An Ancient Yogi Makes Trouble

Dadaji is here for his second visit. Again, plenty of people are attending the lectures and learning meditation.

One man, about 50 years old, came to our door, saying, “I saw the sign on your house: Ananda Marga Yoga Society. What does it mean?”

He had never heard of yoga. I took a few minutes to explain a little to him, and he immediately wanted to learn.

“I think it’ll be better,” I said, “if you first attend a lecture and read some of our books. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“But this is my only chance. Tomorrow I go out of Jackson for one month. Please leave the risk to me.” Hesitantly, I agreed to schedule a meeting with Dadaji.

Immediately after his initiation he did long meditation—nearly one hour. Then he came to me and said, “I must see Dadaji again.”

“I’m sorry, Dadaji’s doing his own meditation now, so you’ll have to wait.” “But I have an appointment; I can’t wait. I’ve got a problem with the meditation. At least let me explain it to you.” “I’m not qualified to deal with these matters.” “Look, you’ve got to listen!” I shrugged my shoulders.

“From the first moment, my meditation was very pleasant. But after some time a tall bearded Indian dressed in white appeared in my mind.” He demonstrated the sitting position of the Indian which was a yoga posture for doing higher meditation.

He continued, “I was doing meditation on the mantra which I learned from Dadaji. But the Indian man in my mind was loudly repeating a different mantra.”

He told me the “different mantra”. It was strange and unknown to me.

“A conflict rose in me,” he said. “I didn’t know which mantra to use. It created a heavy tension, which was painful. Finally I decided that since my meditation had led me to the vision of this Indian man, I should follow him. So I started repeating his mantra. Immediately I felt wonderful, as I’ve never felt before. Do you agree that I am doing the right thing?”

I did not agree. “In my opinion you should continue only with the mantra you learned from Dadaji. I believe this vision is coming from your distant past. Perhaps from past lives. But I’m not sure, so please telephone me tonight, and in the meantime I’ll ask Dadaji.”

Dadaji agreed with me, so when the man called, I suggested he continue to follow Dadaji’s instructions only.

Next day. The man I wrote about yesterday is a traveling salesman who sells equipment to farmers. Tonight he called again saying, “I’m finding the meditation experience too taxing. That Indian yogi still appears every time I sit and loudly chants his mantra. What should I do?”

“As we already told you, please keep on struggling.” Of course that was easy to say, but.

Next day. The salesman called again late tonight. He said. “As usual the yogi entered my meditation this evening. This time, however, it was absolutely hellish.

He applied such a power on me that it seemed unbearable. Somehow I continued with my mantra. Just when I thought I would explode if I continued even one second longer, he exploded! His clothing, flesh, blood, even bones burst apart in every direction-nothing remained except a bright blissful luminosity. It was beautiful beyond words. I felt that all my worries and fears were gone. Did I merge in God?”

Two weeks later. The salesman called me again. He said, “I feel guided. Almost every farm I go to I find either the husband or the wife is particularly interested in meditation. And so I teach him or her the universal mantra 12 . Is it okay?”

“It’s more than okay,” I said. “It’s perfect.”

Now I understand why this man had such difficulties in his meditation—to strengthen his mind for the work of reaching these farmers who would otherwise never come in contact with Ananda Marga.

New education techniques

All of my social service responsibilities were taken over today by a new volunteer who will soon replace me. On a whim I visited a local primary school to see if I could help in any way. By their shabby clothing it was obvious that the children were from poor families. Almost all of them were black. A secretary in the administrative office told me 1 was free to look around. As I walked through the hallways I heard children talking, laughing and yelling through every door.

‘■’The universal mantra is Baba Nam Kevalam

You Have to Work For Your Realization

When I entered a classroom for nine year-olds, I found nothing short of chaos. Not only were all the children busy in loud games of their own, ignoring the teacher, some were chasing others around the room, knocking over chairs, desks, whatever got in their way. Meanwhile, the teacher was sitting at her desk, reading something. I approached her.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said, “I wonder if there is any way I could help you.”

She looked up, surprised. “Well, that’s right kind of yo’all,” she said to me. “Alrightee, thank yo’all. I’ll just be on down to the lounge for a cup of coffee, and yo’all can take over the class.”

Before I could express my astonishment, she stood up and left the room. The students didn’t even notice.

I looked at all of them, sat down at the teacher’s desk, and closed my eyes. As I thought of Baba, an idea entered my head.

“Children!” I said loudly above all their racket.

Most of them spun around and shouted, “Yes!”

“Would you like to play a game?”

“Yes!”

“Okay. Come and sit down near to me.”

Immediately they all ran forward, pushing and knocking against each other, laughing and arguing over who could sit nearest to me. A desk was knocked down, and a new fist-fight erupted for a few moments.

“This is a very special game you never played before. Are you sure you want to do it?” “Yes!”

“But you have to be very different than usual to play it. Can you really do that?” “Yes!”

I dropped my voice low and said, “You’ll have to be very very quiet to play. I don’t think you can do that. Do you really think you can play this special game?”

“Yes!” they yelled in a whisper.

Two boys pushed each other. Pointing at them, I said, “You two can play a different game, it’s okay. You go over to that corner, and play your own game.”

The two jumped up and ran to the far corner of the room. For about ten seconds they pushed each other. Then they sat down and looked at the rest of us.

“Now, I want you all to close your eyes for a moment.”

they all shut their eyes. Taking advantage of the situation, one boy pulled the ears of another boy, who turned around and pulled the pig-tails of a girl.

“Open your eyes,” I said. I directed the two pullers to go and play their game in the comer. Like the first two, they ran at full speed to the comer, were raucous for a few seconds, and then sat quietly looking at us.

“Now, this time when you close your eyes, I want you to imagine something that you like more than anything else in the world.”

Again they closed their eyes. No sound, no movement. Even the boys in the comer closed their eyes.

After about ten seconds I said, “Okay very good. Open your eyes. What did you see?”

“Chocolate cake!”

“Mary Sue!”

“A miniature electric train!”

Their answers went on until I heard “Presents around the Christmas tree!”

“Stop!” I said, holding up my hand. “You all did very nicely. Let’s take one of these: presents around the Christmas tree. I like that too. Have any of you seen snow?”

“Yes,” they all said.

“Mas anyone never seen snow?”

Silence. Even though Jackson is a hot place, I guess they’d all seen snow, at least on television.

“Okay, great. Now let’s all think about Christmas, boys and girls. Yes, close your eyes again. Good. Now imagine it’s really Christmas, and you’re sitting at home in front of the fireplace because it’s cold outside and it’s snowing. You feel nice and cozy by the fire, and you look out the window and see all that snow falling. And it’s so beautiful. Lots and lots of white white snow. Now your body becomes very small, and very light, and you float out the window, and you’re floating in the snowflakes, and you feel so happy and light and white. And you go higher and higher in the beautiful snowflakes, and you’re all

alone. And then you see the sun shining. And you float toward the sun. It’s great, it’s fun, it’s beautiful. And you’re flying toward the sun, riding on the sun’s rays. And everywhere is light and light and more light. And your body is full of light. And your mind is full of light. And

you’re becoming a ray of light. And you mix with that light, and enjoy it. Ah, it’s so beautiful, and you feel better than ever in your life, and so quiet and peaceful and happy. And you feel that you love every¬ body. And you feel you’re a ray of love. It’s so beautiful. You’re so

beautiful and loving and love, only love, only love…”

Toward the end my voice became softer and softer until it faded

away. I meditated with them for about fifteen seconds. Then I opened my eyes. They were all pin-drop quiet, sitting with eyes closed, includ¬ ing the boys in the corner.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Very good. Open your eyes slowly.”

Most of them opened their eyes, though a few kept them closed. Their eyes glistened, and their faces shone.

“You’re very beautiful children,” I said. “You’re so full of love. I love you, and I’m sure God loves you too. And I’m sure you love ev¬ erybody. So … what do you like to say now?”

“I love everybody,” one boy said.

“Me too! Me too! I love everybody!” came a chorus of voices.

Just in that moment the teacher appeared at the door. Her eyes opened wide, and she raised her arms.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. As she walked in, the children looked at her, and started chitchatting lightly between themselves. She came up to me.

“How did you manage to get them like this?” Before I could answer, the school bell rang. “Ask them.” I said.

Yesterday and today I went again to that school. The same teacher asked me to come to her classroom, saying that her children had been much quieter and nicer after my visit. But I told her I wanted to try other classrooms.

I did more or less the same in two more classes with good results. But for today’s class I also taught them to sing Baba Nam Kevalam. It was even better, because there’s hardly anything kids like more than singing.

All the teachers in the school heard about these programs, and many of them requested me to come to their classrooms.

When I told them I’m leaving Mississippi this week, they were dis¬ appointed.

Don’t move!

As I began morning meditation, a thought crossed my mind: “I shall be inflexibly rigid. No matter what uneasiness I feel, I shall not move.”

Until today, each and every time I practiced meditation, I inevitably shifted my weight or my legs a few times. Though I knew I should not move, I never adhered strictly to the system.

This time, however, when itching asked for scratching, nervous tension demanded release, and pain shouted for relief—I did not give in. Though it was very difficult, I didn’t move even a fraction of an inch. Slowly, all the mental and physical chatter lessened, and finally ceased. My mind sunk deep into meditation, and I achieved a consciousness previously unknown to me.

A simple, effective technique: don’t move a muscle! Isn’t it odd that 1 didn’t try it before?