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A TALE OF TWO BEARDS/ SILENCE OF SOUND / CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE VIPASSANA KIND – Bharat Shekhar

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A few days ago, searching for skeletons in my cupboard, I came across this pinkish red, rectangular piece of paper. One side had serrated edges, as though it had been torn out of a larger piece. The paper read – 

NAME : Bharat Shekhar

ACCOMMODATION : MA-2A. 

I stared blankly at it, no recollection whatsoever of what it was about. But as they say, sometimes you just have a gut feeling that you are looking at something important. In this case, it was more a butt feeling. My butt was trying to tell me something.

I turned the paper over, and memory came flooding in. On the other side was printed, “Please tear this portion and insert it in the plastic tag attached to your cushion, which will be allotted to you in the meditation hall.”

Aah! No wonder I had a butt feeling. This paper was proof that for ten days my butt and the aforementioned ‘cushion’ had almost become a continuation of each other for ten plus hours a day – a torture that slowly turned to acceptance and then into a feeling of quiet (and quite numb) achievement. 

OK. So, let me get to what this is all about. Last year, I attended a ten day Vipassana course July 1-10, Jaipur, bang in the middle of a heatwave. Not the most clement of time to be without any air conditioning, that too, in close confines with 150 other profusely sweating bodies, trying to stay absolutely quiet and still and observe one’s breathing and/or sensations. To add to it, outside, in the surrounding Aravali hills,  the peacocks and peahens would be screaming their heads off pleading to the rain gods. To mere mortals, their cries sounded like petulant, ‘Mein hu! Mein hun! (I am! I am!)’, a reminder of our egos, just when we were trying to forget them.  

In the final count however, the physical discomfort, the mental distractions, the vow of silence, the abstinence, all added to and became a part of that experience that was far greater than its parts, that gestalt called Vipassana. 

But again I get ahead of myself. So let me describe the movement step by step. Ever since I had heard about Vipassana’s rigorous meditation regime from a practicing, enthusiast friend, more than a decade and a half ago, I had been instinctively drawn towards it. When I found out that it was entirely non-denominational, non religious and rationalist, that longing to attend a course and experience it myself became an itch. 

However, laziness and other circumstances intervened and it was only last year that I finally got to fill out the online form. I realised the true magnitude of that operation when I saw there that there were over 165 Vipassana centres  dotted all over the world. All were run entirely by volunteers, did not charge anything from the participants (not even for board and lodging), and depended entirely on donations. They did not want to spread, or propagate any religion or ideology apart from the meditation practice itself. For more details, you can check out https://thali.dhamma.org/ 

So it came to pass that I packed my rucksack, and found myself at the Jaipur Vipassana Thali (centre), on a hot afternoon on the first of July 2018. Looking at the other people registering (average age mid twenties), it was clear that I was in the ‘Uncleji’ category. The Centre (Thali) was tucked away in a verdant bowl of the Aravalis, the haunt of langoors, peacocks, peahens, and (allegedly) a leopard too. It covered several acres of prime property with a few large buildings that included the dining halls (two), the prayer halls (four) and a grand pagoda. Apart from these, the property was dotted with small structures, which turned out to be double rooms that would be the participants’ homes for the next ten days. 

Clearly a well oiled operation, it was run entirely by volunteers or Sevaks, who looked after all the activities and needs of the participants, which were many and varied. They ranged from answering queries to serving food, collecting laundry to be cleaned to running the projector for the daily hour long pravachans (talks) by SN Goenka, the person who had popularised Vipassana. The teacher who led the meditations was also a volunteer.

So what was the whole hullabaloo about? Let me quote from the horse’s mouth, their site https://thali.dhamma.org/vipassana.shtml :

“To learn Vipassana it is necessary to take a ten-day residential course under the guidance of a qualified teacher. The courses are conducted at established Vipassana Centres and other places. For the duration of the retreat, students remain within the course site, having no contact with the outside world. They refrain from reading and writing, and suspend any religious practices or other disciplines. They follow a demanding daily schedule which includes about ten hours of sitting meditation. They also observe silence, not communicating with fellow students; however, they are free to discuss meditation questions with the teacher and material problems with the management.

There are three steps to the training. First, the students practice abstinence from actions which cause harm. They undertake five moral precepts, practicing abstention from killing, stealing, lying, sexual misconduct and the use of intoxicants. The observation of these precepts allows the mind to calm down sufficiently to proceed with the task at hand. Second, for the first three-and-a-half days, students practice Anapana meditation, focusing attention on the breath. This practice helps to develop control over the unruly mind.

These first two steps of living a wholesome life and developing control of the mind are necessary and beneficial, but are incomplete unless the third step is taken: purifying the mind of underlying negativities. The third step, undertaken for the last six-and-a-half days, is the practice of Vipassana: one penetrates one’s entire physical and mental structure with the clarity of insight.” 

And thus it came to be, that I found myself in room MA2, a tiny unit with two beds, a ceiling fan and an attached bathroom. In complete silence. The only thing that made a noise was the fan, or the bed creaking occasionally, or the peacocks and peahens mournfully but unsuccessfully calling out for rain.

Every morning, at about 3.45 am a volunteer went around the rooms, gently tinkling a hand held bell, which served as a bell to wake up the volunteers. From then onwards till 9.30 pm, it was (with three short breaks for food and rest), meditation, meditation and meditation, totalling to about ten hours. 

I will not bore you with chronological details, just a few brief impressions, about how it went for me. I can broadly divide it into three phases, death of the idyllic and idealised picture, stare into the void, and rebirth.

In the first phase, all those idealised notions of miraculous, heavenly meditation that would cure one of all past life baggage and ills, solve lifelong existential questions and so on,  got peremptorily and rudely thrown out of the first available window of the meditation hall. A few fans desultorily whirled above. It was awfully hot to be enclosed in a hall with 100 other profusely sweating bodies (all male as there was strict segregation). Sitting in the lotus position, the back drooped like a limp lettuce. Without any back support, the spine arched into an aching curve. The legs fell sleep, while the rest of you only wished that it could. After a while, all these discomforts were dwarfed by the pins and needles (which in time, assumed the size of scimitars and knives)  that were seemingly being driven into the backside by some invisible but malevolent meditation devil. 

This was only the physical part. The mental disintegration was even more extreme. It was almost impossible to stay in the present and focus calmly on the breath for more than a few seconds, before every useless, negative thought, worry and fear came flooding in. This was the second phase, ‘the dark night of the soul’, and one tossed and turned both mentally and physically, wishing one was anywhere else but(t) here. 

However, we had been warned in advance (by the teacher and the nightly videos of SN Goenka) about this phenomenon. It was normal, and one had to cross these stages to reach the third. After the third day, which was the worst for most people, the negativity soon eased. There was a calm(er) acceptance of discomforts, both mental and physical, and greater ability to focus on breath and sensations. There were moments of euphoria, when the whole body and soul combined in one unity and soared high above in the heavens. New solutions suddenly presented themselves to ancient problems. There was a feeling of sudden camaraderie and love for all humanity. Sigh. We had been warned against this opposite extreme. The aim of Vipassana was not to get a ‘high’, but to aspire for equanimity, and achieve an equipoise which accepted both good and bad sensations with equal detachment. Tough task, but over the course of these ten days of simple living, one began to be aware that this was a worthy ideal to aspire for. As an aside here, it is easy to want to be detached from ones negatives – all those fears and worries, but it is much more difficult to not be attached to ones feel good factors. There were moments of that calmness (tip of the iceberg), and a feeling if the benefits were to attach, it would have to be a lifelong practice, not just a one off, but a daily  one. To really get the feel, you have to experience it. As they keep emphasising: Vipassana is entirely experiential. Words cannot do it justice. You have to sit through it, breathe and feel it in your pores, in your senses to even begin to get it.

Oh, and before I end (somewhat hurriedly, as one could go on and on and on), you may not have noticed but a part of the title of the piece was ‘A tale of two beards’. So let me throw some light on that mystery. One of the beards was mine, a rapidly whitening French beard, sometimes sported by the English speaking ‘elite’ of this country. 

The second beard belonged to my roommate, the one I shared the room with for those ten days. He came in somewhat late on the first day and I groaned mentally, partly because by then I had been hoping that I would have a single occupancy, and partly because of his appearance. If I was of uncleji age, he belonged to the granduncleji phase of his life. In his mid 70s, the man was very short (below five feet), and so bowlegged that he swayed from side to side with every step he took. He was clad in a saffron robe and carried a tattered thaila (bag) from which I could see another garua vastra peeping out. He gave off such strong emanations of Amla tel and Dant Manjan that they almost surrounded him like an aura. He had thick bristling eyebrows, white hair tied in a topknot, a Sadhu’s flowing beard, which he also tied in a knot, and an expression of the sort that reminded me of Durvasa, the perpetually displeased sage.

I wonder what impression he formed about me. From his expression, it certainly could not have been very favourable. Anyhow, that’s how far our communication went for the next nine days, as we were not meant to talk or even look at each other. Before we wound up very night, there was a recorded video talk by SN Goenka (the man who popularised this practice the world over). In these talks, using popular idiom and language, he often tore apart the superstitions of religious beliefs, especially things like blind faith in rituals and the harm they did to true spirituality. Post these, when we returned to the room to sleep, I thought I could espy a troubled expression on my roommate’s face. “Ah,” I conjectured smugly, “his traditional beliefs are being challenged and he does not like it. Good.” On the sixth night, I woke up to find him feverishly reading (though we had been told to keep no reading or writing material)  in torchlight from a pamphlet titled ‘Tarak Mantra’ and reciting something over and over, under his breath. In my mind, this confirmed the ‘fact’ that he was a traditional, reactionary sadhu who was getting his comeuppance by having to reexamine his precious casteist beliefs rather late in life. 

On the tenth day we broke the silence and participants were allowed to talk to each other. That’s when the walls of misconceptions that we had formed about each other came crashing down. For instance, (due to my bulk and the cut of my beard), he had thought I was either a businessman (aka gold smuggler) from Dubai, or an actor who did ‘negative’ roles in TV serials. Haha. Then he introduced himself as a Mahant or temple keeper from a small hamlet called Ravat Bhata near Kota. Far from being hurt by Shri Goenka challenging traditional beliefs, he waxed eloquent about how much sense he had disseminated in his videos, and how important it was to have a ‘modern’ view in life. At this point, he simpered a bit and said that he also used to give weekly talks (pravachans) in his temple, talks that he blushingly admitted were largely attended by ‘ladies’. Now, he was running out of material for them, and part of his reason for attending this course was to get inspiration from Goenka’s speaking technique and ‘borrow’ some of his style and content. His parting request to me was to procure some joke books and send them to him, so that he could deliver better punchlines in his pravachans to the ladies.

So much for those impressions that we form about each other. This apart from the Vipassana technique was the other valuable life lesson I learnt. We are so much in haste to form opinions about, judge, and put each other in prefabricated moulds of appearances that we forget each one of us is far more, and far different in reality.  Each and every one. 

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Bharat Shekhar lives in New Delhi.He tries to write when he can, and doodles when he can’t. When in doubt, he gazes at his navel.

Life’s Nudges to Eke an Untrodden Path- Mohana Narayan

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Holi, the festival of colours, was just around the corner. I was commuting back from my work at TCS, my first job out of college, in Delhi back in 1995. The bus journey back from Gulab Bhawan to Gurgaon required me to take a DTC (Delhi Transport Corporation)  bus from ITO to Dhaula Kuan, and then board a Haryana Roadways bus from Dhaula Kuan to Gurgaon, each about an hour’s journey, depending on the traffic.

I used to observe the differences in the interactions of the people in the two sections of the journey. The Haryana Roadways bus would be filled with older middle-aged folks typically used to the long commutes, and who seemed to know many on the bus. One of the middle-aged men would take out a couple of decks of cards and lay out his briefcase between the seats as a tray and a few of them would start playing their card games amongst chit-chat and entertaining jokes. It had been on one of these commutes that I had struck up a conversation with a co-passenger, a lady I saw regularly reading a book on Buddhism. Something about her aura had me asking her questions about the book, and we ended up having some good discussions. After a few chats, she had invited me to their Buddhist SGI group meeting and a couple of months earlier, I had attended one of their meetings and found their resonant mantra chanting to be a powerful source of connecting deeper. In fact, more recently I had started waking up early to chant for an hour or so and somehow would find that on those days, things would just fall into place and somehow I would be in rhythm with the universe.

In contrast, the DTC buses would be filled with people who had shorter commutes, each busy and lost in their own world, mostly avoiding any substantial conversation with their co-passengers. Not to mention the riff-raff crowd that would regularly harass the women on these buses, in a city that was infamous for ‘eve-teasing’ even 20 years ago.

On this particular day, there was a man standing right next to where I was seated, leaning in more closely than required, making me quite uncomfortable. I was still in my early 20s, a tad shy to create a huge hue and cry, but did tell him in no uncertain terms to stand properly (it was a super crowded bus, with no leg-room but one could perceive the unwarranted brushes). Even after a few sharp remarks, this man continued to push and shove and take every opportunity to rub up against me. At this point, I just started chanting my mantra in my mind and just zoned inwards, as the bus still had a good half hour or more to reach my destination. As guided, I requested my Higher Self to annul any karmic equation between this “unknown” person and me, seeking forgiveness for any past karmic negativity on my part and sought help in this situation.

The bus was moving at its regular Delhi DTC speed, the breeze flowing in through the windows, which had a couple of bars across them and I was just tuned inwards. The most amazing thing happened next! Splaaaash! A wet, plump, water-balloon came flying in through one of the windows (missing the bars across a moving bus) and slapped across this man’s face, getting him all wet! The physics of the path of that balloon as well as the math of the probability of it landing on his face are mind-numbing! All I remember is his mumbling something incoherent and getting off the bus at the very next stop. This was during Holi, and somehow a balloon, some kid had thrown at some other kid, had become the missile that launched my heart into steadfast faith for the rest of my life!

My God! Yes, I use that term so lightly without realising how close my God is to me. The one who has so many galaxies to attend to, looking after me, hearing my sincere, inward plea, a teeny-tiny soul in the vast cosmos of creation. Imagine! No less than the story of Narasimha Avatara (which I now teach as part of a Dashavatara dance piece to young dancers), where God could no longer take the atrocities of an arrogant father towards his own son and stepped out of a stone pillar, from an intangible form into a living, breathing form to protect the boy and his steadfast faith.  

I believe God is willing to help out, as long as I own up to my mistakes and am willing to grow and learn from all the drama that happens around me. A humbling but mind-boggling experience for me at an early age that formed a foundation of Faith, that has been tested many times since. And there have been times, when I was disappointed momentarily or wondered why I had to deal with certain situations with seemingly no help from the Higher one. In most of these cases, however, a few years down the line, when I looked back in retrospect, those very challenges where I did not get the help I asked for, were the ones that helped forge my next growth arc.

Even my current full-time job/mission of teaching classical Bharatanatyam (an Indian classical dance form) and something that I enjoy so much, has been a result of multiple challenges that were thrown my way. After working in software technology and product management for about 15 years including 3 years at TCS, 7 at Oracle and 5 at Yahoo!, when I was laid-off unfairly (or so it seemed to me) by a man I had myself interviewed and hired into a position before going on maternity leave, only to come back after the break to find my work being continuously undermined, partly I believe due to some feeling of  insecurity, it had seemed like a big blow. Though in part, I was relieved because with two kids including an infant, I had been spreading myself thin with early morning calls with EU and late night calls with the Bangalore office, with diminishing time for the family. Even so, without a full-time job, life seemed incomplete.

I decided to go with the flow, and start an Indian after-school program, based on what I felt was needed for my son, who was in third grade then. My Masters degree and education in Entrepreneurship from Stanford came in handy and gave me the required impetus as well. The advice of my Professor Tom Kosnik rung in my ears – “When you want to start something new, don’t wait till you get it all perfect – just start somewhere, and things will evolve in the right direction!”.

I put together a creative program (the first Indian after-school program in Bay Area, thankfully many have started since 2008), with wholesome snacks and multiple classes including Hindi, Vedic Math, Yoga, Indian music, Bollywood dance, Bharatanatyam, Spelling Bee, Science Bee etc during the after-school hours so kids could spend more time with their parents on the weekends. This ran very well for 5 years and I had 25 kids attending classes from 3pm to 6pm daily, in a rented space with 3 rooms. In particular, I started enjoying teaching Bharatanatyam dance classes, as my mother and Guru had been performing (an AIR A-grade artiste) and teaching for over 30 years, while for many of the other subjects, I hired other instructors.

Then God struck again with a different water-balloon! Disaster or challenge is just another name for God, I say. Just before the summer break, five years into running SarvaGuna, my printer which I used to use to print worksheets for the kids broke down; the projector we used to use for presentations stopped working; the rental space came up for leasing and the landlord wanted to only lease for a period of 3 years minimum.

I was feeling bogged down by the operational logistics of running an after-school program (including the pick-ups of students from various schools etc.) but in contrast enjoyed the time spent in creative choreography and found teaching dance to be truly fulfilling.  I decided to listen to God carefully and check if he was guiding me on to my next step. Stepping back, I realised it was teaching dance that I enjoyed the most, and the hours would just melt away in dance classes! I realised that whenever I am dancing or teaching dance, every moment is spent right here in the present – there is no band-width for the past or the future, so every minute dancing was a minute of meditation for me.

Having just moved into a new home, I decided to be courageous and not risk-averse. I took a leap of faith, with just a handful of students to focus on teaching Bharatanatyam dance classes at SarvaGuna, and built a dance studio in our home itself. I told myself that as long as I am doing what I am passionate about and good at, other things will take care of themselves.

And they did! Everything just fell into place like it was meant to be. I enjoyed the time choreographing new pieces, especially those that helped me connect with my God in various shapes and form. Soon students just came by word-of-mouth and I started earning enough for a decent livelihood; we started doing very well at local competitions and now my summer Arangetram (solo debut recital of 3 hours) students have started performing beautifully! A few months ago, Indian Raga approached me to choreograph a piece for a collaboration. (Here is the Hanuman Chaalisa I enjoyed choreographing and dancing to: http://youtu.be/eWaRWqb5FNs ). We have 4 summer Arangetrams planned for this summer. In late March 2019, at a competitive Bharatanatyam competition (only Bharatanatyam entries were evaluated exclusively), SarvaGuna students won awards and placed in top three across all categories! (https://www.facebook.com/166823550147119/posts/1194310570731740/)

While my Faith has come a whole circle back to appreciate the depth of content in our Hindu texts, my spirituality continues to let God intervene as and when needed in my life. In different life situations, when one feels like one just got dumped with a bucket of cold water, it is perhaps the Universe’s way of nudging us along a different direction. I know my own story is incomplete and there may be more surprises, jolts and nudges to come my way in this roller-coaster life. All I can do is hang on and have Faith. Let us all pay attention to those nudges (or jolts), seek courage for travelling down untrodden paths and we may just discover new joys and lessons come our way…

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Mohana Narayan
Website: www.SarvaGuna.com
FB: www.facebook.com/SarvaGunaLearning/photos
Video: http://youtu.be/eWaRWqb5FNs

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With a masters in Entrepreneurship from Stanford University and a background in Computer Science Engineering (Birla Institute of Tech, Ranchi) prior to 2008, Mohana spent the early part her career focused on product management in the software technology world.

Mohana Narayan has also trained in Bharatanatyam from a very young age under the able guidance of her mother and teacher Guru Smt. Usha Narayan, who is a renowned dancer and AIR A grade artiste from New Delhi. Smt. Usha Narayan, has passed down a deeply ingrained sense of aesthetic values and awareness of clean lines and angles of movement and a natural gift for heart-felt abhinaya or expression. Mohana has performed from a very young age along with her mother in many performances and dance productions in India and abroad. She has assisted in training young students for over 20 years now. Mohana enjoys teaching dance as well as formulating unique choreographies. She has presented various thematic productions over the years including recent ones such as Navavidha Sambandham, Andaal Anubhavam, Sri Ramanuja Vaibhavam, Nruttya Nikshepa Atma Nikshepa, training hundreds of students for these large productions with a creative flair founded on pain-staking attention to detail. Mohana trains students of various age groups with an eye for detail and focus on one-on-one attention promoting individual strengths. As the founder of SarvaGuna, which has since 2008 conducted many workshops, classes, and student performances, she has worked with students of various age groups and enjoys bringing out the best in each individual. Mohana’s forte is understanding, utilising and enhancing stage dynamics’s whether it be in solo or group performances, as well as to seek out the divine, magical element in literary compositions. While her primary training in classical dance has been from her mother Guru Usha Narayan in the Pandanallur style, she has also trained with other instructors and Gurus of the Tanjavur, Kalakshetra and Vazhuvoor styles. She continues to train and learn from senior Gurus at every possible opportunity. She incorporates the most dynamic of these aspects in her own choreographies. In addition, she continues to train post-arangetram students in new items for a second margam to advance their skills and finesse in this beautiful artform.

Mohana lives with her husband and two children in the Bay Area of California, where she has been residing for over 20 years now.

 

HeartonWheels – Jeanne Meuwissen

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The day is Sunday, the 31st of March and I am holding my first cup of coffee of the day, on a balcony in Greece, with a beautiful view of  the mountains and the sea. My name is Jeanne Meuwissen and I am a 52 year old woman from Holland. Don’t worry I am not going through a midlife crisis or trying to do a sequel to the Shirley Valentine movie or Mamma Mia! I would’t like to give people nightmares as my singing talents aren’t that great!!

This Greek story is about a journey that started two years ago and the first stop was my heart. You don’t need a ticket to get on. Just keep on reading…

Everyone at a certain point in their lives (especially around 50) starts to wonder: where is my path going in life? I guess I got a double whammy as I lost a dear friend of mine while I was pondering this question. Midlife for me was like the Universe gently placed her hands upon my shoulders, pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “Find your path… Time is growing short… There are unexplored adventures ahead… It is time to show up and be seen.”

I do have a beautiful life, surrounded by wonderful friends and family, and I am still enjoying my career as a flight attendant after 25 years. But I always felt that there was something that was missing. I do believe everyone on this Earth has been made for some particular work and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.

So, I started looking deep inside my heart and I rediscovered one of my biggest passions again – teaching children. I was a primary school teacher before my flying career, and to me there is nothing as precious as the ability to be able to make someone smile, especially a child. This world is in deep trouble, but as a teacher you do have a big part in making this earth a better place for every child, and education plays a big role.

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It wasn’t a surprise to me then that I got asked by one of my flying partners to come and help her support children from Syria in a refugee camp in northern Greece, close to Thessaloniki.

The first time I drove into such a camp it felt like my heart was being ripped out of my body. Children were living in tents. It was cold in January with no heating and no appropriate clothing. And their stories! What they had been through on their dangerous journey to Greece in dinghies, being ripped away from their family, friends and familiar surroundings. I fought back my tears as I watched these children doing artwork and smiling. I was astonished by their resilience.

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There in the Polikastro camp, as I stood in living conditions that were horrendous, I found that I was still able to laugh and bring joy to these children. I found the light in my heart. I just had to let it burn brightly.

This is where the idea of the HeartonWheels bus originated.

HeartonWheels will be a mobile bus that will provide mobile education for traumatised children in a safe place. As Article 26 of the UN states:
Everyone has a right to education.
Education shall be free, at least in the elementary and fundamental stages.
Elementary education shall be compulsory.

The HeartonWheels Bus will be that safe place where children can regain their childhood again through lots of play, joy and laughter. Play is a universal language that initiates the human spirit into a life of freedom, happiness, unity, balance, humanity and greatness. These children never had a childhood where they could play and be themselves, freely. Their childhoods were, and still are, tainted by war and violence.

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My journey has taken me to some interesting destinations and I am still travelling  through Greece. Right now, I am working in a nursery school in a refugee camp called Malakasa. The children there are mostly from Afghanistan, and although we don’t speak the same language, I do feel we are making a difference in their daily lives by providing them with education in a safe place, where they can regain some of their childhood with lots of  love, learning and laughter included.

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As we have had some bumps in the road like funding and getting permission to go into a camp, the HeartonWheels Bus hasn’t reached its destination yet. Its parking space is still  in my heart. But in the last two years I have experienced so much love and support from my family, friends, flying colleagues and even strangers, through donations, fundraisers, beautifully written cards and comments.

It has kept the light shining bright in my heart and I know for sure, that one day in the not so distant future, I will be pushing the button of the doors on the HeartonWheels Bus to provide a path to a brighter future for all the children on this earth, no matter which religion.

In every religion, there is love. Yet love itself has no religion!

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If you wish to contribute or follow the route of the HeartonWheels Bus do click on this link:
http://heartonwheels.co

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My name is Jeanne Meuwissen.

I am the proud founder of the grass roots company HeartonWheels.
My educational background is in teaching primary school that I combined with my flying career of 25 years. Last year I graduated with a degree in trauma psychology for children.
Since the Syrian war the world has seen the largest humanitarian crisis since the end of World War II and we know there isn’t a short-term solution. For that reason and knowing that almost 51% percent of the 19.5 million refugees are children living in camps where only their basic needs are met, I started volunteering 2 years ago. I worked as a volunteer teacher at Armando Aid school in refugee camp Oinofyta Greece and in Calais with the Schoolbusproject. At the same time I started studying trauma psychology at the Institute Freunde Der Erziehungskunst in Karlsruhe, Germany.
After seeing children living in horrible conditions and having no access to education, I decided to fly part time and move to Greece where I founded my charity called HeartonWheels.
HeartonWheels stands for a school bus that provides First Aid for the Souls of traumatised children through Mobile Education in a Child friendly Space at various refugee camps in Greece. HeartonWheels is establishing itself since October 2018 through working with various organisations throughout Greece at several refugee camps. Right now I am working in a refugee camp called Malakasa 60 km north of Athens together with a fabulous team of Greek Nursery teachers.
But in a lot of camps there aren’t any provisions like this and children are still deprived of their right to education in a safe place. Although this crisis isn’t that present anymore in the daily media it is still an ongoing disaster for many people and won’t disappear as there isn’t a short-term solution. 
Children are still living in situations of deepest despair. Let’s not forget about them so they don’t turn  into a lost generation. Let’s open these doors of The HeartonWheels Bus together and give these children, no matter what religion, a chance to a brighter future by making a donation and keep on following us through this link:

My unlikely journey to fatherhood – André Hellström

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I started having the first stirrings of the paternal instinct when I was volunteering, taking care of a 10 year old boy with autism, through the National Autistic Society. I saw ‘Joel’ once a week for two years and although he had difficulties building relationships with others, we connected very well. Being with Joel, I realised I wanted to be a dad.

I can only compare the paternal instinct with the feelings of realising that I was gay- they are very strong and there is no going back.

I believe one of the most important things in life is to help others, so helping a loving lesbian couple wanting a family became very important to me. I was reluctant to donate to a sperm bank as donating to a sperm bank is anonymous and I’ve always been adamant that a child needs to know where he/she is coming from. I was also very close to my grandmother, she was my everything and I wanted her legacy to live through me. I found a lesbian couple from a website called Pride Angel where female couples are looking for donors. I knew straight away that they were the mums I was looking for. We bonded very quickly but it was still a long journey towards building trust. After all, we were about to create another human being.

I tried getting both mums pregnant through artificial insemination. One mum got pregnant after four tries. The following nine months waiting for the baby felt like nine years! It was endless! And full of worries! I was worried that the baby wouldn’t survive. I was worried that our child would be bullied and resent us for putting him or her into this kind of family. Now, looking back at some of those worries, I feel silly. I worried too much. We live in multi cultural London and what’s a ‘normal’ family today anyway? Our baby was planned and with so much love and trust behind it.

Nevertheless, a lot of thoughts went through my mind and I felt very lonely during the pregnancy. The mums had each other but not many of my gay friends could relate to my paternal instincts. I had no one to talk to when I was worried, or overwhelmingly excited about having a child! But I did talk to the mums a lot. In fact, we cried and laughed with happiness during the whole pregnancy. As the belly grew, the more we understood the magnitude of what we had done! Of course, ALL children are small miracles but somehow we selfishly felt that our baby was just a tad more special…

Our son Enzo was born in the year 2014. The mums sent me a photo of them holding our newborn son and I felt beyond happy! And the relief. I was relieved that Enzo was healthy, I was relieved (and proud) that I had pursued my dream of wanting to help a lesbian couple in having a child. It had taken four years from my initial feeling of wanting to be a dad until Enzo was born. I felt a sense of inner peace, like a puzzle had been finished. By helping others, we also help ourselves.

After Enzo’s birth, it was going to take about two weeks to organise the birth certificate. Our agreement was that the mothers would be on the birth certificate but during the first two weeks there was a possibility that I could change my mind… By not being on the birth certificate, I would, as a consequence, lose all legal rights to my own son… The mothers knew I could change my mind so we had initially agreed that I wouldn’t see Enzo the first two weeks. However, as we had grown so close during the pregnancy, the new mums couldn’t wait for me to see him and to be honest, it would’ve been torture not to. So the next day I went to their home.

Therese was sleeping on the bed holding Enzo, both exhausted after the birth. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. I’m not religious but this was somehow a religious experience. I can’t really describe it but I’m sure I felt the presence of my grandmother there. Therese woke up and handed Enzo to me saying ‘Please hold your son’. Remember again that she knew that I could change my mind, so really, she was playing with fire. I actually didn’t want to hold him at first because I was terrified that my heart would break handing him back to Hilda and Therese.

Therese sensed my worry and she simply said ‘You will be OK André’, so I took Enzo in my arms and just like that, I felt like I had been a father all my life! Enzo grabbed my finger and although a baby can’t see, he did somehow react to my presence. It was an instant bond. After a few hours I left their house and believe me, this was the time when my human instincts played with me. It was as if my entire being knew Enzo was my son and wanted to go back to him. Even more interesting considering I’m gay, I felt very protective about Therese, the birthmother. The immense love I felt for her was so strong. I felt like a lion king! Having said that, I never want to downplay the love I have for Hilda but at that very moment, my focus was on Therese and Enzo.

Having no say in the upbringing of my own child isn’t an easy thing to live with. But when it’s hard, I just focus on why I did it; to help a couple in love to have a family. Legally Hilda and Therese are parents to Enzo. My son will, however, call me daddy and will always know I’m his dad. Nonetheless my role is more like an uncle who is there to provide the love, but has no say in the rules.

This can prove difficult as, although I am not a  part of bringing Enzo up, I still have to love my son unconditionally for the rest of my life – even if he turns out to be a spoiled brat! And yes, the mothers do spoil him while I definitely would be more strict. I bite my tongue a lot. I have voiced my opinion two to three times when I just didn’t feel comfortable with the whole situation. Telling a parent how to raise their kids is not something I recommend, especially when it comes from a very direct person like me… But the mothers ‘get me’ and understand my directness and sometimes, bluntness. I don’t mean any harm, it is just how I’m wired.

Thankfully I have learned to choose my battles, both in my role as a ‘donor daddy’ and in my ‘outside life’. I think all parents learn to choose their battles, otherwise parenthood would be too exhausting. Being a dad changed my life for the better. Having said that, being a full time dad wouldn’t be for me, as selfish as that might sound. What’s important to say is, that all human beings are on a journey through life, we all have our ups and downs and although becoming a dad made me feel complete, it doesn’t mean it’s for everyone. Just as I tell other gays that want to become fathers, being a ‘donor dad’ is not for everyone. I followed my heart and what felt good to me. I will never tell anyone else what’s right for them.

The mothers, who initially just wanted a donor and not an involved donor chose a more difficult path. Let’s face it, having me in their life does make things slightly more complicated. They do have to see me and include me in big holidays etc. And for that reason alone I love the mothers so much. All three of us are in this journey together.

Enzo is a copy of me, it’s as if my DNA has gone straight down to him. But this helps the mothers, and me, to understand him more. One example, Enzo is not very good in groups. He’s very independent and sometimes even quite selfish… He hates sharing. So in the nursery when all kids sit in a circle singing songs, he’s not the slightest bit interested. I was there in the nursery once and saw this. I was a quite upset that he didn’t want to join the group and socialise. I could see the teachers trying to include him but his stubbornness wouldn’t have it. Suddenly it was like a ‘deja vu’ from my own childhood, I was exactly the same! So being a dad sure brings up memories from my own time as a kid that I had forgotten about.

In 2016 our second son Levi was born. To have TWO sons was more than I could ever have dreamt of. Enzo being Enzo wasn’t as excited as he sure didn’t like the competition. It didn’t help that Levi had colic for 3 months. The family’s life was pretty much turned upside down with a constantly screaming baby for that long.

I’m not sure I should even mention this but I will since it’s quite a ‘taboo’ subject. When Levi was born I didn’t bond with him in the same way. Yes, once again I felt like a lion king but I somehow didn’t feel the same immense connection with him. It made me feel very very guilty. I loved Enzo so much and didn’t think there was room for more love. But then my stepmom said something beautiful, ‘It’s not like you have to fit more love, it’s as if another room opens that you can fill with love’. That stayed with me, and it’s so true. I do love Levi so so much but I have to admit, even though he’s 2.5 years old now, he still doesn’t adore me in the same way as Enzo has always done. I, of course, do love them both equally, but Enzo feels very close to me.

I certainly don’t want to favour one of them over the other. That would make me a terrible dad! As time goes on, I’m learning how to handle my feelings. There’s no ‘manual’  on how to be a ‘donor dad’ and as mentioned before, I can feel quite lonely in my situation since most of my friends, and even some family members, show no interest whatsoever. That, in itself, hurts tremendously but this is ultimately MY journey and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Being a donor dad was MY choice and I love it.

Life is all about choices and whatever we choose, let us choose well…

 

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My name is André and I was born in Sweden. When I was five years old my mum took me to the island of Crete in Greece. I remember seeing the Boeing 737 knowing from that day that I was going to work on an airplane. It was my driving force throughout my whole childhood, I couldn’t wait to get out and see the world! After college I worked as a holiday rep all over Europe and then I worked as a concierge on a top rated cruise line. On board Crystal Harmony I saw the whole world and although it was hard work, I sure lived my dream. 1997 I felt it was time to change the ocean for the air and I was hired by United Airlines. It might not have the glamour it had when I flew to Crete in 1974 but even after 22 years as a flight attendant, I still get a buzz during every take off- I truly love my job and the airline industry! I use the time off and flexibility to challenge myself outside work and I do that by travelling or doing volunteer work. I love living in London. It’s like living in the centre of the world, I love the mix of different nationalities and religions. This city surely has been very good to me.

Guest blog month

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I find people endlessly fascinating. Perhaps, that is why my stories centre around people, their motivations and compulsions. However, one does not always need fiction to experience alternate realities. Another person’s life: his journey, her passion, his hobbies, her escape, are all equally intriguing and provide enough fodder for the imagination.

In the spirit of that sentiment, I once again give my blog over to some very engaging people and their stories. The next few weeks will hopefully bring you some interesting insights into what constitutes an alternate lifestyle, being true to oneself and one’s passions, and how sometimes, the only journey one needs to undertake is the one that reconnects you to yourself.

As a blogger, I am always happy to be approached to showcase another person’s work. If you are a blogger who would like a slightly different audience for a change, or if you just like penning random musings, or if you feel strongly about something and need a platform to voice those thoughts, feel free to reach out to me with a sample of your writing, and maybe I could include you in future guest blog months. Comment below with your details and I will get back to you.

I truly believe that the writing community needs to be supportive and nurturing of one another. Our stories may be universal, but our experiences are deeply personal. In sharing them with our readers we attempt to create a bridge of understanding. However, in sharing them amongst ourselves and on our multiple and varied platforms, we start to understand the nuances and subtleties of that which is removed from our own actuality. In our myriad life realities, there is above all, a desire to understand and be understood.

I hope that the stories and articles that follow will take you on their unique journeys and you will come away with a renewed understanding and empathy for your fellow being.

 

Friendship and Politics

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I have two female friends, who will remain nameless for the purposes of this article, that hold diametrically opposite views from me, politically. They are both feisty, outspoken, bolshy and fearless. Qualities that I admire immensely. However, our politics differ and how!

How have I circumvented this divide and still stayed friends with them? And why do I bring it up here and now?

Well, firstly, I knew them much before I knew their allegiances. So, our friendship was untainted by politics. As I got to know them better, I realised that I liked them very much as people. I liked the fact that they were gutsy, I liked that they stood up for themselves and that they didn’t mince their words. I liked that they were always honest with me, even if it meant not sparing my feelings. I also realised that women like these are rare finds, and I wanted to have them in my life, regardless of how they felt about which political party governed their countries or whether Britain should stay in or out of Europe.

Now, lately, there has been much chatter here and across the pond. Politically everything is in a stage of upheaval. It is but natural that people will be vociferous about their own standpoints. Sometimes that takes the shape of defending the indefensible. Cruel laws that bypass humanity, turning a blind eye to the economics of a situation, or siding with a well known hate mongerer are all symptoms of these standpoints.

I have reasoned and combatted all of this, to the best of my ability. But the question stands, can I still call these people my friends?

I had an interesting conversation with a colleague once. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that if a friend or a partner had a different political stance to hers, there was no way she would associate with them. It meant, that at the very heart of it, they had contrary fundamental values. How could one align oneself with someone who saw the world so differently?

How can I?

Yet, political landscapes change all the time. Parties come and go, Presidents and Prime Ministers lose elections on a regular basis, and allegiances shift. Can I sacrifice two perfectly good friendships at the altar of politics? Should I?

The short answer is NO. Human connections are far more valuable than outside forces. If I, who preach tolerance and understanding through this blog, cannot practice it in my own life, what good is all the wisdom in the world? It is not by surrounding ourselves with like minded individuals that we grow. It is by opening our minds to differences, debates and discussions. It is by realising that someone else’s passionately held views have just as much validity as our own. If their politics are abhorrent then initiate a dialogue with them. Cutting them off or insulating yourself against contradictory ideas is hardly the way forward.

As for my friends and I, we talk politics in jest. They know I don’t agree with them. I know they are not going to change their minds. Nevertheless, we stay friends. I wouldn’t have it any other way.