When I was a young girl, I remember dreaming about marriage and having many children. I would read love stories and imagine it was me in the story. I’m sure lots of young girls had similar dreams.
Looking back, I now see how my longing to meet that prince who would rescue me was to feel whole and complete. I thought my prince would whisk me away, and we would live happily ever after. If someone loved me, I would be enough.
In reality, what happened is I kissed a lot of frogs! It’s part of my story. I have no regrets and learned many lessons along the way. The biggest lesson is - I don’t need anyone to complete me. I am whole, I am worthy, and I am enough.
At the time, I didn’t know anything about the Inner Child, but today, knowing what I know, I feel so much compassion toward her. She’s the one who longed to be loved. It all makes sense.
Later in life, when it came to my spiritual path, I was still looking outside of myself - I was looking for someone to help fix me, remove the pain, and fill the emptiness and the void inside.
I was at a weekend retreat, and when the guru walked in, I thought, “Who is that?!” He was charismatic, charming, and handsome, all of which appealed to me at the time. I was awestruck. I felt like a rock star had just entered the room, and I couldn’t wait to get his autograph. Thinking of this makes me chuckle a bit because today, someone like this would be so unappealing.
As the story goes, I ask this guru to be my teacher. He claimed that he was my ticket to enlightenment, and at the time, I believed him. I desperately was seeking to be free of pain and wanted peace.
I handed over my power to him.
He was never mean to me. He didn’t ask me to drink the Kool-Aid. But he did have a lot of control. And I know today he was not my ticket to freedom.
During my 6-month teacher training course in B.C. to teach meditation, I took three sets of vows to my guru. In the process, he gave me my new name, Datri (Dah-tri), which in Sanskrit means, the goddess of giving and serving humanity.
I remember the evening I took my vows. I was a bit nervous beforehand, wondering, ‘What will my name be?’ It could be horrific sounding, or it could be beautiful. I was hoping for the latter. I was kneeling; my eyes were closed, and then drum roll please – he told me my new name was Datri.
When I heard it, I liked the sound of it. It was short and sweet, and the ‘goddess of serving humanity’ felt special. This specialness appealed to you know who - my ego, of course! I had a sigh of relief. Yes, I could live with this.
In hindsight, I now see how giving up my birth name was an opportunity to create a new identity. Having this new identity, it was like I didn’t have to deal with anything from my past.
But as we know – wherever we go, there we are.
I know many people who have taken on a new spiritual name, and it has been a very positive experience for them. I am sharing purely from my experience.
I lived in a meditation centre with eight other teachers, including my partner at the time, who, gratefully, was a good person. I loved traveling to different cities and teaching meditation. I met a lot of wonderful people along the way. Living at a centre provided a lot of opportunities for interaction and growth.
I was only with this teacher for two years when a scandal came out about him that I could not deny. This event shook my world and was not easy. My partner and I knew it was time to leave. When I told my teacher I was leaving, he did not offer me well wishes; on the contrary. He said something very negative and implied we should never teach meditation without a teacher, meaning him.
So here I am, all these years later, and yes, still teaching meditation!
I don’t regret any of this in the least. It was such a valuable experience on so many levels. I also don’t have any hard feelings toward this teacher. I disagree with his methods but hold no negativity. I’m grateful to have had this experience. I know firsthand what it's like to fall into a trap of relying more on the teacher than the teaching.
Some might ask how you could be so naive to fall into this trap. This is a judgment. I have no answer to this other than – I was meant to experience this.
With her wounds and desperate longing to feel loved, my Inner Child was drawn to someone on the outside rather than the beloved on the inside.
I’m sharing all of this because, in the world of spirituality, there are many sheep in wolf’s clothing. Gurus claiming to be enlightened. (Anyone who is truly enlightened would not be boasting about it.) Claiming to be our saviour. They want adoration. So, the teacher becomes the focus rather than the teaching. It is a trap.
“Good teachers help you believe in yourself, rather than cultivate a belief in them. They teach you to connect to the divinity within you.”
~ Anita Moorjani
We sometimes are drawn to glitz and glam or charisma on our quest for something more. To big promises, quick fixes, and the ease of following directions on how to “better” ourselves or our lives.
Today I know good teaching is focused on something other than being enlightened. Solid teaching has no goal. The focus is to live in the here and now. This is our practice. Be here now. (Not very appealing to the ego who will do anything to not be in the moment).
Gratefully, today I have incredible teachers who guide me.
They are clear, humble, compassionate, and evolved spiritual beings who don’t control my life decisions. They don’t tell me to believe anything in particular but encourage me to have my own direct experience. With this support, I have grown spiritually in ways I only dreamed of. Not surprising.
No matter where we are on the path. Whether we feel lost and helpless, grounded and clear, or somewhere in between, we must be our own authority - to know we have the answers within to guide us home to the Truth.
It is helpful to have clear guides, but we need to find out what our Truth is.
It is not above believing anything. It is about having our own experience. Recognizing this and having autonomy is the doorway to freedom and a deeper connection to our true essence.
With love,
Diane