Within or without?

Stockholm. After walking alone this afternoon up a small hill rising above the buildings and highways of the city, I sat in a natural boulder garden.

Surrounded by urban chaos, this site offered itself as a Tantric oasis. Inspired, I resolved not to budge a muscle during meditation.

About half an hour later, it began to drizzle.

A test, I thought. / shall not move.

The rain grew stronger, until it became a heavy downpour.

I can change my clothes anytime, I thought, but not my mind.

It lasted five or ten minutes, then stopped completely. Again I became aware of the distant sound of cars creating their usual but eerie cosmic wind tunnel effect in my brain. Otherwise the only other sound was the mournful crowing of nearby birds.

My concentration increased until I was no longer conscious of my wetness.

After some time a new, high pitched sound appeared far away, perhaps a kilometer or so. Was it a dog barking faintly? Then a little louder—yes, a dog. Somehow that dog seemed to have something to do with me from the moment I heard it. The barking became still louder. I supposed it was coming toward me.

Even if it attacks me, I won’t stir.

Closer and closer the unfriendly bark came. Why? I could not guess. Then it was on my hill, yelping.

He is going to attack. I don’t care. It’s a test. If I’m hurt or killed, it’s Your problem. Baba.

The dog was now almost on me. His barking was so loud and vicious that it hurt my eardrums. He was so near to my face that I could feel the heat of his breath, and its stink also. I sat bolt upright, unmov-ing. My mind flickered back and forth between the thought of my meditation and that of the dog.

A few seconds later, the noise ceased. A pause. Then I heard his feet, as he turned and walked away from me.

Not allowing myself to wonder how or why it happened, my concentration dived inward. I enjoyed the rest of meditation.

When I opened my eyes I looked at my watch. One hour and twenty minutes. I started to rise to my feet, and, what? How could it be? There wasn’t a drop of rainwater to be seen. Everything was bone dry, including my clothing.

Could it be the rain was a figment of my imagination? And the dog also?

I laughed and walked down the hill.

Orebro, Sweden. Every time I receive a circular, a letter, or, like today, a phone call with news from India, I experience the same feelings.

First my heart flutters with hope for a positive verdict, then a sinking feeling comes when I find out that there’s been no real progress. Then the agony of longing for Him increases until it becomes a sharp pain in my heart, my face gets hot and a few sighs escape. Finally, I tell myself that there’s nothing to worry about, that He knows exactly what He’s doing, and that it’s all just a drama with so many ups and downs that it only seems like it will never finish, yet it will in fact one day surely come to a happy ending. Then I mentally prostrate to Him, leave everything to Him, and grimly turn back to His work. After a few minutes I’m back to normal, encouraging others, smiling and working with as much zeal as I can muster.

Unknown to everyone, my normality also includes a constant dull pressure at the back of my skull and in the core of my heart where I bury my yearning to see Him.

Work while working, meditate while meditating

Stockholm. 1978. A few days ago, Dada Krtashivananda arrived from India, full of news. Subconsciously I prepared myself to go through my usual sequence of hope, disappointment and frustration. This time I never made it past hope. Baba’s case is on a steadily rising list of cases to be heard by the court. Something concrete should happen anytime soon. Even as I write this I still feel that nervous flutter of anticipation in my heart.

He was also full of stories. I’ll mention two of them.

The first happened many years ago during a meeting with the margiis:

BABA: Do you all want to hear the Cosmic Sound?

MARGIIS (about twenty): Yes, yes, Baba!

BABA: Do deep meditation now. (After a few minutes silence Baba asked one Margii) What did you hear?

MARGII: I heard the sound of the A um, Baba.

BABA (pointing to others): And you … and you?

OTHER MARGIIS: Yes, Baba … and I… and I…

(One by one, each Margii says he or she heard the cosmic sound A um.)

BABA (pointing to Krtashivanandaji): And what about you, little boy?

KRTASHIVANANDA: I’m sorry, Baba, I didn’t hear anything special.

BABA: Yes. Now you alone, do dhyana (higher meditation). (After a minute) Well, then?

KRTASHIVANANDA: I’m sorry. Baba. I still could not hear anything.

BABA: I told you to do dhyana. Instead, you are thinking of your missionary work. When doing meditation you should not think of work. Now do meditation again. (After another minute) Hmmm?

KRTASHIVANANDA: Yes, Baba. At last I heard the Aum.

BABA: Just see. Just see.

The other story began with a meeting in which Baba assured all the workers that He would never allow any of them to starve. He promised they would receive at least one meal daily. So, no need to worry.

Krtashivanandaji wanted to secretly test Baba. During a walking journey which took seven days, he maintained silence. He neither carried any food, nor asked anyone. Once each day, however, a different stranger approached him and asked if he needed food. He accepted without saying anything. This happened every day except once—fasting day.

June. Some real news today: Baba’s case has started. The prosecution is presenting its evidence now. Of course, the defense’s arguments will follow.

I can hardly stop thinking about Baba. My mind rolls uncontrollably between states of expectation, anxiety, awe (of His cosmic strategy), a desperate craving to see Him, and, occasionally, little flashes of fear.

It’s Baba’s problem

I called my higher authority today and told him, “Dada, ten of the eleven full- timers in my region want to go for acharya training.” “Very good.”

“So I am planning to send all of them to acharya training this week.” “All

of them?” “Yes. Why not?”

“Are you crazy? If you empty your region of full-timers, all of the work will collapse. Just send two for now. Then perhaps each month you can send another.”

“Look, if Baba wants to help, there’s an local full-timer training session coming up in July. Besides, I thought our most important work is wholetimer creation.”

“That’s right but…”

“And if I delay in sending some of them, they may lose their inspiration.”

“Don’t be a fool.”

“If any problem comes to the region, it’s Baba’s problem. He has to take care. I am sending all these brothers and sisters for Him.”

“You idiot! I won’t permit you to send them all at once.”

“Dada, excuse me for asking, but is that your suggestion or is that your order?” I asked.

“Well, of course it is not my order. But you’re absolutely not to do it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

I knew that he couldn’t give such an order because creating new wholetimers is our first priority. In this case, I am technically free to make my own decision. Certainly he is right from the standpoint of normal logic.

Perhaps I am a fool, but it will be a fine Tantric test for Baba to take care of His own work. I’ll send them all to the Sweden acharya training center as quickly as possible.