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Once, in these early years, an acquaintance of mine took pity on two border collie pups he had spied in a dog pound for unwanted strays and took them home. My friend's compassion dried up after one week of ownership (chewed shoes, fur over all of his clothes, malodorous carpets, the odd bone wedged under his bed!), and Subarata and I were implored to take them while he “had a break” – a euphemism, as it turned out, for “fled the country, never to be seen again.” Reluctantly – though, in hindsight, happily – we agreed. The two pups grew into wonderful and loyal creatures – lifelong vegetarians, they were full of mischief and fun, and possessed of great intelligence and intuition.
In pre-disciple backcountry New Zealand where we spent long months away from our own two-legged kind, our family of animal friends expanded to include lambs, wild pigs that had lost their mother, the odd goat, a mercurial and sometimes temperamental fawn, a white horse plus a few very unendearing hens that generally disapproved, with much cluck-clucking, of all these animal comings and goings.
Subarata loved animals, and they her. Sometimes up on a ridge at work, I would see her on horseback, far off on a farm track, Pied-Piperish with a stream of dogs, pigs and a lamb or two strung out behind her. Our winter cottage back in the mountains was like a scene from the movie “Babe” on those cold nights – dogs stretched out by the log fire and sighing contentedly; a lamb or two on a hay cot; the three pigs on the porch outside, squealing at the injustice of it all; prim and disapproving hens perched on the yard fence; the horse circling in the yard – snorting to gain our attention and hopeful of a late-night snack from the ever-doting Subarata.
Our vegetarian collies were very placid and gentle, especially Scruffles, the female. Raised as a pup with so many other species from God’s creation, the unbiased Scruffles would play with the lambs and pigs each day, an activity that most self-respecting canines would certainly frown upon. They both had wildly adventurous lives, even riding in helicopters when I had two summers as an outfit guide on six-day white-water rafting expeditions. Scruffles loved riding the rivers, her paws over the front of the inflatable and braced as we charged down the big, rolling rapids; while a more circumspect Scobie, preferring to stay dry, would sit up on the lashed-down food barrels, a difficult balancing feat, bracing himself against the pitch and roll and downward plungings.
Later we shifted to Adelaide and our spiritual path beginnings. The sea was at our doorstep and Subarata took the collies for long swims in the warm ocean, training them to venture far out on their own.
When Scruffles died, racing at full speed along a night-time road in glorious style, flowing and free – such a sight – then under the wheels of a sudden car, we were heartbroken. We felt the loss of our longtime companion for ages.
Where are they now, these lovely souls that shared their lives with us for a while and then were gone? What a compelling case for animal-to-human reincarnation they make, for where else can creatures of such sentience, intelligence and development go but onwards into our troubled human kingdom with its further, if bittersweet, possibilities?
If, through some divine dispensation, I might have some small say in all this, a boon for my many years of dogless austerity, I would choose for them a gentle transition to the human realm, perhaps even somewhere around here – as a brother and sister in some happy rural family, with lots of pets and farmyard pals, and doting parents, of course. Perhaps our paths might even cross – two children flying along a forest trail, happy and free, running wild towards me through the trees, and stopping momentarily to say, a little shyly to this stranger, “Haven’t we met you somewhere before?...”
This is one of the stories in our Story-Gems project, a collection of our experiences with our Guru, Sri Chinmoy. Project homepage »
Sri Chinmoy singing
I have always liked music, but, alas! I could not sing. I was told to just move my lips at my junior high graduation choral performance, and I followed that advice ever after. After I became Sri Chinmoy’s full-time disciple, I discovered that music was very important on his spiritual path. Sri Chinmoy himself was an excellent singer, and composed thousands of spiritual songs. They were really beautiful, and I loved to listen to them, and, very gradually, I tried to learn a few. My success was limited.
But on Father’s Day, in the year 2002, I was attending a meditation meeting with Sri Chinmoy and about 200 of his students, and all of a sudden, Sri Chinmoy spoke to me over his microphone.
He said, “Bhadra, you're not in a singing group?”
I said, “No, Guru.”
Sri Chinmoy said, “Why not?”
I said, “I’m just learning to sing.”
Sri Chinmoy said, “You’re a scientist. Scientists can’t sing? There are so many singing groups; you should be in one of them.”
I thought to myself, “Yes, Guru, but what singing group would have me?”
Into the mike, Sri Chinmoy said, “You should be in Chandika’s group.”
So, when the meeting was over, I asked Chandika if I could be in her group. She said I could, and I attended her group practices, but at first I only moved my lips. Sri Chinmoy somehow let me understand that he expected me to actually sing, and so, after a while, I got Chandika’s practice tape, and when I took my daily walk I listened to the tape and tried to sing aloud along with it.
I will not go into the long and arduous details, but as time passed, my singing did, gradually, improve. I took informal singing lessons with a friend who had heard my unaided efforts; later on I took official singing classes with two different teachers. I bought a small keyboard, (I had learned to read music when I was a child), and I started to practice singing every day. Today I can, if the song is not too difficult, learn to sing a song correctly with a group. I’m afraid I’ll never be a good singer, but these days I do actually get joy from my singing. Sri Chinmoy says that the spiritual life involves self-transcendence, and in my life as his student, my ever-improving singing has made me understand that piece of his philosophy.
I sing for my heart.
My heart sings for my soul.
My soul sings for my Lord Supreme.
This is one of the stories in our Story-Gems project, a collection of our experiences with our Guru, Sri Chinmoy. Project homepage »
I was taking a short course in meditation led by two of Sri Chinmoy’s students. I was not looking for a spiritual Teacher; I had no idea what a spiritual Teacher was. I was an atheist, a Ph.D. in Sociology, and a researcher. I was skeptical when I heard about others’ spiritual experiences. I was interested in meditation only because I thought it might help my anxiety.
After a few classes, my teachers invited me to a meditation led by Sri Chinmoy. I was curious, and went to two uneventful sessions, and then came to the third. I was in an ordinary state of mind when I arrived. Sri Chinmoy came onto the stage of the Public School auditorium. He began to meditate, and then, all around his entire body, and stretching out from his body in all directions, I saw, with my human eyes, a beautiful golden light.
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Sri Chinmoy often would begin events with silent meditation
I was entranced and entered a state of silent bliss. It seemed like I was in the middle of an ocean of love. I was fortunate that I trusted my own experience of that night. I went on to become a full-time student of the one man I’ve ever met who was the perfect embodiment of goodness.
When my heart glows,
My life-river speedily flows
To God’s Ocean of Love.
I decided that I wanted to become Sri Chinmoy’s student. But at that same time, I had to look for another job, and I thought I couldn’t make a commitment to Sri Chinmoy’s path until my work situation was settled. The job I was leaving was in New York, but I was interviewing for my new job all over the country. I remember being in a hotel in North Carolina, and meditating on Sri Chinmoy’s Transcendental Photograph, and telling Sri Chinmoy that I would do whatever he thought was best.
Annam Brahma restaurant in Jamaica, Queens
When I returned to New York, one of the teachers of the meditation course that had led me to Sri Chinmoy invited me to have lunch with her at Annam Brahma, a restaurant run by his students. I told her that I really wanted to formally apply to become become Sri Chinmoy’s student, but that I was afraid that I might have to leave New York to find a new job at my level. This woman said, “Don’t be silly! You are very good! I’m sure you can find another job in New York.” After lunch I returned home, and there, on my answering machine, was a message, offering me a very good job in New York!
The outer miracles of a spiritual Master
Can be counted,
But the inner miracles of the Master
Can never be counted.
This is one of the stories in our Story-Gems project, a collection of our experiences with our Guru, Sri Chinmoy. Project homepage »
During my first Celebrations in New York, Guru had all the young disciples come up to him who had been on the path less than two years, which included me.
As we youngsters came up to Guru, he would throw a candy bar as means of blessing us, which we had to catch. He loved to do this as a joyful, childlike way to interact personally with each person in line. I remember thinking that it would be extremely important to not drop the bar, which in my mind seemed tantamount to squandering the Master’s blessings. Most disciples before me in the line had no problems catching the little bars, as they came sailing in graceful arcs out of Guru’s hand.
However, when my turn came Guru gave a little flick with his hand and the bar flew short of its anticipated course. I grasped after it and hit it with the back of my hand, tossing it higher into the air. As it came down a second time I reached for it again unsuccessfully. The candy bar was now making frantic somersaults in mid-air, about to unceremoniously drop to the floor, exposing me as the most unworthy disciple in the crowd.
In a last, frantic attempt I reached for it again. Fortunately, this time I managed to snatch it from its wayward course. My heart was pounding in my chest as relief washed over me.
I made it!
From the corner of my eye I looked at Guru and thought I saw a hint of a smile.
Unbeknownst to me then is that I had just witnessed Guru’s first curveball, which he threw at me. Over the years, more curveballs followed, moments where Guru would shatter my expectations, steer me off a mind-planned course and force me to improvise, which often meant a return to the fluid spontaneity of my heart.
I had to think of Guru’s curveballs again when the pandemic broke out at the end of February 2020. I had just bought a restaurant in Amsterdam, a waffle house, which I called Heart-Garden as a dedication to Sri Chinmoy, who had coined the term and used it often in his writings.
Before signing the contract, I had spent hours poring over annual turnover figures, discussing the deal with friends who were experienced restaurant owners and hiring lawyers and real estate agents to help me negotiate the best possible terms for the contract.
Needless to say, none of them had foreseen the coronavirus.
So I signed the contract in the beginning of January 2020 in blissful ignorance, with the idea of taking over the business on April 1st. It turned out to be a real April Fools’ Day indeed, as on March 16th all the restaurants in The Netherlands were forced to close in light of the pandemic restrictions.
As the scenario slowly unfolded before my disbelieving eyes, I realised I was witnessing another one of Guru’s curveballs. There was nothing to do but surrender.
I used the extra weeks to paint and decorate the place nicely and went open for takeout on April 25th. The first month was slow, but I made enough to keep my head above water while in the meantime learning the ins and outs of the waffle business.
Now the restaurant is again open for public and doing quite well. More importantly, I’m extremely happy and thrilled to be there, as I feel the restaurant has become a real spiritual haven for people from all walks of life. Guru’s light is visibly and tangibly emanating from his photographs, paintings and music.
In hindsight, opening the restaurant is the best thing that could have happened to me. Yet, had I been given the choice to open up my business in the middle of a global pandemic - arguably the worst time in history to open a restaurant - I would have probably politely declined. That’s why Guru had to throw one of his curveballs, making me sign the contract just before the lockdown started.
And just like my first curveball, I may have fumbled once or twice but I did finally catch it!
Surprise after surprise
Will arrive at your life-door
If you make your heart
A constant consecration to God’s Will.
This is one of the stories in our Story-Gems project, a collection of our experiences with our Guru, Sri Chinmoy. Project homepage »
This story shows how Guru can help us and our dear ones through sincere prayer and meditation. Thirty years ago, my grandmother was seriously ill with cancer. By that time, she was 88 years old. She was brought to the hospital, and everybody knew she was living her last moments on earth.
So at the end of her life, even though I was a very young disciple, I put one of my grandmother’s photos on my shrine, and I prayed every day to the Supreme and to Guru to help her pass the curtain of Eternity. She died a few months later, while I was in New York for our annual Sri Chinmoy Centre April Celebrations.
I remember very clearly the dream I had then – the kind of dream that makes you feel it is not a dream but a reality in the inner world. During my sleep, I saw my grandmother walking away through the night of death, accompanied by Guru and holding one of his arms. She turned her head towards me and looked at me, waving a white handkerchief and smiling at me. Then she disappeared and I woke up.
It was a vivid experience, and I felt that my prayer had been granted. A few years later, I told this story to Guru during the Christmas trip, and he gave me a broad smile – his way of confirming that he had in fact ushered my grandmother to the next world.
In secrecy supreme I see You.
You live in my eyes, in my sleep,
In my dreams, in my sweet wakefulness.
In the stupendous mirth of life,
In the abysmal lap of death,
You I behold.
Your Love-Play is my world.
A Truckload of Humanitarian Aid Sails through Customs
This is one of the stories in our Story-Gems project, a collection of our experiences with our Guru, Sri Chinmoy. Project homepage »
In 1991, Sri Chinmoy founded the Oneness-Heart Tears and Smiles humanitarian service. Among its first projects was a delivery of food and medicines to Russia (above) at the request of President Gorbachev - a project that Dr. Arthada worked on.
Once I had almost finished collecting humanitarian aid for two or three truck deliveries that were supposed to go to Russia. Before the shipping, I and many other Austrian disciples went to Celebrations, a meeting of the disciples with Guru in America.
There, Kritagyata, a nurse who collected humanitarian supplies in America, told me that she had received a huge shipment of medical supplies for Russian children’s hospitals. The transport directly from America to Russia would, however, have been financially impossible and bureaucratically extremely difficult to manage by official means.
So the idea arose that we European disciples could take all these packages in our personal luggage back to Europe. At the next large international disciple meeting, disciples from other Centres could give these packages to the disciples from Vienna. The idea was that I would then add all these medical supplies to my already planned large aid delivery.
Secretly feeling relieved, I informed Guru that it was completely absurd to even think about bringing all these countless large parcels illegally to Europe in this way without Customs finding out. These parcels were significantly more voluminous than suitcases and, moreover, immediately identifiable from the outside as medical supplies. That was probably clear to everyone, and my many years of experience only made me smile pitifully at this idea. This is why, right from the beginning, I considered this project over and done with or rather hopeless and crazy. “One problem less,” I thought, but I did not know Guru that well yet.
Kritagyata, our Oneness-Heart Tears and Smiles co-ordinator, with medicines bound for Russia
Guru had all the packages brought to the Tennis Court, our meeting place in New York, and there they were stacked up in a huge pile, or rather a little mountain. It would be charged as a whole truckload. Guru then walked around the parcels a few times while meditating and finally told us that the European disciples, of course especially those from Vienna, should take the parcels with them, and when going through Customs we should just repeat “Supreme” (God) inwardly and nothing would happen.
Dr Arthada with humanitarian aid
In fact, all parcels without exception arrived unhindered either directly in Vienna, where we loaded them into delivery vehicles, or they passed through Customs in other European countries, from where they subsequently found their way to Vienna, once again across the then-strict European borders. If that wasn’t a miracle!
By the way, in his enthusiasm, one of my closest friends, you might call him crazy, had taken three parcels with him! The large boxes took up all the space in his luggage trolley which contained no personal items. It was hardly surprising that when he pushed his luggage trolley through Customs, he was immediately noticed by the strict authorities who could hardly see him behind the huge boxes. Two uniformed men started moving in his direction. Right there and then things seemed to be over for my friend. His heart missed a beat, but then he remembered to repeat the mantra that Guru had given us.
The moment he began to inwardly scream “Supreme,” the magic word unfolded its effect. The astonishing thing was that the two Customs officers stopped and then moved backwards to where they had originally started, as if a film was being rewound. So in the end, my friend with his little mountain of boxes also passed Customs unscathed.
Dependence
On one’s own personal effort
Is a dance with futility.
Dependence
On God’s Grace and Oneness
And the seeker’s surrendered effort,
Is the assurance of God-Victory
In the seeker.
To wake up during the night,
And hear the loons
Offer their centuries-old melody
To the mountains and the stars,
This is my Gratitude!
To get up in the morning,
And look at the hummingbirds
Beautiful and humble,
Flying graciously,
Invoking the Divine,
This is my Gratitude!
In the morning mist,
To listen in awe
To the secrets of silence,
To welcome this unique concert
That our Creator,
Every day
Kindly offers His creation,
This is my Gratitude!
To realise that
I can still walk, smile
And simply be,
After decades of daily miracles,
This is my Gratitude!
To light up incense,
To feel and smell in its fragrances
The beauties and splendours of the Himalayas,
This is my Gratitude!
For the hundredth time or more
To feel uncontrollable tears
Coming from my soul,
Purifying my heart and eyes,
This is my Gratitude!
To cry in silence,
To breathe devotion,
And, with folded hands,
After 76 years of smiles,
To invoke His name!
To welcome another day
And be blessed
With all these Divine treasures…
This is my Gratitude,
Today and every day.
Nérée Utsahi St-Amand (my spiritual name is Utsahi) La Chanterelle (my little place in the Gatineau) June 4-5-6th 2021
76 years on earth, yet at heart a 7 year old child
One year after Guru’s passing in 2007, a small book entitled The Supreme Notebook was offered as prasad in New York. This tiny book made quite an impression on me. It contains only one word, ‘Supreme’, written 27 times on each page, by Guru. I then found out that our dearest Guru had been writing the word ‘Supreme’ 27 times per day, for years. This book presented part of the last major notebook dedicated to this devotional ritual.
Upon seeing this, I was inspired to start the same ritual and to write, every day, the word Supreme. Shortly after, I started this project and have not stopped since. While doing this, I feel in union with Guru, who did this for years.
Sometimes I wonder: What did he have in mind when writing ‘Supreme’? What was his meditation like? How was the Supreme reacting to this purest form of meditation? Could this possibly be the simplest form of meditation: simply chanting or writing the name ‘Supreme’, over and over?
If you want a mantra,
Then “Supreme”
Is by far the best mantra.
If you want a special meditation,
Then to invoke the Presence
Of the Supreme
Is by far the best type of meditation.
Thanks to Guru, thousands of doors, closed for millennia, have opened wide. The doors might not be around us, they might be above us, as in the dream I related earlier in this book. We might need a little lift at times, when we feel that the task is too difficult or simply seems impossible.
Sri Chinmoy's mantra “Never give up" is quite a simple motto; those who have adopted it are living proof that the impossible becomes possible, through our persistence and God’s Grace. With faith and enthusiasm, we can change our way of seeing ourselves, and we can even change the world. But to think that we can do it on our own is simply an illusion. By surrendering to higher forces, and following our Guru’s teachings, miracles happen.
In my opinion, Sri Chinmoy is the prophet of a new era. His vision for the world, his vision for individuals and his vision for the future of humanity is altogether simple, optimistic, and holistic. He sees us all as one: East or West, North or South, people of different creeds and colours, languages or beliefs. To each and every person, he basically offers the same message: work for a oneness-world and aim to transcend human barriers. The invitation is there: he wants us to achieve God-realization. He reminds us of our journey’s goal: God wants each and every one of us to become another God, as he reminds us in one of his 23,000+ songs:
God has come down
To become another man.
Man has gone up
To become another God.
How can this planet that we inhabit become sacred? Only if each and every one of us becomes a mirror of transcendence, a true reflection of God. For each and every one walking, running or flying on the path of Infinity, Sri Chinmoy has a simple message:
We are the Pilgrims of the Lord Supreme
On the Path of Infinity.
At this time we have broken asunder
Obstruction's door.
We have broken asunder the night
Of tenebrous darkness, inconscience
And the eternal, indomitable fear of death.
The Boat of the supernal Light's Dawn
Is beckoning us,
And the World-Pilot
Of the hallowed bond of Love Divine
Is beckoning us.
The Liberator's Hands are drawing us
To the Ocean of the great Unknown.
Having conquered the life-breath
Of the Land of Immortality,
And carrying aloft the Banner
Of the Lord Supreme,
We shall return:
We, the drops and flames
Of Transformation-Light.
Needless to say, none of them had foreseen the coronavirus.
