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Hello,
Bruce Markow, here, known by many via Kripalu as Raju. I lived at Kripalu/Shadowbrook for about 3 1/2 years during the “good old days” of the mid eighties. Those were some of the best, hardest and easiest times of my life. Though I think there was a big shadow side to the community, I still believe it was a true center for love, spirit and dedication to excellence.
While at Kripalu I taught for Programs Department and did up to 36 sessions a week (ouch!) of various forms of holistic bodywork in Health Services amidst some of the best practitioners I have ever known. I had started my practice professionally in Cambridge, MA in 1981 and continue it still in private practice in New York City, and it's still a source of many blessings.
While at Shadowbrook I somehow managed to nourish my interest as a singer-songwriter-multi-instrumentalist by chanting, drumming, playing in the house bluegrass-etc. band, writing an album’s worth of songs for the ashram (that never got produced), teaching the prototype of the workshop “The Healing Power of Sound” (which I still do) and giving concerts in the Main Chapel. The latter two were among the highlights of my life.
I stopped playing actively for many years and it wasn’t until about four years ago that I began concertizing “seriously” again. I love it! A self-gift. Fun! Get down! And a subtle, non-preachy, musical ministry for love and healing at the same time.
This is where a request comes in, in a moment. Since my Kripalu Center residency, one of my featured songs has been a rousing, sprawling, audience participatory, jazz samba called “Mango”. I’m about to give a big concert (Please come: Sat, Oct 8 at 8 pm, Peoples’ Voice Cafe. 45 E. 33rd Street, NYC, eventually up on www.brucemarkow.com) that I’m framing as a mini-Mango Festival, with my usual eclectic repertoire, but also songs, stories and multi-sensory experiences in homage to “the fruit of the gods.” (Many in India evidently do see mangoes as religious objects.)
THE REQUEST
There is a story that Bapuji tells in a book of anecdotes, now out of print I believe, about an old man who labors to plant a courtyard full of mango saplings for future generations’ use. Bapuji tells the story beautifully, a lot better than I do so far.
Do you have that book and could you send me a word-processing or scan or snail mailed photocopy of the mango story? Also, if you know other stories about mangoes, that could be helpful, too. Please email me off-line for this at bruce@brucemarkow.com. Thank you.
Jai Bhagwan,
Bruce (Raju)
Bruce Markow, here, known by many via Kripalu as Raju. I lived at Kripalu/Shadowbrook for about 3 1/2 years during the “good old days” of the mid eighties. Those were some of the best, hardest and easiest times of my life. Though I think there was a big shadow side to the community, I still believe it was a true center for love, spirit and dedication to excellence.
While at Kripalu I taught for Programs Department and did up to 36 sessions a week (ouch!) of various forms of holistic bodywork in Health Services amidst some of the best practitioners I have ever known. I had started my practice professionally in Cambridge, MA in 1981 and continue it still in private practice in New York City, and it's still a source of many blessings.
While at Shadowbrook I somehow managed to nourish my interest as a singer-songwriter-multi-instrumentalist by chanting, drumming, playing in the house bluegrass-etc. band, writing an album’s worth of songs for the ashram (that never got produced), teaching the prototype of the workshop “The Healing Power of Sound” (which I still do) and giving concerts in the Main Chapel. The latter two were among the highlights of my life.
I stopped playing actively for many years and it wasn’t until about four years ago that I began concertizing “seriously” again. I love it! A self-gift. Fun! Get down! And a subtle, non-preachy, musical ministry for love and healing at the same time.
This is where a request comes in, in a moment. Since my Kripalu Center residency, one of my featured songs has been a rousing, sprawling, audience participatory, jazz samba called “Mango”. I’m about to give a big concert (Please come: Sat, Oct 8 at 8 pm, Peoples’ Voice Cafe. 45 E. 33rd Street, NYC, eventually up on www.brucemarkow.com) that I’m framing as a mini-Mango Festival, with my usual eclectic repertoire, but also songs, stories and multi-sensory experiences in homage to “the fruit of the gods.” (Many in India evidently do see mangoes as religious objects.)
THE REQUEST
There is a story that Bapuji tells in a book of anecdotes, now out of print I believe, about an old man who labors to plant a courtyard full of mango saplings for future generations’ use. Bapuji tells the story beautifully, a lot better than I do so far.
Do you have that book and could you send me a word-processing or scan or snail mailed photocopy of the mango story? Also, if you know other stories about mangoes, that could be helpful, too. Please email me off-line for this at bruce@brucemarkow.com. Thank you.
Jai Bhagwan,
Bruce (Raju)
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Re: An Introduction and a Request
Tue, October 2, 2007 - 11:30 AMA response to your inquiry about Bapuji's story about mangoes . better late then never, eh?
Anecdote: The old man and the mango tree.
July 20, 1977, Wednesday 6:15 am. Kripalu Yoga Retreat, Summit Station. PA
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The concept of public welfare or social services differs from that of non-attachment. Social service in the truest sense can be performed only by the great masters who have taken a vow of non-attachment. The average person can perform little true social service, but his service can at least be considered the start of non-attachment.
There is a story that I would like to recount about a young man named Kumaril. Kumaril had a garden in the open courtyard of his home. One day, as he entered the garden, he saw his elderly uncle, Padmakant, busy at work. As Kumaril came closer, he saw that his uncle was energetically planting seedlings. It was obvious that Padmakant, even at the age of ninety, loved to work. Kumaril was impressed by his uncle's industriousness.
"Uncle," Kumaril said respectfully, "what are you planting?"
Padmakant stopped working and looked up at Kuarmil, smiling. "My son," he said, "I am planting mango trees."
Seeing about fifteen small mango plants, Kumaril asked, " You're planting so many?"
"There are only fifteen," Padmakant remaked. "Don't you think that fifteen are too many for this garden?" Kumaril inquired.
"No, its alright," Padmakant remarked.
"They will bear lots of mangoes," Kumaril added as a compliment to his uncle.
"Thank you." Padmakant replied. "May that thought come true."
"But uncle," Kumaril said as he began to laugh, "you are ninety years old! When will these mango trees bear fruit?"
"In twelve years," Padmakant answered.
"But you may leave your body before then; why are you doing all this work?"
"Son, I am sure that I will be home with God before these mango trees bear fruit," said Padmakant. "But I am planting these trees for others, not for myself. For ninety years, I have eaten mangoes from trees which have been planted by other people. Now I want to plant some mango trees so that others may eat form the trees that I have planted."
Kumaril observed non-attachment in his uncle's feelings and began to understand that who gathers for himself is a worldly person, while one who gathers for others has renounced his worldly attachments.
Premyatra (Pilgrimage of Love) book one . 1992 copyright Kripalu Yoga Fellowship, page 69.
