A Moldy Yogi Retires!
by Scott Teitsworth,
2018
The
post of editor is a famously invisible one, and for this reason the role has
suited me perfectly as a person who shuns the limelight. For over 40 years I
have tinkered almost daily with an array of important Gurukula books, and this
spring, after finishing up my part of a restoration of Nataraja Guru’s Integrated Science of the Absolute, I
find myself without a project for my old alma mater. It’s an odd sensation to
wake up without a compelling call to engage my brain to its optimum capacity
(no comments please!).
In
place of hosting my own sendoff party, I thought it would be nice to share my
editing history, just for the record. It’s a nice coincidence that this year,
2018, marks the 40th anniversary of Deb Buchanan and me beginning
our weekly Portland Gurukula gatherings, which were initiated by us listening
to recordings of Nitya’s Gita classes and discussing them with a few of his
other friends. Now they continue to be a rare opportunity for a small group of
seekers to meet regularly and dive deeply into the mystical implications of the
teachings that are at the core of the Narayana Gurukula.
I
began my editing career even before the classes, in 1975. Through most of my
more than forty years of editing I had a “day job” as a firefighter as well as
a family to care for, so it was always a part-time project, but I have probably
averaged 2-3 hours per day for all that time. After five years of being the
grateful beneficiary of Guru Nitya’s teachings and admonishments, I realized it
was only fair to give back some energy in return. I asked him what I could do
for him, painfully aware it would be like trading tarnished pennies for the
bags of gold he had been freely lading on everyone he came in contact with, but
that’s all I had to offer. He soon asked me to put his Bhagavad Gita commentary
into proper shape for publication.
Nitya
taught the Gita in Portland a number of times beginning in 1970, as it was
wildly popular in America in those days. Anne Morin had typed up a first draft
in 1971, which I incorporated into the project. Nitya used my typing task as a
kind of disciple training a la Milarepa and Marpa. I had to do everything,
including all the Sanskrit diacritics, on an electric typewriter we had on
hand, carefully adjusting the platen to enter the lines and dots above or below
the letters. It was tricky to get them in the right place, and it didn’t always
work. If I made a mistake, I was not permitted to do any erasing, but had to
throw out the entire sheet and start over. More than once I got to the bottom
of a page, which might have taken more than an hour, and slipped up. I can
still recall ripping the paper off the platen and crumpling it up for the
wastebasket, resolving to try even harder next time. It was frustration
incarnate! I suppose not being disheartened by the whole business was a
valuable trait to reinforce, but only my loving dedication to my teacher lent
me the will to keep going.
Overlaying
that extreme caution about mistakes was the widespread conviction that the
guru, any guru, was infallible, so I should NEVER alter anything, just
reproduce it exactly as it appeared. It took decades for me to loosen up on
this idea, realizing that there was room for improvement if one was very, very
careful to retain the intent. After many years of fear and trembling I have
come to be quite satisfied with the results as my fear of divine retribution
diminished.
Speaking
of belief in the infallibility of gurus, while it has a certain value in reining
in a disciple’s ego and fostering trust, it is for the most part a misplaced
notion that has led millions to sacrifice their good sense in favor of their
teacher’s egos, leading them to disaster. America alone has a million such
stories of well-meaning people deceived by charlatans pretending to embody the
will of God. I consider myself extremely fortunate that the person I submitted
to was not only a brilliant philosopher, but an honest soul fully dedicated to
wisdom transmission.
Certainly
in the matter of written material, any wide-awake editor should be encouraged
to question apparent mistakes. I was fortunate to be working in the same house
as Nitya so I was able to bring my concerns to his attention and resolve them
with his blessing. Sometimes he would upbraid me just for good measure, yet he
never insisted on his own infallibility. That was just another popular myth.
The aim was always accuracy of thought and word, not personal glory.
I
used to wonder how other gurus wrote such immaculate and compelling English,
until it dawned on me that they had their own editors who weren’t restrained by
the same compunctions as I. Readability was just about the most important
consideration in terms of their books’ popularity, and while the Gurukula was
never much interested in becoming popular, clarity of communication still
struck me as a most valuable feature.
I
have always been fortunate to have a lot of time to devote to the editing work,
treating it as my form of sadhana, and so whenever something wasn’t clear to me
I would meditate on it, sometimes for several days or even up to a week, in
order to be sure of the sense. I never had to be in a hurry to move along, but
felt supported by the Guru to take my time and get it done right. Only when the
precise meaning clicked into place would I see how it could be expressed with a
minimum of tinkering. My most gratifying moments were when I did something as
simple as switching the position of two words or phrases, and finding the
result making spectacular sense. That’s one way editors get their kicks, I
guess.
I
should add that my saturation in the Gita throughout the 1970s served me in
good stead later on. Nitya became caught up in so many other important projects
that he didn’t do his English language Gita full justice. After his death I
began to teach it myself, and eventually did my own commentary that was based
on many of his best ideas that hadn’t found their way into his book. The result
spawned my two most important published books, one on chapters 1 and 2, the
other on chapter 11. The complete, exhaustive commentary is available online: https://scottteitsworth.tripod.com/id26.html.
Not
long after finishing our first project and sending the manuscript to the
publisher, around 1979, Nitya handed me a bound volume of typescript, the
original almost obscured by numerous scribbles from several previous editorial
attempts. It was his Psychology of
Darsanamala, and it was nearly unreadable in parts from all the cross-outs
and rewrites. I quickly ascertained that many of the corrections actually were
anything but improvements, and that a thorough overhaul would be necessary.
I
spent around seven years recovering the original from the maze, retyping, and
then fine-tuning it. I was still under the caveat of not changing anything, but
there were obvious fixes to be made here and there, and definitely the need to
reorganize. The end was capped with my first large writing project, the
Introduction, which felt a lot like giving birth. There had been a very long
gestation period of my seventeen years of study with Nitya and then a
difficult—though not physically painful—build-up of the complex ideas required.
It was almost like it was growing physically inside me. Once it burst its
barriers and was able to be expressed it came blasting out in a big rush, and
the result was a beautiful “baby” that did reasonable justice to the book. One
of the biggest compliments I have received in this life came two years after the
book was published: while I was attending the 1989 music and arts festival at
the Ooty Gurukula, someone rudely accused me of signing my name to an essay
that Nitya had obviously written for me, meaning the Introduction. I was
initially shocked, but soon realized that having my essay sound as if Nitya had
written it was actually high praise, and evidence of its adequacy. Over the
years of saturation in Nitya’s work I have come to write a little like an
Americanized version of his phraseology, and I don’t mind it a bit.
Not
long after finishing The Psychology of
Darsanamala, I was approached by Nancy Yeilding with a stack of
transcriptions of Nitya’s fabulous Atmopadesa Satakam class given in Portland,
and I agreed to turn it into a book. I spent on average about a month on each
of the hundred verses, seven years in all, first typing them on a computer—a
new and very helpful word processing technology— and then adjusting them into a
more readable form. I discovered that prophetic lecturing was a quite different
format from written text, and I needed to make the conversion. A speaker will
naturally add ideas later on to compliment earlier ones, and an alert listener
won’t have any problem with it, but in writing they all need to be put in one
place and properly joined. I first brought related ideas together in a
streamlined form and then fine-tuned the result. I dared on rare occasions to
substitute a word I was sure was meant from the one in the transcript. The
whole process was like adjusting the focus of a telescope or microscope, where
the blurred image finally comes into crystal clarity, and the image leaps out
at you. The result, in my opinion, is one of the finest books of spiritual
insight ever produced, and a worthy testimony to the sagacity of its author, as
well as the original insights of Narayana Guru.
Three
more years were required to come up with a fitting title, That Alone: The Core of Wisdom, write a proper introduction,
and
shepherd the manuscript through the publisher 5 full times, as they kept adding
new errors as they removed old ones, making it a more than ten year project. It
was the first one where I used a painting by fellow disciple Andy Larkin for
the cover, the beginning of a proud history of his collaboration for the
Gurukula.
Toward
the end of the That Alone project, in
May of 1999, Nitya entered mahasamadhi,
which among other things precipitated my own teaching and writing career. I
realized that if his disciples didn’t carry on the dissemination of his wisdom,
so important to maintaining the lineage of Narayana Guru and Nataraja Guru, it
would peter out. I determined to apply my editing skills to his other books in
hopes they would continue to speak to people for a long time after those who
knew him were gone.
Nitya’s
autobiography, Love and Blessings,
painstakingly compiled by Peter Oppenheimer, came out in December of 2000. I
could see room for my polishing skills, as the printing of the book was uneven
and there were a number of typographical errors. Peter, who himself rated the
work a C+, graciously gave me permission (and the manuscript) to work with. I
felt Nitya deserved at least an A, if not an A+. I brought in some more
material from Nitya’s other writings, and best of all, Deborah Buchanan allowed
me access to her diary from her long trip with Nitya in 1971, an important time
not covered in the first edition at all. (As an aside, that was when she took
the two now-famous pictures of Nitya and Nataraja Guru sitting together at the
Varkala Gurukula.) She not only vividly chronicled that period, but had
included direct quotes in brackets that could be used verbatim. I was by now
brave enough to produce those several new chapters in the first person,
reasonably in Nitya’s voice. My own writing definitely has a lot of Nitya in it,
which may be a fault for me, but after decades of working with his writings and
teachings it is impossible for me to have a truly separate tone.
Early
in the editing process the 9-11 disaster happened, and it was obvious to me
that the official story was absurd and a cover for a much more nefarious
conspiracy. I was literally sickened, broken-hearted at what it meant for the
planet. Further despair was occasioned by how greedily my fellow humans ate up
the bogus cover story. I have always admired Nitya’s attitude embodied in a
line from his Yoga Sutras book: “The yogi makes every effort not to be a howler
telling untruth or a simpleton believing in something because somebody said it
or it is written somewhere.” Yogis, it turns out, are rare.
My
work on Love and Blessings was deeply
healing. I would wake up each day filled with conspiratorial misgivings and
rush to my computer to begin poring over the manuscript. I’d work for a couple
of hours, and as I went along I would feel my spirits lifting, until by the end
of each session I would be back to “normal,” that is, to a state of mental
balance with my former strong dose of guarded optimism about the meaning and
trajectory of life. The radiance of living was restored. I felt the book was
acting as a guru to me.
After
the editing process was complete I worked with a local artist, Linda Sawaya, to
produce the beautiful volume that a friend and I had privately printed for the
US edition of 2003. The press run was a thousand copies. It remains my second
favorite of our books, after That Alone,
a book that can be opened on any page to enjoy an uplifting revelation.
Next
came a spate of restoration projects for new editions of several of Nitya’s
works, and Larkin covers adorned most of them. Meditations on the Self was once again privately printed by a good
friend and me, and is to my mind the most physically attractive of all our
lovely books.
Having
achieved what I felt was a high degree of competence in working with the
material, I was gratified to be invited to redo two of Nataraja Guru’s books, Unitive Philosophy, combining three
previous works of a series, and Saundarya
Lahari. This brought me to another level of super cautiousness about making
changes. His works had been well edited already, so mostly I would be proofing
the digitization. Happily there were plenty of mistakes in the proof sheets to
keep me busy. Any changes I made were accompanied by a visualization of the
Guru looking intently over my shoulder, along with an incisive story related to
me by Johnny Stallings.
Johnny
had been with Nataraja Guru for the whole year prior to his death in 1973.
Johnny was in his early twenties, and rather naively offered to help the Guru
polish up and modernize his English. The Guru, more than fifty years older than
this hippie kid, replied with a twinkle in his eye that he was very fond of his
Victorian style of writing just as it was, but thanks anyway. Whenever Johnny
and I talked of editing issues that story would come up, so I was properly
chastened in advance. The Guru’s writing surely had an antique charm, and was
very precise. Still, I could see how some minor rearrangements would make a big
difference in getting his ideas across to a somewhat wider readership. Of
course, being confused by the writing is part of the challenge of reading him,
a kind of entrance exam to separate out any disciple who wasn’t serious enough,
but there are few these days who persist once they are stumped. Unless they
already revere Nataraja Guru they will just turn to another author. And the
ideas are plenty challenging without any additional linguistic barriers. So
with fear and dread I made the most minimal changes necessary to make the
writing clear to me. I have spent my entire life studying this philosophy, so
after all it is a rather high bar. If I don’t understand it, it may indicate a
real problem. I continue to be pleased whenever I review the results, and am
confident that if Nataraja Guru is looking down from heaven he will be
appreciative of my contribution in getting across his revolutionary—really,
unmatched—vision.
A
resolve to include me in all future book projects was rescinded for Nataraja
Guru’s masterpiece, An Integrated Science
of the Absolute, reissued in
2005. The result was the worst book publication I have ever seen, with numerous
glaring errors on every page. I immediately began preparing a corrected
manuscript, which took more than a year. There were times when I had to refer
to the decently edited first edition in order to determine what the original intent
had been, because for the life of me I couldn’t make it out. I sent an edited
hard copy to the publisher, along with a request to reissue the book and
destroy the second edition. Unfortunately all copies were sold over ten years
before a new edition was proposed, but they had saved my revised copy and
entered the changes somewhat before sending me a new manuscript to review
toward the end of 2015. I knew this would be the last chance ever for proper
editing, so I threw myself into the project full bore. With the help of the
internet and our excellent Portland library and bookstores I was able to track
down most of the obscure references for double-checking. With a practiced and
careful eye, I caught many subtle errors from the first edition in addition to
many new ones and the plethora from the second edition. It was very satisfying
to peruse the result, as the new version was the most readable by far.
Apparently there is now a movement to reinstate some of the old-fashioned
wording, but as the human race seems to be entering a post-philosophic era, it
may not matter very much. Nataraja Guru was after all speaking to a
mid-twentieth century audience of holistic scientists that no longer exists.
Yet the value of the work in helping a sincere seeker to stabilize their
consciousness and unify their philosophy is undeniable. Plus, the gorgeous
Larkin cover does it the full justice it so well deserves.
A
long gap in my editing career between 2006 and 2015 was filled with my own
composition of a 1500 page commentary on the Gita, based on Nitya and Nataraja
Guru’s unique revelations, along with weekly class notes concerning our studies
at the Portland Gurukula that is freely shared over the internet. Another late
project was proofing the digitization of The
Psychology of Darsanamala by Beverley Hammon, just in time for our last
detailed class on it in Portland. (The class notes, book introductions and
other writings are available on my website: http://scottteitsworth.tripod.com.)
After
over 40 years of dedicated work, I awoke one day in April and realized there
was nothing more for me to do for the Gurukula. I was “retired” by default. It
has taken some getting used to, as it’s been my lifetime meditation technique.
Thankfully a few of my own projects remain to keep me from turning to compost
immediately.
I
thought I’d share this account because there are a few worthwhile anecdotes I
wanted to pass along to my Gurukula fellows, to get them on the record, such as
it is. Most of all, I wanted to proclaim once more that a vast, astounding body
of knowledge is contained in the books I’ve labored over, and one of the most
satisfying parts of my life has been helping to preserve it for anyone who
might like to know more about the wonderfully liberating ideas that make our
rather obscure organization special.
My
work for the Gurukula in summary:
By Nitya:
Bhagavad Gita 1975-1978
Psychology of Darsanamala 1979-1987
*That Alone 1989-2003
Polishings:
Love and Blessings 2000-2003
In the Stream of Consciousness 2004
*Meditations on the Self 2004-5
*Neither This Nor That… But Aum 2005-6
Darsanamala (digitized by Beverley Hammon) 2015-17
By Nataraja Guru:
*Unitive Philosophy 2003-5
*Saundarya Lahari 2003-5
*Bhagavad Gita 2006-8
*An Integrated Science of the Absolute 2005-6, 2016-17
My major works:
Weekly class notes 2004-present
Bhagavad Gita 2005-2015
*Krishna in
the Sky with Diamonds 2012
The Path
to the Guru 2014
Exegesis of the Labors of Hercules 2005-11
* indicates Larkin cover art
Responses:
Dear Scott,
Thanks for sharing your wonderful experience and thoughts. I
find myself lucky to associate with you in a small way. Wish I was here in
Portland 40 years back or I could have found Nitya in India. Reading your letter
gave me a feeling as if you are in an active dive to get pearls from deep ocean
and I am standing at the shore watching with a numb mind.
When one starts the journey of life one does not have a clue
how it will unfold. In retrospect meeting Nitya must be a high light of your
life. I am delighted to see your enthusiasm and sincerity to keep the
guru lineage alive. We all dabble in horizontal plan but few get lucky to take
vehicle leaps.
The image in the mirror merged with the object! (This is to
express the similarity in quality of your writings with that of Nitya).
Regards,
Jay Thakar
WOW Scott- don't really know what to say, but thanks for
sending me this.
Dianne Young
Thank you for sharing . inspired to do more
Pranaams
Shyla Rao
Thanks for sending this out and for all the hard work you
have done over these many years to make Nitya’s teachings available to us.
I appreciate it greatly and know it changed my life. I hope you
feel appreciated by many! Jan Atwill
Congratulations and gratitude!!
Love,
Nancy Yeilding
Wow Scott! Deep, deep bows to you for your sincere and
selfless devotion and dedication to our Gurus and their teachings. Your account
is really touching for many reasons - 1) you did all these works without an
ounce of self-interest, just a genuine wanting to know and let know 2) I’m sure
you got dinged for your choices (editing or otherwise) many times by various
people and when your ego was wounded you found a way to put it aside for the
higher purpose 3) each of these projects took years to complete and you stuck
with it, with kids, a wife, job and all. Amazing!
I’m one of the many lucky enjoyers of the fruits of your
labor. Thank you! Thank you!
And.. your retirement may be temporary.. because... remember
the Bhagavad Gita video transcription project I started and plan to continue?
Nancy has offered to edit it, but you never know.. We may call and say, “
Scott! Please heeeelp!” And that will be the end of your retirement [Smiley
face]. Just sayin’... I will resume this project in the Fall.
Much love and gratitude,
xoxo
Ammu
Dear Scott ji,
When I saw the word "Retires" even before opening
the message, I was disappointed - I didn't know what it meant though. Then I
saw that the class continues - relieved.
I could read the "editing history" only tonight. I
was moved, I couldn't realize why. I felt I travelled a millennium backward,
because those days it was common, as we read, to have
enduring Guru-Sishya relations of pure love and devotion. Through the
account you sent across, I could see that happening in our times, though the
physical presence of Guru Nitya is no more with us.
Interacting with such blessed souls is also a
blessing in itself.
Pranam. Aum.
Baiju
Dear Scott,
Bless you and thank you, brother, for your wonderful work,
generations to come will be grateful for all that you have done. And I'm sure
the Gurus will be very happy with, for, you. I can almost see Nataraja Guru, in
some ice-cream parlour in Sausalito, eyes all a twinkle, saying to his
girlfriend ' not bad for these hippies, eh?'.
(Vinaya)
