THE FIFTH DECADE: 1999-2008

Marston Gregory

Interview About the Concert Performed at Innsbruck

Marston Gregory, having had a successful experience producing the Symphony Concert at the World Congress in Spokane, set out to do it again in Innsbruck! With his background at the Austin Civic Light Opera, and his other show business experience, he is well equiped to produce such a complicated event – and of course, there’s the “Subud” element of surprises. In this interview, we go behind the scenes…

Melinda Wallis: Marston, this is the second time you’ve produced the cantata by Lucas Richmond. The first time was at the Spokane World Congress. What made you want to do it again?
Marston Gregory: First, I wanted to do it again because we were unable to produce a CD of that first concert, as it wasn’t contracted to do a recording on site at that time. Advance sales implied that we couldn’t afford to do this. So, by doing the concert again, we could set out with plans ahead of time to record it. Plus, my personal feeling was that I wanted to have the thrill of singing in the chorus! It’s an amazing opportunity to sing this work. I and others experienced our voices improving as we went through the rehearsals!
And, in addition, a bigger reason is that, when obstacles came up, I’d ask inside if I should proceed, and I would get that absolutely I should proceed.
MW: As an overview, who were the people who the musicians?
MG: The Innsbruck Tyrolian Orchestra. That was 59 musicians. The chorus was 65 voices, four were from the community (we hired four local tenors), and the rest were Subud from about 15 countries.
MW: I’ve heard the CD: the chorus sounds like they rehearsed for years! How did that happen?
MG: Many thought this concert was more tightly performed than in Spokane. About 30% of the chorus had performed in Spokane. The sheet music was mailed out ahead of time and people had months to practice. We also had a radio performance CD of the Spokane concert that was also sent out.
MW: Can you compare the experience of Spokane and Innsbruck?
MG: Lucas had a different experience the second time. In Spokane he had never heard it, as he was still putting final touches on the writing of it as it was being rehearsed in Spokane. That was its first performance. Innsbruck was the second! There were positives and negatives of each event. The Spokane concert hall was quite a bit larger, which allowed us to create more revenue. But the acoustics in the Tirol Concert Hall were better, because it was a more intimate space. It had 1500 seats instead of 3200 seats. Moris McClellan, the recorder, said the acoustics were perfect for doing the recording for the CD. The stage in Innsbruck was a smaller stage, so the chorus was off to one side, which was challenging for the singers had to face the audience, and face the conductor at the same time.
MW: What experience did members of the chorus relate to you about being part of this work?
MG: Some people came to listen to early rehearsals and joined the chorus, which was valuable to them and to us.. Afterwards people kept telling me how touched they were by the experience. The dedication of the chorus was amazing-they came on time and didn’t miss rehearsals in spite of all of their tantalizing events.
MW: What was it like working with Lucas Richman, being a professional conductor?
MG: Between Lucas and the rehearsal pianist, it was wonderful. Lucas is lighthearted, jokes a lot, and made it a great experience. He was, in effect, giving us voice lessons, helping to pull the best out of us… in a light hearted way.
MW: What is the magic moment that I’ve hear about that happened at the end of the concert?
MG: The concert ended with the cantata, the last section. There was an extraordinary silence. The audience just say for well over a minute and a half. Lucas just let it happen, didn’t interrupt it with a bow. Sulfiati Harris reported a silence that went rolling out over the whole hall. I’ve never experienced that many people being that silent at the end of a concert. It’s on film, we can see it.
MW: From my end I’ll say that I’m not the only who cried hearing abut this. Speaking of it being on film, tell us abut that.
MG: Dahlan Foah, a few months before the concert, called to ask if he could film the concert and all the rehearsals. Lucas and MG agreed, but had to get the orchestras’ approval, and what they would charge for that. Fortunately they said yes and only asked a small fee for that. Dahlan put together a team (GET LIST) of cameramen and technicians. Since Moris was already recording for a CD, he also recorded the rehearsals with his fine equipment. This is going to be part of a broader production by DF about how orchestral and choral productions are created. It will include a number of orchestras around the world. MW And Moris created the CD, and the jacket for it, using Elaine B's wonderful art for the program to incorporate it into the jacket design.

MW: How many months ahead did you start?
MG: The first concept developed in Sept 2004. An important piece was meeting in Innsbruck was meeting and connecting with Karin Rhomberg, a Subud member, a homeopathic physician in Austria. She became the onsite coordinator, worked with the COT team and the orchestra, found the rehearsal space (donated by the city) and so on. Also we needed Lucas Richman’s availability and agreement. We found the orchestra during this time.

Lucas Richman conducts the World Congress Concert

(The orchestra was actually on holiday at the time of the concert, and gave up part of their holidays for this. This orchestra likes to do new works, and this fit into that concept.) Next we had to find sponsors. Because Spokane was sponsored by ISC, we started there. ISC didn’t feel the could take the financial risk, so next was SICA International who said the same thing. Next I came to Subud USA and SICA USA (Rosetta Narvaez, chair). Rosetta agreed but asked that we get a major guarantor. Then to Susannah Rosenthal, asked the Talent Bank to be the guarantor, up to 10,000 Euros. That made it more possible to move forward. Also we later received a grant from the GH Foundation for 5000 Euros to underwrite artists fees, and through an aggressive ad sales campaign, we sold 6 pages of ads in the programs (which paid for the handsome program, designed and executed by HNB). The irony is that the program ended up being printed in Spokane!-it was the best priced printer! We also got loans and grants for the production costs of the CD amounting to $3000 from MSF ($1000 was a grant, $2000 was a loan), and plus $3000 in other loans for the CD.
MW: Miracle stories of the CD?
MG: The production company did the producing without any credit references or advance money. MG presold enough CD's to pay them in cash on the spot. The other part of the miracle (read:”hard work”) was the concert was Friday night, and MG and Mo were in Munich (a 2 hour train ride) Tuesday morning with the mixed CD ready to be produced. The small company, after saying they couldn’t do the 500 in one day, as they only had one machine, put aside their other work, and was willing to spend all day Tuesday to produce them that day. Marston and MO ran to the train lugging big boxes of CD's to get back to the congress to sell them before people left the congress two days later. We had the ongoing challenges of cultural differences. We had the ongoing challenge of not being on our “home base”.
MW: What were some of the hurdles had to overcome, since this was an enterprise the usual difficulties of a business arise?
MG: Time and support were important issues. In Spokane we had a long planning time, and the intl team was willing to sponsor the concert from the beginning, so we were an integral part of the congress from the beginning. In Innsbruck they had less than a year to accomplish a congress. We were the only ticketed event in both congresses, and it was a risk. If I did this again, I’d start much earlier. Having a chance to set up a proper box office would be valuable... In Spokane the ticket sales were handled through the main registration form. It made it a lot easier to sell tickets in Innsbruck. We had to wait until we were onsite. This year, we had a team in the national office who worked on sales, bookkeeping, the art and program development. I’d have ISC sponsor it again. Having it in a country with no VAT tax would be great… that prevented us from being able to sell tickets to the general public. We also suffered from the Ukrainians not being granted visas, as we were counting on those musicians being part of the concert. We even had designated funds to help those musicians. It was a great disappointment.
MW: Where did your support come from?
MG: The USA was so supportive: the national committee, the national office doing promotion, the web page, the ticket sales, USA enterprises placed ads in the program. It really ended up being a USA project, although we didn’t start out with that particular intention. The box office was run by USA members as well, and the underwriter is a USA fund. We were always welcoming involvement and support from the other countries or the COT team, of course.
MW: Were some of the hurdles --- typical show biz stuff?
MG: Oh, yes, this is show biz. People see a great show, and they’re happy. They don’t know the “behind the scenes” problems, of stages collapsing or whatever.
MW: What is the story of the butterfly and the art?
MG: When I was grappling on finding a title, and I wasn’t even sure what would be in the concert, the first word that came to me was metamorphosis. That seemed to long, and I put that word and “photos” into Google, and up came a picture of a butterfly! Helaine asked what kind of imagery to use. I kept getting the work Transformation, and kept visualizing the metamorphosis of butterflies. Then I saw Sharifa Benepe’s project of making butterflies for her project. I asked her to display her butterfly wings in the lobby during the concert. And I asked her to do Helaine’s butterfly design. We have a picture of Mardiah doing that set of wings. That set of wings was over the “box office” in the lobby outside the concert. We finally left those wings with Subud Florence! This spontaneous collaboration was wonderful fun. It feels like a symbol of the whole congress, a transformative quality… we were being transformed.

Editor's Note: This incredible CD, the World Congress Transformation Concert, is available from Subud USA for $22.75 including shipping.

Sulfiati Harris

A letter from Cilandak on Bapak's Birthday, 2001

Dear All:
I am writing at 9:00 a.m. our time, on Bapak's birthday We had breakfast at the hotel, then they had the van there for us at 4:30 a.m. to go over to Wisma Subud. We could hear the imams calling the prayers as we drove. The women did latihan in the hall and the men in what had been Bapak's house. The latihan was long and strong. I think this is the strongest latihan I have ever had, but then that is hard to judge…
After latihan the birds were singing and the pink in the sky just starting to show. It was a magical time. …For every person here there are probably five good Subud stories, so that is a lot of ground to cover.

Last night there was a concert by a well known Indonesian violinist who is also in Subud, accompanied by a piano (or rather a keyboard with special effects). It was something like I have never heard, a combination of soulful gypsy-like tunes, then sort of pops music with keyboard percussion, but all woven together in a whole that worked. It reminded me of a batik with different disparate elements all pulled together harmoniously in a way that you wouldn't expect.
After that people gathered in circles to hear different stories about Bapak, and this was videotaped and recorded. One group had two of Bapak's children and some other older helpers--that one must have had some interesting stories. I will report more later. Love to all, Sulfiati Harris

Harris Boebel

Dogtrot... Fair Weather Friend

     Well, it’s that time of year again. The holy month of Ramadan, one of the great challenges in my year. As always I am determined to do the fast correctly. I must experience that golden rain, The Lailatul Quadar, and prepare a blessed path to the hereafter. I have no problems with abstaining from food. It’s the inner fast– that is the problem. But this year I am going to try a new approach. The place where I find the most gossip is at the Subud Center, and there are a few persons there that I don’t get along with all that well, and I could be subject to an angry word, or imagined scenes of putting them down, real no no’s that can ruin the enterprise quicker than you can say Ramadan Mubarek.
     The new approach is to minimize contacts with people. I will do my latihan at home. I have laid in a big supply of food, so I don’t have to interact at the grocery and work has few contacts because I’m doing a remodeling while the owner is away. I learned not to look at beautiful while I’m driving because of swervability problems, and I have recordings of the Muslin prayers for my car stereo. So, if this will shield me for twenty days, I figure I’ve got a chance on the twenty first night to receive that coveted experience.
     “O.K. Dog, This is the year,” I told her, a few days before the night of Ablutions, as I call it; the night where you clean yourself and make your intentions to fast. Then you get up early the next morning for the first ‘Saur.’
     I live pretty simply, but that first breakfast of Ramadan I can’t resist, and I make a big cheese omelet, followed by grits and a piece of beef bacon, and then a great big chocolate chip waffle with strawberries and whipped cream, and Columbian coffee, brewed fresh.
     Over the years the dog had been treated to my dissertations on Ramadan and its blessings, and she really seems to understand that she shouldn’t bug me, because it could ruin my fast. So she pretty much lays on her bed in the corner of the room near the computer and moves only when I take her out, or to eat and drink. Any dementia occurs before or after, but she is mellow during the days of fasting.

     This year the night before “Ablutions” she does go crazy, she rummages around in the bathroom, digging into my razor and nail clippers and strewing them on the floor and giving me a strange look. I said, “Aha, she’s getting it out and testing me so I can practice being unaffected.” I said “Good Dog” and patted her on the head. And all night she carries on whimpering and coming to the bedroom door to look at me. Very late at night I hear her rummaging around in the kitchen, but I roll over, again practicing not being disturbed by someone else’s actions.
     In the morning I discovered she had gotten into my waffle mix and coffee beans and strewn them all over the floor. Another test. I patted her on the head and said “Good Dog, you’re testing me and I am grateful.” She just looked at me and shook her head in disbelief. And that night I commence my Ramadan, having resupplied my waffle mix.
     Well, it all goes perfectly. I say prayers, have no bad thoughts and don’t get into any altercations with others. The dog is a dream. She lies on her bed quietly for the most part, and never bothers me when I stay up at night and vigil. On the twentieth night, the last night before the big one, I am in great spiritual shape, reading the Koran, and figuring the next night I would be able to go to Latihan and then sit up with my brothers and receive the golden rain. I look over at the dog andthere seems to be a yellowish glow in her corner. “I hope she’s not getting sick,” I think, concerned lest I miss my triumph the next night.
     The following evening I go to the Center expecting to sit up with them, only to hear them discussing how nice it was yesterday on the night of power.
     “OH MY GOD,” I said, “When did you start the Fast?”
     “When everybody else did,” they replied. And I realized that everyone had begun a day before I did. And the dog........
     I raced home and looked at the dog. She looked like she had been to heaven and back.
     “You knew,” I screamed. “YOU got the golden rain. And I..............”
     She had this look like the Madonna... “Blew it again, didn’t you?”

Rachman Cantrell

Musings from Menucha

     Most of you know of the existence of the PNW region’s annual long-weekend retreat at the Menucha Conference Center, a very down-home spot on the beautiful Colombia River. Completely devoted to the latihan, it always seems to be a very positive experience for attendees! Following are a few responses to it!
     I just got back from the Menucha retreat. What an experience! I am astounded that it still packs such a wallop after all these years! This time I stayed in the “Barn,” which is not actually a barn, but a lower priced option where one may stay without having the food program. I did not want the food since I am fasting and have somewhat odd eating habits anyway. I shared the barn space with a group of young people, and was pleased for the opportunity to get to know them better. I am hopeful for our future! They are amazing, talented, energetic, and full of new ideas. We stayed awake together late into the night, and had long discussions about Subud life and other topics. My feeling is that they would like to participate more in Subud, other than just doing latihan, but are lacking the opportunities. I hope we can make space for that. I came to the conclusion that we older members need to be more active in inviting and encouraging them to participate in all aspects of the Subud association.
     The latihans were strong and powerful, and there was much testing (receiving) about many subjects. The regional helpers seemed near burn-out at times, but kept rallying to the cause!
     Ruth Gullixson was back at the Subud Gift Shop, and did a superhuman job, working all hours of the night, and bringing in a good bit of cash to the artists and to Subud. Thanks, Ruth!
     Sebastian Tedrow and his crew did a great job making the early Ramadan breakfast at 3:00 a.m. It was quite a sight to see all the fasting people drifting in to the “Barn” from the dark corners of Menucha around four in the morning!
     The entertainment was great as usual, and the dancing afterwards allowed an emotional outlet for the more serious work that was done in the various workshops. There were many workshops that I missed, but the ones I attended were harmonious, and effective. The one on “Fear” was quite meaningful, and most everyone felt something positive was gained in attending it.

     Another workshop that was very significant to me was called “Growing Subud,” and related to trying to make Subud more accessible and open to new people. There were ideas about how to do that, and also the parallel to that idea, which is how to make new people who are already opened feel welcome, included, and part of the group. Some of the ideas along this line were to make the applicant process more open and inclusive, having welcoming meetings with the whole group (rather than just helpers) so new people can have a broader base of members to connect with, allowing young people to talk with applicants along with the helpers (especially with young applicants), and in general making the whole process more inclusive and fun.
     These may seem like radical ideas, but most of this was in effect when I was a new person in Subud, in addition to sitting outside the latihan during the applicant period! By the time I was opened, I was fully integrated into the Subud group life, and knew members who had become close friends. We need to again make that a part of our Subud experience. Some of the ideas for making Subud more accessible were to have open meetings for the general public, advertising those meetings in newspapers and fliers, adding Subud web sites as links to Subud enterprise web sites (and vise-versa), and even adding Subud web sites to the signature function on our emails! Can you imagine what that would do to make Subud known to our relatives, friends, and acquaintances? I think it would be great if there were a Subud Enterprise page on most Subud web sites, and if those enterprises in return had Subud web sites as a link on their sites, and if that was not appropriate for some reason, at least having a Susila Dharma web site as a link.
     Many people were very concerned about the world situation, and quite often the testing and workshops centered around that issue. Our material world is in a state of near chaos. War and all the horror that goes with that loomed large in the background of the meetings. Some of us have received that if more people in the world were actively receiving the latihan, it would have a tremendous effect in cooling the situation and bringing about a state of peace. I felt strongly that I needed to do what I can to make that a reality.
     At the closing circle, all who were there held hands and prayed for peace, and then sang a verse of “Amazing Grace.” It was a wonderful moment, and as I left for home I was feeling hopeful for Subud, and for the world!

Hamid Camp

In conversation with other Subud members on the CongressNews listserver

David: Belief: “Subud is a unique gift from God, for all of humanity, at this time.”

Hamid Camp 1934-2005
see HamiltonCamp.com

Hamid: Well David, for some this may be a “belief,” but my own experience supports this proposition. And this realization does not produce in me a feeling of being “special” or apart, only humble, grateful and cognizant of great responsibility that those who have received this Gift bear in the coming times of social breakdown. We in the US are being shown, in the horror that has overtaken the Gulf Coast, particularly in the New Orleans debacle, a preview of what we may face. All of us here will have to stay very close to our inner guidance. As hurricane Rita hurtles toward the last operating refineries in the Gulf Coast, we may soon witness the complete breakdown of the US economic and social system. Stay tuned.

David: “If testing comes from God and God is the Most Unitary then God cannot disagree with Himself.”

Hamid: The mixed receiving we experience is not so much a reflection Of God but our inner states–and forgive a little twitting here, but above, you thanked God that women were “made equal” but you refer to “God Him-self.” So perhaps none of us are free from our unconscious patriarchal, anthropomorphic illusions. ;)

It seems to me, the failure to receive clearly, and the disharmony it produces, goes to prove that we Subud members are not “special” or separate for humanity, because we humans all contain–I won’t say the n word, I know you frown on it–ancillary instruments that cloud our intuitive receptor, or inner self; and if we are not clear in our intention, said tools will lead us away from true Human behavior; as has been shown clearly in the deterioration in the state of the world since philosophies have replaced spiritual experience as our guide. Is it not the major task of all of us to limit the desires of our “inner companions” so that what indications we receive from the Life Force can be received clearly, and spontaneously followed, as we fulfill our responsibility to serve our fellow creatures?

My experience has shown in my own life, that if I work, constantly, to stay close to this inner movement, to work, sometimes successfully, sometimes falling on my face, to limit my desire to be right, to control and to seek only my own satisfaction, in short, govern my self interest, wondrous things have transpired. As Bapak commented, “Your heart will be amazed.”

I attribute this blessing to come from following the spiritual training of Subud and the advice and guidance of Mhd. Subuh, both of which, so far, have led me safely through the worlds minefields.

This brings the notion of “one on one connection to the Life Force, unmediated”, to a reality that Luther’s followers never realized.

My dear D, it is my conviction that the mind can only grasp and dissect what it knows. In the latihan we face the unknown.

The mind with all its conceptions, bankrupt philosophies, systems and calculations can only release control in the face of the Infinite and remain silent, as the great worlds of life unfold, by the Will of the Creator, to the inner self or intuitive.

Philosophies and dialectic cannot improve what is out of place; only patience, receptivity, submission to the Life Force, and courage, to follow what we receive, will bring us through these coming difficult times.

Our task is to pass this Gift on to those who, consciously or unconsciously, wish to receive it. In my opinion, it is passed on by service to others; the act of service, containing the life force, will pass the flame, as a lit candle will ignite other candles yet unlit.

Yes D, I know that all this will be attributed to the fundamentalist spouting of a “trubie”. I plead guilty on all counts, as all I have stated is, to me, the fundamental principals that foster and sustain my inner growth. Call me irresponsible, but don’t call me late for buka.

Let us continyah.

Good fasting to you and trubie dooby doo, Hamid Camp

Mardiah Gleeson

Adventures in Kalimantan

A quick note to let you all know we took a great 3 day 2 night boat ride up the Rungan River in the Rahai'i Pungan, on a Jungle Cruise river boat owned and operated by Lorna Dowston-Collins and Gaye Thavisin [see www.wowborneo.com, ed.]. Our son Harlan had been on it for an afternoon cruise through some mango groves, when it was parked on a different river. It has since been moved, to the river closest to us, the Rungan.

Our hosts and travel guides, Lorna & Gaye

We left on a Thursday morning, just my husband Redmond and I, with Lorna and Gaye and their crew of five guys. We were served good food, stopped at a couple of villages, had walks through the villages, meetings and greetings from the people, were shown their places of offerings to the spirits, were given first hand accounts of their economy, what they are doing currently to provide for themselves. These are all Dyak villages that are accessible only by the river. There are no roads connecting them to here or Palangka Raya yet. These people were so open and friendly and happy to share with us. They entertained us with singing and dancing. Their was a women singer, who sang words that were stories. The dancing was traditional circle dance, women, children, and in the end everyone dancing a simple side step with a gentle swaying motion around a table. There were two men with simple painted banjo like instruments with a bird head at the end of it. It had only two strings. There were two additional men in the band, one wih a metal gong like instrument, and the other a bongo like drum. We got great pictures of their tatoos, too. All this was at the second village we visited, Gaung Baru. The 1st village was Kanarakan, pretty, prosperous, enterprizing. There we met with a village archivist, and with a village midwife. the two of them led us around on a walk of the village, sharing with us the berries they pick that are delicious to eat, and showed us how they gather rubber, the whole process up to when they float it down the river to Sei Gahong and then on to where ever it gets processed. We studied their canoes, checked out the price of a largish one for short river trips around the ornagutang island. The 1st price quoted was around $300, which could probably be bargained down. We'd still need to get a motor.
It was so happy a feeling to connect with these natives. One reason it was so good was because Lorna and a team of social workers had met up with these people three or four years ago in a project spurred by the Kalimantan Support Group. The work that was done was to help these people build their community, to vision what they would like to achieve in the future, how they could improve the quality of their life and the life of their village. So much illegal logging and gold dredging, along with mining for silicon, etc., has contributed to destroying their culture and the tropical forest they live in. We passed other villages on our cruise up the river that didn't have the same advantage as the ones we visited, and they looked ugly in comparison, and depressed. We saw lots of gold dredger outfits, floating rafts houses that pull the mud and river bottoms up and over this slide to them separate the gold from the rest with a process with mercury, which also poisons the land and harms a person if it get inhaled.

     The logging happened already some years ago. It's a shame, because done in moderation, the land could continue to provide the Olin trees, which are like our Redwoods.
     Our daughter Sylvana joined us by taking a bumpy back road trip to a village up the river that had been prearranged to stop at to pick up her and whoever wanted to join from here that couldn't leave because of the school. She met up with us at about 3PM on Friday. We ordered a clotak, a small motor boat, to go up river to see a smaller river. It was a river in an area that was being strongly mined and stripped of its natural resources. We could see the result of the land erosion. It has affected the life of the native people profoundly. Wherever there is illegal logging, and mining, there is evidence of alcoholism and a depressed community. The culture deteriorates.
     I got excited about the possibilities with Lorna's and Gaye's boat. It can be a real tool towards helping improve the quality of life here, in small little ways, but in good ways. Trade, education and communication can be exchanged. The midwife lady was young and strong. She had been trained in Panlangka Raya, then returned to her village. She was proud of her success with all the women in her village. She asked me if it would be possible for her to visit the US and meet with other midwives there. I told her of my friend Sheannie. I so would like to set up an avenue of communication between them. It would be great if there could be more visits here and meetings between different experts in their field to exchange information. Of course it's absolutely necessary to have someone like Lorna, who has no self interest there, to translate.

Boating Along the Rungan River

     Once Sylvana, and Raquel with her little boy Muneer, met up with us the next day, we walked around that village, after our jaunt up this smaller river. This village, Mungku Baru, was not as happy as the other ones, but it was still good to walk around their village and see some of their homes. We visited a big rich Olin wood house that was built by a bunch of guys that went into pooling their funds to make a community house. I don;t know how much it's getting shared though. It was very hot inside of their big room. Their was no cross ventilation.
     When it got dark we stumbles our way back to the boat on ladders, planks, and boardwalks that often had a missing board. We filled up with water, and took off only a short distance up river for our second night. The first night was just us parking along the river where there was no village. Redmond and I were in the honeymoon suite, the biggest cabin, of which there were five. Sylvana had one at the end of the corridor, Lorna, had one on the other side of the bathroom, which was next door to us, one on each side. Gaye was on the other side, and Raquel with Muneer next to Gaye. We were fed great meals which Gaye worked on organizing with the cook she had worked with before at the KMC hotel, when she was the manager.
     Every night we would go to bed early. We would just get sleepy at around 9 or 10 PM.. I had fun just reading my book or visiting with Redmond, Sylvana or the others. It was fun, a great change from the tedium around here. Hopefully this break we've just taken will give me some more perspective on what I can do here. I've been feeling a bit empty of purpose and direction, and disgusted with myself for my lack of activity.
     I'm going to stop now because it is approaching latihan time here, our 10AM latihan up at the Pendopo on the hill. It's the best place for latihan!

Elaina Dodson

A Personal Sharing of Ibu Rahayu's 80th Birthday Events-March 13, 2008

PART 1
     It’s difficult to put into words how full the day was yesterday, inwardly and outwardly, with a trip to Bapak’s grave, a visit to two local Subud-supported projects, and Ibu Rahayu’s 80th birthday party at night. But here goes, a brief diary of the day, just to give a taste:
     Wednesday night: it is pouring rain outside and the streets are flooding. Not a good sign for tomorrow, when we make the long journey into the mountains to visit Bapak’s grave. I’m in bed, lights out, by 8pm.
     Thursday morning, 1 am: I wake up and cannot get back to sleep.
     5:15 am: We leave the hotel in a taxi bound for Wisma Subud. The bus is supposed to leave for Suka Mulia (Bapak’s gravesite) at 5:30.
     6:20 am: Actual time that the bus leaves. Two people had cancelled out, and Amaliya Lerrigo from Wisma Subud wanted to find two other people who were on the wait-list, to tell them there was now room in the bus.
     It’s a pleasant ride away from Jakarta and toward the mountains where Bapak’s grave is. There is relatively little traffic. The road conditions on the “highway” are much better than the streets. No potholes, and evidently much better drainage. People cross the highways by foot to get to the other side. Very bizarre and dangerous, but miraculously, we don’t see anyone get hurt.
     7:30 am: we start making our way up the mountain switchbacks. It’s a very different scene here... mountain towns with much poverty, people all over the streets, and an occasional “resort” thrown in for the city dwellers who need to get away to cooler climes. It’s a long trip, but all is going well, until....
     8:40 am: about a mile from Bapak’s grave, the road disappears. In its place is nothing but mud. The torrential rains the night before have washed everything out. Our bus driver sees tire tracks in the mud and attempts to follow them. He gets about 3 feet and stops. He cannot go any further. He tries one more time... and starts to skid. The back of the bus is perilously near the edge of the road, beyond which lies a downward slope. Luckily the bus stops before toppling, and we all get out and start walking. It is about 10 degrees cooler and much less humid up here at the top of the world.
     That last mile we walk is all uphill, but strangely it doesn’t feel difficult at all. People are laughing, joking about our “near-miss”, and very happy to be where we are.
     As we approach the entrance to the compound, we hear the bus behind us, slowly making its way up the hill. I asked someone later how they got it out of the ditch, and he said, “We surrender... and push!” (There is no past tense in Bahasa Indonesia.)
     So we walked in and up several sections of stairs to the most beautiful mausoleum I have ever seen. I’m already crying. We take our shoes off and walk up the last stairs and go in. It is very quiet. Bapak’s grave lies in the center, in a marble coffin surrounded by marble support. The walls are all glass, and gorgeous, decorative wooden support beams surround the coffin. Around Bapak and outside are the coffins of all his family who have died... his son, his three wives, Ibu Sumari’s daughter Rochanawati, his mother, and others.
     We all sit there quietly for about a half hour. I can feel the Latihan vibrating within me, and I am filled with gratitude and love for this man, and to God for giving him to us. It’s hard to put into words, but it felt incredibly peaceful, like we were all part of the same energy or light as Bapak and his family.
     We finally got back in our buses, and I went with the MSF folks to make two stops on the way back: one to an orphanage in Cipanas that is supported by MSF and Susila Dharma International, and then to Ibu Ismana’s school (elementary and high school together) in South Cilandak.
     11:30 am: The orphanage also moved me (and all of us)to tears.. This is part of the YUM (Yayasan Usahu Mulia, I think)project to help alleviate poverty and hunger in Indonesia.
     Most of these little children have lost one or both parents and live there as well as go to school there. If they have surviving family, those family members have decided that the children will get a better education and better nutrition than if they stayed at home. Some of them do have families and live at home, but go to school there. Subud provides some scholarships.
     These kids were gorgeous, friendly, taking our hands, blowing kisses, putting our hands to their foreheads (a gesture of respect and greeting), and asking us about ourselves. We saw the dorms where they live, as well as some of their classrooms. Again, we were in tears. It is heartbreaking and overwhelming, but joyful for what this school has been able to accomplish.
     1:30 pm: We next go to Ismana’s school. It is more of a traditional English-style “prep school”, but they have one numerous national awards because they insist that their students learn English fluently (and in fact teach many of their courses in English) and because they take on autistic and other special need children. This is the school that used to be housed at Wisma Subud, in Bapak’s old house there, which is now the Interntional Subud Center called “Adi Puri.” (Ibu Rahayu dedicated it two days ago.) Ismana and Haryono took it upon themselves to continue this school, find a better location for it, and make sure it didn’t die.
     Ismana and her staff are dedicated to educating children who might otherwise not get a decent enough education to get good jobs later on. We were told that 100% of the school’s graduates go on to university, though most attend college overseas. Nationally, one of the teachers thought the percent that attend university is less than 10%, so full college attendance is a huge accomplishment. They learn the same curriculum as is taught in International Baccalaureate and ACT programs around the world. The standard for education in Ismana’s school is very high.

4 pm: After that we went back to rest for about an hour. I thought I’d be too exhausted for Ibu Rahayu’s birthday party, but found a surprising store of energy, a deep wish to honor this beautiful woman who has given us all so much.
The bus got a little lost on the way to Pamulang, where Ibu lives, but the driver and our “guide” Ridwan got us there... again, in the rain, with streets flooded (seems to be a recurring theme here!).

Ibu Rahayu cutting the rice
Click for photo album

     6:45 pm: Ibu’s party was glorious. It was held in Bapak’s house, “The Big House,” in Pamulang. You walk in and see the balcony from which he waved at people at his own birthday party the night he died. Muti (Bapak’s granddaughter) and her family live there now. It is a wide-open, airy home, and filled with love. Muti and others have prepared food for an anticipated crowd of 400 people, all of whom seem to have showed up. It’s a prodigious show of love for Ibu, and an awe-inspiring amount of cooking!
     Ibu walked in with help from Ibu Yati, and it’s obvious that she’s very frail. But we’re told that she didn’t want to miss her own party. We were asked not to greet her personally in the traditional show of respect of “sumkum (spelling?)” because it would tire her. She says, through Sharif, that our presence and the feeling that we are all united in the Latihan, is all that is needed... Some people are weeping, and you can feel the love in the room for her. We had a moment of quiet, and could feel the reality of what Ibu spoke of.
     The dinner was magnificent, and I ate fruit that I had never seen or heard of, but fell in love with. One of them is called “rambutan” and came from Ibu Ismana’s garden. It is a hairy looking round thing, and there’s no way to get inside other than just digging in with your fingers. But once you do, the sweetness is incomparable. I had three of them, I think.

Tuti, Ibu Rahayu, Ibu Yati
Click for photo album

     Ibu Rahayu sat in a corner with Ibu Yati, eating her dinner, and though she was weak and we had been asked not to go up to her, when people passed her she would look up with that wonderful smile she has, delighted to see them. Her face would light up. “Happy Birthday, Ibu” was all it felt appropriate to say. I hope she knows how much we love her.
     Then came the entertainment. Singing, dancing, some Western (opera), some Indonesian pop songs, and some traditional Indonesian dancing, which Ibu seemed to enjoy the most.
     Then she left, and it was over. The bus ride home was much easier and quicker. I fell asleep and woke up shocked to see we were pulling into the Wisma Subud compound. We collapsed into bed around 11pm, 22 hours after waking.
     The Kalimantan conference crowd woke again at 4am to begin the trip to Palangkaraya for four days. We (Halinah Busack, her sister Terry and I) will fly up on Sunday morning.
PART 2
     Last night we did something that is the norm for many Subud members here: we went to Saturday night Latihan in Pamulang with Ibu Rahayu. People travel from Cilandak and elsewhere to spend their Saturday nights here. It all seems completely routine... until you remember just how extraordinary it really is.
     Pamulang is a suburb of Jakarta where Ibu, Muti, Indra and several other members of their extended family now live, as well as Pak Widarbo and Ibu Rukmini Widarbo. It is a beautiful, shaded compound with elegant homes.
     The gathering begins with people arriving at the “Big House” and sitting in chairs around the entrance-way, kindly provided by Bapak’s granddaughter Muti who now lives in the home where Bapak once lived.
     By the time everyone has arrived there are about 50 Indonesians there, a dozen or so expats, and another dozen or so visitors from other countries. 75 people in all, this Saturday evening.
     Ibu arrives and we all stand for her. She sits and chats for a few moments, looking happy and well. Then, as is the protocol, she is the first to rise and walk into the Latihan Hall. The women all follow.
     The latihan hall is in front of the “Big House,” kind of in what we think of as “the front yard.” It is an enormous building, a “pendopo” made of beautiful, intricately carved wood and marble floors, designed by Pak Widarbo. The women go in, sit quietly for a few minutes, then rise to begin the exercise.
     The latihan is deep but very quiet. I feel transported somehow, and after 30 minutes I’m not quite sure where I am. I’m one of the last left standing. Ibu is the first to leave, and again we rise for her.
     She then goes into the “Big House” and asks that people who are leaving Jakarta come in to say goodbye. We walk in one by one to greet her, and hear her say a few words to us. I can’t believe she is thanking me for coming. As if I would be anywhere else in the world right now...
     I float back to my hotel in Cilandak.

Brianna

A Subud Story of Ancestral Purification

     “Well she packed it in about six o’clock,” were the words my husband heard over the phone. My father, never a man of many words, had just informed my husband that my Grandmother Loretta had died at the ripe old age of 96. My dad wanted me to sing at her funeral with my aunts.
     For the first time I asked my Subud Sisters to do a latihan for the benefit of a direct ancestor who had died. We are standing to do this special latihan. The helper says, “begin” and boom! I am on the floor bowing and chanting in some Native American language. I feel the spirit of my grandmother as extremely gentle, even timid.
     I always suspected that my dad has Native American ancestry. There is something about his high cheekbones, dark hair, his silence and his connection to the land that leaves that impression. He says that we must have some American Indian ancestry because our earwax is orange. No one can tell from my skin that sunburns within an hour, or by my freckles and greenish brown eyes that I have anything other than Dutch-English ancestry. I did get dark straight hair though, that like my father’s has little grey. The relatives think that my paternal great grandfather may have been Native American. That is all we know. We have no name. No tribal identification. No picture.
     A couple days later I am sitting in a church room with the minister and my Oklahoma kin, preparing for the funeral. The minister asks for people to share memories of my grandmother. Having just done latihan for her, I said, “I know that my grandmother had a very gentle spirit.” My aunt nods, commenting that my grandmother was always saving critters that had gotten caught in the hay mowers. In fact, one time a mama skunk was killed, and grandmother found the two baby skunks. She took them home and put them on the mama cat to suckle. My dad grinned, saying, “The skunks did real well, but the kittens near about starved.” They had played in the living room with those pet skunks and were never sprayed. The things you learn about your relatives at funerals!
     I had thought that the baby blanket that my grandmother sent when my daughter was born was store bought because every stitch was perfect. I found out that the blue ribbon she had enclosed meant that this baby blanket had won first prize at the County Fair. Her casket was draped with a similarly perfect white blanket in which she had knitted the entire Lord’s Prayer into it. It was beautiful, and perfectly legible from the church benches. I wonder if she made up the pattern or if it exists somewhere in some knitting book.
     The Native American latihans continued for a year after my grandmother’s death. Now I understand what people mean when they say, “Your ancestors get real happy when you start doing latihan.” I had many experience of things that my ancestors went through. I felt anguish and sadness and despair. I felt what it was like to be shot with an arrow. I saw a dead family laid out in white leather decorated ceremonial clothes. I chanted and sang in some language, “Maya ha” “Paya ha”, “Peowe” “Hey o wey he o”, “Ta”, “Ka”, “Moyo”, “Haiya”. (Use Spanish phonetics to pronouce them.) A deep range in my singing voice opened up, which I still have.

     One night during latihan, a Native American male came to me bearing a medicine hoop with four feathers hanging down from it. He seemed to have come from very far away. Golden light poured into me from the middle of this hoop. The next day I was working in a therapy clinic, and a client told me that there was an eagle in golden light on my forehead. He had also been telling me that I needed to get the tires changed on my car. I thought he had seen my tires, which did need to be changed. I couldn’t see the eagle.
     Eventually the chanting changed and my latihan changed, and it appeared that the ancestral purification was over after 2005, until recently some more things happened. Now it is 2008. I have been going through the second phase of the latihan, which is purification of feelings. Recently a helper received that the trauma of my daughter’s birth had been an expiation of my ancestors’ mistakes, and that I should pray to God to forgive my ancestors for their mistakes back to the beginning of my line. I should also pray for my ancestors to forgive my mistakes. This is very important, she said.
     Last Sunday after latihan, I decided that now is as good a time as any, and so I did pray for God to forgive my ancestors’ mistakes back to the beginning of my line and for my ancestors to forgive my mistakes. I said, “God, I know this is asking a lot.” I felt a little awkward. It seemed like such a big prayer. But I figured that God had told my helper to tell me to pray it, because it certainly would not have occurred to me.
     On the way over to a healing appointment with a Subud sister who practices healing arts, I thought, “God will either grant this prayer or not. If he doesn’t grant this prayer, we will just deal with the consequences of any mistakes that were made.” I really just surrendered the whole thing. “We” meant my ancestors and I. I have a deep feeling of love for them after all we have been through together. They have been helping me and I have been helping them, and God has been helping all of us.
     At the end of my appointment, my Subud sister asked for me to receive an image of “Who is Brianna”. I then received a series of images: 1) white and light blue eagle’s wings, 2) an angel filled with light, 3) a totem pole with light pouring in from above, 4) a deep pink rose with a cream satin gown, 5) a Native American style breast plate jewelry piece with a wooden cross at the center and 6) a particular jewelry that has a leather strap that hangs at the waist in a “V” with a light purplish blue stone hanging from it (maybe an agate). My Subud sister said, “Your ancestors are here. They are singing.” I asked her to sing how they were singing, as I could not hear them. I could feel the spiritual energy streaming into me along with the images.
     Then I realized that God must have granted my prayer, and that my ancestors’ mistakes had been forgiven back to the beginning of my line!!! I felt so happy. My ancestors had come to bless me. My Subud sister said, “You are beloved by your ancestors and by God.” She said that someday I would be able to meet them. I look forward to that. The feeling is mutual. It is really nice when your ancestors come and claim you, to belong to them, and for them to belong to you, to be able to help and love each other across this veil between this world and the next.
     Thank you, God. I am so touched and grateful. Thank you for your love, and infinite kindness, and for helping all of us in these troubled times. Thank you for blessing my ancestors and me. And thank you for all the eagles in Subud and out of Subud who stay close to you to manifest your infinite love and guidance in this world.