One of Australia's largest yoga retreats on a NSW Central Coast mountain will be the focus of a national hearing into child sexual abuse.

The Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse says its 21st public hearing will inquire into the response of the Satyananda Yoga Ashram at Mangrove Mountain to allegations of child sexual abuse by a former spiritual leader in the 1970s and 1980s.

Akhandananda Saraswati was charged, convicted and jailed in the late 1980s for sexually abusing teenage girls living at the Ashram.

The Swami spent 14 months in prison and the convictions were overturned by the High Court appeal in 1991. He died in 1997.

The commission at a hearing in Sydney on December 2 will examine the response of the Ashram to allegations and reports of child sexual abuse made against Swami Saraswati.

It will also look at the systems, policies and procedures for responding to claims or concerns of abuse that have been in place at the Ashram since 1974.

In a statement issued on Tuesday, solicitor for the Ashram, Aaron Kernaghan, said the retreat would ensure it did every thing it could to assist the commission in its case study.

"My clients are leaving no stone unturned in this process and will examine their own conduct and operations over a considerable period of time."

He pointed out that Swami Saraswati did not return to the Ashram after he was released from jail.

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Child abuse inquiry into yoga retreat

Celia Keenan-Bolger Grows Up: Playing a Mother to Sarah Ruhl's Oldest Boy

By .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) 11 Nov 2014

Sarah Ruhl and Celia Keenan-Bolger, the playwright and star, respectively, of The Oldest Boy, chat with Playbill.com about meditation, motherhood and different ideas of love.

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Meditation is nothing new to Sarah Ruhl and Celia Keenan-Bolger, the playwright and star, respectively, of The Oldest Boy, Ruhl's new play in performance at Lincoln Center's Mitzi E. Newhouse Theatre.

"We meditated every day before rehearsal. We've sort of fallen off during tech," Keenan-Bolger said during a dinner break from tech rehearsals."I was thinking the other day, we should have really been meditating during tech," added Ruhl.

The drama opens with the Mother, played by Keenan-Bolger, meditating while using an iPhone app. But her inner peace is quickly disturbed when a monk and a lama appear at her door, claiming that her three-year-old son is the reincarnation of a revered Buddhist teacher. Per Tibetan Buddhism tradition, she is faced with the decision of whether to place him in a monastery in India.

The concept is something Keenan-Bolger's character, a Cincinnati-born woman who marries a Tibetan man, struggles greatly with.

"I think Buddhism has brought an enormous amount of peace to this character. It's explained some things and made decisions in her life easier," Keenan-Bolger said. "And then she gets to a point with the religion and turns around and is like, 'Now I'm going to ask the greatest thing of all from you,' which is the hardest thing she's ever had to go through. And I think that's a very real way to go through life. You can't just pick and choose the parts of something that are helpful to you. You generally have to take the whole package, and that often means it will be uncomfortable."

Continued...

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Celia Keenan-Bolger Grows Up: Playing a Mother to Sarah Ruhl's Oldest Boy

Throughout the ages, certain cultures have bestowed a mystical sense of peace upon their homes through their spiritual connections with nature. When Columbus came to the New World in 1942, historians estimate that there were approximately 15 million native Americans in North America. Depending upon their tribal ways, their shelters were either temporary or permanent, and were made of earth, willow, reeds, bark, wood, stone, straw, animal hide, or other natural materials. Hive-like pueblos in the Southwest were built from clusters of adobe brick or stone; while portable tepees were made of bark or animal hides and designed to open up to the rising sun. Inside their homes were the necessities of life, such as food and cooking utensils, hunting tools, religious objects, back rests made of willow, warm buffalo robes, personal belongings, and little else. To the native Americans, home with its circle of fire traditionally has been a holy place. Mother Earth is a divine source of materials, tools, and beauty. The Great Spirit speaks through river and sea, forest and hill, buffalo and salmon, gentle winds and fierce thunderstorms, and, indeed, all creation.

While native Americans believe that all human life is intertwined with nature, the ancient Japanese people believed that natural objects such as rocks, trees, waterfalls, streams, and mountains were dwelling places of kami, or spirits. The spiritual paths of Shinto (the indigenous religion of Japan) and Zen Buddhism continue to inspire a strong affinity for the outdoors among the Japanese; in fact, the people perceive their homes and gardens as one harmonious entity without boundary. Japanese interior design respectfully celebrates the splendor of the four seasons through such items as delicate paintings, colorful screens and banners, and translucent sliding doors that open onto nature. Also, the home or garden tea house is the center for the tea ceremony, often described as the heart of Japans traditional culture. Introduced to Japan by Zen monks in the twelfth century, the tea ceremony is an intricately orchestrated ritual designed to spotlight beauty and hospitality and to inspire a serene state of mind. The ceremony invites appreciation for simple pleasures: enjoying artfully prepared tea and cakes, admiring perfectly arranged flowers, caressing cherished old pottery, sitting on tatami mats made of woven rice straw, and sharing quiet reflection among friends. While crowded conditions make compact apartments and homes the norm in modern Japan, the Japanese devotion to cleanliness, order, nature, and ancient traditions leads them to create intimate and calm living spaces. Today, we read much about the ancient Chinese art of feng shui in relation to the harmony of our homes, offices, and gardens. Feng shui, which means wind and water, offers us specific ways to select appropriate sites for building our dwellings and to arrange our interiors to create optimum environments for happiness, creativity, growth, health, and success. Feng shui suggests that everything in the universe is represented by five elements: Water, Fire, Earth, Wood, and Metal. The natural environments in which we live can be classified by their main element; for example, if you live in an English country cottage surrounded by a garden and trees, yours is a Wood environment. Our office and home interiors are also ruled according to their primary element; for example, an office featuring steel storage cabinets and a window that overlooks a river spanned by a metal bridge has a Metal landscape. While our interior environments are a mosaic of all five elements, if one element overpowers the others, there is imbalance. For example, an unruly garden that reminds us of the overgrown thicket around Sleeping Beautys castle has far too much Wood element, and needs to be pruned in order for us to feel in control. Another aspect of feng shui is the concept of chi: cosmic energy. Chi is all around us and, according to Taoism, the ancient religion of China, it is either yang (lively, positive,bright) or yin (calm, reflective, soothing dark). The complementary forces of yang and yin must be in balance for us to have a sense of serenity. If we spend the day at the beach, actively collecting seashells and building sand castles, we experience good yang energy. But if we are Christmas shopping in a crowded department store with few clerks and long lines of customers, we would likely be frustrated by excessive yang. When we take a bath by candlelight, we soak in a velvety atmosphere of soothing yin. Yet if we spend our weekdays deprived of natural light in a dismal office cubicle, we experience the dark side of yin. Inside our homes, if our rooms are overburdened with too much yin or yang, they make us feel uncomfortable. An abundance of yang contributes to crowded and littered spaces; while too much yin creates a negative, hostile, even deathly ambiance. We know there is imbalance if our rooms feel too cluttered or bright, or too gloomy or chilly. The key is to allow chi to flow through our rooms in one entrance and out another, like shafts of sunlight that stream through the living room window to the floor and down the hallway. Many things can influence the movement of this energy, including color, shape, texture, fragrances, sounds, icons, running water, and wind chimes. Removing obstacles that block the flow of chi (such as large or badly placed pieces of furniture) is said to bring harmony and balance to our rooms and our lives.

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Peaceful living