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The grand finale is when they team up under the agency of vengeance, hell-bent on "saving" you and your children from the evil misery and damage that they accuse me of doing unto them as they often surmise, without trial, has been done unto me. And way before this point, they have stopped listening and fielding opposing views of the whole truth. It is no longer an apology or resolution they are burning for. It is revenge. And talk of love is poo-pooed as whitewash. And why take a meeting with me when they can rig a good, proper lynching? 


Who am I? I am a broken-one, and along every edge of each piece-within-piece is a porous membrane through which the underlying firmament of my absolute faith in absolute love shines forthcoming.


Who am I? Look at the picture. I am a small, brown, middle-aged mother of a son. My life-story is jaw-dropping. Often people don't like that about me: that I am larger than the life they bought into. They want to win. And sometimes they catch themselves admitting that. When I describe my ego as magnificent, they think they caught me red-handed in a punishable act of un-spiritual egoism. I say, “I am godness" and “I am absolute—that which we all are”, and I am threatened with jail for blasphemy.


I tend to hang out with people who have been speaking from the depths long enough that they can outpour together as one limitless mind with a multiverse of view and voice equally represented. They care less whether I am certifiably enlightened. 

We coalesce purely because we resonate. 


Their lines of vision become cutting enough to define their view clearly, without smudging the edges to protect each other from the blade of their truth. Each of their responses become more sensitively based in self-nurtured consideration for themselves and each other, without compromising integrity of an original, unapologetic deliverance. Each listening with care. Each naturally feeling the penetration of the others’ unguarded reflections deep in their bodies while countering with less of a programmed co-dependency on each others’ self images and projected outcomes. Having co-created an open-door process of self-responsibly dissecting and digesting a backlog of compounded hurts from rejection, punishment, abandonment, violations and loss, there is less pressure to perform "happily", "peacefully" or perfectly. And the magic? Truth as a living force, a serum, a substance, a medicine.


I have served hardily for decades in the field of Tantra, Yoga and Ayurvedic health care.


I don't yet and didn't have an institution, ashram or organised program with systematically scheduled seminars, workshops and trainings. I don't and didn't promise enlightenment or issue spiritual practices with in-house guarantees. I don't and didn't initiate disciples with spiritual names and entrain a way to officiate an expensive, graduated rise in a disciplined, enforceable hierarchy based on my view alone. I don't and didn't block any co-created openings for free, reasonable, progressive debate and discussion. I don't and didn't accept money offered to me without discussing over time the intention, conditions and impact openly with others inside and outside reflecting.


What I do do is warn and provide context in hours and hours of co-created ways to disseminate traditional references and individual and group experiences for anyone who invites himself into my presence. I warn people who pursue me, several times a day, in differing and ever-evolving ways, that I say what I see in intimate relating, and they likely won’t like how I say it and how that feels. And knowing this, all around me have written, spoken and seconded forewarnings that I am thus not for everybody. I remind people that all who come close and choose to stay are volunteering. And the only emphatic requirement for staying: their offered transparency.


Despite and perhaps to spite the warnings, I stand now accused—nay, accursed, some may say. I am vehemently denounced as an unqualified fraud with powers to lead the innocent astray from the true path of enlightenment. I stand accused of being, in combination: invulnerable, in-transparent, in-human, un-yogic, narcissistic, sociopathic; a quack, psycho-spiritual rapist, satanic ritualist, personality-cult-builder, mystical-manipulator, blasphemous Lifton's Law-breaker, black spider-like power sucker; money-demanding, sex-demanding, shaming, Hare Krishna cultist look-a-like. 


And I am condemned, without due process, for being apparently guilty of employing enough "specialness" to seemingly control these intelligent, upwardly mobile people and trick them out of their own discernment in a damaging, un-forgivable, un-compassionate, un-spiritually evolved, unacceptably experimental way.


My aggressors are beautiful. You might see them around you. And hear them. They, like me, feel strongly about the freedom of speech. I perceive this as one reason passion awakens inside them for me. Lustily punishing me makes of me a martyr by default whose spoken word vibrates the shifting sands under the platform they raise for my hanging. 


There is a Jack Dempsey quote in my Indian notebook: "A champion gets up even when they can’t." I am a magnet for those who want to make sure I can’t get up. Saturn (Shani) does that. He makes sure, time to time, that I can’t get back up. Teacher made sure I couldn't get up. The anti-Uma's, they want to do that. 


When it's all for love, I'm down for the fight. You know how it is when a champion stands up: the crowd is divided. There will be those who carry him on their shoulders. And there are those who aspire to challenge the champion for his place. And even those are divided. There are those who earn their belts of jewels, crowns and titles by sheer will, faith and action. And there are those who will threaten the referee, poison the champion, buy the competition and win by perverting reality for the eyes of an audience hungry for enough blood to tip the balance.


I am asked: what do I learn from this? If I could go back and do it over, what would I have done differently? Because of what it was, I can see now what will be, and this to me is more valuable than ruminating on what it should have been when it wasn’t. What will be will be more warnings. More context. Clear disclaimers. More integrating. More pre-preparation, such as holistic psychotherapy with therapists experienced in illuminating the dangers of spiritual transference by westernised seekers of "enlightenment" as a moratorium of suffering, rather than all-pervasive Real-ness as the slow-cooked organic product of experimental, responsive allowance.


I would like to end this page with a call for health. If any of you feel that I have hurt you unjustly, and you want me to know and are open to co-creating with me a reasonable, witnessed or mediated process to acknowledge and digest any confusion, anger and pain, please talk to me. We have an opening.

Image by Mateo © 2014 Uma Inder

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