Part 1 (Published in the Subud CA Sun, September 2015 issue)

A big mistake begins a big adventure (the use of being young and innocent). It was early 1970 and I had recently been invested with my first Subud job as Chairman of Subud New York (in those days the newest group member got that job, if willing). I was about 24 years old  and very green, which led to the big mistake and the big adventure.

In those days, we longed for a place in the country where we could retreat, be together, and do Subud type stuff (this longing was mostly the young people, it is true). When Livingston Dodson became the chair of the newly formed East Coast Region, he took it upon himself as his mission to find and acquire that place.

So, he went shopping in the Blue Ridge Mountains near the little town of Front Royal, Virginia. Shortly after he began looking, Livingston had a receiving where an old wise man told him to find a place where “the grasses of the mountains reach up to meet the sky” and during a total eclipse of the sun, his real estate agent called Livingston and told him he had a place he wanted Livingston to see. When Livingston saw it, he knew it was the place of his vision. He then put together a consortium of 8 Subud members and Skymont was born.

Not long after that, Livingston called me with the happy news and I went down from New York to see the property as soon as I could get off work. Looking through my dreamy eyes, I envisioned the somewhat run down, ex-boy’s camp as a paradise just waiting to land on Earth. And, for me, in a way, it was to be.

Now, at that time, Bapak had planned a world tour with visits to New York, Washington, and Chicago, and all three centers were enthusiastically making preparations for his visit. In January or February, as I remember, I went down to be with Livingston at his home in Fairfax, Virginia (he soon moved to Skymont) and we were talking late into the night. It’s hard to accurately communicate the euphoric states that we young people felt when contemplating the future of Subud in those days.

But, to give you an idea, around midnight Livingston suddenly had an Idea. “Why not invite Bapak to come to Skymont instead of visiting New York, Washington, and Chicago?” I immediately embraced the idea. “Yes, then instead of just having 3 or 4 days in each center with time in between, traveling and tiring himself out, Bapak can spend 2 solid weeks with everyone at Skymont.”

“Brilliant!  The members can all come to Skymont and experience our wonderful new place. Fantastic! Let’s get on the phone to Cilandak and see if Bapak likes the idea.” So, as fate/destiny would have it, Sharif picked up the phone, asked Bapak, and came back a few moments later to say “Bapak agrees”. And so began the chapter in Subud history entitled “Skymont,” that was to significantly impact many of our lives for the next ten years.

Rilka said, “We are bees in the visible, making honey in the golden hive of the invisible.” Yogi Berra said, “It’s not over till it’s over.” Hamid Camp said, “Continya.” Skymont, through its struggles and incarnations, made magic honey in many of our lives. Its pioneering spirit and innocence are still with us. Bapak advised us to create and get to know heaven on earth so we can recognize it when we leave this world. He also defined heaven as, “Where everything fits”

Part 2 (Published in the Subud California Sun, December 2015)

After helping to redirect Bapak’s visits to Skymount, rather than the NY, Washington, and Chicago centers, I returned to NY with my feelings in a state of bliss over the wonderful thing I had helped do. So, I was very surprised when, early the next morning, I got a call from Feri Farkash, who said, “Robert. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d be very angry with you.” I was kind of shocked. Feri was a large man (once national boxing champion of Hungary) whom I had never seen angry with anyone. Feri was one of the gentlest and kindest humans I’ve known; why would he say this to me?

“Why Feri?” I asked. He said, “You got Bapak’s visit moved from NY to the countryside of Virginia without consulting anyone in New York!”  I responded; “But, we called Bapak in Cilandak and he OK’d it. It must be the right thing because Bapak receives everything.” He said, “Robert, you don’t understand. Bapak agrees with proposals made to him, mostly, and especially if he thinks that’s what people want.” So a meeting was arranged with the members of New York, where some (especially some of the older members) expressed their anger and dismay.

Other meetings were subsequently held, and, at one, even Varindra came to try to help fix things.  But… the deed was done and things could not be fixed. Perhaps surprisingly, not too much anger was directed at me personally. I think it was because I was a tender and callow fellow then (or perhaps just oblivious).

Hundreds of Subud members came to Skymont the following August when Bapak made his visit, and about 150 stayed on to live there. Prio Hartono also came (as Bapak’s “Indonesian helper” emissary to the US) and many considered that Cilandak West had been established.

Helena and I frequently made weekend pilgrimages to Skymont during the next few years, leaving New York after work on Friday and returning Sunday evening. We would often take Subud friends from New York with us, stopping along the way to pick them up. We would arrive after midnight (sometimes as late as 3 or 4 in the morning if the fog was bad or we had to make frequent stops). But whenever we arrived, Skymont was always bustling and lit up like a Christmas tree. music was often being played in the lodge, sometimes accompanied by spontaneous dancing.

I had many sweet experiences during my trips there. One followed a journey that was particularly long and stressful. We departed New York about 6:00 PM and drove 13 hours on the turnpikes and country roads. We had to make more stops than we thought to pick up people and stuff. The stops were longer than expected. We were all tired and had a passenger who had a sort of irritating manner. We hit dense fog around 3:00 AM, so we had to creep along the road. I was driving and fading (a mini Dark Night of the Soul).

But, as we approached Skymont the fog cleared, the weather warmed, and we opened the car windows breathing in the heavenly scent of honeysuckle. We then saw a vision to match; patches of blue sky amidst the clearing clouds announcing the dawn. I had been up for the previous 24 hours, but we had arrived in Heaven, so who cared?

Many people had otherworldly experiences at Skymont. As Bapak arrived, there was a big storm. A high wind came up out of nowhere with dark clouds and a sudden downpour.

As the storm came up, I was setting up an art show of Subud members in an old barn up on the hill. The barn had many openings between the weathered boards and the wind caused pictures to flap around on the walls in an alarming manner. I hurriedly went outside and as I looked up, I saw a whirling vortex of clouds right above us. Suddenly a teenager appeared from out of nowhere with a walkie-talkie calling for plastic sheets and a staple gun. The sheets materialized and we stapled them over the cracks to protect the art from the rain, which immediately came pouring down.

I also heard that during the storm there was a young boy who looked up and saw a huge pair of angels protecting us. They didn’t stop the ensuing mud, however, that we enjoyed for the rest of Bapak’s visit.

Most of my pleasures at Skymont were of the “earthly delight” kind. First among these were the many Subud friends that I met and came to know there; the wonderful and inspiring times we shared. The latihans, the music, the festivals of food and stories, remain inside me.

Then there was the beauty of nature; fireflies so thick in the trees across the Shenandoah that it seemed like the firmament of stars had come to earth and settled all around us. The birdsong and aroma of trees and flowers still linger somewhere in the deep of me.

And, I must not forget the eccentric and often dilapidated structures: chief among them, the outside showers nestled on the side of the steep cliff overlooking the Shenandoah. They were protected from view at the back, but completely open to a spectacular view of the sky, river and trees out the front. It was a liberating experience to take a shower there after a sweaty time of helping to fix up buildings in anticipation of Bapak’s visit. I could feel part of me relaxing to drift up into the sky.

So, to come full circle; Rilka said, “We are bees in the visible making honey in the golden hive of the invisible.”

Blessings to you all, Robert

 

 

from notes taken by Sylvia des Tombe

This is one of the stories related by Mbak Tuti and Sharif Horthy at the Subud USA Gathering in Redwood City, September 5, 2015.

How Sharif Horthy Started to Interpret for Bapak

Sharif first met Bapak at Coombe Springs when he was 18. He had finished high school and had nine months off. He was staying in the boiler room.  For the first World Congress in 1959, he did the taping.  (Bapak stayed there a whole year right in the beginning.)  Sharif would listen and listen to the tapes, and that’s how he started to learn Indonesian.  Most of the people there at that time were members of the Gurdjieff group which had a specific “pecking order,” and Sharif was at the very bottom of it.

The first time Sharif saw Bapak was when Bapak arrived at Coombe Springs. Sharif was standing in the crowd which welcomed Bapak, and, when Bapak passed him, Sharif felt as though no one had gone by, nothing.  He registered a blank. And yet, later, when Bapak talked, Sharif felt as though the words directly touched his own lips. The impression Bapak gave was always different;  Sharif never got “used to” being close to him.

Later that year, Sharif went to Indonesia. At that time, Bapak started encouraging non-Muslims to keep the Ramadan fast. Latihan was at 8:30 pm and when it was finished, Bapak would go out of the hall and sit outside every night during Ramadan until around 2 in the morning.  He would chat, and the atmosphere was very informal. The men would talk about the latihan.

Bapak said it was possible to be in a state of latihan all the time. Compare this with religions:  in a religion, people follow a tradition. In Java, it is the goal of mystics to become powerful. The latihan, compared with these, is something totally new.

Sharif said that the second main way he learned Indonesian was by listening to Bapak talk in this casual environment. Sharif realized that Bapak often contradicted himself or what he said on one occasion was made irrelevant by what he said on another.

Dear California Subud Breathers and Sitters (an old-timey Subud joke),

It’s time for another chairman’s letter, so here it is. I finished my previous letter like this:

Rilka said “We are bees in the visible, making honey in the golden hive of the invisible.” Yogi Berra said, “It’s not over till it’s over.” Hamid Camp said “Continya”. Skymont, through it’s struggles and incarnations, made magic honey in many of our lives. Its pioneering spirit and innocence are still with us.

Bapak advised us to create and get to know heaven on earth, so we can recognize it when we leave this world. He also defined heaven as, “Where everything fits” (To be continued)…

So, continuing with my story…

After helping to redirect Bapak’s visits to Skymount, rather than the NY, Washington, and Chicago centers, I returned to NY with my feelings in a state of bliss over the wonderful thing I had helped do. So, I was very surprised when, early the next morning, I got a call from Feri Farkash, who said, “Robert. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d be very angry with you.” I was kind of shocked. Feri was a large man (once national boxing champion of Hungary) whom I had never seen angry with anyone. Feri was one of the gentlest and kindest humans I’ve known; why would he say this to me?

“Why Feri?” I asked. He said, “You got Bapak’s visit moved from NY to the countryside of Virginia without consulting anyone in New York!”  I responded; “But, we called Bapak in Cilandak and he OK’d it. It must be the right thing because Bapak receives everything.” He said, “Robert, you don’t understand. Bapak agrees with proposals made to him, mostly, and especially if he thinks that’s what people want.” So a meeting was arranged with the members of New York, where some (especially some of the older members) expressed their anger and dismay.

Other meetings were subsequently held, and, at one, even Varindra came to try to help fix things.  But… the deed was done and things could not be fixed. Perhaps surprisingly, not too much anger was directed at me personally. I think it was because I was a tender and callow fellow then (or perhaps just oblivious).

Hundreds of Subud members came to Skymont the following August when Bapak made his visit, and about 150 stayed on to live there. Prio Hartono also came (as Bapak’s “Indonesian helper” emissary to the US) and many considered that Cilandak West had been established.

Helena and I frequently made weekend pilgrimages to Skymont during the next few years, leaving New York after work on Friday and returning Sunday evening. We would often take Subud friends from New York with us, stopping along the way to pick them up. We would arrive after midnight (sometimes as late as 3 or 4 in the morning if the fog was bad or we had to make frequent stops). But whenever we arrived, Skymont was always bustling and lit up like a Christmas tree. music was often being played in the lodge, sometimes accompanied by spontaneous dancing.

I had many sweet experiences during my trips there. One followed a journey that was particularly long and stressful. We departed New York about 6:00 PM and drove 13 hours on the turnpikes and country roads. We had to make more stops than we thought to pick up people and stuff. The stops were longer than expected. We were all tired and had a passenger who had a sort of irritating manner. We hit dense fog around 3:00 AM, so we had to creep along the road. I was driving and fading (a mini Dark Night of the Soul).

But, as we approached Skymont the fog cleared, the weather warmed, and we opened the car windows breathing in the heavenly scent of honeysuckle. We then saw a vision to match; patches of blue sky amidst the clearing clouds announcing the dawn. I had been up for the previous 24 hours, but we had arrived in Heaven, so who cared?

Many people had otherworldly experiences at Skymont. As Bapak arrived, there was a big storm. A high wind came up out of nowhere with dark clouds and a sudden downpour.

As the storm came up, I was setting up an art show of Subud members in an old barn up on the hill. The barn had many openings between the weathered boards and the wind caused pictures to flap around on the walls in an alarming manner. I hurriedly went outside and as I looked up, I saw a whirling vortex of clouds right above us. Suddenly a teenager appeared from out of nowhere with a walkie-talkie calling for plastic sheets and a staple gun. The sheets materialized and we stapled them over the cracks to protect the art from the rain, which immediately came pouring down.

I also heard that during the storm there was a young boy who looked up and saw a huge pair of angels protecting us. They didn’t stop the ensuing mud, however, that we enjoyed for the rest of Bapak’s visit.

Most of my pleasures at Skymont were of the “earthly delight” kind. First among these were the many Subud friends that I met and came to know there; the wonderful and inspiring times we shared. The latihans, the music, the festivals of food and stories, remain inside me.

Then there was the beauty of nature; fireflies so thick in the trees across the Shenandoah that it seemed like the firmament of stars had come to earth and settled all around us. The birdsong and aroma of trees and flowers still linger somewhere in the deep of me.

And, I must not forget the eccentric and often dilapidated structures: chief among them, the outside showers nestled on the side of the steep cliff overlooking the Shenandoah. They were protected from view at the back, but completely open to a spectacular view of the sky, river and trees out the front. It was a liberating experience to take a shower there after a sweaty time of helping to fix up buildings in anticipation of Bapak’s visit. I could feel part of me relaxing to drift up into the sky.

So, to come full circle; Rilka said, “We are bees in the visible making honey in the golden hive of the invisible.”

Blessings to you all, Robert