Archive | Auspicious Good Fortune

Manhattan Book Review

Manhattan Book ReviewSumangali Morhall’s Auspicious Good Fortune details one woman’s spiritual awakening in beautiful, lyrical prose that sometimes reads like poetry. The rhythm and cadence of her voice is easy to fall into, easy to find peace in. This piece of writing is not merely a memoir or a spiritual journey or even an ode to a lost Guru and way of life that so few of us are able to find. Sumangali’s writing offers a unique window into the pacing and thinking of a person who has found a balance between her “interior world and the outer world” – giving her reader a visceral experience of that balance.

The story she tells flows fluidly from the specifics of her physical reality to her own conscious interactions within herself. Sumangali’s adept use of language allows for such fluidity – allows for the reader to follow her implicitly as new connections are made. In one of my favorite sections of the text, Sumangali describes a moment in which, while painting her walls a bright mango, a delivery man asks her what she is doing: “It’s a living room,” I returned, “it wants to look alive.” This fluid moment, this insight into a new way of seeing our reality, is what captured me the most throughout her story. Everything about her new world became a balance of an interior truth and an outer reality. It is this very simple representation of thought that makes her writing to be very compelling.

This is going to go right next to the copy of Thich Nhat Hanh’s The Sun My Heart on my bookshelf, easily placed so that anytime I need a quick pick-me-up, or some comfort in my purse, I can easily grab for one. Both My Heart and Good Fortune are similar in that way – they are comfort food books. Yes, both are considered “spiritual” texts, but above all both do so on an intimate, personal level. Morhall’s spiritual journey is inspiring and hopeful and honest … but above all, her prose is intoxicating and raw. While reading, I felt many times as though I was receiving a bright, warm hug.

– Manhattan Book Review



Blue Wolf Review

Step into a world that is or could be or may have been or even is yours and look at the infinite wisdom offered throughout the pages of the life that is Sumangali Morhall.

Gently and beautifully written this is a peek into the journey many take over the course of a lifetime trying to discover happiness, a purpose to life or even their chosen pathway through life.

Morhall tells her story from the perspective of a child growing into adulthood, all the while challenging the boundaries; some of her own making and others, that of society.

Always looking for love and acceptance she trod many pathways – that of music, corporate executive, salesperson, student, traveller and waitress to find that whatever she was looking for was not at the end of any of those particular roads.

It was not until she was at the lowest of one of the many low points of her life, she decided to attend a meditation session held by the Sri Chinmoy group she began to find the true pathway for her life.

Learning to accept that which is offered was one of her major accomplishments during a time of persistent ill health; coming to terms with the reality that much of her life had been lived in the shadow of shyness, could possibly have been of her own making and finally, accepting that for her the pathway to happiness in her life was the gentle way of reflection, meditation and acceptance.

Along the way she also discovered happiness is inside everyone if you care to look.

Empowering and enjoyable this is more than at look into someone else’s life – it is a course in how to come to terms with the reality of life while all the while having the courage to overcome challenges and never, ever giving up on your journey of discovery, as you never know what is waiting for you just around the corner.

– Blue Wolf Reviews

The Melbourne Review


Feel free to judge this book by its cover. Lush and inviting, the writing is beautiful, refined and immaculate as the gerbera gracing its front. Described as ‘One woman’s inspirational journey from Western disillusionment to Eastern spiritual fulfillment,’ it is really much more: a journey into the sensibility of the human heart, longing for the ineffable.

Morhall’s story is told with disarming simplicity. Here is the voice of a poet, speaking in prose – reaching always for the truth and beauty in things; and at a loss before ugliness, meanness and injustice. There is never a sense of embellishment or exaggeration – only authentic, keenly felt experience, related with a resonant and discerning sympathy.

Auspicious Good Fortune is not a rose-coloured promo piece for her teacher
Sri Chinmoy and the spiritual path he established. Morhall writes equally of her struggles, misgivings and discomfort as of her happiness and fulfilment. Auspicious Good Fortune affirms the goodness and beauty of life. Beautiful in itself, it brings forward the beautiful in us. Such words – leaving us glad to be alive – are auspicious words indeed.”

– The Melbourne Review

The Making of Auspicious Good Fortune

Auspicious Good Fortune is officially launched today, 27th of April 2012. I thought I would tell you the story of how it came to be, as this is a tale of mysterious good fortune in itself.

The end was really the beginning. The poem on the last pages of the book was written just after Sri Chinmoy‘s passing in 2007. I was sitting in the place of meditation, known as Aspiration-Ground, where my Guru spent much of his time in New York. I had written down a few of my recollections in years past, but knew at that moment I would not be satisfied until I had put them together as a complete story – the story of how I came to this particular spiritual path, or to any path at all, and how my life has continued since.

I had delighted in writing little anecdotes until that day, but a book seemed a bridge too far. There were surely other people with much more to say, and no doubt with more talent, but I felt compelled beyond anything I can really describe. It was massively daunting, but I knew I had to try. I spent a year praying on and off for inspiration or direction, but nothing came. I just stared as though at an empty canvas, with a brush in one hand.

By April 2009 I had still not begun, and decided to meditate on it more sincerely during a visit back to New York. Still nothing. I headed for the plane back to London feeling none the wiser, and in truth somewhat tetchy that my prayers had been ignored.

As I got to the gate, one of the stewards called me aside and explained that another passenger wanted to switch seats with me. Apparently the man was blind, and wanted the aisle, so it would be easier for him to move around if necessary. Relieved it was such a simple request, I agreed to change to the middle seat – certainly not my first choice on a busy transatlantic flight, but I hoped to be sleeping most of the way.

In came the blind man, with a walking stick and dark glasses, aided by the steward. He sat down, took his glasses off, pulled out some manuscripts from his bag and began reading. I assure you they were not in braille.

He was somewhat well-built let us say, and took over a little more than just our shared arm rest, so I had to pinch myself into my already seemingly tiny space. I am not proud to admit that everything he did irritated me from then; I imagined all sorts of things about him that were completely unfair, based on ignorant stereotypes and my own general dissatisfaction with the circumstances. I would wait for dinner, and then invoke sleep as soon as possible.

One of the perks of being vegetarian is that ‘special’ airline meals are served first. Along came the steward a short time later, with my pre-ordered choice.

“Oh, I forgot to order vegetarian,” said the man, half to me and half to himself.

“You’re vegetarian?” I blurted with audible surprise that I could possibly have anything in common with this unscrupulous man.

“Yes, I try to eat vegetarian whenever I can. Mainly for spiritual reasons, but also because it’s better for the planet, of course.”

“Of course,” I replied, chastened and curious. I realised I could not begin eating until I knew this poor fellow could secure his preferred meal. I would not sacrifice my entire tray, especially since he had just downed an enormous sandwich from his bag, but I had already softened enough to consider halving it with him if he would accept.

And so we talked while waiting, and we talked over dinner once a spare vegetarian tray was found. In fact we talked most of the way back to London. This meeting was actually the answer to my prayers, and I shuddered at how I very nearly missed the opportunity, by virtue of my own… lack of virtue.

It turns out he had never claimed to be blind. Whether by Chinese whispers or inaccurate data entry – perhaps compounded by the dark glasses and stick – his incapacity from a recent operation had mysteriously mutated into blindness according to the airline staff. He was in obvious discomfort, needing to move around regularly, and expressed his gratitude several times for the change of seats. He still took over more than his share of the arm rest, but I suddenly stopped minding.

We had much to discuss – much more than would fill a fleeting transatlantic hop. He was following a path of meditation, somewhat different from my own, but with many similarities. He was also a literary agent, specialising in spirituality and memoir. We both confessed that while we may exchange pleasantries with our neighbours on flights, we wouldn’t normally strike up a conversation, as privacy and personal space are already at a premium. Even he admitted our meeting was obviously ‘meant to be’. Little did he know its significance for me. It took me a few hours to bring up the subject, due to my intimidation, but I eventually said I had been praying for direction on writing my own story.

Two things he told me stayed with me most powerfully:

  1. Start. Don’t wait until you’re ready, you’ll never be ready, just start. You will ultimately discard a lot of what you write to begin with, but unless you get it out, you won’t discover the real story.
  2. Write the book you would most like to read. Write about the things that matter most to you, and don’t worry about whether they matter to anyone else. What fires your inspiration will come across as real, meaningful and authentic, and that’s what will mean most – to you and to your potential readers.

He was right. I followed just those two maxims throughout the literary journey that began that day. It still took three years, but I know now it could not have happened any quicker.

We exchanged cards as we went our separate ways. I contacted him, but never heard back. I thought in some way we had become friends, but who was I kidding? He was a big successful literary agent with decades of experience, countless success stories, and no doubt countless people hounding him for advice and attention. I was a small-fry first-time author with no clue of how to move in publishing circles. He had played his essential role, and it was time for others to play theirs. I was fortunate to have his ear for five minutes, let alone five hours.

Most of all, my gratitude goes to Sri Chinmoy, without whom the story would not exist in the first place. I hope it is clear I am grateful to this literary agent, who taught me not just about how to start writing a book, but also a good deal about not judging a book by its cover. I also want to thank The Writers’ Workshop for their editorial advice, especially Claire Gillman for her insightful and sensitive mentoring. Last but by no means least, I want to thank John Hunt for agreeing to publish the book. I received many rejections from other publishers, which is to be expected given the state of the economy, and especially the publishing market. One of many things Sri Chinmoy taught me is never to give up. In the end, I could not have hoped for a more perfect outcome, and would not wish it any other way. Auspicious Good Fortune is now published under Mantra Books, an imprint of John Hunt Publishing, specialising in Eastern-inspired spirituality.

It is still somewhat unreal to hold the printed book in my hand, with the cover I chose, the words I wrote, the experiences that have come to pass in this incredibly fortunate lifetime. So the journey continues, or maybe it has only just begun…

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