True Tales

This piece was first posted a couple weeks ago, but taken down for a little editing and to add PHOTOS! I found my box of old solstice photos and I have many from the 70s that are fabulous! Most of the photos here are from 1975. The campsite just below is from 1973. Do you have a solstice story you would like to share? We would love to hear your story too.

The summer of 1975 I attended Summer Solstice Sadhana without husband and with a child for the first time. There was some dispute, I don’t remember what; Danny did not want or was not able to attend. So, I packed up my one-year-old daughter, Sat Kartar Kaur, and drove out with some friends to the Jimez Mountains in New Mexico.

Sat Kartar and I camped in our little tent and I attended all the 8 (or was it 5?) days of Tantric while she was at child care. I was 22, a fairly inexperienced mom, and retrospectively I can see that I was also somewhat negligent, although I had no idea then this was the case. 

I had followed Yogiji’s teachings on food and care of infants, but somewhere I missed a few very basic motherhood lessons. Thankfully, Sat Kartar had really done quite well with nursing every 4 hours (because I really wasn’t very flexible about that at all) and the gradual introduction of fruits and other solid foods. I was surprised to find out at Solstice that the only food being served to the infants was bean broth. Yes, this was the broth from cooking the kidney beans or whatever that went into the spicy beans and rice for dinner. I’d give her some banana in the morning (there was no children’s soup in those days) and in the evening, after tantric yoga, she’d have bean broth. I never thought to try to go to the kitchen or to town and get supplementary food, and it never occurred to me before Solstice that I should bring anything extra for her. This was my first solstice with a child, and I had assumed everything would be automatically provided. To this day, I don’t know what she was fed at childcare. However, by the end of solstice, not only had she lost at least a pound (which is a lot when you weigh under 20 to begin with), but she had a bad case of diarrhea that wouldn’t quit.

The doctor at solstice said I should just give her water and clear juice to clean out the bacteria causing the diarrhea. So I did. This did help the diarrhea, but between her barely eating and us both being a little dehydrated (we didn’t know about electrolytes in those days either), my milk had also dried up. The point of all this being that she was really quite a weak and sunburned baby by the end of solstice, and on the mend. Through it all, I really had no sense or idea that it was a serious matter, that she had lost so much weight. I had no idea that diarrhea could be so dangerous, especially to a small child at high elevation in the moisture sucking heat. I simply always believed everything was OK. While I was surprised there wasn’t really food for the small children her age, I didn’t make an issue of it, try to find food, or try to do anything about it. Maybe there was food and I just didn’t know about it. While I thought I knew everything and was so involved in my own experience of doing tantric, being at solstice, etc, I never questioned anything.

Thankfully, Sat Kartar did OK. She was weak, but getting stronger. Solstice was over and I needed to get home. A group of L.A. folks had driven out to Solstice in a caravan. This group included Guru Singh in his old gold pickup truck, Sat Bachan Singh in his old blue chevy sedan, Krishna Singh and Pink Krishna in another car, and a big blue rental moving truck. The blue truck had been used to move all of Guru Sharon Kaur’s furniture to Espanola for Yogiji’s new house there, and also folks from L.A. got to send their camp gear. So, on the way back, it was mainly full of tents and sleeping bags and there was a ton of extra space.

I think I rode with Sat Bachan Singh. There were probably about 10 people total in our caravan. Guru Singh led us with his old gold pickup. We’d stop from time to time and change drivers, gas up, etc. Finally we got to Phoenix (we had taken this longer way because one of the men had to stop there for some reason).

On the way out of Phoenix, headed toward the California border, we came upon the Colorado River. It was late in the afternoon and we had been driving since early morning through mountains and desert sizzling with heat. The cool waters of the wide flowing river called out to us. We followed Guru Singh down a side road and parked our cars near the river bank, then took turns changing into our swimsuits inside the blue truck. Within minutes we had all plunged into the glorious river, laughing, playing, and exhilarating in the chilling flow. I had Sat Kartar in the shade under the bridge (at least I had the sense not to set her in the sun). Within an hour we were refreshed and renewed. We made a bunch of sandwiches and had a simple dinner as we dried off in the lingering heat. Finally we packed ourselves up in the cars again and hit the road; a troupe of 20-and-30-somethings, all in a sort of silly, wild state, ready for some reckless fun.

Thus, we all thought it looked like a great idea when Guru Singh, still leading the group in his truck, drove off road and headed straight out into the desert (on what sort of looked like a road, since it was somewhat free of big rocks and cactus, etc., but was really a dry riverbed). Within a few minutes we were all out in the middle of the desert, hundreds of yards from the highway, having come to a full stop.

We were stopped because a dry river bed that has never been walked or driven upon, is not a hard surface. It is like cake. The water dries out and the dirt still holds its shape, with a crust on top. In other words, we were stuck in the sand, far from the road. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we were all on drugs, because we were so naïve, carefree, high from our solstice experience and our day together, and having such a great time.

The sun was setting now and there really wasn’t much to do. We tossed our sleeping bags and mats to the top of the truck and spread ourselves out to sleep beneath the stars, rationalizing that this would be safer than sleeping on the ground that was certainly crawling with bugs, animals and other night creatures. I didn’t feel safe having Sat Kartar on the roof of the truck so, like a good mom, I bundled her up and nestled her on top of a bunch of sleeping bags and sheepskins, snuggled cozily inside the truck, alone, for the night. I felt she’d be safe there, and I’d just be up on top.

As we happily drifted off to sleep, I remember staring up at the vastness of the black sky in brilliant contrast to its blanket of stars and reflecting on how happy I had been that day and how different this was from how I usually felt. I was having fun with guys and it really was just that, fun, and we were laughing and feeling so great and loving and I wanted to feel like that all the time. Always the square peg, on this trip, I think I felt for the first time in my life that I was really part of something, part of a group… that I “fit” in.

A few hours later I awoke to the sound of a baby crying. I started up and realized O my God I’m on top of a truck and Sat Kartar is inside the back of the truck! I jumped down quickly and climbed into the dark jumble of tents, poles, suitcases and duffels, until I felt my soft crying baby in my arms. I cradled and stayed with her for a while, making her spot cozy and more secure (she had slipped down between some sleeping bags). When she had drifted off to sleep again, I rejoined the oblivious sleeping others on top of the truck.

The next morning we awoke to a brilliant sunrise, and a clear view of the expanse between us and the road. A car driving along pulled over to the side of the road. A man emerged and stood staring out at the odd assemblage of cars and a bright blue moving van poised out in the middle of the desert. He called out, “Hey, what are you all doing out there? Do you need some help?!” The men all shouted back that we were fine; they evidently had a plan for getting us out. With some effort, they were successful (oddly, I really don’t remember exactly how we got the cars out of the sand and back on the road, but I think it involved some rope and a good deal of muscle and sweat) and we were off on the highway again, headed to L.A. and our lives there.

A few weeks later I decided to have a reunion party for the whole group (we called ourselves the Mul Bandh Movers). Danny and I lived on Preuss Road in a little one-bedroom apartment a half block south of Guru Ram Das Ashram. There was a sort of open patio on one side of the triplex. I decorated it with balloons, streamers and a piñata, and made a lot of Mexican food (including homemade sopapillas). Guru Singh brought his guitar. We ate, laughed, sang and danced, and retold the story of our adventure in the desert, going on and on and on and then almost everyone ended up falling asleep on the floor. I pulled out a bunch of blankets and our little living room became a crash pad for happy, contented, well-fed yogis.

Reflections on Mothering… by the Grace of God

It was not until many years later that I could incredulously look back and say, “Oh my God, how could I do that!?” I just didn’t know any better. I really thought I was doing a good job as a mom. Thank God Sat Kartar was always safe. Thank God she was always taken care of. There are ways I was negligent, such as leaving her alone at home napping for an hour or two while I went to yoga class or sadhana. When I’d come home, she’d be there sleeping. I don’t think I ever came home to find her awake and crying. But I also really do not know if she ever did wake up and realize she was completely alone and what that felt like for her. I’d take her for walks in her stroller in the late afternoon or early evening, and she’d just have a cloth diaper on. I didn’t think she needed anything else. She seemed warm enough to me. I just don’t know what I was thinking. And I don’t know what it felt like to be Sat Kartar, to be incredibly intelligent, sensitive, good natured and trusting, and to have parents who were not necessarily present, physically or emotionally. I don’t know how she interpreted her surroundings or the attention she received (or did not receive). I didn’t have a clue really, how to be a mom.

This is an easy trap to fall into, looking back and realizing all the mistakes made as a parent, the things I could have or should have done differently, seeing my grown children facing problems in their lives and feeling that I am somehow responsible. Easier to fall in than to climb out. Even though I have explored this world of guilt and moved on, I sometimes still find myself there. Ah… motherhood!

Chanting during tantric hailstorm, Solstice 1973. That’s me in the jeans.