NaamNet Book 1

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FROM THE

HEART

By Vaahi-guroo

Jee’s grace

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16.16 THE ONE LIGHT...170 16.17 BE HERE NOW...171 17. MAYA...172 17.1 MAYA THE WITCH...172 17.2 THE GREAT DEBATE...174 17.3 ME, MYSELF AND I ...175 17.4 MONEY...176 17.5 MOUSE-TRAP 1...176 17.6 MOUSE-TRAP 2...178 17.7 HUM AVGUN BHARAY...178 18. NASTY QUALITIES ...179 18.1 SNAKES AND LADDERS...179 18.2 HURTING A SAINT...179 18.3 NO ROOM FOR ME ( EGO - HAUMAI)...180 18.4 HOT AIR (EGO - HAUMAI)...180

18.5 WHILE ‘I’ RESIDED...180

18.6 HOUSE ON FIRE (EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT - MOH) ...181

18.7 MINE...181

18.8 THE MISER (GREED - LOWB)...182

18.9 GREED...183

18.10 THE BIRDS...183

18.11 GRUDGES...184

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18.13 MY WIFE’S A PIG...185

18.14 SLANDER STEALS YOUR NAAM WEALTH...186

18.15 DEADLY MANMUKH COCKTAIL...187

18.16 WEALTH AND WOMAN...188

18.17 I AM A SINNER...189

18.18 EVIL PEOPLE...190

19. SADH-SANGAT - SAINT SOCIETY ...191

19.1 GURU’S DEVOTEES SHOWED ME THE PATH...191

19.2 THE PARROT AND THE CAT...191

19.3 SAADH-SANGAAT TWICE-A-DAY...192

19.4 RAINDROPS...193

19.5 WALKED ALL NIGHT...193

19.6 TINY DROPS...193

19.7 MOLA SHAH...194

20. PANGS OF SEPARATION ...194

20.1 ONE INSTANT WITHOUT WAHEGURU...194

20.2 THE MOON AND THE SEA...195

20.3 HOME SOON...196

20.4 KOEE AAN MILAVEH - SOMEONE LEAD ME TO WAHEGURU JEE...196

20.5 LOCKED OUT...198 20.6 SEEING THE LIGHT...199 20.7 IF I WAS...199 20.8 THE VOW OF SILENCE...200 20.9 BHAGAT DHANNA JEE...202 20.10 CITY OF SEPARATION...204 20.11 BREATH OF AIR...206

20.12 A JOURNEY TO THE BELOVED'S DOORSTEP...206

20.13 HEAR MY CALL...212 20.14 WAHEGURUS EMBRACE...213 20.15 MERGING IN THE ONE...213 20.16 EVERYWHERE I GO...214 20.17 THE WAY IT IS...215 20.18 NAAM TECHNIQUES...215 20.19 BIGFOOT...216

21. DARSHAN OF GURU GOBIND SINGH JEE ...218

21.1 NO JAAP SAHIB- NO DARSHAN!...218

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1. INTRODUCTION

1.1 Welcome

Dearest Khalsa Jee, Vaahi-Guroo Jee Ka Khalsa Vaahi-Guroo Jee Kee fateh!

By Wonderful Vaah-Guroo Jee’s infinite and unparralled kindness, this beautiful book was created. The seva was done selflessly by the Guru’s Khalsa from all corners of the world. These beloved GurSikhs wish to remain anonymous and the only Name to be glorified is Vaahi-Guroo.

All of the articles were originally posted to an Internet Mailing List called Naam.Net.

This book is aimed at Gursikhs who are following the Path to our Wonderful Vaahi-Guroo Jee and need inspiration.

Enjoy!

Vaahi-Guroo Jee Ka Khalsa Vaahi-Guroo Jee Kee fateh!

1.2 Invitation to Join Naam.Net Inspiration Group

The Guru did apaar kirpa and created Naam Net for thirsty souls who want cyber Naami sangat.

The only requirement is a commitment to 20 minutes of daily Naam Simran. The preferred time for simran is amrit vela (from 12.30 am to 6.00 am). However, if this is not possible, Naam Simran should be done at night.

After one month of joining Naam Net, all new Naam Net members will be expected to start japping naam for at *least* one hour at amrit vela.

If you wish to join Naami jan who send Gurbani glazed arrows of love to each other, please send a note to

[email protected]

with the subject heading: ADDLIST

Please include a statement of commitment to 20 minutes of daily naam simran.

Please note, Naam Net is *NOT* a discussion group - only inspirational messages are allowed.

1.3 Connected

I feel like there is so much positive waheguru energy buzzing around our little naam.net village that each email I read or send is more than words and letters - a burst of love and energy travels from one gursikh to many others....

We're connected electronically , and spiritually as well. Like I look up at the sky and its the same sun and moon you see on the other side of the world. I breathe in the air and its the same ocean of air you

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live in. More than that I say Waheguru ji and it's the same ocean of love you are all swimming in as well.

Guru Nanak ji says 'too dario dana beena, ma machalee kaisay ant leh ha' 'You are the wise and deep river, i am the fish-how can i know your limits?'

I feel we are all greatly blessed to have got our heads above water, the whole world is drowning in maya, in sikhi politics and this or that rehat, but on naam net I've found my brothers and sisters who've risen up above that and can feel the sunshine of naam shining on their beautiful faces.

ALL ABOARD WHOSE GETTING ABOARD .

WAHEGURU NAAM JAHAJ IS ABOUT TO SET SAIL...

I love you all, may you never lose to maya, may the 5 enemies be your servants, may you ride like naam warriors like the kings and queens you are to the feet of Guru Gobind Singh jee.

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2. THE MEANING OF LIFE

2.1 "Darshan"

I woke up earlier than usual on darshan day. The time must have been a little after midnight. Something seemed different that day. With difficulty I lifted my head and peeped out of the small window of my hut. Although I could not see anything due to the pitch darkness of the night, I sensed some activity in the trees. I closed my eyes and listened. To my surprise I sensed the trees were in the same jovial mood as they were when spring was approaching. Winter had just started, it would be months before even the slightest hint of spring. I lay down my head back on the pillow and realized that I too was in a jovial mood - my heart too hinted some hope and excitement. That was quite a change from the past few years of my miserable and painful existence.

It had been almost twenty years ago that I had been diagnosed with an incurable form of leprosy. This had been the first such case in the memberable history of my village and the people did not know what to do with me. I had been quite a cheerful and promising young boy before the village doctor noticed the state of the perpetually open wounds on my back. After he announced my disease, my life changed drastically.

The elders banished me despite my family's (particularly my mother's) heart breaking pleas. My brother and uncles built a hut for me three miles from the village and promised me daily visits. At first, all my relatives and friends came each and every day, and brought me gifts and tried their best to lift the dark and heavy depression that was suffocating me, but due to my negative and cynical view (and because love is rarely true amongst worldly people), the number of people visiting me reduced to one - my mother.

She would bring food for me two times a day. She would come and clean my hut, bathe and feed me. At first, I eagerly awaited her visits. I asked her about all my friends. But gradually, it only pained me to listen to her.

Soon after, I started bolting the door and would ask her to leave the food outside and go away. I also asked her to come only once a day since I realized it was hard for her. With much reluctance, she agreed, but she could not understand my isolation from her. This continued for over ten years. My condition was only getting worse. Although I was in my early twenties, I felt like an old man. Laying all day in bed and being angry and depressed had certainly taken their tolls. I had a hard time even going to the nearby river to get my supply of water. My bones would groan and creak at every effort. My mind had turned into a dull and a stagnant vessel which would not hold any thoughts except for the immediate bodily needs.

Then one day things changed. My mother was taken seriously ill with tuberculosis. Even in her illness, she prepared food for me, but she did not have enough strength to deliver it to me. She asked my nephew to accomplish that task. Consider it fate, but for reasons known only to my nephew, the food was not delivered to me. The first day without food, I cried like a baby and shouted out to my mother. I had tried to eat berries from a low hanging bush, but due to ignorance, had eaten poisonous ones. This only made the situation worse. After three painful, lonely and sleepless days I assumed my mother was dead and I would never again see another human.

I decided to end my life. It was the middle of the night and death seemed like an inviting and pleasant escape. I slowly and painfully got up from the bed and made my way towards the river. I envisioned myself jumping in and drowning. I had made it half-way to the river-bed when I tripped on a bush and fell heavily on my face. Due to my general poor health and lack of food, I could not lift myself up again. Only with a tremendous amount of effort, I turned and lay on my back. Miraculously, I fell asleep.

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In that wonderful sleep I dreamt that a man with a beard and a blue piece of cloth wrapped on his head took my hand and led me to two big doors. Although I could no see the man, he appeared to radiating grace and elegance. With his hands he pushed open the doors. A ball of white light immediately engulfed me and with a jerk lifted me a few feet out of my body. The jerking movement woke me up. I was breathing slowly and deeply. I felt light and joyful. To my joy, I realized I was still hovering slightly above my body. I had heard several times from the village pundits that the soul was an entity distinct from the body, but I had given it as much thought as I suspect they did. But that day in an instant my life changed. I cannot express the relief I felt at the thought that this deformed and rotten body was not me.

Since then, my life had revolved around getting that sensation back. I have tried all the methods that I have heard about to gain that light feeling. But even though I have become still inside, and can listen to myself and nature more easily, that wonderful feeling never graced me. Most of my days were still spent drowned in thought and depression.

But that darshan day felt different. I couldn't go back to sleep no matter how hard I tried. Finally at dawn, I got out of bed and looked out of the window. The sun had just risen making everything golden. The birds and the wind were joyfully singing songs of love. I stood there for a long time bathing in freshness. And for the first time in about twelve years I decided to go for a walk during daylight. I was an avid walker once but the horrified looks of a boy who had accidently seen me had locked me inside. But that day, all that didn't matter.

I felt a trace of life in me. I spent the whole day seeped in nature and waiting for something to happen. At the end of the day, I was more surprised than disappointed that nothing had happened. I lay on my bed and dozedoff.

In my dream, the same man with a blue turban appeared again. This time he held me by my hand and took me to the river. He signaled me to go into the water. I went in. I looked at my reflection in the water and with a shock realized that I had been cured. I looked for the man but he had entered a hut. I ran and knocked on his door. No answer. I knocked again... With a start I woke up. Someone was knocking at my door. I opened the door and saw a sight that filled me with wonder and awe.

There stood a middle-aged man at the door. He had a small bundle of what appeared to be books and clothes on one shoulder, and a box which appeared to be a case for a musical instrument on the other shoulder. And a few steps behind him, stood the man from my visions. He was wearing a yellow robe, wooden slippers and a blue turban. Although His robe was faded and old, He looked like a king of all kings. Although His beard was mostly white, His face was filled, nay, overflowing with youthfulness. Although His eyes were half-closed and hidden in the dark, a thousand suns could not match their brilliance; a thousand moons could not match their serenity; a thousand kings could not match their splendor.

Instinctively I sank to my knees and bowed. Without a word they both entered my hut and sat on the bed. I was quite dumb-founded and tongue-tied. I just kept staring at Him. At times, I would quickly glance at His face, but it proved to be too intense an experience for me and I would quickly revert my glance back to His feet. I wanted to say words of welcome, I wanted to thank Him for being there, I wanted to ask for forgiveness for my sinful being, but my throat would not, could not form words.

With His signal, the man with the instrument opened it up and started playing it. Ah, the wonderful music captivated me. Then ... He sang. The song entered me, nay, flooded and imprisoned me. I drank His song and lost my thirst. His song opened the dam of tears in me and I wept. With One note of His song, He gave me enough to fill my life, With one note of His song, I was drenched in bliss. With one note of His song, my thoughts ceased. With one note of His song, my soul separated from the pained and diseased body.

He sang about light. He sang about darkness that enveloped me. He sang about the world within. He sang about sorrow-less and death-less truth. He sang about sorrows and death of untruth. He sang about becoming truth. He sang about merging within. He sang about the wonderful naam. He sang about the blissful naami. He sang about One, One, One, One, One, One, One, One ....

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After songs there was songs of silence. I was in freedom. My beard was literally drenched with tears of repressed emotions. Without a word, His companion filled a bowl he was carrying with water from my water pitcher and started reciting verses. Whereas the songs were rapped in love and longing, the verses were wrapped in wisdom and One's greatness. I listened. I felt wise and clean. For the first time in my life I felt pure. At that time everything was pure, my clothes, my hut, the forest around. Blessed was my bed which was serving them - the angels of One.

How fortunate was His companion. Throughout the songs and recitation the companion gazed at His face with an intent of a child looking at his mother. I found myself gazing at His companion's face. Whereas His face was like the sun - much too bright for me - His companion's face resembled the moon. It was quite a moment. I, staring at the moon, the moon staring at the sun and the sun focused on the One. The companion finished the verses, took the bowl of water to His feet and dipped His toe in the water. The companion motioned me to drink the water. To my surprise, it was sweet. I gulped it down. Never had I tasted such contentment. I felt intoxicated. I felt I belonged to Him and He to me. I felt His love, His grace, I felt Him in me.

He leaned towards me, and in my ear whispered "Wahe Guru". A thousand bright suns dawned in me, a thousand blissful winds blew in me, a thousand colorful flowers bloomed in me, a thousand joyful fountains sprang up in me, a thousand celestial chords played within me, a thousand angels sang in me. All the suns, winds, flowers, fountains, chords, angels sang waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru ...

Sunlight on my face brought me back to this world. They had departed. A pain shot through my body at seeing the bed empty. For a moment I wanted to run and find Him, but the quietness of the trees told me they had gone far. Slowly I got up from the spot in which I had spent the whole joyful night. What a night, I thought; the trees were certainly justified in singing about spring. He was spring.

For a brief moment I thought this was all a dream. Perhaps I was still in a dream. But instantly I realized this was real - on the bed lay a small book. With excitement, I picked it up. It was the verses His companion had recited. Although I didn't know the language it was written in, I still could read it because it was in a language similar to one I knew. And the verses written were the same ones His companion had recited and they were deeply embedded within me. I quickly read the first page. I turned the page. My heart missed a beat. It wasn't the book but the sight of my hand. It's sores were dry. I carefully put the book back on the bed and with trembling hand and heart examined my body. Yes, all my sores were either dry or were getting dry. He had cured me. He, the angel of the One had cured me. He had come to my unclean abode and purified me. Tears welled up in me when I thought of His mercy. Me, a sinner's sinner, an unclean, nay, filthy untrue animal had been touched by His grace.

I bowed to the book, I kissed it and I lovingly pressed it to my heart.

2.2 The Ultimate Goal

A man was travelling on his path he was determined to reach his ultimate goal. Along the way he started feeling hungry. He now had a new goal : To eat, he also felt thirsty so he left his original path and started walking towards the river. Reaching the river he thought it's best to wash my hands before eating or drinking - yet another goal. So he bent down. The river was still he could see a golden bracelet deep down. All of a sudden he forgot his hunger and thirst, he forgot about washing his hands and thought only of possessing the golden bracelet. He jumped into the water but couldnt find it, a passer by saw him jumping in and out of the river and asked why. The passer by said 'O Friend, the bracelet is not in the river it's high up on the branches of the tree, you are chasing the reflection!' The man now had yet another goal to climb the tree . . . and so on.

Morale: Guru Sahib has said othe purpose of our life is spiritual - to become enlightened. Sikhi is the path our ultimate goal is Waheguru ji. Like the man in the story we set off on the path but get distracted by one thing after another and waste our precious time.

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Guru Arjun Dev ji says 'Gobind milan kee eh teree baria,' 'it's your turn to meet the World Protector'

2.3 Heaven and Hell

Guru Arjun Dev ji sung

Amrit priya bachan tuhare. Raj na chaho, Mukat na chao Man preet charan kamalareh.

Your words are nectar,

I don't desire Kingdom (Raaj) and I don't want Liberation (Muktee) my mind (only wants) the love of your lotus feet'.

People think Muktee is the thing to get, i.e salvation or liberation or freedom from the bonds of the world. People want heaven where they meet all there relatives and have the house and garden they always dreamed about. But Guru Arjun Dev ji is light years ahead of that stage and sings:

Man preet charan kamalareh

my mind (only wants) the love of your lotus feet.

But isn't having the love of Guru ji's lotus feet the same as heaven or mukti?

No, a giani jee gave the following example : it's like a little boy who's lost in a shopping mall. At first he loved spending hours in the toy shop, then he really wanted to go to the sweet shop and eat all the chocolates. In the end he started crying because he wanted his mummy. He ran past the sweet shop, he ran past the toy shop, the only important thing was finding his mummy and she'd pick him up and hug him to the chest.

Sikhi is not about going to heaven or hell (the shops), but about going back to sit in Gurdev-Pita Guru Nanak Ji's fatherly laps, it's about being absorbed in the lovelight of Guru jis Lotus feet. And being absorbed in the love of God's Lotus Feet is to do naam simran with humility and love.

2.4 The Village Of Children

This sakhi is an adaption of one of Baba Isher Singh jee's audio tape saakhis.

Something about the village graveyard set it apart. During my travels I had seen literally hundreds of graveyards. Usually graveyards are somber and somewhat resigned under the weight of death. But this one was different: besides been well-kept - which in itself was not unusual - it was designed more like a garden of life than a cradle of death.

What set it truly apart was the cheerfulness of its structure. Its' shady trees and sunny flowers seductively invited me in. Graveyards were my favourite resting places. It seemed that as soon as one exited a womb, Maya (worldy attractions) became a human's sole companion until the gates of a graveyard. Perhaps it was the absence of Maya in such places that kept my hopes of enlightenment alive.

I had left home when I had turned twenty. Although I didn't know it then, I had set out to find a place free of illusions. I had travelled to majestic temples, sober ashrams, holy rivers, renowned sadhus and any other religious place I had been told about, yet my mind was as restless as it was when I had first started. The holy places and the holy people at these places were among the most devout followers of Maya. After more than twelve years of searching, I had given up hope and had reluctantly decided to return home and begin a worldly life. It was on my journey home that I came upon this unusual village graveyard.

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Although it was only mid-morning, I gave in to the cry of my aching muscles and entered the graveyard through a small wooden door. I put down my knapsack and looked at some of the tombstones. The tombstones entries always reminded me of my transitory place on earth. But this graveyard was full of surprises. There were three entries on each stone: name of the deceased person, the year of birth and instead of the usual 'death of year' the third entry was 'years of life'. Even more peculiar was that the 'years of life' entries were usually well under twenty. Although it took me all morning, I visited each and every tombstone; and to my utter astonishment, I could not find any 'years of life' over thirty. The most common entry was between ten and twelve. And there were quite a few with zero years of life. I was a curious person by nature (otherwise I would not have been here) and I had seen my share of amazing places. But this place truly mystified me. I decided to look up this "village of children".

I walked about a mile to the village gate. I was surprised to see people of all ages in the village courtyard. The villagers were extremely friendly. They came and not unlike children, touched and greeted me, and offered me all sorts of refreshments and foods. I was quite overwhelmed by their attention and love. Almost all of the villager's manners resembled the innocent nature of children. Even their faces were quite smooth and somewhat glowed with purity.

There was a group of elders sitting around an old banyan tree. I decided to ask them about this heavenly place. I approached the men. They greeted me warmly and at an appropriate time I asked: "Respected sirs, I have seen many places and many people. But even at the most holiest of these places I could not find the life and love that pervades this place. Perhaps I am in a dream...", I trailed off. They all smiled. I hurriedly continued, "I would very much like it if you would kindly explain this rather peculiar place. I was also very intrigued by the graveyard at the entrance of the village. Is it where you bury your young ones?"

After a short pause, the most elderly man spoke: "Traveller, you look like a man who would benefit much from the story I will tell you. Listen carefully and it will change your life." All the men around sat attentively. All the villagers within earshot came and sat to hear the old man speak.

He began, "My grandfather was the Kazi of this village. Each morning, well before sunrise, he would call out to the people and to the heavens with his namaaz (muslim call to prayer). One such morning he was in midst of his prayer when he heard music from the outskirts of the village. He was a devout muslim and was quite horrified to hear music at such a holy hour. He immediately sent some of his followers to put an end to this paganism. But to his surprise, none of them came back. The music meanwhile continued. After a long wait he himself decided to put an end to this unholy activity. So, quite angrily, he strode towards the music. But the closer he got, the more he realized that it wasn't his anger that was responsible for his hurried strides, rather it was the exquisite beauty in the music. Finally when he got close enough to see the music makers, not only did his body lose the ability to move, his mind too stopped the madman's dance it had been doing since his birth. He literally stood rooted to a spot for the duration of the recital. The music cast a spell on him. He travelled inwards to subtle places he had read about only in the scriptures. He would often look back at that moment and dreamily acclaimed, "I drank life to the fullest during those hours".

There was a long pause during which the story teller and the story listeners let the stillness of the story enter the depths of their beings. The elderly man continued: "The music makers were the great Guru Nanak and his companion Mardana jee. I am sure you have heard of him." I meekly nodded and mumbled, "I have, but haven't had the grace of meeting any of his followers".

"That is perhaps why, my friend, you are here," the man prophetically said. "At the end of the recital, my grandfather and all the others present simply surrendered themselves to the Guru. This was largely just a symbolic act because the moment each of them had seen the Guru they had lost themselves to him. Guru Nanak graced this village for three days and three nights. My grandfather named those days the "stillness days" because he said it was during those days that he and others learnt about the One found only within the stillness of the mind. We observe those days like others observe their birthdays. Indeed those days were the birthday of the village's inner life." He chuckled, "If you are impressed with the village now, you should see the love of the villagers in those fine days."

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"But, as is the nature of the human mind," the elder soberly continued, "it wasn't long after Guru Nanak's departure that the village started returning to its normal numb and dark existence. This greatly troubled my grandfather and others like him who become Guru Nanak's and Guru Nanak's only. They tried very hard, through teaching and preaching, to keep the message of the Guru alive. Finally, after all normal means failed they came up with the following village tradition: Each villager keeps a diary. It is mandatory that each night before sleep, each person make an entry in the diary. Even children and people who cannot read or write have to get this entry made. The entry is simply the amount of time during the day that was spent in simran or in seva. At the end of the person's life, the entries are accumulated and that, my dear traveller, is the 'years of life' entry you see on the tombstones."

The story teller paused to let the magnitude of what he had told me to sink into me. He continued, "It is perhaps that which allows us to be free with our love. We are reminded each and every day what real life is. The time spent in simran or seva is the only life we consider as been worthy of been called life."

I travelled and searched no more. This indeed was the illusion-less place I was seeking

2.5 Planet Khanda

Life on planet Khanda is wonderful.

There are plenty of beautiful places to visit. There is plenty of beautiful music to be heard. And plenty of songs to be sung. There is no death, people live forever. And the best thing is that people don't have to work - well, actually let me take that back - they have to work but only for five weeks of their lives.

Let me explain...

When a person is born, that person is raised by the family until the person is mature enough to work. At that point, the person is sent to work for only five weeks.

Well, work is not your 9 to 5 kind of deal; rather, the person is left on a beach which has many shells, huge dunes of sand and many, many hidden diamonds amongst the shells and the sand. All the person has to do is collect as many diamonds as possible. The hard part is that many of the shells glitter just like diamonds. But with a little knowledge, they can be told apart quite easily.

Needless to say, the person's life after the five weeks depends entirely on the amount of diamonds that person has collected during the "work" period. With the diamonds, the person can buy all kinds of good things and live very, very happily ever after. The wise people don't even sleep during those five weeks. They just collect all the diamonds they can get.

But then there are some whose performance, shall we say, is not up to par. Some of these people become lazy and don't go to the beach for many days. Then there are others who don't go for an entire week. And some don't show up at all! There are others also, who go once in while, but just fill their pockets with shells and sands.

***************

pyareoooo gursikho,

waheguru ji ka khalsa waheguru ji ki fateh

This story is our story. Yes, yours and mine. When our soul is mature - ie conscious enough, we are sent as humans to dharam khand. Our main work here is to collect naam diamonds. Yes, there are many glittering shells:

• fancy cars,

• expensive dresses,

• flaky stories like this one,

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• witty discussions about existence itself.

And many dunes of sand:

• lust, • anger, • greed, • attachment, • ego.

But with a little gurbaNi reflection, we can easily tell a diamond apart from a shell. But despite knowing all this, what do we do? We goof off! We don't just goof off; we goof off big time!!! Each moment without naam is like an hour without work on planet Khanda. Each amrit vela that we spend without naam and in sleep is like a week without work on plant Khanda.

The most amazing thing is that we will read this story, some of us will get moved by it. But come tommorrow amrit vela, we will hit that snooze button and drift off once again into dream land.

My pyari, pyari sakhio, lets *** WAKE *** up.

Not when we are 60 or 70 but NOW.

Start naam simran tonight. Don't wait for tommorrow - it might or might not come. Pyare, let's not waste our precious moments on shells, lets get rich!!!!!!!!!

waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru waheguru ...

3. REINCARNATION

3.1 Iron Clad Soldiers

Iron-clad soldiers were dragging me away....

Startled, I woke up. I was sweating and breathing heavily.

Then I remembered where I was. With relief I said out aloud, "It was just a dream."

Immediately my maid came and asked me if I needed something. I looked lovingly at her. She was more than just a maid; she really was my best friend. She had known me for over twenty years now.

Quite alarmed at the sweat on my face, she said, "What is wrong, my queen?"

I murmured, "Just a bad dream."

She started, "You shouldn't have eaten that spicy food. That cook needs some sense..."

Best friend or not, I was in no mood for her gossip. I interrupted, "That will be all."

She gave a short bow and with a feigned hurt look, left.

I calmed myself. The dream had been so real!

I silently tiptoed into my little prince's chamber. He was sleeping quite peacefully. I went close and softly kissed his cheek. He stirred and dreamily looked at me and mumbled, "Ma."

I kissed him again. He looked a lot older than seven years. He looked up and asked, "When is papa coming home?"

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Trying to sound confident, I said, "Soon, my child, soon."

"But Vazeer had promised he would be here by last month."

Vazeer was the chief minister and it was no secret that he was the one who was really running the kingdom.

"Go to sleep, my son. Your father will be here soon."

He smiled at me and went back to sleep.

I returned to my bed and silently prayed for my king's well being. He was a gentle man and had brought peace to the area after decades of bloodshed. But a few months ago, a small rebellion had broken out in the southern province and it was decided to send soldiers there to break it.

The king too wanted to go. I had begged him to not to go, but Vazeer had advised that the king's place was with his soldiers. I had given up. After all, it was only a small battle. To re-assure me, Vazeer had sent all but a third of our soldiers with the king.

But now I was quite worried. The king hadn't written for weeks and just this morning in the court, a messenger had come and asked me to send the remaining soldiers to the battlefront. I asked him why the king had not written; he replied that the king was busy. But he re-assured me that the battle was almost over.

I didn't want to send all the soldiers but Vazeer had said that it was absolutely needed. Once again, I trusted him and did what he said. Only fifty soldiers remained behind.

I was about to go back to sleep when I heard a knock on my door. I was surprised and asked who it was. Vazeer answered.

He opened the door. He had never been to my chambers before. I knew there must be something urgent.

"What is it?" I asked.

He was a man in his fifties. His beard was grey but his mind was the sharpest in the kingdom.

He replied, "Nothing, my woman."

I was shocked to hear his reply; all my subjects referred to me as "queen".

I raised my voice, "What do you want?"

Without replying, he came and sat on the king's favorite chair.

"You," he said.

"WHAT?"

He laughed. "You are now my queen."

I had enough of him. He probably had too much wine in his blood.

I called out, "Guards."

The guards didn't come. I shouted out again, "Guards!"

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Vazeer softly said, "Guards." Immediately, two of my guards came and bowed to him.

A cold chill went up my back.

Vazeer said, "My dear, I am afraid, there has been a little change. The king is dead and has been dead for a month now."

I screamed out, "You are lying!"

I ran to the window and shouted to the sentry. "Come here at once!"

They looked at me without moving. Vazeer laughed again.

"Please understand your position now. You no longer can command."

I looked at him. I clearly understood why he had insisted that the king go to war. It had been his plan to have the king killed.

He softly said, "Guards, behead the prince now."

My body shook with fear. "NO," I screamed, "Please no!"

The guards started going to the prince's chamber. I ran up to them and tried to hold them back. One of them roughly pushed me away. I fell down and with a loud thud, the back of my head hit the wall...

---

Screaming, I woke up. Instinctively, my hand went to the back of my head. Surprisingly, there was no blood there.

The gang member sleeping next to me angrily slapped me for disturbing him. The slap brought me back to reality. A sigh partly of regret and partly of relief escaped my mouth. I wasn't a royal queen, rather just a street thief. I lay down again and thinking how real the dream had been, dozed off.

That night our gang busted open a jewelry shop. Unluckily for us, the police was in the area. Before we realized it, they were upon us.

I ran as fast I could. I was at an advantage because it was night time and I knew the streets. After all, I was born and raised on them...

My mother had died at my birth. Of course, nobody knew who my father was; it is hard to keep track at a brothel. Why my mother had chosen to give me birth is a mystery which I still haven't solved.

My mother's friends had more or less brought me up; my real friends, though, had been the streets and the gang I had joined when I was nine years old.

I was now twenty two and was a wanted man in many places. It was a matter of pride for me to see my picture at police stations. It always gave me an unexplainable exhilaration to walk by a police station and look at my picture.

To date, I had never seen the inside of a jail. My friends told me I was lucky, but I told them that it wasn't luck, but skills that kept me free.

But today I wasn't feeling so sure about my skills. I had had too much to smoke the previous night and I was feeling quite disoriented.

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I was still recovering when a police officer came and grabbed me by my neck. There was no hope now. I would be badly beaten and would see the inside of a jail for months or even years.

I cursed him.

The police officer was breathing heavily. After a few minutes, he made me stand up and strip off my clothes; right there on the street! I protested; he gave me a slap and said, "Do as you are told, sewer rat."

I spat at him.

I felt his baton hit the right side of my skull...

---

I woke up with a cold sweat. Instinctively, my hand went to the right side of my head. Surprisingly, there was no scar there. Then I remembered who I was.

I jolted up in my bed. That too had been a dream! I looked around. My wife lay by my side, snoring softly.

I touched my face. It was covered with sweat. I tried to calm down. I got out of the bed and drank a glass of water. I then looked at my children's peaceful faces. But my heart kept on beating wildly.

I was walking back to my bed when a paralyzing thought arose within me: "Am I dreaming?"

This thought shocked me so much that I sat down right there on the ground. I touched my arms and legs. They felt real enough. But so had the police officer's baton and the prince's face.

Dizzily, I walked back to my bed and tried to sleep. But I was too frightened to sleep.

In the morning, my wife and children were alarmed by my state. I no longer cared to say anything to them. Just the thought, "Am I dreaming?" kept eating away at my heart.

I didn't go to the farm that day. What was the use? It was not real, why did I need to do anything when I knew it would soon end.

That day, I spent many hours in front of the mirror looking closely at my face. I tried to see if it had any similarities with queen's and the thief's face. But none existed.

Everyone and everything told me I was not dreaming. But my eyes told a different story. I looked deeply into them and saw only sleep in them.

My wife and children were greatly troubled by my low spirits and tried to cheer me up by talking about the expansion of the farm which I had been passionately pursuing, but I couldn't help but laugh at them.

I looked closely into their eyes and I saw the nothing but sleep invading their eyes.

That day went slowly. I sat on the bed waiting for the dream to end. I no longer knew who I was. Was I the thief? Was I the queen? Was I the farmer?

That night, my wife held me closely and tried all her charms to bring back her farmer. But I was too frightened of the world and no matter how hard I tried, I could not open up my fears to her. That night too, I could not sleep at all.

Next morning, my wife suggested we go to the temple and visit the pundit.

I beamed at the thought. My family and I used to visit the temple on the full moon's night and I vaguely recalled the pundit saying that we were all living in a dream.

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I could not wait to get to the temple. The pundit must know about my problem and would surely have a solution.

Next morning, my wife and I walked to the temple. She was pleased to see me happy again.

But my happiness was short lived: as soon as I saw the pundit, I knew something was wrong. One look into his eyes told me what it was. He was sleeping too! In fact, he seemed to be sleeping even more deeply than me!

Greatly depressed, both of us returned home.

This depression only got deeper by the day. My wife and children were visibly frightened of me and there was a heavy silence in the whole house. They talked in hushed voices and avoided me as much as possible.

I wanted to open up to them and tell that they needn't be frightened - this was a dream after all, but the truth was I too was deeply frightened. In fact, the lack of sleep and cleansiness had left such marks on my face that it frightened everybody!

I spent my days in bed or in front of the mirror. Even though my wife forced food into my mouth, I become weak and quite yellow. After five days, I was so weak that I had difficulty getting up from my bed.

Depression hung over me like never before. That night at sunset, I did something I had never done before; I prayed.

The pundit had said that all prayers are answered. Of course, I hadn't believed him then and I believed him even less now, but there was no other hope. So I knelt on the side of the bed and prayed,

"O Creator, please wake me up."

I was quite surprised to hear these words come out of my mouth. I surely hadn't planned to say them; they had just come quite spontaneously. I felt a little better and a little lighter.

My prayer was answered the next morning.

I was laying in my bed and I heard a man singing. He sang,

gurmukh jaag rahe din raati sache kee liv gurmat jaati ||

manmukh sooea rahe se loote

gurmurkh sabat bhai hey || (m: 1, 1024)

"The Gurmukhs remain awake and aware, day and night.

Following the Guru's Teachings, they know the Love of the True Lord.

The self-willed manmukhs remain asleep, and are plundered. The Gurmukhs remain safe and sound, O Siblings of Destiny."

This song struck an arrow into my heart. I felt truth in these words.

I knew the creator of this song knew about my state. It seemed that the singer was singing directly to me.

I jumped out my bed and barefoot, ran to the man singing this song.

The man was a middle aged man. He looked like a farmer. I ran up to him. He stopped singing and looked at me. The first thing I did was look deeply into his eyes.

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Yes! He was awake!

I hugged him and he hugged me back. His hug broke the depression within me and I started sobbing. Without a word, he stroked my back. Finally, my tears dried up and I looked into his eyes again. It would be wrong to say they were beautiful. They seemed so unnatural. I had never seen such eyes. They appeared not to blink.

I asked, "Am I dreaming?"

He replied, "Yes."

With my breath held short, I again asked, "Is there a way to wake up?"

Again he replied, "Yes."

"Please show me the way."

An indescribale light I had never seen before flooded his eyes. He sang,

soea rahe maya madh mate

jaagat bhagat simrat har rate || (m: 5, 388)

"The mortals are asleep, intoxicated with the wine of Maya. The devotees remain awake, imbued with the Lord's meditation."

I hadn't heard so much beauty before. His song was monsoon for me. I felt nourished and green again.

After that song, there was a short silence.

Then I humbly asked about him. His name was Sat Kartar Singh. He as a sikh of Guru Nanak and earned his living by farming.

I briefly told him about my state of affairs. And asked him how I could become a sikh too. He told me that he was a having a keertan at his house in a week's time and he would answer all my questions then.

He also told me start working again since working was a part of being a sikh.

I thanked him and went home and took a long nap. My wife and children thankfully hugged me and with laughter, my life started again.

I eagerly awaited the day of meeting with Sat Kartar Singh again....

3.2 Good And Bad Actions

KARAM - PART 1

Here's a few sakhis that may help explain Dukh and sukh

Two shopkeepers had their shops next to one another. The Gurmukh (follower of the Guru's (Gur) words (mukh)) used to go to sadh sangat every day and have darshan of Guru Nanak Dev ji do seva and come home. The manmukh (follower of his mind's (man) mukh (words) ) used to go to meet a prostitute. One day the GurMukh said come with me to the sadh sangat, after some persuasion the manmukh agreed, on the way the manmukh remembered his prostitute and backed out of going to the sadh sangat. He said I'm going to go to my normal activities but I'll meet you at the tree across the road tonight. The manmukh went to see the prostitute but she wasn't there so he arrived at the tree much earlier than expected. While waiting for the Gurmukh he started poking a twig into the ground. He

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found a gold coin, he quickly dug more and more but he only found a pile of ashes. When the Gurmukh returned he was limping along he'd stepped on a thorn. The manmukh said I do my dirty deeds and get good luck you do good deeds but get bad luck. The Gurmukh said lets ask Guru jee to explain. Guru ji told the manmukh, in your previous life you donated one gold piece to a Sant, for doing such a virtuous deed you were to recieve the rewards in this life of many gold coins. But because of your sinful deeds you burned your reward away and were left with your original gold coin. The Gurmukh was told, in your previous life you killed someone with a wooden spear, in this life you were to be killed in the same way, but because of your seva to the Guru you bad deed has been reduced to being pricked with a thorn.

MORAL: The Pains and pleasures one gets in this life are heavily influenced by past actions, not just in this life but in countless previous lives. When people suffer at the hands of others its because they made that person suffer in a previous life. Most people will take revenge and so the cycle of making each other suffer continues life after life. A mythical story to explain this is of a goat and a butcher. The butcher would kill the goat in one life ,the goat’ soul would be reborn as a butcher and the butcher's soul would be reborn as a goat. In the next life the butcher would kill the goat and so the cycle continued. Then in one life the butcher received a customer who only wanted a goat's leg. The butcher thought if I kill the goat and sell the leg the rest of the goat will rot away. So what he thought was I'll just chop the goat’ leg off and bandage the wound, that way the goat will stay alive until the next customer. Just as he was about to cut the leg, the goat spoke 'O Butcher, what's this new bad action you're starting? Life after life we keep swapping roles to cancel our actions, but if you chop my leg now and make me suffer in the next life I'll do the same to you and you'll suffer too!'

If this sounds too unrealistic then heres a true incident that happened to a very holy Sikh in the 1920's. He was Bhai Randhir Singh and he had reached the highest spiritual state - he was one with Waheguru ji. He was a freedom fighter and locked up in jail. The guards used to abuse the prisoners. but they left Bhai Randhir Singh ji alone because they feared his spiritual powers. One night he had a vision of his past life. He saw he was a prince in a hermits' cave. The hermit was in a trance and as frozen as a rock. The prince didn't understand the trance and thought he should wake him up and feed him, so he ordered his servant to wake him up. The servant shook him and called out to him but with out success. Bhai Randhir Singh ji then ordered the servant to force open the hermits mouth so they could pour the food in, perhaps that would revive him. The servant couldn't open the locked teeth so he got a rock and smashed some of the teeth - this woke the hermit up - he was as mad as hell, he picked up his spear like weapon and threw it at the servant, the servant got hit in the leg and later had it amputated. Bhai Randhir Singh ji had the vision and realised Guru ji was warning him that he had to suffer in the same way as he had made the hermit suffer. Next morning a new prison warden came to Bhai Randhir Singh ji's cell with his guards. Guess what? The warden had only 1 leg! Bhai Randhir Singh ji immediately recognised that this warden was the hermit in his last life and because he had thrown his spear and caused the loss of the princes's servant leg he too had reaped his reward and lost his leg in this life. Now what remained was that the warden had to somehow cause Bhai Randhir Singh ji's teeth to be broken like the prince had done to the hermit. The warden wanted to humiliate Bhai Randhir Singh ji and ordered his servants to feed him beef soup (he was a strict vegetarian). Bhai Sahib refused to eat it, the guards grabbed him, so Bhai Sahib went into a trance and all his body was frozen as hard as a rock and his jaws were locked. The Warden then ordered the servants to smash his teeth and to pour the soup in, so they did. The Warden had no idea that he was just clearing a bad action from a previous life. Bhai Randhir Singh ji was warned so that he wouldn't attack the servants or warden. If he had caused them sufferening then he would have to be reborn so they could cause him suffering.

People ask why do religious people get suffering? They haven’t done anything wrong, they haven't hurt an animal or even a fly so why do they get dukh? They get dukh because they caused dukh in previous lifes. All these bad actions have to be cleared. When a holy persons actions and re-actions are all cleared then and only then will they not be reborn and find a place at SatGuru ji's lotus feet in Sach Khand.

I was told that Baba Nand Singh ji, one of the most spiritually high people other than the Guru's died from a leg infection. He used to take pain of other people on his own body so they would survive and he would do simran and ardas to get rid of the pain from his own body. He could have easily cured himself of the infection , he could even have taken medicine. But he recognised that he was reaping the

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re-action of an action from a previous life and it had to be cleared. When it was cleared then he would not be reborn and find his place at SatGuru ji's lotus feet in Sach Khand.

Bhai Harbans Singh told this sakhi on one of his kirtan tapes. A holy man was blind. When he got to the spiritual state that he could see his previous lives he tried to find out why he was blind. He searched back through 50 lives and there was no reason for his blindness. He went to see a Sant. The sant told him to look back even further, he looked back to 100 previous lives and still no reason for his blindness. The sant told him to look back one more life. He saw that 101 previous lives ago he was a child tormenting a locust. He had a little twig with which he poked out it's eyes. He was now blind because of that action.

Guru ji's have told us clearly, time and time again, that after death when we go infront of the Diviine judge we will be judged by our actions. Some people will be called close to God some will be sent far away (Karmee apo apanee, Ke neray ke door (Japji Sahib)). Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The reaction can only be reduced and eventually erased by obeying Guru ji's instructions like the shopkeeper. I.e do as much Naam Jap (Waheguru repition) as possible, its like an eraser grinding

the spear into a tiny thorn. Do it for yourself and do it for other people.

All of the martyrs suffered terrible tortures -chopped joint by joint, sawn in half, scalped alive, boiled alive but they remained in chard-ee-a-kala because they never lost their love for SatGuru ji's lotus feet (i.e. carried on doing Waheguru repition). When a Sikh gets Dukh it's acceptable as good because it's wiping away bad actions. If a Sikh loses love for Guru ji because of dukh then the Sikh has lost every thing.

KARAM - PART 2

Sant Ishar Singh ji said everyone plans for the future. You study hard because you want a good job when you get older. You put money away in a pension scheme so you have a good retirement. One step beyond that we need to plan for our next life. What happens to us depends on our actions now. Do

good actions (karam) now and reap the fruits in the next life. (apeh beej apeh hee kao JapJi).

Their are many types of good deeds : give money in charity, help people etc but Guru Nanak ji says that these aren’t even worth a sesame seed when your accounts are read. (Tirath tap daya dat dan je ko bhavai til ka man - JapJi).

The real karam is listening and obeying the Gurus's teachings, loving SatGuru ji in your mind and

bathing in the temple of the heart (Sunnia mannia man keeta bhao, antargat teerath mal nao - Japji).

KARAM - PART 3

Baba Maan Singh ji said the steps to earning good karam are :

SHARAM -> DHARAM -> KARAM.

First you need a sense of sharam (shame). If you can’t even tell what is wrong and what is right then you have no chance. A sex/nude scene comes on TV the youngsters sit and watch it, they dont get embarrased even though their parents are watching too. Worse still the parents don’t say anything either - no-one has a sense of shame. If you have a sense of Sharam then you need to follow Dharam (religion/righteous deeds) by following the Guru's path you earn Karam good actions like seva, simran, paat. These karams wipe away your negative karams and will cause you to go closer to God. Ultimately if you do enough good karam your negative karam is wiped out while you are alive and you merge with God while still alive (Jeevan Mukat),

Our actions decide what happens to us (karmee apo apanee ke neray ke door - JapJi) . Our actions are our own - some will be called close to God some will be pushed away.

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karam dharam paakhand jo deesai, tin jam jagaatee looteh|| nirbaaN keertan gavau karteh kaa,

nimukh simrat jit schooteh|| All the hypocritical ‘karam’ religion I see, are robbed by Death while they are awake! Sing the immaculate praises (keertan) of the Creator,

you are saved by even a moment’s remembrance.

Does this mean that we shouldn't get into the plus/minus of paap/pun? or, that even if you have a big negative, simran will erase all of that?

Veer jee, I think you're right, I never worry about all the insects I've probably stepped on in the day...I dont want to end up like a Jain monk sweeping the floor infront of me and a mouth mask to stop me breathing them in. Guru jee is saying don’t get caught up in karam...better to be as pure as practical and do kirtan and naam and always ardas for forgiveness. Even if we lived the perfect life of generating no negative actions…never stepped on insects, never hurt anyone etc, we still wouldn’t reach the Supreme Waheguru Jee until we sung his praises and repeated his naam. Any religion that focuses on good and bad karam to the extent they have forgotten about praising Waheguru, is hypocrisy says Guru jee.

Here are some of the things Guru Granth Sahib Jee says about actions:

• You shall reap what you sow. This body is the result of your actions. (Guru V, Jaitsri Raag)

• I have been separated from You due to my own actions, why should I blame others?(Guru V, Majh Raag)

• Why blame other people? I have to blame my own actions; As I have acted so are the fruits. (Guru I, Asa Raag)

• On the soil of your mind sow the seed of good actions; Water this field with His Nam. (Guru I, Sri Raag)

• Ignoramus, why do you blaspheme God, when you will receive according to your actions? (Trilochanji, Dhanasri Raag)

• All people are under One Sovereign who holds them responsible for their actions. (Guru I, Basant Raag)

• Our acts, right and wrong, at Your Court shall come to judgement. Some will be seated near Your seat, Some will forever be kept away. The toils have ended for those that have worshipped You. Nanak says, their faces are lit with joyful radiance and they will set free many others. (Guru I, Japji)

• If you sing God's glory, all your undertakings will bear fruit.(Guru V, Kalyan Raag)

3.3 Guru Tegh Bahadur Jee Woke Me Up!

Has there ever been any banee that's gone right to your core? Woken you up and made you think 'I better sort my life out man!'? Once I was in one of those low points of Sikhi, thinking lets take the easy street to God and just day what average Sikhs do i.e. not much. Then all of a sudden out of the blue my uncle blasted his brand new CD of Salok Mahala 9 by Bhai Harjinder Singh Sri Nagar Wale. The beautiful banee wafted into my ears like Guru Tegh Bahadur ji himself was speaking to me with love ,

'you have not sung the praises of God....Gun Gobind Gahio nahee...' . And lifes never been the same...

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With the theory of Karma is associated the theory of rebirth. It is based on the conception that there is an intrinsic spiritual value in the soul of man, which guarantees its everlasting existence. Every creature is an organic part of the creation as a whole.

The conservation of spiritual values is also based on this idea.

In Sikh Way of Life there are two distinct doctrines which fall under the category of rebirth. When a soul passes from one human life to another, in its moral and spiritual progress, it goes on acquiring human births till it acquires Nirvana.

Such a rebirth is a blessing and gift of God. It means God out of His mercy and compassion has given us one more opportunity to fulfill our ultimate destiny and the seeker of Truth cries out, when He is at His door : "For many lives I have been separated from Thee, 0 Beloved. This life is dedicated to Thee, and Thy Love. (bahut janam bichre the madho eh janam tumare lekhe. Ravi Das panna 694).

Human life is an opportunity to rise to God and Heaven or fall into the hell of births and deaths. We exercise our free will within the limits of birth and death in our pilgrimage to Truth. That is why human life is called a very precious life (durlabh- manns-janam).

This reincarnation is in the ascending order till man completely eliminates rebirth. Through the Guru's word is rebirth eliminated"( sidh gost ) It is "God who created lower lives and the cycle of births and deaths."(avagaun tudh ap racaya- Asa di var) It is the path of thorns leading to the valley of flowers.

The Buddha is said to have passed through many births, stories about which are preserved in the Jatakas, and Avadans. Guru Gobind Singh Jee speaks of his past birth "as a great Yogi meditating in the Himalayas till His Spirit attained perfect union with God, and was sent as the torch bearer of Truth and Dharma."(Bachiter Natik)

Every man can cut asunder the bounds of birth and death during human life, and attain perfection. This hope is extended by the Sikh Gurus to the lowliest of the low, to every human being living on the planet, no matter what his status, color of the skin or nationality and race.

The Chains are cut asunder, Rebirth has ended, The mind is conquered and victory achieved. .Adi Granth, Guru Arjan : Bavan Akhari 38

Rebirth in the descending order is a punishment and a curse. The soul passes through animal lives suffering untold agonies. As a beast of burden he carries the load of his sins, without any opportunity to get out of his present predicament. This is transmigration avagavan. The wicked become victims of the wheel of sorrow.( haumai hoi bandhana, phir joni pahi, Asa- Di- Var).

Extracted from Punjabi University article by Trilochan Singh Jee

The reincarnation article was very good. Just one clarification, although we all know this but I'll say it anyway, in the article 'man' means mankind. Sikhi believes men and women are equally qualified to reach Waheguru ji (someone told me in Hinduism you have to be born a man of Brahmin caste to stand a chance of getting out of the wheel of reincarnation ...correct me if this is wrong).

Now onto the juicy stuff!!....there's a young Sant in India, he went to a house and recognised the picture of the Sant on the wall. It was him in his previous life! He's collected 4 pictures of himself from previous lives - each time he was a Sant!

Now if a Sant gets reincarnated 4 times what chance do i have Guru Jee? Dhan Guru Granth Sahib Jee I do not want to be born again, kirpa karo jee :

'...the seeker of Truth cries out, when He is at His door : "For many lives I have been separated from Thee, 0 Beloved. This life is dedicated to Thee, and Thy Love. (bahut janam bichre the madho eh janam tumare lekhe. Bhagat Ravi Das Jee panna 694).

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Whatever it takes Baba jee, whatever I have to do, bless me so I do it, Japio Jin Arjun Dev Guru Fer sankat jon garab na a-i-o...Whoever mediates on Guru Arjun Dev jee does not enter births and deaths through the womb again.

Everything belongs to You Guru Gobind Singh Jee, mun tun tera dhan bee tera ..mind and body are yours, wealth is yours too Guru jee. Nothing is mine. This life is to serve the Khalsa, Khalsa is Your Special Form Guru Jee..Khalsa mera Roop Ha Khaas... serving the Khalsa is serving You. Kirpa Karo Jee so this kookar-dog of your Darbar-Court may serve them always and forever.

Vaisakhi is around the corner....time to stand up and give your head to Guru Gobind Singh Jee via the Punj Pyare in the prescence of Guru Granth Sahib Jee. Jo To Prem Khelan Ka Chao Sir Dhar Talee Galee Meree Ao. Whoever wants to play the game of love-bring your head to me on the palm of your hand....instructs/requests/ORDERS Guru Nanak Dev Ji.

Now onto the juicy stuff!!....there's a young Sant in India, he went to a house and recognised the picture of the Sant on the wall. It was him in his previous life! He's collected 4 pictures of himself from previous lives - each time he was a Sant!

Now if a Sant gets reincarnated 4 times what chance do i have Guru Jee? Dhan Guru Granth Sahib Jee I do not want to be born again

Well, Veer ji, let me offer two possible viewpoints here. Perhaps both are or could be correct:

1) Perhaps Sant ji requested to come back out of compassion for humanity during very difficult times.

2) When you get to the other side (and you are in that elevatd state of consiousness that I know you will be in) you will see what a play this whole world is. Then you will be begging to come back, fully knowing that you will have to suffer because you will see clearly how much you are satisfying your soul and your life purpose by being in service to Guru Sahib, even as you are now. This is so obvious from your posts, so please don't waste bandwith with a bunch of denials, telling us how rotten you are. Could you do more? Of course, we all could. But sometimes we need to acknowledge ourselves and each other for the little we are doing.

It was a beautiful day in May of '94. She was working, setting tile on the veranda of a mediteranean style 3 story mansion. She had to start in the sevants quarters, basement bathroom, to show the quality of her work. She managed to work her way up, to the top level bathrooms. From there she was given about 3,ooo feet of outside decking to do. Now she was intent on making one of those special custom cuts. She never reallly understood her motivation to do this type of work. It was heavy, and dirty, but beautiful when it was finished, rewarding in that way, and it lasted, much longer than housework. Still, since she worked in a family buisness, she never had been payed directly before, in fact this was the first time, she was working with a close family friend. Over the years though, she tried to perfect her craft into an art,for her personal satisfaction, as well as to please the clientele. And at last, it was paying off.

All day the workers had been laying bricks for the back patio, her tile saw was filled with yellow, brown brick dust. She could hear the waves gently lapping across the street, the ocean was an incredible color of blue, the cypress trees a deep green, with a pale spanish moss hanging from them. The veranda was sillouted with huge imported european balaster railing. She bent over concentrating intently on the curve of the cut she was making, reddish brown water running off the tile staining her hands,when suddenly... defying description, the field of her vision changed. Like light bending in a camera lense. She was at the Nile, 2000 years before. She could see the edge of the river, soft muddy brown, flowing gently by, and could hear and feel it it lapping gently at her knees. There were huge green rushes, and she was bent down grinding tile.The sky was an incredible deep blue. Suddenly it all made sense. She thought to herself, I just keep coming back and doing this, i've been doing this for lifetimes. I could

NaamNet Book 1

FROM THE

HEART

By Vaahi-guroo

Jee’s grace

CONTENTS

1. INTRODUCTION

1.1 Welcome

1.2 Invitation to Join Naam.Net Inspiration Group

1.3 Connected

2. THE MEANING OF LIFE

2.1 "Darshan"

2.2 The Ultimate Goal

2.3 Heaven and Hell

2.4 The Village Of Children

2.5 Planet Khanda

3. REINCARNATION

3.1 Iron Clad Soldiers

3.2 Good And Bad Actions

3.3 Guru Tegh Bahadur Jee Woke Me Up!