My Life as a Monk

My 85 year old father called the other day and we were having our usual conversations about life and the weather and what I did today when suddenly he asked the question: “You believe in past lives, right?”

Now, my father knows the answer to this question, because we have had this conversation before. He knows that I believe in past lives and I know he does not. He has asked me why I believe in past lives and I have told him because I have past life memories on a regular basis. He thinks it must be comforting for me that I believe that we have more than one life to live.

We agree to disagree.

But this time, the tone is different. Something is different about the way he asks the question and so I pretend it’s the first time we are having this conversation and I say,

Yes, I believe in past lives. Why do you ask?”

There is a pause and he says: “I’ve been having past life memories lately. I keep remembering a life I had as a monk.”

Really, I reply. What do you remember?

Every morning in the monastery we had mutton stew. He says. It was a simple life. I really liked my life as a monk.

He continues: Actually, I don’t even know what mutton is, do you?

We consult google and both discover that mutton is the meat from an older sheep while lamp is the meat from a younger sheep.

“We had mutton stew every morning he continued. It was a simple life. I really enjoyed that life. He says somewhat wistfully.”

You know, Dad. I say. I remember a life where I was a monk too. I think we were friends in the monastery.

You think we were friends in the monastery? he repeats back to me.

Yes, yes I do. I say.

He takes a moment to reflect and then says: Yes, I think you are right, I think we were friends in the monastery.

The conversation drifts a bit and then he says: You know, my father has been visiting me at night.

What? I ask.

Yes, my father, he has been visiting me at night.

What does he say, I ask?

Nothing. My father replies. I just wake up in the middle of the night and he is there smiling at me. It is really comforting.

And I smile and I say that is great Dad. That is really nice that grandpa is visiting you.

And my smile is wistful now because although I am happy for my Dad that he is having these experiences and that we can talk about them, I am also realizing that he is being prepared for his next chapter and his next adventure.

I realize that I too am being prepared.

And so, I smile and say that is great Dad. And inside I am happy and inside I am sad.

A plate of compassion all around for this strange and interesting journey we are all on together.

~Hayley Mermelstein

The greatest gift my grandmother ever gave to me

The greatest gift my grandmother ever gave to me came several months after she died. Her greatest gift came the night she visited me in a dream.

My grandmother died about 20 years ago and immediately after her death I was consumed with guilt. I felt guilty that I had not done enough for her. I felt guilty that I had not given enough of myself. I felt guilty that I did not appreciate her more.

I loved my grandmother and she loved me, but she was a challenging women. She had a hard life filled with difficulty and she had become bitter and negative which made her difficult to be around and so I limited my time with her.

When I did go to visit her, a great deal of the visit would be spent with her complaining about how I never came to visit, which of course made it hard for me to want to go visit again (ps. I was in my twenties at this time, so didn’t have the best coping skills for all of this.). And to be fair the visit would also have good food, and popcorn, and movies and family. It was a mixed experience.

Anyway, back to the greatest gift.

So, when she died I found myself consumed with guilt. I felt guilty that I had not gone and seen her more. I felt guilty that she was lonely. I felt guilty that I had not appreciated her enough. I felt guilty, guilty, guilty.

I was about 33 when she died and really didn’t have the skills to deal with my guilt either. And then one night, in a dream, a couple of months after she passed, she came to me. It was a simple dream. She smiled at me and told me not to feel guilty. She said, “The problem wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate me enough, the problem was that I didn’t appreciate you enough.”

Those simple words resonated with truth and hit me deeply. I suddenly saw it. The problem in this case wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate her enough, it was that she didn’t appreciate me enough.

And with that a huge weight was lifted from my chest.

Thank you Bubby. (Yiddish word for grandmother), for taking the time to come back and help me heal the feeling of not being enough. It was truly the kindest and most generous gift you ever gave. And thank you for the love and the pizza bagels and all the food. I know food was love for you. And thank you for the kindness and caring. I know that you loved deeply.

We are all so imperfect in human form and
we are just doing the best we can.

A plate of compassion all around and
a plate of forgiveness all around.

I hope that some burden you are carrying will be lightened now.
I hope that you are okay.

Forgive yourself for your mistakes.

We are all so imperfect in human form and it is okay.

We are spirit and we are divine and
that is where are perfection lies.

Forgive yourself today and
grant someone else some forgiveness too.

We are all so imperfect in human form.
And it is okay.

It is all okay.

I’m not sure if I’m writing this for me, or my grandmother, or for you, my kind reader.

Perhaps I write it for all of us.
For we are one and share the same human condition.

Forgive yourself today.

We are all so imperfect in human form.

And it is okay. It is all okay.
And it is going to be okay.

Relax.
Breathe.

Trust.
Allow.

Forgive yourself.
Forgive someone else.

It’s all going to be okay.
It’s all going to be okay.
It’s all going to be okay.

No one to fix but me

What if there is no one to fix but me?
What if I am the universe and the universe is me?

What is everything is a reflection of something in my inner world?
What if there is no one to fix but me?

It is so tempting to look around and try to fix that one and that one.
If only they saw things as I did we would all be okay.

It is so tempting to want to change them and just make them see.

But truly, what if there is no one to fix but me?

What if the problem isn’t out there?
What if it is all an inside job?

What if we are one and there is no one to fix out there?
What would happen if I never tried to fix another again?

What would happen if I put all of my attention on elevating my own state and moving through life from that place?

What miracles might ensue if I attended to my garden and sought only to fix myself?

What if there truly is no one out there to fix?

What if it’s a problem of perception?
What if I have forgotten that we are all God, perfect and divine?

What if as I perceive God every where I begin to manifest the divine more and more in my life?

Can I do this?
Is there an irony in writing a message reminding all of us to tend to our own garden?

What if there is no one to fix but me?

Tend to your own soul.
Tend to your own garden.

Seek to heal yourself.
Seek to bring your best self forward.

So many seek to heal others and make them see.
But what if there is no one out there to fix?

Elevate your own state.
Become the being of love that you are.

If you want more love in your life and on this planet, be the change that you wish to see.

Tend to yourself.
Heal yourself.

Become the being of love that you are.

Fix no one but yourself.

Let the revolution begin.

~Hayley Mermelstein