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  • ~Maya Shedd’s Temple~

    Image: SRF Mother Center Lotus – Photo by Ron W. G.

    My spiritual journey began in earnest in 1978, when I became a devotee of Paramahansa Yogananda’s teachings and a member of his organization Self-Realization Fellowship.  As a Kriyaban since 1979, I have completed the four Kriya Initiations, and I continue to study the teachings and practice the yoga techniques as taught by the great spiritual leader, who is considered to be the “Father of Yoga in the West.”

    I practice the chants taught by the great guru accompanying myself on the harmonium and serve at the local SRF Meditation Group as one of the chant leaders.

    “By ignoble whips of pain, man is driven at last into the Infinite Presence, whose beauty alone should lure him.” –a wandering sadhu, quoted in Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda

    I am a Self-Realization Yogi because the teachings of Paramahansa Yogananda, who in 1920 founded Self-Realization Fellowship, make sense to me.  Paramahansa Yogananda teaches that we are immortal souls, already connected to the Divine Reality, but we have to “realize” that divine connection.  

    Knowing the Great Spirit (God) is not dependent upon merely claiming to believe in a divine personage, or even merely following the precepts of a religion such as the Ten Commandments.  

    Knowing the Creator is dependent upon “realizing” that the soul is united with that Creator.  To achieve that realization we have to develop our physical, mental, and spiritual bodies through exercise, scientific techniques, and meditation. 

    There are many good theorists who can help us understand why proper behavior is important for our lives and society, but Paramahansa Yogananda’s teachings offer definite, scientific techniques that we practice in order to realize our oneness with the Divine Power or God. 

    It makes sense to me that my salvation should be primarily my own responsibility.

    I did not grow up with a religious tradition.  My mother was a Baptist, who claimed that at one time she felt she was saved, but then she backslid.  I learned some hymns from my mother.  But she never connected behavior with religion.  

    My father was forced to attend church when he was young, and he complained that his church clothes were uncomfortable as was sitting on the hard pews.  

    My father disbelieved in the miracles of Jesus, and he poked fun at people who claimed to have seen Jesus “in the bean rows.”  My mother would not have doubted that a person might see Jesus, because she saw her father after he had died.  

    My mother characterized my father as agnostic, and she lived like an agnostic, but deep down I think she was a believer after the Baptist faith.

    Here’s a little story that demonstrates how ignorant about religion I was as a child:  When I was in first or second grade, I had a friend.  At recess one day at the swings, she wanted to confide something to me, and she wanted me to keep it secret.  

    She said I probably wouldn’t believe it, but she still wanted to tell me.  I encouraged her to tell me; it seemed exciting to be getting some kind of secret information.  So she whispered in my ear, “I am a Quaker.”  

    I had no idea what that was.  I thought she was saying she was magic like a fairy or an elf or something.  So I said, “Well, do something to prove it.”  It was my friend’s turn to be confused then.  

    She just looked very solemn.  So I asked her to do something else to prove it.  I can’t remember the rest of this, but the point is that I was so ignorant about religion.

    Looking back on my life as a child, teenager, young adult, and adult up to the age of 32, I realize that the lack of a religious tradition left a great void in my life.  Although my father was on the fence regarding religion, he would listen to Billy Graham preach on TV.  

    I hated it whenever Billy Graham was preaching on TV.  His message scared me.  Something like the way I felt when my father’s mother would come and visit us, and when my father would let out a “Goddam” or other such swear word, Granny would say he was going to hell for talking that way.  

    I was afraid for my father.  And Billy Graham made me afraid for myself and all of us because we did not attend church.   I never believed that things like swearing and masturbation could send a soul to hell.   But then back then I had no concept of “soul” or “hell.”  I believed it was wrong to kill, steal, and to lie.  But I’m not sure how these proscripts were taught to me.  

    I guess by example.   It seems that I had no real need for God and spirituality until I was around thirty years old.  

    My life went fairly smoothly except for two major traumas before age thirty.  The first trauma was experiencing a broken heart at age eighteen and then undergoing a failed marriage, after which I thought I would never find a mate to love me.  But I did meet a wonderful soulmate when I was 27.

    A second trauma that added to my confusion was being fired twice from the same job at ages 22 and 27.  By age 27 things started to make no sense.  And it started to bother me intensely that things made no sense.  

    I had always been a good student in grade school and high school, and I was fairly good in college, graduating from Miami University with a 3.0 average.  That grade point average bothered me because I thought I was better than that, but I guess I was wrong.  

    But then not being able to keep my teaching job and not being able to find another one after I had lost it very much confused me.  It seemed that I had lost touch with the world.  School had been my world, and my teachers and professors had expected great things from me.  But there I was at age 27 and couldn’t get connected to school again.

    I began reading feminist literature starting with Betty Friedan’s Feminine Mystique, continuing with Ms. Magazine, and many others.  The result of taking in the feminist creed led me to believe that I had someone to blame for my failure—men; men had caused the world to be arranged so that women cannot succeed outside the home.  

    I began writing again, an endeavor I have sporadically engaged in most of my life from about age sixteen.  

    I decided to apply for a graduate assistantship in English at Ball State University, feeling that I was ready to get out in the man’s world and show it what a woman could do.  I felt confident that I could succeed now that I knew what the problem was.  But that didn’t work out either.  

    I finished the year without a master’s degree in English, and then there I was, confused again, and still searching for something that made sense. 

    I had heard about the Eastern philosophy known as “Zen” at Ball State, and I started reading a lot about that philosophy.  Zen helped me realize that men were not the problem, attitude was.  I kept on writing, accumulating many poems, some of which I still admire.  

    And I kept reading Zen, especially Alan Watts, but after a while the same ideas just kept reappearing with no real resolution, that is, even though the Zen philosophy did help me understand the world better, it was not really enough.  I got the sense that only I could control my life, but just how to control it was still pretty much a mystery.

    In 1977, my husband Ron and I went on one of our book shopping trips.  I spied a book, Paramahansa Yogananda’s “Autobiography of a Yogi,” and I recommended it to Ron because he liked biographies.  Strangely, I said to him about the man on the cover: “He’s a good guy!”  Strange, because I had no idea if the individual was a good guy or not, being the first time I ever saw him.  So, we purchased poetry books, and we also purchased the autobiography for him.  

    Ron did not get around to reading it right away, but I did, and I was totally amazed at what I read.  It all made sense to me; it was such a scholarly book, clear and compelling.   There was not one claim made in the entire 500 plus pages that made me say “what?” or even feel any uncertainty that this writer knew exactly whereof he spoke.  

    Paramahansa Yogananda was speaking directly to me, at my level, where I was in my life, and he was connecting with my mind in a way that no writer had ever done. For example, the book offers copious notes, references, and scientific evidence that academics will recognize as thorough research. 

    This period of time was before I had written a PhD dissertation, but all of my years of schooling including the writing of many academic papers for college classes had taught me that making claims and backing them up with explanation, analysis, evidence, and authoritative sources were necessary for competent, persuasive, and legitimate exposition.

    Paramahansa Yogananda’s autobiography contained all that could appeal to an academic and much more because of the topic he was addressing.   As the great spiritual leader recounted his own journey to self-realization, he was able to elucidate the meanings of ancient texts whose ideas have remained misunderstood for many decades and even centuries.

    The book contained a postcard that invited the reader to send for lessons that teach the techniques for becoming self-realized.  I sent for them, studied them, and I have been practicing them since 1978.  They do, indeed, hold the answer to every human problem.

    I know it is difficult for most educated people to believe that all human problems can be solved, but that’s because they get stuck in the thought that they cannot. 

    If you believe that you can never really know something, then you can’t, because if you believe that you can never really know something, you won’t try to know it. 

    Yogananda gives a map with directions to reaching God, and realizing that one’s soul is united with God brings about the end of all sorrow and the beginning of all joy. 

    Just knowing the precepts intellectually does not cause this realization, but it goes a long way toward eliminating much suffering.  

    The faith that we can overcome all suffering is a great comfort, even if we are not there yet.   I realize that God is knowable, but most important is that I know I am the only one who can connect my soul to God—and that is the spiritual journey I am now on.

    🕉

    Entries

    1. Thought of the Day
    2. Life Sketch of Paramahansa Yogananda
    3. My Life in Little Stories
    4. Autobiography of a Hoosier Hillbilly
    5. “Forget the Past”: A 10-Sonnet Sequence
    6. A Suite of “Samadhi” Villanelles
    7. Overcoming Fear
    8. The Bad Man Who Was Preferred by God
    9. Quotations
    10. Names for the Ineffable God
    11. An Orphic Oath: To Enshrine a Standard of Excellence for Poets 
    12. Brief Sketches of the Five Major World Religions
    13. The Stifling of Spirituality

  • Audre Lorde’s “Father Son and Holy Ghost”

    Image:  Audre Lorde 

    Audre Lorde’s “Father Son and Holy Ghost”

    In Audre Lorde’s “Father Son and Holy Ghost,” the speaker revisits memories of a beloved father, who has died and who served as a rôle model for moral and ethical behavior.  The speaker reveals her deep affection for her late father as she relives special features of her father’s behavior and her reaction to them. 

    Introduction with Text of “Father Son and Holy Ghost”

    Although Audre Lorde is well known as a black lesbian poet, who wrote on issues of identity, she also wrote more personal pieces that address themes common to all of humanity.  The death of a father is one such theme.

    In her elegy “Father Son and Holy Ghost,” Lorde creates a speaker, who is remembering various aspects of her father’s behavior while he was alive.  But she begins by strangely emphasizing that she has not as yet visited her father’s grave. 

    That admission alerts the reader that the poem is focusing on earlier memories.  While that first impression prompts questions in the reader’s mind, answers begin to form in the second movement.  Another question might be begged regarding the title and what it implies. 

    By invoking the Christian Holy Trinity, the speaker is implying that the spiritual nature of her memory will include three levels of understanding of the father:  he was the progenitor of the speaker (Father), he lived a life of consistent, respectable, and moral behavior (Son), and he revered his wife, the mother of his children (Holy Ghost). 

    Her admiration for her father is displayed in a Dickinsonian, elliptical style; the poet has not added any unnecessary word to her drama.

    For example, instead of merely stating that her father arrived home in the evening, grasped the doorknob, and entered the home, she shrinks all of that information in “our evening doorknobs.”  

    Because doorknobs remain the same whether it be morning, noon, evening, or night, the speaker metaphorically places the time of her father’s arrival by describing the doorknob by the time of day of his arrival.

    Father Son and Holy Ghost

    I have not ever seen my father’s grave.

    Not that his judgment eyes
    have been forgotten
    nor his great hands’ print
    on our evening doorknobs
                one half turn each night
                and he would come
                drabbled with the world’s business   
                massive and silent
                as the whole day’s wish  
                ready to redefine
                each of our shapes
    but now the evening doorknobs  
    wait    and do not recognize us  
    as we pass.

    Each week a different woman   
    regular as his one quick glass
    each evening
    pulls up the grass his stillness grows  
    calling it weed.
    Each week    a different woman  
    has my mother’s face
    and he
    who time has    changeless
    must be amazed
    who knew and loved
    but one.

    My father died in silence   
    loving creation
    and well-defined response   
    he lived    still judgments  
    on familiar things
    and died    knowing
    a January 15th that year me.

    Lest I go into dust
    I have not ever seen my father’s grave. 

    Commentary on “Father Son and Holy Ghost”

    In her elegy to her father’s memory, the speaker is offering a tribute the demonstrates a special love and affection, along with her deep admiration for his fine qualities.

    First Movement: An Unusual Admission

    The speaker begins by reporting that she has never visited her father’s grave.  This startling suggestion has to wait for explanation, but the possibilities for the speaker’s reasons assert themselves for the reader immediately.  

    Because seeing the grave of a deceased loved one is customarily part of the funeral experience, it seems anomalous that the speaker would have skipped that part of the ceremony. 

    On the other hand, because she does not tell the reader otherwise, she might have skipped the funeral entirely.  But whether the failure to visit the grave is associated with a close or distant relationship with the father remains to be experienced.  

    And oddly, either situation could be prompting that failure to visit the grave or attend the funeral:  if there is resentment at the parent, one might fail to visit in order to avoid those feelings.

    Or if there is deep pain because of a close, loving relationship with the parent, then seeing the grave would remind the bereft that that relationship has been severed.

    By choosing not to explain or even assert certain facts, the speaker points only to the facts and events that are important for her purpose.  And her purpose, as the title alerts, will be to associate her father’s death with profundity and devotion stemming from his deep religious dedication.

    Second Movement:  Not Forgotten 

    The speaker now asserts that just because she had not visited his grave does not mean that she has forgotten her father’s characteristics; she still remembers his “judgment eyes.”  

    Her father demonstrated the ability to guide and guard his family through his ability to see the outcome of certain situations, likely retaining the ability to encourage positive results. He was able to steers his children in the right direction.

    She also remembers his arriving home from work in the evenings, turning the doorknobs just a “half turn.”  It was likely it was the sound of that doorknob that alerted the speaker that her father was home.

    The father’s work has left him “drabbled,” but he was a large man and remained “silent,” indicating that he was a thoughtful man, who likely entertained a “whole day’s wish” to return home to his family.  

    He apparently paid attention to his children, likely instructing them to “shape” up, assisting them in becoming the respectable people he knew they could be.

    Now, those same “evening doorknobs” that sounded out under the grasp of her father’s large hand simply “wait,” for he will no longer be grasping them and entering his home every evening. 

    Oddly, those doorknobs can no longer sense the household members as they pass them.  This personification of “doorknobs” indicates that the speaker is asserting that anyone seeing those family members would see a changed lot of people—changed because of the absence of a father.

    Third Movement: Consistency of Behavior

    The speaker then reports that her father brought home a “different woman” every week, and his act of bringing home that different woman was always the same. He also remained consistent in taking only one glass of liquor and a small amount of marijuana.

    That the father grew in “stillness” suggests that he took the alcohol and weed simply to calm his nerves from the day’s work, not to simply get high.

    The speaker seems to be suggesting that those women supplied the “weed,” pulling a bag of the herbage up out of their bags.  (The terms “grass” and “weed” are slang labels for marijuana, along with “pot” and “Mary Jane,” and many others.) That the women suppled the weed is in perfect alignment with the father’s character: he likely kept legal alcohol in his home but not illegal products like “weed.” 

    That the father took only one drink and a limited amount of “grass” or “weed” becomes a characteristic to be understood and admired, even emulated.  His consistency has made a positive impression upon the speaker, and she remains content in observing with respect his even-tempered behavior.

    Repeating the claim of a “different woman” every week, the speaker remarks that each woman had her “mother’s face.”  She then asserts the reason for the women with her mother’s face is that her father “knew and loved / but one.” 

    She is likely employing the term “knew” in the biblical sense; thus she may be implying that her father’s relationship with those women remained platonic.  The speaker remains cognizant of the father’s consistent personality and behavior.  

    While it may be expected that a man would engage with other women after his wife’s death, that he remained attached to his wife’s visage and engaged sexually only with his wife because he loved only her remains unusual and makes its mark on the speaker’s memory. Her father’s respectability and morality have caught the speaker’s attention and those qualities remain in her memory of his behavior.

    Fourth Movement: A Well-Lived Life

    The speaker says that her father “died in silence.”  She asserts that he loved “creation,” and he lived in a way that appropriately corresponded with that love. 

    Because of the positive, admirable aspects of her father’s personality and behavior, she understands the appropriateness of his “judgments” especially “on familiar things.”  As he judged his family, he was able to guide them in appropriate and uplifting ways.

    That he died on “January 15th” signals that everything he knew about his daughter stopped on that date, and the speaker/daughter knows that anything she accomplishes after that date will remain unknown to her father.  Likely, she is saddened, knowing this limit will remain, and she has no way of controlling that situation.

    Fifth Movement: Life’s Fulfillment

    The speaker then asserts again that she has never visited her father’s grave, but in concluding, she claims that she had never done so because it might make her “go into dust.”  The biblical passage in Genesis 3:19 asserts, 

    In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.

    The speaker seems to imply that she fears her strong reaction to visiting her father’s grave might result in her own death. And while she may also be remembering the Longfellow quatrain from “A Psalm of Life,” featuring the assertion, “‘Dust thou art, to dust returnest’, / Was not spoken of the soul,” she is not ready to leave her physical encasement just yet.

    The ultimate atmosphere of the poem “Father Son and Holy Ghost” suggests a certain understated fulfillment in the father’s life:  he strived to live a moral, well-balanced, consistent life, which the speaker can contemplate in loving memory, even if she may not be able to celebrate openly by visiting his grave.  

    Image:  Audre Lorde and Gloria Joseph 

    Brief Life Sketch of Audre Lorde

    Audre Lorde was born on February 18, 1934, in New York City to Frederic and Linda Lorde, who came to the USA from Grenada.  Her father was a carpenter and real estate agent, and her mother had been a teacher in Grenada.  Frederic Lorde was known for his nature as a well-disciplined man of great ambition.

    Their daughter Audre became a prominent American poet.  Her works are filled with passion, making her lyrical verses a riot of emotion.  But she also took an interest in social issues, seeking justice for the marginalized members of society.

    Lorde began writing poems as a high school student; she published her first poem  [1] while still in school.  After high school, she attended Hunter College, earning a B.A. degree in 1959.  She then went on to study at Columbia University and completed an MLS degree in 1961.

    Publication

    Audre Lorde’s first collection of poems, The First Cities, was published in 1968 [2].   Critics have described her voice as one that has developed though profound introspection, as she examines themes focusing on identity, the nature of memory, and how all things are affected by mortality.

    She followed up The First Cities in 1970 with Cables to Rage.  Three years later she published From a Land Where Other People Live. Then in 1974, she brought out the cleverly titled New York Head Shop and Museum.

    Lorde continued to focus on personal musings as she broadened her scope with criticism of cultural injustice.  She often created speakers who run up against unfair modes of behavior.  She also touches on issues that reveal the nature of individual sensuality and the power of inner fortitude in struggles with life’s trials and tribulations.

    In her first mainstream published collection titled Coal, which she brought out in 1976, she experimented with formal expressions.  In 1978, her collection, The Black Unicorn, earned for the poet her greatest recognition as critics and scholars labeled the work a masterpiece in poetry.

    In her masterpiece, Lorde employed African myths [3], coupled with tenets from feminism’s most widely acclaimed accomplishments.  She also gave a nod to spirituality as she seemed to strive for a more universal flavor in her works.

    Legacy and Death

    Audre Lorde’s work has received many prestigious awards, including the Walt Whitman Citation of Merit.  She also earned a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts.  She served as poet laureate of New York from 1919 until her death.

    Lorde died of breast cancer on November 17, 1992, in St. Croix, Virgin Islands, where she and her partner Gloria Joseph had been residing since 1986.  Lorde’s physical enactment was cremated, and her ashes were scattered over the ocean [4] around St. Croix.

    Sources for Life Sketch

    [1] Editors.  “Audre Lorde.”  Poetry Foundation.  Accessed June 29, 2025

    [2] Curators.  “Audre Lorde Collection: 1950-2002.”  Spelman College Archives. Accessed June 29, 2025.

    [3] Njeng Eric Sipyinyu. “Audre Lorde: Myth Harbinger of the Back to Africa Movement.” Journal of Emerging Technologies and Innovative Research. May 2024.

    [4] Curators.  “Audre Lorde.”  Find a Grave.  Accessed June 29, 2025.

    Tricky Lines

    As Robert Frost admitted that his poem “The Road Not Taken” was very tricky and admonished readers “to be careful with that one,” the following lines of the third movement from Audre Lorde’s poem “Father Son and Holy Ghost” have proved tricky:

    Each week a different woman   
    regular as his one quick glass
    each evening
    pulls up the grass his stillness grows  
    calling it weed.
    Each week    a different woman  
    has my mother’s face
    and he
    who time has    changeless
    must be amazed
    who knew and loved
    but one.

    Scouring the Internet for analyses of Lorde’s poem, one finds a particularly absurd interpretation of those lines has taken hold.  That misreading states that every week a different woman comes to the father’s grave to pull up weeds, thereby keeping the gravesite neat, and each woman’s face reminds the speaker of her mother.

    However, that reading misses the mark for several reasons:

    1. Misreading of the Terms “Grass” and “Weed”

    It is quite obvious that the terms “grass” and “weed” are not literally referring to the botanical herbage, growing in abundance on the soil virtually everywhere, but are slang terms for marijuana.  

    Notice that the terms are used in juxtaposition to the father’s having “one quick glass,” an obvious reference to an alcoholic beverage.  Also note that the speaker uses the term “weed” not “weeds” which would be the plants excised to keep a gravesite neat.

    2. Misreading the Time-Frame  

    The speaker is looking back to when the father was alive and how he behaved.  The different women pulling weeds (“weed”) at a grave jumps forward to the father being dead and in his grave.  

    But the speaker is reporting that the father brought home a different woman each week, have one small drink, and engage a small amount of marijuana—all while he was alive.

    3. Forgetting the Speaker’s First Claim

    The speaker begins by stating that she has never seen her father’s grave.  There is no way she could have seen these different women pulling up weeds (“weed”) at his grave if she has never been there.

    4. Misreading or Forgetting the Setting

    All of the images in the poem point to the speaker’s setting the poem in the home, not at his gravesite. For example, “evening doorknobs,” “one quick glass each evening,” and “his stillness grows” all place the father in the home, not in a cemetery. 

    Stillness in this sense after death is an absolute, not a situation in which stillness can grow. If anything the decaying body might be thought of as the opposite of stillness with the activity of bacterial organisms ravaging the flesh.  

    It bears repeating because it must be remembered that the speaker has claimed she has never seen her father’s grave; so reporting on any activity at a his gravesite is impossible.

    5. Father-Daughter Relationship

    According to Jerome Brooks, Frederick Lorde, Audre’s father, was, in fact, “a vital presence in her life.”  Her father provided “the solid ‘intellectual and moral’ vision that centered her sense of the world.”

    Unfortunately, feminist critics have so overemphasized Audre Lorde’s identity as a “black lesbian” that they can assume only a railing against the patriarchy for the poet.  Her true personal feelings for the first man in her life must blocked in order to hoist the poet onto the anti-patriarchal standard.

    But as Brooks has contended, 

    In Zami, Lorde implies that her father, who shared his decisionmaking power with his wife when tradition dictated it was his alone, was profoundly moral. She also felt most identified with and supported by him as she writes in Inheritance—His: “I owe you my Dahomian jaw/ the free high school for gifted girls/ no one else thought I should attend/ and the darkness we share.”

    Reading vs Appreciating a Poem

    Reading and appreciating a poem are two distinctive activities. While it may be unfair to claim absolute correctness in any interpretation, still some readings can clearly be flawed because poems can remain Frostian “tricky.”  It would seem that it is difficult if not impossible to appreciate a poem if one accepts a clearly inaccurate reading of the poem.

    Still, it is up to each reader to determine which interpretation he will accept. And the acceptance will most likely be based on experience both in life and in literary study.