The Royal Fork Buffet
A warm welcome to new subscribers!
This first issue of the Shamcher Bulletin for 2023 kicks off with some memories of a farewell dinner for Shamcher in Bremerton, WA in the mid-late 1970s. The Royal Fork gathering was to say farewell to Shamcher, as he had retired from his engineering work at the Naval Base and was moving to Berkeley to continue his OTEC work at UC Berkeley Richmond Field Station. We have stories from Tomas Chaitanya Gomez, Vakil Forest Shomer, and Hafizullah. If you were there and remember the event, please let us know your reflections in the comments, or reply to this email. Since these memories of Shamcher in the Seattle area have come up, I’ve also included part of a piece that Merlyn Kruger wrote on his experiences with Shamcher. And I also added some symbolic reflections on this issue, in “Speaking of the Royal Fork.”
Tomas Gomez
I’m very interested in the process by which we perceive and then subsequently remember significant experiences.
Collections of reflections on significant experiences are not often available for us to share and thus have the opportunity to understand how our individual perceptions and memories are different than others in regards to the same experience.
At the going away party for Shamcher Bremerton Royal Fork Buffet, I had an experience in the parking lot with Shamcher, Hafizullah and a fourth, rather random, person, that quite changed my life.
My recollection was that it was a very pleasant day, perhaps September, and a whole host of us gathered at an event that was at least partially hosted by Saraswati and Prajapati O’Neill. After a buffet meal, and perhaps a bit of speechifying by Garuda Kemp and one or two of the O’Neills, Saraswati asked Shamcher to say a few words, and he declined, saying that he would not be induced ‘ to sing for his supper’ at a party thrown in his honor.
Shortly thereafter I followed Shamcher and Hafizullah out into the parking lot. I do not recall anything about the impulse that took me out that door, nor that I had any clearly formed question for Shamcher. More than three decades later Hafizullah told me that the reason he was going out into that parking lot with Shamcher was that he had sent a letter to Shamcher asking for a private audience to address some issues that he had, including more than a bit of ‘upset’ with the O’Neills. (I, too, had more than a few issues with them at the time, but that was not why I was in the parking lot. I will note that they (O’Neills) have been good friends for over 30 years now, so all of that angst back then belongs in the ‘folly of youth’ category as far as I am concerned.)
What I recall, very vividly, was that the three of us were standing in the parking lot in a triangle, with me in a position of silent observer, or witness, Hafizullah asking questions and Shamcher responding. I have zero recollection of the content of the exchange between Shamcher and Hafizullah.
What I do recall, as though it were yesterday, was seeing these two short, elfish guys, both eccentric, but one older and at peace with his eccentricity (Shamcher) but Hafizullah was not one bit comfortable in his own skin. Then I noticed this young man stumbling along, muttering to himself, moving approximately in our direction. I recognized what was happening because I had been working with a Gurdjieffian teacher for several years (Steve Ruden who Forest knew) and when we had conversations in public places (usually at Greenlake Park in Seattle) that reached a certain ‘energy level’ we would 'draw someone in’. This might be a cat, or dog, but most often some person would sidle up to us as though they were ‘warming their hands at a fire’ and ask some kind of random question. That was clearly the situation that was happening at that moment.
What happened next was NOT something I had experienced before, nor ever again. As the young man approached, mumbling and stumbling, clearly under the ‘spell of drugs' (either too many recently or over a period of time) I suddenly became aware that I was being embraced by a huge energy field. I turned my attention from the young man back towards Shamcher. What I experienced was that this short Norwegian torpedo engineer was suddenly this immense being of energy whose boundaries had expanded to the point that it embraced all of us. When I turned my attention back to the young man he was walking erect, and his speech was clear as he greeted us politely as he walked by, murmuring a thank you and good evening as he passed.
My unformed, unstated question as to whether the Sufis of the tradition of HIK were truly powerful mystics had been answered, and my life from then on was transformed by the dedication to this path that ensued.
Vakil Forest Shomer
Great story, and I have had similar moments around adrift souls. You noted his posture—and that’s a theme in these encounters; which was addressed by Murshid SAM in his Walks Trainings and continues to be taught through the Ruhaniat. I have to speculate that HIK was the wellspring for all of what we’re noticing and discussing here.
I also recall specifically, that while we were still in the dining hall that day, Shamcher remarked about his menu choice: red meat. There were some Seventies-style vegetarians in the room who were stricken that the wise Sufi elder would eat steak (I think it was) so he spoke to that, saying that the more concentrated protein provided energy that he needed, and that he ate basically once a day at that time in life (age 80). It may also have been at that event, that he shared about sleep—he was alert about 22 hours a day and would rest by sitting in meditation for a while during the night. (That doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t ever sleep in the usual way.) He may have told a story about a woman in San Diego who was experimenting with a no-sleep ‘yoga’ with the aim of being conscious at all times.
This has always stayed in my mind and here at age 76, I’m in a pattern (it may be seasonal, I can’t be sure) where I recline and take a nap most days, usually after dark; and then after, somewhat refreshed, stay active and alert until around 2 a.m. and then sleep until daybreak. It’s less about the specific pattern or practice, and more about exercising the freedom to “eat when hungry, sleep when tired.”
°°°°°°°°°°°
Shamcher’s daughter joyfully (insisting) gave me his black suit/vest combo, before her death several years ago. “It will fit you perfectly!”
The sleeves had to be let out about four inches to cover my wrists, but there was extra material there to enable that.
I wear it about once a year and I haven’t ‘outgrown’ it yet.
Hafizullah
In addition to the event at the Bremerton Royal Fork, I also have a couple of other stories about encounters with Shamcher after he'd relocated to Berkeley.
So… the time is sometime in, I think, 1977 or ‘78… I had been initiated by Merlyn Kruger (rest his soul) in late 1976, and was just not getting along with the couple who had assumed leadership.
The crux of my disagreement with them was over the value of psychotherapy on the Sufi path… I could clearly see the chronic emotional distress and “spiritual bypass” (though we didn’t call it that) in the bodies/beings of members of the Sufi community — plus, marriages were failing — and the new leaders’ official position was, “we’re Sufis, we don’t need no stinkin’ psychotherapy.”
I’d run into Shamcher a couple of times at community events, and privately wondered what this old duffer in a suit (how many times had its cut come in and gone out of style?) was doing in the sea of white cotton, long hair, & prayer-beads.
(but his eyes…)
So I’d got to the end of my patience with what I thought was B.S. from the leaders, and called Shamcher. “He’s supposed to be a wise man; perhaps he has something helpful.”
All I said was that I wanted a few moments, but nothing about the topic. We arranged that I would take the ferry to Bremerton and we’d find a nice place for a chat — but there was just the one time-window, because he was moving to California in a short while. I looked up the ferry schedule and we made plans.
So in the meantime the local leadership had arranged a send-off and there were twenty-five people on the ferry… and I’m thinking, “Oh, well… there goes my chance to talk with him.”
We descend upon the Royal Fork Buffet and as the staff looks on in dismay, we commandeer a dining room and push the tables into a circle. We get our food and sit down. Shamcher remarks, “You may wonder that I’m eating meat. Well, Murshid ate whatever was put before him, and in my last darshan with him, he commanded me to begin eating meat. So there you are.”
Then he launches into this riff about the value of humanistic psychology (the term used in the 70s, e.g., Maslow) on the spiritual path — that it’s solidly based in Eastern spiritual practice and Sufis should be using it.
And I’m watching the leader couple, and his discourse is running off them like they’re teflon…
After touching on a few other things, he looks around and says, “I was going to speak privately with someone today… are you here?” I put up my hand and said it was me, that he’d answered my main question, but I’d still like a few moments.
So after the meal, we go out to the parking lot and sit in his car in silence for about fifteen seconds. Then he turns to me and says, “I have the same problem with them that you do. So look… you’ve enrolled in an accredited course in ship-building… but no one’s going to listen to you while you’re still a student — so suffer the guff (his exact words), get your degree, then make your unique contribution.”
I also recall an encounter a few moments later in the parking lot with a psychotic man, possibly homeless, and I got to watch him snap back into focus when Shamcher engaged him — truly astounding. I’d worked in the mental-health system with “crazies” and had never seen such a thing. “Hmm… maybe there’s something to this Soofy stuff after all…”
°°°°°°°°°°°
A year or so later, my friend Vic and I were driving a borrowed VW van back from Camp in Tucson, and Vic wants to drop-in on Shamcher on our way through the Bay Area. We had the address — but Shamcher did not have a phone in his apartment and it was a Sunday evening and he wasn’t going to be in his office at UC Berkeley. So it’s dark but we locate the house and park the van. I walk up the steps and am about to ring the bell when Shamcher opens the door. “I’m so glad you could make it. There’s cookies on the table, and the water is hot… do you want coffee or tea?”
Vic blows by me to the cookies. Shamcher closes the door, and says, sotto-voce: “A Sufi has to be ready for anything.”
°°°°°°°°°°°
The last time I saw him in life was also after a Camp. Four of us were staying at a house a mile or so from downtown Berkeley, and Garuda had phoned Shamcher’s office to see about getting together. He put the phone back in the cradle with the strangest look on his face. “I got the distinct impression that I should not call him.” So we guessed that we would not be able to see him on that visit to the area. Our companions went shopping and Garuda wanted to find the Greyhound station in prep for his ride home the next day, so we walked down the hill into Berkeley proper.
We’re a couple of blocks from the Greyhound and I see two people a block or so away, talking — and one of them certainly looks like Shamcher, because I recognize his posture. Garuda’s eyesight is not as good and it takes about half-a-block further before he recognizes Shamcher — who is talking to a young man about my age. As we get within earshot, it’s clear that the young man is floridly psychotic — you know, “word salad” — and Shamcher has his full attention on the young man. The guy finally says, “I’m sailing around the world tomorrow. My boat is at the dock, and I want you to come with me.” Shamcher says, “I will be there,” with such contactfulness and presence that I totally believe (except that I don’t) that he will be there…
This time, the crazy doesn’t “flip in,” the way the person did in the Royal Fork Buffet parking lot, but I’m deeply-moved by Shamcher’s respectfulness and regard for the being of someone who society has basically abandoned. We walked to Shamcher’s apartment and had a chat. I was in an altered state and to this day I have no idea what we talked about, but every so often I get another chunk of what Shamcher left for me “in the cloud.”
Stories from Malik Marvin Kruger (Merlyn)
In honor of Murshid Shamcher Bryn Beorse I offer these stories of my interaction with this delightful man.
This relationship happened in the early 70’s in northern Seattle. I did not at this time know that Shamcher was a ‘Murshid’, only that he had at one time been a pupil of Hazrat Pir-o-Murshid Inayat Khan, who was the founder of the Sufi Order in the United States. Shamcher did not feel that titles or degrees of initiation were beneficial on the Path. He honored friendship, economics, and freedom.
There was an upcoming teacher named Atiya north of Seattle. He was coaching her and encouraging her to be a Sufi teacher and take on pupils. She objected on the basis that her level of initiation was too low. Immediately Shamcher conferred upon her the level of a “32nd” degree Sufi. (There’s only 12!)
He told me once that ‘Shamcher’ means ‘tongue of flame.’ Shamcher stunned me every now and again. I lived seven years in a wonderful commune called the “Growing Family” in Seattle just north of Lake Union. I began leading a Sufi group there and Shamcher came to my room upstairs for a visit. I had pictures all around the room of different spiritual teachers. He pointed to a picture of Sant Kirpal Singh and asked, “Who is this?” “Well,” I said, “his pupils consider him a perfect master.” “And do you think he’s a perfect master?”, he asked. “Well, I don’t have any idea what a perfect master is,” I replied. “That’s a good answer,” he responded.
One day a couple came to the house to look about. Later that evening, they revealed that they had sought out Shamcher as a former disciple of Hazrat Pir-o-Murshid Inayat Khan. He then said, “I’m flattered that you have come to see me, but there is a Sufi Perfect Master living in Seattle in a commune.” He directed them to the “Grey House” where I lived and they came to check me out. I laughed and assured them that I was fallible and this was Shamcher’s humor.
As I got to know him a little more, he allowed me to call him long distance collect and chat with him about spiritual matters. One evening, as we talked, he said something that so astounded me that I was speechless for about 30 seconds. He broke the silence by asking, “Confused?” “Yes,” I replied. “Wonderful, confusion is often a sign of spiritual progress.” “In that case,” I said, “I must indeed be a Perfect Master.” Shamcher paused and replied, “Merlyn, that’s a whole lot funnier than you think it is.”
He encouraged me to keep on and contributed money for our group expenses. He explained Wazifas occasionally, and answered my questions. Once I took the ferry across to Bremerton. He picked me up and we chatted at his house for a while. Then he said, “This is all very nice, but you must have had some questions you wanted to ask.” At this point I was a bit blissed out and replied, “I don’t remember them.” He excused himself from the room for a few minutes and on returning we engaged in a delightful exchange. Then he asked, “Does that answer your questions?” “Yes it does, thank you.” “I went in the next room,” he said, “and asked Murshid what your questions were.”
Speaking of the Royal Fork
Symbolic reflections - Carol Sill
When I first met Shamcher, I asked him, “Are we creating this or perceiving it?” “Both,” he replied.
Before all these memories came into my inbox for this issue of the Shamcher Bulletin, my husband, James K-M, took a photo of a fork on our driveway, with a vague idea that I could use it for my Personal Papers newsletter.
Now I see this was a specific synchronicity, and a joke from Shamcher through the universe of symbols! This three-tined fork is a monument in miniature - the trident of Poseidon, God of the Sea (and OTEC?)
When I was searching online for images of The Royal Fork, I laughed out loud when James’ fork photo popped up on my desktop. Okay. Then came another laugh as I was assembling the draft of this issue, the fork photo ended up above Tomas’ suggested captions for his selfie at the Berkeley apartment, “Searching for traces of Shamcher” or perhaps “Feeling the traces of Shamcher’s Presence.”
If you met Shamcher, I’m hoping these memories may also inspire you to recall some of your encounters with him. If you wish, please share either in the comments or reply to this email and I’ll include it the next issue.
Last Issue Apologies
There was a bit of a mixup with the audio in the last issue. If you missed it, or had been wondering, please go back and listen HERE. Many thanks to Nirtan Sokoloff for pointing out that the audio was not actually the Canada Camp talk, but another interview. Oops. All fixed now.
The Shamcher Bulletin brings you snippets from Shamcher’s writings that might help frame and context our experience of the world we live in today.
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The Shamcher Bulletin is edited by Carol Sill, whose newsletter, “Personal Papers”, is HERE.
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