Thought becomes matter

Next day. While resting in my room today, I was thinking. The scene here is perfect. Not only am I content in being able to foliow yogic discipline and morality in detail—also my meditation is first-class, I get more than enough spiritual company, time for studying and discussing philosophy, excitement and drama (at least one or two of the trainees face some sort of personal crisis daily), maximum kiirtan, a beautiful environment, and excellent food.

There must be something I’m missing here… for example, there must be some food I’m not getting… well, it’s true there’s no dried fruits.

Then I left for the sisters’ house to give a class. As I walked in their door, a visitor, Didi Ananda Prajina greeted me.

“Dada, I expected to go to India, but my plans have changed. I was going to bring this with me to give to some Didis, but now I’d like to give it to you.”

She handed me a three kilogram bag of raisins.

Next day. Tonight, before going out to do my kapalika meditation, I thought that it would be nice to eat something a little special to prepare for tomorrow’s fasting. Of course there was nothing but the usual stuff. Then I went to the graveyard together with trainee Dhyanesh.

When we came back, it was 1:30 a.m. Everyone was sleeping except Dhyanesh and I. Again I had the same thought. It would be nice to have something a little special, but….

Immediately Dhyanesh said. “Dadaji, would you like to have something a little special?”

I laughed. But instead of telling him the cause of my reaction, I said, “Sure. But I suppose there’s nothing but the usual stuff.”

He raised his eyebrows, saying, “Well, I was on collection today. Perhaps you’d like to see what I saved in a cupboard in the kitchen.”

He ran off, only to come back a minute later with a honey-dew melon and two packages of vanilla eclairs covered in whipped cream.

“Only at this time of the year do the Swedes make these special cream cakes,” he said.

Two days later. Between breakfast and lunch on the day after fasting I usually drink a lot of water. Just before leaving my room to go to the sister’s house for class this morning, I thought, They never offer me more than one glass of lemon-water. Rather than ask for more, I thought it would be better to drink some extra water before I left. When I arrived at their house, I took my seat. In front of me, where they had always placed one cup of lemon-water, there were two cups. I was shocked.

I pointed at the cups, mumbling, “Two … there’s two….”

It wasn’t just a matter of two cups—rather, it was my sudden realization that any slightest whim I’d had over the last few days had been immediately fulfilled.

“What’s the matter. Dadaji?” said one sister. “I thought perhaps one glass of lemon-water was not enough for you, so there’s also a glass of fresh apple juice.”

“No, no. It’s good,” I said. “Thank you very much.”

That’s what I said. But what I thought was: Occult power. The power to Immediately get whatever I desire. I must not use it. From this moment on, as long as I am trainer, I shall not permit myself to wish for anything. Occult powers are a dangerous temptation on the spiritual path. While the Avidya Tantrics (black magicians) aim for such powers, we Vidya Tantrics steer clear of them. Our goal is only to serve God. 49

49 Avidya istheextroversial or centrifugal force causing attraction for external objects: it leads to ignorance or illusion. Avidya Tantra consists of practices designed for the attainment of occult powers. Vidya is the introversial or centripetal force which causes attraction to the Supreme Nucleus: it leads to knowledge, understanding or correct perception. Vidya Tantra consists of practices which help the aspirant surrender to God, and ultimately become one with God. Vidya Tantra says: M orality is the base, intuition the means, and life divine the goal.

Grace in the form of pain

Over the last few days I have kept my mind free from the slightest unnecessary wish. But today another problem arose. Shortly before a 24-hour kiirtan was to finish, I was standing in my room. From nowhere, and without any apparent cause, a sharp pain stabbed within my stomach.

I sat down, but the pain continued. I laid down, but it grew worse.

Since I had to end the 24 hour kiirtan. I reluctantly left my room to join the trainees. When we sat for collective meditation I pulled myself into the corner where no one would see me sitting in agony with my knees doubled against my chest. My suffering only increased.

Worst of all, at the end of the meditation I would have to give an inspirational talk. How could I manage?

The moment came to speak, and as soon as I began, the pain instantly disappeared. I told spiritual and humorous stories for forty-five minutes. Everyone, including me. thoroughly enjoyed it.

The very moment I finished speaking, however, the pain returned with increased intensity. It was so bad I couldn’t eat.

Now it is night as I write. The pain is still present, though slightly decreased. I hope it will be gone by tomorrow.

Two weeks later. The pain in my stomach did not finish the next day, nor the next nor the next. Today, it left as unexpectedly as it came. I did not tell anyone, except the trainee who assists me, and I instructed him not to mention it to others. It was not the sort of trouble which could be cured by medicine or treatment. Rather it was a test I had to undergo as a result of successfully controlling myself in this ideal spiritual environment.

The clearest indication of this was the fact that every time I had a class to give, or an important meeting to attend, the pain ceased.

No height is too high

Dada Dhruvananda, the new trainer, arrived today. Together with a charge hand-over, I gave him an account with more than 10,000 kroner. Though the mental condition of most of the trainees had been uneasy when I first arrived, it now seemed that everyone was happy.

“How could you manage so well?” he asked.

“Baba did everything. I did nothing.” As 1 said this, I felt something sneak back inside me from my previous normal flawed self. I checked for the buzzing in my head, but could not find it.

Now, having resumed my previous duty, I am again an ordinary monk.

No Tantric aspirant should think that high spiritual states are beyond his or her reach. Whatever is needed, He gives us. Though it comes only by His grace, and not by our own efforts, we must constantly strive for perfection— otherwise we would be unsuitable to serve as His channels.

There is word that Baba may soon travel outside of India. They say He will come to Europe and nowhere else. I don’t know whether or not to believe it. It seems too good to be true.