my life that felt like a trap was a cage of my own making; a manifestation of my own inner space of victim mentality. About a year into my studies at Emily Carr, my then boyfriend came to join me in Vancouver. He and I had dated in my home town from the time I was seventeen, and maintained a long distance relationship when I moved. This might have been a good thing in some people's lives, but in mine, it was horrific. He was not a good guy. I'm sure he was depressed, possibly suffering with some undiagnosed psychological disorder. I later came to know he was hiding a severe addiction to cocaine, which explained his erratic, passive aggressive, manic depressive behaviour. He would yell some days, mope around others; he would criticize me, call me names, tell me I was useless, pick fist fights with strangers, tell me that I was useless but that I wouldn't survive without him, which I sadly believed. Of course, I wasn't just a victim in all this; when he yelled at me, I yelled back; when he picked me apart, naming all the qualifies he hated about me most, I'd do the same to him.

Okay, I didn't set out to make this blog into a downer, so let's flash forward again, to the events of 2009. One night, this guy went out with his friends. I was sitting alone in our tiny mess of an apartment, feeling a combination of gratitude to have the place to myself for once, and dread that at some point, maybe that night, maybe the next morning, he would come back. If you've ever been in a toxic relationship, you know exactly what I mean. To shake this feeling, I did something I rarely did: I went for a long walk to watch the sunset. Somehow, something inside me shifted... I looked up into the sky and saw a beautiful sight: as if painted against the backdrop of yellow daytime haze blending into the blue of coming twilight, a cloud stretched it's wings in a huge, beyond realistic form of a flying eagle. It was the most awe inspiring sight I had ever seen! It was like Existence Itself was giving me a message, telling me that everything would be alright, that freedom was possible.

That vision in the sky gave me more hope than I had had in a long time! As I gazed up at the eagle even my then agnostic mind had decided God must have painted just for me, I said an inward prayer:

"Whoever You are, thank You for this sign! Please, let me have freedom! Give me the strength to break free! Give me whatever I need to end this horrible period of my life! Let me become who I'm supposed to be!"

Once the eagle had flown away as wisps and swirls of greyscale, and the yellow and blues of the sky had darkened to the deep indigo of night, I walked back home. Curious about the sign I had seen, I turned on the computer, ready to do a Google search for the key words "eagle, cloud, message, freedom."

When the computer screen came alight, though, something miraculous happened: the guy had left his Facebook inbox open, and there, without snooping or searching for anything, I discovered pages of conversations he was having with girls he was trying to pick up, some of which went into elaborate detail about their kissing and fooling around; other chats were obviously with girls with whom he was clearly trying to score. Amazingly, these didn't make me feel sad or angry; I felt intensely relieved. Thanks to the Gods! It was exactly what I needed, and what I had prayed for: a fool proof reason to leave him, which nobody could argue with, not even him. It was my ticket to freedom.

I called his number, almost giddy, and chirped into the phone, "Don't come home tonight. Have fun with your friends. It's over between us; thanks for leaving your Facebook inbox open." 

On the other end of the phone was total silence, then the words, "oh, fuck," and then an attempted explanation and apology. Even that didn't bother me. 

I said, "No need to apologize. We're wrong for each other. I'm letting you go; you let me go. Do whatever you want, just don't come home tonight."

I then called one of his guy friends, told him what had happened, and asked him to babysit for me that night, which he very kindly agreed to do. He told me not to worry; that he didn't know about the cheating, but that he had thought for a long time that I was being mistreated and could do better. He wished me luck, and apologized for not speaking up sooner about the cruelty he had witnessed. I thanked him, and wished him luck in life, as well. (Now, looking back, it's pretty telling that the friends of the guy I left had sided with me, not him...)

After making these calls, I turned off the computer. I didn't need to search for the word "eagles" or "cloud meanings" or anything else; I knew for a fact that what I had seen in the sky was truly a harbinger of my freedom, and without knowing how I knew it, I knew exactly what I had to do. I turned off my cell phone, locked the door and pushed against it and under the knob and sat down on the bed. I closed my eyes, put my hands on my knees, and prayed. 

"Goddess," I inwardly said, "Diving Mother, You have revealed Yourself to me in visions and dreams. You have shown me possibilities for myself that I could never have imagined. You have shown me what it is to be One with You. I want to offer You this body, this life. Take it. I don't deserve to live here; I have done nothing good for the world. You could do so much if You were alive and in form. Take my body; take my life; whatever is mine is Yours."

All night I sat there, desperately trying to invoke the Goddess whom I had first seen at the age of 13, when She appeared to me as Kali, and whom I experienced in dreams off and on forever more, but who remained elusive that night as I called out to Her. The next morning, as I showered and prepared for my day at work, I realized something: my body and my life were not worthy offerings for Her! Why would the Divine Mother want a body that was out of shape? Why would she want to take over a life that was falling apart? It was my aha moment; I knew I had to make myself a worthy instrument for her. I skipped my usual breakfast of sugary cereal with sweetened soy milk, and decided not to take the bus to work; instead, I walked, and on the way, picked up some fresh fruit and raw nuts. If I was offering my body to the Goddess, I had to make it healthy for Her, first.

When I got to work, I joyfully told my co-workers the good news. "I dumped him! He's cheating on me!"

They tried to comfort me, and were a bit perplexed when I told them that I didn't need to be comforted- that I had prayed to get out of that relationship, and felt relieved to discover his infidelity. I told them there was only one thing I needed help with: finding a new apartment. When none of them had any leads, I remembered the eagle in the sky, and once again spoke to that same Power, simply asking to let me find whatever I needed to find in order to move out. Within minutes of that silent prayer, my phone rang. It was a friend who had met the guys the night before; she told me she had heard my news, and congratulated me! (That was the reaction I was looking for!) Then, in a beautiful turn of events, she told me she had just broken up with her boyfriend, too, and had a spare room in her condo that she was ready to rent out. It was half of what I had been paying before, and much more beautiful. I jumped at the chance!

This was in June of 2009, and on the first day of July, I moved in to the new place.

Just as I thought everything was going perfectly... everything got even better! One evening, my mom called with some interesting news; she had met an Indian lady in the mountain town of Waterton Lakes National Park. The lady gave her a quick little note and a crystal, telling her to wait until the time was right to give it to me. (That note, my friends, will have to wait for my next blog post...) She then told my mother to tell me something very specific: she told me to meet with a Tarot card reader on Granville Island. When this was revealed, I asked my mother if she had told this lady from India that I lived in Vancouver, and worked on Granville Island. As surprised as I was, my mom said no- she hadn't told her anything about me at all.

The next day, while I was at work in a mystical shop called Dragonspace, on Granville Island, I glanced outside just in time to see a woman standing in the doorway, affixing a flyer to our community bulletin board. I recognized her immediately as Denise, the owner of a small studio called The Tarot Room. I rushed out the door without so much as a nod to my co-workers, and excitedly asked her, "Do you know an Indian lady who works in Waterton?"

She looked at me with wide eyes, and said, "No... but I've seen you in my dreams every night for the past week! Do you read Tarot cards?" 

I said, "Yes! Yes, I do."

"Great," she replied. "You're hired. You can come to The Tarot Room during your next break to pick up the key and we can work out your schedule."

I asked her if she was serious, and she explained that she was hoping to cut her hours back to four days a week, and needed someone to sit in her place for the other three. Just like that, without an interview, or a reference check, or a test of any kind, she gave me a key to her store, and told me to charge the same price she did.

"Don't tell anybody you're new," she advised me. "I know who you are, and you're worth every penny." Since I was building up my clientele from scratch, she gave me an amazing gift: she charged me rent for the shop only on days when I did more than break even. (Which happily turned out to be every day.)

For about a week, I was in total awe and wonder. I loved my life and woke up excited every morning, like a little kid. I loved my bedroom in my friend's condo; I loved my jobs; I loved being single and free! Even more, I knew there was some higher power taking care of me, and trusted that some day, somehow, I would know who that higher power was. 

One fine morning, though the distance was far, I decided to walk to work. My walk just happened to take me past an art supply shop. Since taking on shifts at The Tarot Room, and getting lucky with $300 a month rent, (yes... that was a miracle,) I actually had some money to spend, so I treated myself to fancy watercolour paints, brushes and paper. That day, between clients at the Tarot Room, I contemplated the miracles that happen in life when we finally just ask Existence for help, and painted this abstract painting. I didn't think about what I was putting down on the paper; I didn't specifically add any symbols or representational elements; I just let my joy come through as lines and shapes and colours. I worked on this a little bit every day, and once it was finished, I quickly signed it, dated it, (July - August meaning that it spanned the end of July into the first few days of August,) and scribbled, in lieu of a title, the first words that popped into my head:




Silence Speaks the depth of still waters - where manifestation requires no action. 

Amidst all the miracles that were happening in my life on a daily basis, this painting emerged. Every day, people came to me with questions, and somehow, without knowing the source of the answers, words would flow through me, sparked by randomly drawn cards, that genuinely helped them and guided them. Every day, I skipped to work feeling inspired, then danced back home again, feeling grateful that Existence had blessed me with this gift of intuition. Magic was happening. For example, every time I drew a card from one particular deck, the same card came up: it featured a picture of an Indian man with a turban, and was captioned, "Babaji," with an accompanying message of Yoga. (More on that in my next blog post!)

This painting is an expression of the happiness I felt when I experienced all of this; I loved it so much that I made it into mini prints and gave them to all my clients. It's the culmination of what I wanted when I moved to Vancouver: it's the fine art I thought I had moved there for when I was attending Emily Carr, and was created while doing what a mystic named Elspeth (who, unbeknownst to me at the time, passed away the same week I started reading at The Tarot Room) had told me I would do. It says more than I can say in all the words of this blog; it's the beginning of my spiritual transformation laid down on paper.

As I mentioned, I'll tell more of my story in my next blog... but until then, a little more about this abstract art:

Looking back, after my travels in India and studying about Hinduism, I can see things in this painting that I didn't see at the time it was painted. For example, in the upper right hand corner, I now see something that looks like thee end of a veena, which is the string instrument played by Maa Saraswathi, the aspect of the Divine Mother who blesses us with Art, Music, Wisdom and Creativity.


Since my transformation had started with surrender to the Goddess, I can't help but feel that this symbol popping up in the first painting I made to celebrate my life came as a little gift from Her, letting me know that She is with me, blessing me, guiding me, and accepting my surrender.

I also see tapering green dots reaching up from something like a plant, meeting a series of descending red dots that seem to come from the abstracted end of a veena; the two lines of dots meet in a golden spiral. In the iconography of Vedic art, spirals represent divine energy and the rays of Surya, the god of the sun. Even when I painted this, I felt like those dots meeting from above and below can symbolize an answered prayer; that when we stretch ourselves upwards, Existence will reach down and bless us. (This was later confirmed for me when, in 2010, at a program called Inner Awakening, my Guru revealed to us, "When you take one step in the direction of enlightenment, the whole Existence rushes to fulfill you!")

Besides these, the colours are happy, bright, deliberately chosen to bring some flowery sunshine energy to whoever sees them. 

And as for the title... what do I now think of these spontaneous words that popped into my mind the moment I finished the painting? They mean more to me now than they did then: 

Nithyananda teaches us that manifestation is easy; we are not our past failures, or a collection of mistakes, beliefs or socially imposed labels. We are whatever we intend to be! What we believe we are, that is what we will become. Before June of 2009, I didn't have an intention to be; I felt trapped in a horrible relationship and didn't see any way out. Then on that fateful evening, an eagle of a new dawn (that I can't help but now equate with Garuda, the vehicle of Sri Vishnu,) gave me new hope. I chose a new context for my life, and instead of trying to figure out how to make what I wanted into a reality, I surrendered. I gave up on my limitations and my long held beliefs about myself. I didn't "want" to get in shape; I started to exercise, do yoga and eat better, and just made it happen. I didn't "want" a new job; I decided to be the best self I could be and the best possible job literally just happened for me. I didn't "decide" to take up art again; one sunny day on my way to work, I just spontaneously popped into an art supply shop, bought the materials, and started painting again.

The phrase "Silence Speaks the depth of still waters" is my ode to the saying that still waters run deep; that people whose inner spaces are centred on love and light can't be easily shaken or angered. It's an ode, from someone who then spoke for a living, talking to clients all day, to wordlessness; the non-verbal inner space we experience when lost in the right brain mode know to athletes as "the zone" and artists as the flow of creativity.

"Where manifestation requires no action" doesn't mean that we shouldn't get off our butts and do something; it doesn't mean we'll become experts without studying or that we'll have what we want without taking responsibility to get it. It means, when we shift our inner space, when we choose to be positive instead of negative, whatever we need to take ourselves to the next level will simply become available for us. We'll get the empowerment we need through that my Guru calls Will Persistence, which is always rewarded with sacred synchronicity. We'll attract more and more of what we are. What we believe, that is what we will become. Manifestation requires not action but intention; it's about the space we carry and our choice to be what we want to be.

If you're feeling stuck in life, I hope this inspires you to trust; get outside and enjoy the sunset; pray; meditate; know that you're more than the sum total of whatever has happened in your life so far. As my beloved Guru, about whom I'll share more in upcoming blogs, always tells: You are your intention to be! 

Nithyanandam <3

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Can doodling and colouring be a gateway to creative expansion and increased intelligence?

Can doodling and colouring be a gateway to creative expansion and increased intelligence? Short answer: yes.

Long answer: there's a delicate balance that predicates the functioning of the human mind.

Modern medicine has made many breakthroughs in the field of neuroscience, which is the study of the workings of the human brain. While the wealth of knowledge gathered about the brain is too vast and extensive for a mere blog to do it justice, I'd like to mention one main point that should be understood by anyone who has a curiosity about the value of doodling, colouring and other forms of art in life: the brain has two main hemispheres, which are called the right brain and the left brain. The right brain is responsible for our creative thinking, which includes visualization, problem solving, spontaneity and observation. The left brain is responsible for our formulaic thinking, which includes language, memorization, following instructions and internalizing rules.

For example, in baking, following a recipe is left brained; throwing ingredients together based on personal taste is right brained. Teachers who read out of a textbook then ask standard questions about the material covered are using the left brain to convey the message; teachers who set up centres with themes for their students to discover the lessons for themselves are implementing right brained spontaneity. In legal practice, knowing the law is left brained while bending it and discovering how and where it can be differently interpreted is right brained.

You may be wondering what all this has to do with doodling and colouring; stay with me here:

Kyung Hee Kim, an educational psychologist, has linked the propensity of addiction to video games and television to the lack of creative activity in general and art education in schools in particular. In general, American (and Canadian, and probably most other countries, too,) parents typically value athletic ability and academic success over artistic ability and spontaneous thinking. While of course physical health and academic learning are important, our thinking ability and brain power becomes lopsided and incomplete if sports and core subjects aren't paired with art and spontaneity. The problem, according to Hee Kim, with the kinds of activities most kids - and now, adults, too - are doing when not studying or practicing their sports, is that they are just mentally stimulating enough to entertain without actually encouraging creativity. Even activities that seem like they offer creative options really don't; for example, playing video games may seem to offer us the opportunity for endless options to win, but the options are not endless; they are, in fact, finite, and exist within the framework created by the video game designers.

Doodling, on the other hand, allows the right brain to play while also occupying the left brain. Experts say that regularly doodling, which means drawing freely and spontaneously without pre-planning the composition just for the joy of drawing, (or to pass the time,) without investing into the end result of the image, helps the brain in creative problem solving.

"You may find that the solutions to problems come to you when you take breaks to doodle," says brain researcher Regina Paul.

Colouring is the same way; it's a meditative activity that allows the right brain to be occupied and stimulated, while the left brain is free to wander. This means, you'll often stumbling upon answers to questions you've been searching for, or bringing back long forgotten ideas, while you colour.

Intelligence is about more than just grades on a report card; intelligence includes the ability to memorize data and also creatively use that learned information in life. But besides just balancing the brain and thus increasing our intelligence, doodling and colouring also give us something much more, which is vital for a happy life: creative gratification.

Anyone who has ever written a book, composed a song, completed a sculpture, made up a cartoon character or finished any other kind of right brained activity, knows the value of creative gratification. Artistic fulfillment. Satisfaction. They also know that being production is much more stimulating, and makes for a much more contented feeling, than consuming.

In my book Free Yourself from the International Conspiracy Against Enlightenment, I dedicate a sub-chapter to this subject: the difference between being a consumer and being a producer. Obviously, unless you're self employed and live off the grid, you're a consumer. So am I. It's not a bad thing, but it's also not the best thing. Consumers are those who purchase the products of others. If you watch a television show, you're consuming that show. If you eat a cake, you're consuming that cake. If you read a book, you're consuming that book. Producers, on the other hand, are people who create products, whether for sale or personal joy. When I refer to producers in this context, I don't mean publishing houses or production companies, I mean creative individuals who spend some time making things. Baking a batch of vegan cookies is a form of production; you'll feel more like you've achieved something when you finish a batch than if you just buy a box. Folding an origami crane is producing something; buying one from a Japanese gift shop is consuming. Again, you'll feel the personal accomplishment when you fold it yourself as opposed to buying one that someone else folded.

This is where a lot of people feel frustrated; thanks to the cuts to arts and creative courses in school, (relegated to the supporting role of "optional" classes compared to the mainstay "core subjects,) a lot of people feel like they have no actual talent. Hobbies seem to be a thing of the past. I remember spending weekends with my grandma and grandad as a kid; these were always so much fun. My grandad would build and paint model airplanes, teaching me the history of aviation as he explained the tiny detail brushes for adding just the right touches of colour. My grandma always had a myriad of creative passions; with a shelf full of craft books, she made the coolest greeting cards, some with pop-ups, always with different colourful papers; she folded origami boxes, and even made the jewelry that went into them. She also sews all her own clothing, (which looks better than store bought,) which she tailors perfectly using a plaster of paris bust of her own body that she made in a local sewing guild workshop. Their house was a haven for a creative kid; since my grandad was the director of curriculum for the local school board, he kept a drawer full of educational toys, and gave me a set on each visit- a boxed set of balloons with googly eyes and construction paper to make balloon heads; a book of paper flyers so I could make my own airplanes to throw around in the back yard; geometric magnets to make patterns, a spiral graph... and my all time favourite, a peg board with differently coloured rubber bands. I never watched television at their house; I spend hours and hours and hours drawing, folding planes and figuring out which one would glide the farthest, making jewelry out of Fimo and a cool shrink-art substance called Friendly Plastic...

My mom, as a teacher, would pick my up from my grandparents' house with more fun boxed projects; I remember at least three different candle making sets, more origami paper than I knew what to do with, sets of paints and kids craft books. In fact, whenever it was my birthday or Christmas, I asked for only one thing: art supplies, and I was never disappointed.

My point? I was the kind of kid who always wanted something to do. I wasn't at all high maintenance, though; a grownup could give me any kind of set and I'd figure it out and start doing. If not a formal "craft," I could happily entertain myself with a simple pen and paper just doodling. When I started babysitting in junior high, I had fun bringing my bag of craft supplies to do the same projects with the kids, and they loved it, often telling me they had never before thought of writing a story book and drawing their own pictures, or making a necklace out of buttons, or drawing pictures that don't mean anything.

I hope you're still with me; this blog isn't meant to be a tell all about my lifetime love of crafts; it's meant to be an invitation for you to take up two of my most favourite art hobbies; hobbies that I've carried with me from childhood and continue to enjoy even today. (And honestly, which I do literally every single day.) First, doodling.

Now, I have a bit of a love hate relationship with the word "doodle." It was a nickname my mom gave me when I was a toddler. ("Come on, little Doodle, time to go to Grandma's house.") It was also a put down one of my art professors used during a critique of one of my studio projects in a university class. ("I don't get it... this just looks like a big doodle...") The art community looks down on doodling as the drawing equivalent of speaking in broken slang, because usually, when doodling, the doodler doesn't care about the end result of the picture. It's just something to do to pass time, without much care for skill level or attention paid to composition. It's also possible, though, to doodle at a highly advanced level. When I doodle, for example, I don't think of it as doodling at all, but as abstract drawing; like fine non-objective art on paper, experimenting with different pen and ink techniques, lines, dots, shapes and patterns. Even though I do it more for my own enjoyment than for selling or displaying, I like to challenge myself; to pay attention to the interactions of different elements within the drawing; to the details and also the big picture; to the positive and the negative space in the compositions. And I encourage others to do the same, too!

Doodling is something anybody can do, any time, anywhere. Even as you read this, wherever you may be, there's bound to be some kind of paper and pen or pencil to which you have access. You can finish reading this blog, then immediately pick those up and start putting imagery on paper. (And... for the record... I hope you do!)

Colouring, on the other hand, is something I came to later in life. While I previously mentioned how much I used to love crafts and art projects, one thing I hated, (and I mean, I would never, ever, ever do it...) was colouring. Why?! It might seem like just the thing a kid like I was would have loved! But I did not. What I didn't like about colouring was that someone else already had the fun of drawing the picture, and there was no room, as far as I could tell, for creative self expression. There was an expectation of skin colours, hair colours, the colours used in the grass, sky, flowers... I do remember once in class colouring each flower petal a different colour, making the sky green and the grass blue, just because I could, and the teacher told me I was wrong. That was it... I was done with colouring, and instead, would turn the colouring sheets over and doodle on the back, then fill in my doodles with colour. That I liked. Those were the days before mandala colouring books, abstract colouring books... when colouring books were either Disney, and no crayon or even pencil crayon wielded in the hand of a 6 year old could ever make them look as good as the actual movie illustrations looked; it was a time before the recent trend of "adult" colouring books was even conceivable to people. In fact, (as probably many people like me around the world must also believe about themselves,) I often wonder if I started the trend of colouring books for grown ups when, in high school, my friends and other random kids in the school would pay me a dollar for a xerox copy of my full page abstract drawings so they could colour them in class. They, like me, enjoyed passing the time by filling a page with something new, unique and beautiful. And abstract designs, unlike the fairytale princesses and superheroes that graced the pages of actual colouring books of the time, offered endless possibilities for colour, blending, style and even allowed many to add to them, filling in more dots, patterns and designs.

Back to how doodling and colouring can awaken our creative expansion and increase our intelligence: Every time you pick up a piece of paper to doodle, you have before you an opportunity to make something brand new, which nobody else has ever seen before. A blank paper is, like the late Bob Ross would say about a canvas, "your own little world." You can draw literally anything. If, like me, you enjoy abstract drawing, this is even more the case; the blank paper allows you to weave and work any kind of like, shape, dots, spirals, symbols of your own imagination... and not only the elements in the drawing, but also the way they interact with each other, is your own style, which nobody else alive will have exactly. It's like your creative thumbprint- it's unique. In the same way, if you really engage yourself in colouring, and opt for designs that allow your imagination to run wild, then colouring will offer the same escape as doodling and drawing, and beyond that, if you're colouring in one of my colouring books, you can also use the drawings as doodle starters and instead of just flatly colouring them, you can draw your own designs into the lines provided.

When you get into doodling and colouring, you'll have fun expanding your skills, and maybe even decide to start sharing your art with others by posting it online.

Now, don't think I'm biased and only enjoy abstract art; I also love representational drawings and paintings, too, and if you're looking to expand your skills at drawing from real life, I highly recommend the book that got me started in my research into art and neuroscience, Drawing from the Right Side of the Brain, by Betty Edwards. She takes her reader on a journey into seeing the world clearly in order to reproduce it on paper accurately, in a way that's fun and guarantees great results.

For those ready to jump into abstract doodling, though, I invite you to check out a big book I made a few years ago, that I still get great comments on, called Awaken Your Creative Consciousness. In it, I share my love for abstract drawing by giving step by step tutorials on doodling, making drawings out of words, doing geometric art on grid paper, and much more, then at the end of 54 pages of unique drawing lessons, I include 56 colouring pages all hand drawn by me. If you'd like to tour the book before you buy, check out the flip through. I've also made this book available as an instant download in my Etsy shop.

I've also made a YouTube video with 5 unique tutorials if you want to learn some abstract techniques right now. In fact, I love sharing my art so much that I've made a whole playlist of art videos.

And... as my little gift to you, to help you get started, here are two free printable colouring / doodling pages, right out of my books. You can choose to either colour these, or add your own doodles and drawings into them. Just drag and drop these images oner a pages or word sheet, enlarge them to your preferred size, print and play. Enjoy!



Saturday, May 17, 2014

Vegan Recipe of the Week

Namaste my veg friends! This week, our vegan recipe was sent in by my dear friend Cathy Chaturi Kali Ma. Thanks, Chaturi!

In order to make it totally vegan and sattvic, I would use liquified coconut oil instead of ghee, and instead of onions and garlic, I would add just a pinch more of the other herbs and spices.

Chaturi wrote:


Namaste Ma Sudevi,

I made this last night for my sons and daughter-in-law. A Chaturi original :-) it is not Vedic though.

1. Yummilicious spinach and potatos

Fry diced onions and peppers, garlic, ginger,  curry leaves, tumeric, cumin, corriander and a little salt. Add spinach. Add a little water and simmer. When spinach has cooked down, add peeled, steamed potatos.
Turn onto a low heat and allow flavours to blend.

2. Mixed bean curry with a tomato twist

Fry diced onions and tomato. Add garlic, corriander, cumin, tumeric, curry leaves, half a chillie or dried chillies depending on preference and a little salt. Add a little water.
Add previously cooked butter beans and sugar beans. Simmer.
If you prefer you can add some coxnut milk. I rarely do.
Garnish with fresh corriander.

3. Side dishes - corn on the cob and fresh cherry tomatos or rosa tomatos.

4. Super soft Roti:

4 cups flour (I use cake flour)
Melt approx. 100 grams ghee or margerine. (*Sudevi's healthy veganization: coconut oil!)
Slowly mix boiling water with rhe dlour, alternating with ghwe until you have a super soft dough.
Roll it out into a sausage. Cut thich slices.
Flatten each round alice and roll out very thinly.
Toast them in a medium heates pan (dry) and brush each cooked roti with a little ghee or margarine. (coconut oil!)
They ahould be soft, not dry

Enjoy!

Sent with love.
Chaturi


Monday, May 5, 2014

VEGAN RECIPE OF THE WEEK: Coconutty Quinoa with Veggie Tempeh Stir Fry (And a quick, creamy, healthy dessert...)



Alright, so this week's blog isn't just a recipe... it's a full-on meal!

First, if you're on a RAW VEGAN diet, all these recipes can be easily converted! Instead of cooking the Coconutty Quinoa as written, simply soak 1/3 cup of chia seeds in coconut water overnight, then stir in the nuts. Instead of stir-frying the vegetables, just mix them together as a salad. The sauce is already naturally raw, and so is the dessert. Enjoy!

Now, before getting to the how-tos, let me first briefly break down the nutritional factors involved in this delicious, satisfying, purely SATTVIC VEGAN meal:

-This meal contains a complete protein! "Complete protein" means any food source that involves all the essential amino acids, and basically combining any pulse with any grain makes a complete protein. Contrary to popular opinion, a vegan diet is NOT a low-protein diet. In fact, almost everything in both of these recipes contains protein; the chia seeds, the nuts, the quinoa, the tempeh, even the broccoli and kale! Eat these foods and build your muscle!

-It's full of Omega fatty acids! These are the "good" kind of fats that nourish brain cells and keep your skin youthful. Coconut and coconut milk are both full of Omega Fatty Acids. Not only that, they are also anti-inflammatory, and they help your body digest other nutrients. Some Omegas are also found in walnuts (known in both Ayurveda and Chinese medicine to improve brain health,) and almonds.

-It's packed with vitamins! Lycopene, which is great for your eyesight, is in the tomatoes. Vitamin C, the immune-system strengthener, is in the orange pepper. Calcium, needed for strong bones and teeth, abounds in the kale. (Keep in mind: your body is a human body, not a calf body, so if you want a source of calcium that you can actually digest properly, don't look for it in dairy.) Purple cabbage has vitamin A, C, folate, magnesium and potassium. And if you go a step further and have the berries for dessert, you're getting even more vitamin C, vitamin K, manganese, and also copper, folate, and antioxidants. (Antioxidants are like master-cleaners of the body, removing toxins that build up in our system, boosting the prevention of cancer, slowing the aging process!)

-Fiber, fiber, fiber! Vegan food (or, more specifically, healthy vegan food,) will keep you regular and maintain your digestive health.

-Feel good! When you eat healthy, cruelty-free food, you won't feel bloated and over-full. Especially if you eat it consciously, slowing down to savour the flavours, you'll never be heavy or too stuffed. After eating this kind of food, you can be satisfied, knowing that your culinary enjoyment was beneficial to your health and well-being, and that no animals were harmed needlessly to please your tongue.

Now, to the recipes!

Coconutty Quinoa

Coconut and Nuts make these grains Coconutty!

-2/3 cup mixed quinoa and chia seeds (I filled the measuring cup nearly to the top with quinoa, then rounded it off with about 2 tablespoons of chia seeds)

-the water from one can of coconut milk

-handful shredded, unsweetened coconut

-handful chopped almonds

-handful chopped walnut pieces

-handful chestnuts

-pinch pink Himalayan crystal salt

Bring about one cup of coconut water to a light boil. Add the pinch of salt, and the mixed quinoa and via seeds, then reduce heat to low. When the grains have fully soaked up the coconut water, add a little bit more. When that is soaked up, add a bit more. When the quinoa looks transparent, taste- if it's chewy, add the shredded coconut and nuts and remove from heat; if it's still a bit crisp, add a little bit keep adding more coconut water until it's soft, then mix in the other ingredients.

Yes- it's really that easy, kind of like a vegan take on risotto style pilaff but with quinoa.

As delicious as this is served with a stir-fry, you can also make it as a high-protein, high-energy, filling hot breakfast! Instead of the salt, add a dash of maple syrup, a drop of stevia, or a bit of agave nectar, throw in some dried fruits and play around with your combination of nuts- try pecans, cashews, and even macadamia nuts. Hearty, nutritious and so delicious! As a real treat, top it with a dollop of Coconut Whipped Better-than-Cream (recipe below) and a sprinkling of cinnamon, and enjoy!

Veggie Tempeh Stir-Fry

Fresh, tasty and oh so healthy...

-half a head broccoli, cut into long florets

-one yellow pepper, chopped

-1/4 head purple cabbage, chopped

-15-20 grape tomatoes, sliced

-2-3 generous handfuls baby kale

-dash of low sodium soya sauce

-tempeh, cut into small cubes

-1/2 teaspoon coconut oil

An important thing to remember when making a stir-fry is timing: each vegetable cooks at a different rate, and to make the most of the nutrients as well as textures and flavours, we should be mindful of when we add which veggies to the mis. This way, none will be "overcooked" or "undercooked." 

In a large frying pan, melt the coconut oil on medium heat, then add the chopped yellow pepper. Let it brown slightly, stir, and wait about one more minute. Then add the broccoli, and stir. Wait three to four minutes, until the florets are bright green, and throw in the tomatoes and purple cabbage. When the purple cabbage looks just lightly wilted, sprinkle a bit of low sodium soya sauce over this whole mixture, and stir. Next, push all the veggies to the side, add just a touch more coconut oil to some exposed frying pan, and there, brown the tempeh cubes. They taste best if they're just a bit crispy, so don't stir them in until they've browned up for at least one minute, then flip, and brown the other side, as well. Last, mix everything together, and top with the baby kale, and mix. The kale doesn't need to be cooked, and actually, it will retain more of it's health benefits if it's warmed by the other veggies without being cooked itself. 

Tahini Lemon Vinaigrette 

Just right on this stir-fry, but great on salads, too...

-1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

-1/3 cup lemon juice

-1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

-2 tablespoons tahini

-sprinkle pink Himalayan crystal salt

-fresh ground black pepper

-1 teaspoon crushed ginger

In a glass jar, mix all these ingredients together. Voila! That easy...

I make it in a jar so it can be kept (don't know it's shelf life; I keep it in the fridge and usually use it within 3 weeks; it's never gone bad on me...) for re-use. If the oil separates, just make sure the lid is on tightly and shake it up. If you have a taste for spice, add some chillies, more pepper or a dash of hot sauce to kick it up a notch.

Berries and Coconut Whipped "Better-than-Cream"

Simple but Decadent...

-handful strawberries

-few blueberries

-coconut fat

-maple syrup or stevia or agave nectar

Remember for the quinoa, I said you can get the coconut water from a can of coconut milk? Well, here's what you can do with the solid coconut fat scraped off the top of the can! (Obviously, cans of coconut milk say to shake well before use, but you definitely do not want to shake it if, like me, you prefer to use the water for one dish and the cream for another.) Spoon the solid coconut fat into a bowl, add a little bit of sweetener, whisk until frothy, and voila! The easiest, creamiest, tastiest vegan version of whipped cream you'll ever have! 

One can of full-fat coconut milk has enough of this good stuff for about 6 (!) servings of cream about the size of the dollop in this picture above. Don't over-do it; healthy as it is, it's still a form of fat. It can be used on anything sweet- cakes, cookies, frozen desserts, bars, etc. Wondering what to put on vegan apple crumble or pumpkin pie? This is it!


(Beneath this thick creamy surface lies pure coconut water!)

Want a rich, buttery, spicy vegan spread for sandwiches, wraps or other savoury snacks? Instead of mixing in the sweetener, blend the fat from one can coconut milk with about a teaspoon of curry paste, a pinch of salt and some spices of your choice. It will keep in the fridge for a couple weeks, and also makes a delicious dip for veggies or home-baked pita chips!

(Note: when buying a can of coconut milk, opt for organic!)

Enjoy!

Thursday, May 1, 2014

May Day: A Protester's Tale

Happy May Day, everyone! May this story inspire you to stand up for the Truth!



As I was lying there, tear gas stinging my eyes, body burning in the mid-July sun in Washington, and head pounding from the shots of rubber bullets, I knew it was over. It became clear, finally, in a burst of consciousness to which words would not do justice.

In my first memory, I was a middle aged man in the sixteenth century somewhere in the Southern United States. My family was rich, my clothing was stiff, expensive and tailored, and I was unable to shake the disapproving scowl from my face. The sharper my memory of this version of myself grew, the more ashamed I became. A distinct picture of my hand raised to beat a young black girl materialized. She couldn't have been a day over fourteen years, and trembled in fear. The vision faded and my awareness was brought back to the street.

Could I really have been a slave owner? The kind of racist person I've spent my life avoiding? No; impossible. It must have been a dream... my subconscious talking... maybe heat stroke.

Startled by what my mind's eye had just witnessed, I stumbled to my feet, only to be pushed back down.

"Stay down, punk! You're in enough trouble as it is!"

The police were all around, as I had expected. This was not my first major protest, and the pre-event hype assured at least a hundred of them decked out in riot gear. As I tried to explain my need to get out of the sun, I was silenced by the blow of a baton to the back of my head. I had no choice but to get down and do as I was told.

Then came my second memory flash: this time, the roles had been reversed, and I was the slave. It was obviously still the seventeen hundreds, although now the latter half. In my mind my flesh turned brown, darker than any I had seen before, badly burnt by the sun. My hands were calloused, my shoulders hunched from years of back-breaking manual labour. Without time to react, my hands were tied around a tree, and the sudden flick of a whip stunned me to the core as it sliced through the flesh on my back.

Of course, I knew why I was so abused; what goes around comes around, and if I hadn't mistreated the poor young girl, I would not have had to come back and experience the poverty, sorrow and pain I had inflicted on her.

Unaware of the stampede of protesters and police around me, I remained on the ground and presented to myself my third life. Looking down on my body, I realized that I was a large, scruffy man in leather boots, and a woollen plaid shirt. I was carrying a rifle, and tip-toeing through the woodlands of Canada. Before me, about a hundred yards, stood a beautiful, majestic, noble looking deer; the kind whose head could hang proudly, staring blankly through lifeless eyes, across a Western-themed hotel lobby. Shuddering, I knew what was about to happen, and didn't want to watch; didn't want to relive that moment I previously would never have imagined myself capable of living. But I did. I felt the muscles in what were once my arms tighten as I aligned with my living, breathing target, and pulled the trigger. A triumphant smile spread across that rugged face...

Without even a moment to process my sentiments about having killed a deer, I went on to experience a glimpse of my fourth life. Just as I had been a bigot and then a slave, the roles once again reversed, and now I became a deer. A doe, actually, and caring for my newborn fawn. I felt the serenity of maternal pride as I helped him take his first steps, with the love and patience welling up wordlessly within me. This fawn was my life, small, leggy and precious, and I knew that without me, he would never survive.

Then the unthinkable happened. Instantaneously, I heard the boom and saw a throng of birds lift hurriedly from the treetops... it took a moment before I understood why I was looking upwards. The bullet had struck me in the neck, blood was spilling out in copious amounts and every short breath I took in struggled to reach my lungs through my paralyzed body. Despite the excruciating pain, my mind was not on my own body, but on my fawn. He was not yet stable on his feet, and had been knocked over in the commotion when my legs buckled beneath me. I watched in helpless despair as he struggled to stand up again. Seeking comfort and protection, he stumbled to the side of his dying mother, and I yearned to be able to somehow express my love to him; to ask him to run away; to do for him what he needed done. Through the surging pain, all I managed to express was a whimper.

The hunter who had taken my life squealed stupidly and cried out, "I got her, Daddy! I can shoot!"The boy and his father trampled through the grass to reach me, and the boy pointed at my baby mockingly. "Hahaha, look at that! He can't even stand up! Should I kill 'im, too?"

That was the end, and as my doe eyes closed, my human eyes opened to take in the now-foreign sights of Washington once again.

I raised my head and immediately felt every orifice on my face burning with tear gas. I raised my arms to dry the streaming tears and cover my face, and when I lowered them again, I was a forty-something man sitting in fast food joint eating a burger. I listened in horror as my own beef-filled mouth sloppily bragged to a friend about the innovations in egg farming. "Now, we can keep over a thousand hens in a room no bigger than your shitter. The air is putrid in there, a course, but whatever... the egg collectors get ta wear masks and they don't hafta be in there long or nothin', just get in, grab the eggs, and get out, y'know? Hm... oh, no. There ain't no risk of getting pecked at. Ain't ya ever heard a de-beaking? When the chicks are still the size of fuzz balls we clip their beaks off like clipping finger nails; some of em never get to eat after that cause o' the infections and what not, but it's better an gettin sued by a pecked-bloody farm worker."

With a jolt, I was locked in a cage. My stomach was beyond rumbling as I hadn't been fed in days, and the water I had to drink was contaminated with dust, feathers and rotting food pellets that had spilled into it. My body was weak and sickly, feathers falling out due to malnourishment, head constantly throbbing with pain from the violent slicing off of my beak at birth; it felt like a sinus infection combined with repeated hammer-hits to the nose. Like so many of my other cell-mates, my beak had never recovered from de-beaking, and the smell and taste of pus had become my sickening permanent state; I gagged constantly from the repugnance of my own odour. The wire bars of the cage were so close together that my wings had never been spread; my head had never been lifted. Finally, though my unexercised muscles could not support my body's weight, I could no longer tolerate the urge to stretch; in a desperate attempt to break the cage, I stood tall, summoned all the strength I had to stretch my wings, lifted my head until the wire above it cut and sliced through the down to my skull. My neck snapped from this intense pressure, and so ended my life as a battery caged hen.

This was the last of my past-life flashbacks, and now my present life experiences flashed before my eyes. When I was four years old, I tried to watch Bambi, but ran from the room in tears. I felt an odd sense of oneness with the cartoon on the screen, and could never quite figure out why I empathized with all the main characters; not only the doe the fawn, but even the uncouth hunter.

In my early teen years, a new girl came to our school whose family had just immigrated from Ethiopia. Some of the other kids were afraid to talk to her, since her's was the first African-Canadian family to move to our not-so ethnically diverse town. Somehow, though, I knew from deep inside of me that skin colour and facial features are only surface, but the awareness in all of us is the same. She became my best friend.

Back to Washington. I was a nineteen year old activist taking part in the largest protest my generation had seen. We had gathered from all across North America to take a stand against the capitalist agenda that forces people to work in sweatshops overseas; the corporate agenda that gives more rights to plunderers of the world than to the world which is plundered; that forces animals to live in squalid conditions on factory farms to feed the gluttony of people never taught an alternative to gorging on death; the militaristic take over of other nations for their resources... our numbers were strong and our message was clear: we must destroy greed before greed destroys our planet.

Lying on the pavement, tear gas burning my body inside and out, for the first time in my life, I felt real peace within myself. I understood the meaning of life, and laughed at it's simplicity: the meaning of life is that all lives have meaning. We are here to live in love, to give the best of ourselves to others without causing harm to those with whom we share our beautiful world.

It had taken me seven lifetimes to realize something I would have known from the beginning if only I had been able to put myself into the other's shoes. Lying in the street of the Washington protest, I knew my last life was over and from here, there was no other body in which I would have to live. I was being killed in this protest; I was being set free. I felt no anger even against those whose corrupt means of business I was protesting, nor against the police officers who had gassed me, shot at me, beaten me; they would surely learn from their own experiences now and to come that we are all one. They were all bound to come to the same clarity I enjoyed as I breathed my last breath with a smile.

Everyone will.

***

Happy May Day! May 1st has been celebrated as a springtime holiday for generations, but now, it has also become synonymous with protest and breaking down the systems of corruption in the world. To commemorate the spirit of this day, I'm sharing with you a short story I wrote for English class when I was in high school. It was the first school project I really felt proud of, and it earned me my first "100%" mark. Thanks to the encouragement of my 11th grade teacher, I've continued to write for social change ever since. You might at times wonder why words like "karma," "reincarnation" and "enlightenment"aren't used, and the answer is simple- at the time that I wrote this, I was not yet familiar (consciously) with Hinduism or these Vedic concepts, but now that I know about such things as the trans-migration of the soul, and the fact that a being, once enlightened, is free from the karmic cycle and no longer needs to take another lifetime, it makes even more sense, and validates what I had felt all along. The "Advaitha" realization that "we are all one" which I wrote in this story, and held well into my adult life (inspiring even the title of this blog) really is the Ultimate. Have compassion even in your righteous anger; protest to instigate change, and remember that even those against whom you are protesting are on their own path's to conscious awareness that all life has meaning. I love you, and I wish you well on your quest to make right the wrongs in the world!