No need to trouble Him

Hobart. Today I delivered a general introductory lecture to the staff and students of a local high school—over 2000 people.

While waiting in a separate room beforehand, I was shivering due to the chilly weather (it’s winter here) and also due to my nervousness before the talk. As usual I thought about Baba in order to calm myself.

Then a thought occurred. “Why am I troubling Baba to calm my mind? I should simply think of Baba, give my mind to Baba, let Him speak through me, and not care what He does to me.” I continued to think of Him. but without asking for anything except to be His channel.

I was alone. The vice-principal came to fetch me. Though I was perceptibly shaking, she said nothing. Then I stood before the audience, still shivering. I was determined not to ask Him for anything except the proper words. Throughout the speech I trembled like a song-bird.

Afterward, while returning to the yoga house, a full-timer who was sitting in the audience said to me, “Dada it was an excellent lecture. But there’s one thing I don’t understand…”

Now I was sure that he would criticize me for shivering.

“How could you be so perfectly calm in front of thousands of people?”

I was surprised. “Perhaps we each perceive the infinite Entity only in the way which is suitable for our own evolution. So there’s nothing to worry about.”

He was satisfied with my answer, even though I meant something different than he understood.

The aura of His love

Perth. Today I gave a lecture to the Parapsychology Club of Perth. When I stood up in front of the audience, I had no idea what I was going to speak about. As usual I thought, “Baba, Baba, Baba…” The flow came, and I began to speak.

After the formal program was over, several people came up to meet me. One lady said, “Dada, before your lecture I was enjoying just looking at you. You had a beautiful blue aura all around your body, like I’ve never seen before. Of course you know that such blue means cosmic love.”

I casually shrugged my shoulders.

“But in the few seconds just before you started to speak, the blue light suddenly became so bright that I couldn’t tolerate it. I closed my eyes but the aura was still there. Could I ask what you were thinking about at that moment?” “I was thinking about my Guru,”

Anandamurtiji…the essence of love.

Auckland, New Zealand. I have a new posting: Wellington Regional Secretary, responsible for New Zealand. The nature of the people here seems as gentle as the sheep for which this land is so famous.

Baba admits a fraction of His knowledge

Christchurch. A newsletter arrived from India today explaining the latest developments in Baba’s court case. Here is an excerpt:

“The judge asked Baba one of his usual questions: Tn what language will you address the court?’ (In India there are forty major languages, so it is often necessary to arrange translation.)

Baba replied, ‘As I know over 200 languages, I can speak in whatever language the court prefers.’

The judge was shocked by Baba’s answer, and could not speak. After waiting a few moments.

Baba politely offered, ‘Perhaps it will be most convenient for the court if I speak in English: strict Oxford English.’ The judge readily agreed.”

The Master of Testing, Caring and Hocus-Pocus

Nelson. There are some signs that I may soon be transferred to another region. In that light I am happy that before my going, we have succeeded to open the Nelson Sunrise Pre-school. Twelve children are already attending.

An all-violins orchestra

Nandi, Fiji Islands. 1975. Today I’m reminded of Milarepa, the great Tibetan yogi. His guru. Marpa, ordered him to wander continuously through the mountains, never staying in any place more than three days.

We Dadas are not much different. Not only do we constantly travel from city to city, but our postings can change at any moment. One day we are in New Zealand, the next—who knows? Fortunately, I enjoy this sort of life.

My posting is now Suva Regional Secretary, responsible for the Fiji Islands.

Lataoka. At night the mosquitoes are thick as pea soup. Whenever we do evening meditation I have to keep my entire body covered, including a light cloth over my head.

This evening, however, during group meditation, I became fed up with the cloth on my face. It was one problem or the other. For once, why not let the mosquitoes have their way?

After taking the firm determination not to move, I took the cloth off my head.

One mosquito landed on my nose and took his dinner. He called his friends, and they made it a party. “Hey everyone, no charge! Banquet on the nose,” they whined. They didn’t seem interested in any other part of my face.

My nose began to itch tremendously. But I refused to move. My mind flew back and forth between my meditation and the festival on my nose. The violins rose toward a crescendo, while the itch turned into a downright pain. I felt like a hundred party-goers in tuxedoes and black evening gowns were dancing on my pink beak.

My mantra was striking like a hammer in my head, while the pain turned into a constant throb. The human snout converted into a vibrating vermin paradise. For all I knew, it might have been flickering between red and blue like an electric clown-nose. The throbbing became so intense, tears came out of my eyes.

Suddenly two things happened simultaneously. My nose turned numb, and my concentration dropped deep within. I became oblivious—not only to my nose but to everything except the meditation.

When the meditation ended, I turned around to give a talk to everyone there.

“Oh, Dada! What happened to you?,” they exclaimed, shocked.

My nose had doubled in size.

I laughed and proceeded with the talk. 33