The guardian angel

Of my daily life

Is my one

Soulful morning song.

Sri Chinmoy 1

Not as in a flash of light, but like the dawning sun, I gradually came to realise I should embark on a journey into the unknown. A journey to discover myself and much of Grace.

Inspired by fellow students of Sri Chinmoy, this writer of yours has then been compelled from within to take part on the Self-Transcendence 10-Day Race.

That means actual 10 days of running, really. (of course you can rest, but otherwise you are running around the clock.)

by Upasevanam and Mahanidhi
Milan, Italy

According to my parents, I was a really fat but very happy baby. Love and a lot of food were the two main reasons for that! After one year things became more animated: I had learned to walk, and very quickly the well-fed, sitting and reclining "Buddha-baby" became a little weasel that kept everyone on the go while enthusiastically exploring its surroundings.

I liked to learn and was interested in everything, and therefore I was a good student. In high school, I learned about meditation from my religion teacher, a kindhearted, patient, older man with white hair. He wanted to get more than 20 teenagers to sit quietly and dive deep within. Well, that was a courageous undertaking on his part. As far as I remember he had perseverance; he tried several times but we could not or would not follow him into the world of silence. At least the experience stayed in my memory.

At university I attended a seminar that incorporated so-called nature meditation. I enjoyed these sessions. To become calm, to breathe and simply to be was refreshing. Afterwards I always felt newborn, replenished and fresh.

On my way to university I saw again and again esoteric posters (as I called them) offering free meditation classes and other events. I will go there when I have time, I decided. Time passed, I finished my studies and moved back to my home town to become a teacher. But all that did not really fulfil me. I felt confined and misunderstood by the world. For 20 years we eagerly aspire for this kind of life, the life of an adult? Great! Another 50 years and we are ready for the graveyard! Is this the only goal of our joyful expectation, then? Crazy! Such thinking was beyond me, and I simply could not believe that this would be all.

At that time I was into esoteric and Eastern philosophy. I devoured tons of books. The idea of reincarnation and karma, in particular, seemed logical and, above all, very, very just. To live only once on this earth, to take all the trouble to learn how to speak and walk for just one single lifetime and then to remain forever in Heaven or hell: that seemed like a harsh theory. The idea that the soul keeps taking on a new body again and again in order to gain experiences, to mature and finally to attain to perfection made much more sense to me!

I was equally inspired by the law of karma: everything that we do has repercussions and – sooner or (much) later – we personally receive the bill with a plus or minus balance. That means we cannot escape the responsibility for our actions, and we will definitely get good or not-so-good karma for them. If we spend our whole life killing ourselves to play the piano really well, we might be an excellent pianist or musician in our next life even by the age of 4. If we practise sports all our life and keep in shape, we will probably have a strong and healthy body in our next life. These examples are very simplistic, but they gave me hope and courage. The idea behind them gave my life a deeper meaning: once again I am on this planet to learn how to become a perfect human being, and I will come back yet again, rested, to undertake more adventures. That’s how it is!

Yes, this perspective changed my life. I knew why I got up early in the morning and why I sometimes had to deal with difficult children. I had come here to learn how to widen my experience, improve my actions and become a better person. In my favourite books I kept reading about the path of the heart and hearing that one should always follow or listen to one’s heart. It sounded great! But in practical life it was a completely different story that caused me unending difficulties.

I read that meditation is the key to the heart. It quiets the loud voice of the mind and then you should be able to perceive the soft voice of the heart. A few weeks later something happened. God knows how many times I had heard that it is highly advisable to have a teacher or to look for one. For everything it is extremely helpful to have a good teacher by our side to teach us the right technique that will help us to make progress and to experience joy while constantly improving in a particular field, whether it be playing the guitar, skiing, building houses or baking. Everybody knows from their own experience that there are great teachers and not-so-good teachers. The good ones are nice and witty, we learn faster and more, the learning process is easier, we develop interest and curiosity and it is a lot of fun! And if we aren’t doing too well one day, a good teacher will be understanding and help us with words and deeds. It was absolutely clear to me: I had to find this good teacher that fulfilled all the criteria mentioned above. I was very grateful for already having learned about and come to value some of these teachers, and they had become role models for me. Now I needed to find the meditation teacher.

A new adventure began that led me to New York. I experienced the fact that you do meet your teacher if you really want to do so, with all your heart. Then you literally attract him to you. You only have to keep your eyes and ears open.

New York turned out to be a real treasure chest of meditation teachers. On every corner there was an esoteric bookshop, a café, a restaurant, a yoga centre or a health food store, and everywhere you could find ads and information about events. I attended a free meditation class. I found the class boring, since I had been meditating for some time already. Only when the instructor started speaking about her teacher did I listen attentively. She spoke with so much love about him: Sri Chinmoy. Shortly before my departure for New York I had heard about Sri Chinmoy. I knew that he lived in New York and now I learned that he would be holding a meditation in Manhattan soon. I got an invitation with a beautiful colour photo of Sri Chinmoy. I already had one of his pictures hanging in my room – a black and white copy of another picture that was on the meditation class flier. I went to the meditation in Manhattan.

Wow! That’s the only thing I can say. That was about all that came to my mind that evening. My usually extremely busy brain had gone on a short vacation that night, and it was disconnected. At the end of the event, Sri Chinmoy handed out an orange and a message for the coming year. I walked up to the stage to receive my gifts and then walked back to my seat as if in trance.

When I arrived home, I was still 'alone' - without my familiar thought-world. My roommate looked at me, surprised, and asked if everything was OK. I just nodded and disappeared into my room. Something had happened and it felt good! Yes, it really felt good! I didn’t want to make a hasty decision, so I bought – besides books by Sri Chinmoy – very inspiring books by other meditation teachers. Nevertheless, The Wings of Joy by Sri Chinmoy became my absolutely favourite book.

A few weeks later I went, as I did every Sunday, to my favourite restaurant in Queens, Annam Brahma, where everything is homemade – even the delicious chai, an Asian spiced tea. Disciples of Sri Chinmoy run the vegetarian restaurant, and I told them that I also wanted to become a disciple. My heart was jumping with joy when I said it.

Thus my decision was made, even though it wasn’t really a decision any more. Day by day it became clearer to me that Sri Chinmoy was the one I was looking for. When I looked at his picture I felt a warm glow around my heart, and the same thing happened when I read his books. My adventure was over, but a new and equally fascinating one had begun: my life as a disciple of Sri Chinmoy.

It was in 1980 that my parents and we three children became students of Sri Chinmoy. From the perspective of a child it looked like this: I remember that my parents were going to different spiritual groups and they often took me along to these meetings. I was always very impressed by the atmosphere, the light-coloured clothing and the many nice people. Nevertheless, I sometimes started crying without any apparent reason. Something didn’t quite seem right, I guess…

We became vegetarians and went once a week to one of the small and, at the time, few health food stores in our town. One day, my father was magnetically drawn to a book entitled Meditation that was displayed in the window of a bookstore. My parents were so thrilled by the simplicity and truth of this book that they mailed the postcard (inserted in the book) to the indicated address. We were informed that there was a couple with a child in Augsburg whom we could contact.

This was the beginning of countless meetings, sometimes in Augsburg, sometimes in Munich. I was 7 years old at the time. I will never forget counting on my fingers how many times I had been to Augsburg already. My heart was jumping with joy every time we met. And I loved this family: Projjwal, Karali and Aruna. Most of the time I was playing with Aruna while the others meditated or were absorbed in obviously deep conversations. But when Projjwal and Karali came to our place (and we children really should have been in bed by then), I listened to the conversations, sitting on the bottom of the stairs. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I loved it. I loved the people, I loved the vibrations, I loved the conversations, I simply loved everything… and I was always filled with deepest joy.

Some time later, our family picture was sent to New York so Sri Chinmoy could meditate on it to see if we were meant to be his disciples, and soon after my father travelled there for the first time. He brought back my first 'real' sari. (Before that, we were only wearing curtain fabric!) I will never forget the indescribable joy – almost delight – I experienced!

A few months later, our Master visited Switzerland. That was the first time I saw Guru. He walked by me and smiled. I was a little surprised because his skin colour was unfamiliar, but his smile immediately won me over. Then Guru gave prasad to the children: a plastic heart. This heart is still my little treasure. When I stood right in front of Guru, he brushed my hair to the side and looked at my name tag. He asked me all kinds of things. I did not understand a word, but Projjwal, who stood behind Guru, answered Guru’s questions. I did not want to ever leave Guru’s presence.

I had a happy childhood, and this happiness continuously grew thanks to the incredible grace that allowed me to come to Guru in my childhood years. At that time, Guru showered us children with outer attention and gifts. The teenage years were not always easy, but I knew: “Guru comes first in my life – always. And this truth protected me during all my school years – and still does today! In my almost 30 years as a disciple I have had so many inner and outer, challenging and happy experiences. My life is rich, inwardly rich. And I am infinitely, infinitely grateful to Guru that he brought me to him.

by Shashanka Karlen

At the age of 18, I left college. I was very critical of the development of society, did not get any inspiration from school and was quite into drugs. I was wondering what life was all about, but did not get any satisfactory answers from people I talked to.

I worked for some months at the central post office in Zurich and then went travelling for six months to India, Nepal, South East Asia and Australia. My travels showed me that there are very different lifestyles and attitudes towards life. I was not consciously looking for spirituality at that time. Certain drugs seemed to show me that there are other worlds of perception. Once in Western Nepal I rented a small boat with a friend. The sun was setting behind the mountains and there was a beautiful glow of light. I was quite captivated by it. Suddenly I felt a very strong inner voice calling, "This is where I have to go, this is where I have to go, this is where I have to go." I did not pay too much attention to the experience then and continued my travels.

After my return and several temporary activities (military service, English language course, work at the post office again, travel to the Philippines), I finally decided to live in a tent in the forest in order to be as far away as possible from the society that I did not really want to support.

This is when God said "Enough!". I went to a Madal Bal health food store in Zurich, run by Sri Chinmoy's students - I was looking for a book on macrobiotics for no particular reason. I remember telling Shikha, who was managing the store at that time (1981), "I am out of everything." We had quite a long conversation and I finally decided to read the meditation book by Sri Chinmoy.

I quite liked it and everything somehow seemed to make sense. I found many answers to my questions. But I was quite critical because of some experiences I had had with disciples of another path who had wanted to sell me their books in an aggressive manner. So I said to myself that, before entering more closely into a group, I should read books by another Master.

I went back to the Madal Bal store and bought a book by Sri Aurobindo. I read only a short paragraph every day because it was difficult to understand, but I slowly realised for myself that there were two things I needed in life to become really happy: meditation and a spiritual Master. I then thought that I would have to go to India, as in my opinion all the Masters lived in India. I went to another bookstore and searched for a book about spiritual Masters in India. Interestingly enough, none of the descriptions really appealed to me.

I continued to go to the Madal Bal store about once every two weeks and one day Shikha said, "Why don’t you come to a public meditation in the Centre on Saturday?" I went, and the moment I stepped into the Centre I felt: "This is it." At the end of the evening I applied to become a disciple of Sri Chinmoy.

Some months later I had a very clear and deep dream which I felt was my initiation. Deep inside me a light started to glow and then started to grow in circles very rapidly until my whole being was only light, the most brilliant and almost blinding light.

by Purnakama Rajna
Winnipeg, Canada

I was not overly drawn to spirituality as a youth, except for a distant feeling that I would like to spend some time in a monastery one day. I was blessed with a childhood that seems exceptional these days: full of love, joy and happiness. I studied geology at university and basically was more or less happy, though somehow the real purpose of my life seemed to elude me. I was happy but not satisfied. I was doing well in sports and in my studies, but that didn’t seem to provide any real, lasting satisfaction.

After studying for two years I decided to take half a year off and travel around by myself in Australia, New Zealand and South East Asia. In a second-hand bookstore in Australia I had my first experience of something beyond the confines of everyday life as I was strangely drawn towards a book by the Hare Krishna movement. The experience repeated itself in New Zealand some weeks later with a book from the same series. This was getting intriguing! Their philosophy appealed to me and I gave the local Hare Krishna Ashram a call asking whether I could come and spend some time there. That did not seem to be possible so I decided not to go.
 
 However, as I was hiking the various long-distance trails of the South Island of New Zealand by myself, I had a wonderful experience one day. I was walking the ‘Abel Tasman Track’ and by the end of the afternoon reached a beautiful beach. There was no one around for miles and I had been walking by myself in silence for almost a day. I was in a serene mood that was nurtured by the sun slowly setting. Suddenly there were many dolphins very close to the shore. They were surfing on the waves. I was thrilled! I threw off my big backpack, took off my clothes and jumped in the water. The dolphins swam away, though, and slightly disappointed I returned to the beach. When I was halfway through drying myself, the dolphins reappeared and I gave it a second chance, getting back into the water.

 
 This time the dolphins didn’t go away. They didn’t allow me to touch them but they were all around me, less than a metre away, singing their high-pitched songs. It struck something in me. I was drunk with joy. I was raving like a madman in the water and it seemed a long time until the dolphins swam away. That was the first time in my life I experienced real joy, and the search for more had started. After a few more months of travelling by myself with lots of time to wonder and ponder about life, I went back to Holland.

The second day after my return I was approached in the street by a girl from the Hare Krishna movement. I talked a little with her and bought the book she was selling. I had to follow the Hare Krishna lead the Universe was offering, it seemed. I read the book and even wrote a letter to the swami who had written it. The letter was pretty presumptuous, I am afraid, but the swami figured out who must have sold the book to me and asked the girl to contact me. She called me one day and invited me to come with her and some others to ‘Radhadesh’, one of their big temples in Belgium. We would meet at their temple in Amsterdam and then go together to Belgium by car. As I entered their temple in Amsterdam in the morning, I saw the girl who had sold me the book sitting in a corner of the room threading small flowers together into a garland for Sri Krishna. The love and devotion with which she was working left a huge impression on me. I instinctively knew I also had this kind of love and devotion within me; I just had to find a way to express it.

The rest of the trip to Belgium was in every way a disaster, although Radhadesh was beautiful and some of the disciples really inspired me. I was making one mistake after another and started to feel more and more uncomfortable. I remember following the girl I knew into the women’s dining room to have lunch with her. I hadn’t noticed it was ‘women only’ until I was told in no uncertain terms to get out of there by an older lady. Another time I was loudly saying 'Enjoy your meal!' when everyone had just started meditating on their food. A whole lot more things like that happened. I left after one day to go home by myself. I was absolutely devastated; I was crying sincerely. I knew I had found what I wanted in life: to lead a spiritual life. However, this path was not meant to be mine.

I decided to study comparative religion in university, along with geology. It was in that department a few months later that I saw this absolutely tiny leaflet on a big poster board, among hundreds of other flyers, about a lecture by the Sri Chinmoy Centre. I went there in the beginning of 1999. The lecture was very nice and I felt very much at home. However, since I had been the only one coming that evening, there would be no meditation course the following evening. I went home with Sri Chinmoy’s book Meditation and the phone number of the person who gave the class in my agenda. I was so happy when I rode my bike home! It seemed there was no reason for it, but I was feeling absolutely elated. The weeks following the lecture I started cancelling all activities in the evening and would only read the book on meditation. Trying out some of the exercises felt a little odd, though. For months I kept calling the classgiver, but somehow there was never a new meditation course starting.

Finally there would be a course starting in Den Haag, the city where I grew up and where my parents still lived. I decided to travel there once a week to follow the course. Unfortunately, the first evening I showed up at the wrong place. After waiting for almost an hour I realised that I had gone to the wrong address. At that moment I almost decided to drop the whole matter. I was already on my way home when this tiny little voice in my head said: "If you keep giving up like this, you will never get anywhere in life." I had the correct address with me, but I didn’t know where it was. So I decided to phone my mother from a telephone booth and ask her to look on a map and explain it to me.

I arrived that evening at the meditation course more than one hour late, but it felt like coming home. That feeling basically never left me. Not only did the meditation techniques of Sri Chinmoy provide a definite sense of happiness, but my life had finally found its meaning in the pursuit of enlightenment or God-realisation, as Sri Chinmoy calls it. Finally all the pieces of my life seemed to fit together! I didn’t hesitate for a second when asked whether I wanted to become a disciple of Sri Chinmoy. I didn’t have a clear picture in mind about the relationship between the Master and the disciple, but I was absolutely determined not to let go of this new horizon that had opened up before me.

Somehow the first time I gave my application to become a disciple of Sri Chinmoy, the form got stuck in someone’s mailbox or something like that and it didn’t reach Sri Chinmoy. However, a few days later I had a life-changing experience. I was lying in bed one evening when I suddenly felt a strong presence in my room. It didn’t feel bad, but it didn’t feel good, either. I was afraid and stiffened in my bed. Then this presence entered my body and suddenly my world was upside down. Something raced from the bottom of my spinal column into my brain and I had an intuitive vision of a huge book, like a medieval Bible. A page of the book was turned and I was completely overwhelmed by an all-knowing feeling. It lasted only moments, but for those moments I understood everything of life and death. I didn’t see the book any longer; I had become the Universe, I had become knowledge itself. Truth filled and fulfilled me to the brim. Then, as suddenly as it had come, everything vanished and I was back in my bed, still uncertain of what had actually happened.

After this experience my meditations became deeper in sudden jumps and by October 1999 Sri Chinmoy accepted me formally as his disciple. The day he accepted me I was sitting on a train having (by my standards) a good meditation, when I saw a double rainbow with predominantly blue colours. I knew then that Sri Chinmoy had accepted me, although outwardly I heard only two days later.

I am immensely grateful to Sri Chinmoy for reaching out to me in the whirlwind of life. Up to this day I wonder at the seemingly small coincidences that led me eventually to him. The tiny leaflet, the soft voice in my head – I could have missed them so easily! But it seems when you are ready, your true Master pulls you towards him with an inevitability that not even death can match…

by Menaka
Ottawa, Canada

I grew up in France, in a Paris suburb, in a non-practising Muslim family. My parents were nonetheless God-believers. My father taught us the important surats of the Quran. He showed us the beauty of Islam, and respect for all religions.

As a young teenager, I was introduced to India and Hinduism by a friend. I recall being attracted by India. This land of spirituality was foreign but at the same time so familiar. I was told that with the power of meditation man could do extraordinary things, and I believed it. I knew already that the only thing that would really matter in life was spiritual growth.

In my early twenties, I moved to Montreal to pursue my studies because I was not satisfied in France. I fell in love with Canada and decided to stay. Even though I had everything to be happy, I could still not find satisfaction. I had the feeling that I was wasting my time, not achieving any spiritual progress but on the contrary diving more and more deeply into purposelessness. Even though I was aware of it, I could not find the strength to control myself.

Then my mother’s cancer reappeared. I will always remember that phone call in December 1999. My mother was confident that everything would be fine and that in six months she would be in good health again. As I hung up, I had the strong feeling that she would not survive this time. My mother had always felt that she would die young. When she first got breast cancer, I was 15 and my younger brother only 4. I remember praying to God to give her another few years so that at least my younger brother could be independent enough. God had been kind enough to give her another 9 years. This time, even if it broke my heart, I could only say, "May Thy Will be done."

I struggled in the two years that followed. For some time I would try to get closer to God with prayer and meditation (prayer mostly, as I had real trouble sitting still for more than a few minutes), and then I would fall deeper into material life so that I could avoid facing reality and my mother’s suffering. One day as I was in deep desperation at my incapacity to discipline myself and my total helplessness, I prayed to God to help me find a Master, someone who could guide me in my spiritual life and help me make progress. At that time I thought of a Sufi Master, because I was Muslim and I liked the universality of Sufism. However, I never made a step in that direction. Sufi groups were not lacking in Montreal, but something was holding me back.

In August 2001, my mother passed away. This was a wakeup call. I could not go on like that with my life. I decided to start a PhD with the goal of getting a job at the United Nations. I quit my job and moved to Ottawa. I needed a concrete change in my life and moving to a new city would help me to start fresh (and force me to learn English). So in January 2002, I started a new life in Ottawa. I was still desperately looking for something.

At the beginning of September 2002, as I was walking to university, my eyes were attracted by a pink meditation poster with a black and white picture of a lotus flower (a very basic poster, but somehow I was attracted by it). Not long after, I saw the same poster inside the university; this time what attracted me the most was the word 'free'. I thought that if it was free it was probably a sincere offering, so I decided to write down the number. I waited a couple of weeks and finally called; a class was starting the following week.

At that point I was thinking of going back to Montreal, as the PhD programme in Montreal was of a higher standard and one of my previous teachers was trying to convince me to come back. But I had to act fast, as the session had already started. I remember making a list of pros and cons of staying in Ottawa. In the pros list was the meditation class.

Finally I decided to stay; I did not care that much about the PhD anyway. During the last meditation class, one of the teachers said that if we cared for the spiritual life and wanted to be serious about it, we could apply to become a student of Sri Chinmoy. This resonated with me. Yes! That was what I had always wanted: to give first and foremost importance to my spiritual life. So I decided to try this path. Slowly I discovered my Master and realised that God had not only answered my prayer to grant me a spiritual guide, but had given me much more than I asked for or could even dream of. I have never finished my PhD and I am not working for the United Nations, but I have something much more precious than that. My life has become meaningful and I have never been happier than since I became a disciple of Sri Chinmoy.

by Shaivya Rubczynska
Warsaw, Poland

It was freezing and snowing, February 1991 in Warsaw.

Two girls were standing in the street, facing the modest poster with just a few words on it.
"Look, it is for free", said one of them.
"Let’s go inside; we still have one hour before the theatre", answered the other one. "By the way, what is meditation?"

Inside the small performance hall, there were an astonishing number of people – more than 200. On the stage, a young man sat at a table with a tiny, black-and-white picture on it. Then he started his talk in German, translated by an old lady. He said that he was from Berlin and that the face in the photo was his Master’s. After a few minutes, I stopped listening. It was so nice just to sit there; I felt relaxed and peaceful.

Suddenly he said: "Now we shall do an exercise, and you’ll see for yourself what concentration and meditation are. Please, close your eyes."

I closed my eyes. Everything disappeared. I was inside a stream or waterfall of love and joy, something immense and strong, but delicate at the same time, an almost tangible and silky feeling of…of what? I couldn’t find a name for it, but it was feeding me as if I had been hungry for centuries without even being aware of it.  But I was sure that that force or that love was exactly what I had been waiting for forever. Did I cry?

"We have to go."  
"What?"
"Open your eyes. We have to go. We are already late."

On our way out, we stood for a while at the table by the door. There were some books and pictures of that man from the black-and-white photo. His eyes were strong and soft, sad and loving. The boy on the stage was saying: "If you want, you can bring your pictures tomorrow. There will be two more meetings."

We left. But I didn’t enjoy the theatre that evening.

"Why did he want us to bring our pictures?"
"He said he takes them to New York."
"Why to New York?"
"I don’t know,  but I think that man (referring to the picture) lives there."

Without seeking any further explanation, as if all was clear and decided, we had new photos of ourselves taken, and in the evening we gave them to the boy from Berlin. He said he would give them to his Master and perhaps he would accept us as his disciples. Meditation, Master, disciple – all this was so completely new, yet so exciting, and I had always been one to take a risk.

The boy left, and a few months passed by. The event was over, and I didn’t think of it any longer. At the end of April, he appeared again in Warsaw and said to me: "Sri Chinmoy has accepted you as his disciple."

I felt the needle of the compass whirling suddenly and strongly in the middle of my chest, and a feeling of incredible joy and victory. I started to laugh. The arrow had hit the centre of the target.