by Nayana
New York

The first time I saw Guru was at NYU Law School, where he was lecturing. I was sitting at the back of the room, and couldn't hear (or at least understand) a word he was saying. But something inside of me seemed to leap out and fly to him, with great intensity, crying "Father! Father! Father!" It was as if my soul, seeing its spiritual Father for the first time in this incarnation, was seeking solace and protection from the idiot who was making such a mess of her own life.

Despite this experience, because of problems in my outer life, I was not yet ready to become a disciple, and I spent some time exploring different ways of meditating, including Sufi dancing. One day, at the end of a seminar, the Sufi Master Pir Vilayat Khan announced, "If any of you want to meet a real spiritual Master, Sri Chinmoy will be offering his annual New Year's Meditation" at such-and-such a time and place.

The New Year's Meditation was a powerful experience. I began attending the Saturday evening meditations for new seekers, which were then held in disciples' apartments in Manhattan. At one of these sessions, those who wanted to become disciples were invited to have a short, private interview with Guru.

During my interview, I explained to Guru that, although I felt he was my spiritual teacher, I also felt much respect for Pir Vilayat Khan. With great patience, Guru told me, "You have to know who your spiritual Father is, and who your spiritual Uncle is." Guru elaborated at length how there are many valid paths to the Goal, but how we must follow only the path meant for us.

At the end of his answer, I felt a bit mischievous and, only because I knew that my all-loving spiritual Father would allow me, I piped in, "But can I still go Sufi dancing?"

"Fine, fine," he said, realising that although I said I was 22, I still had the emotional make-up of a 14-year-old.

Once I knew that I could go Sufi dancing, I never had the desire to go, and I explored my new spiritual path with enthusiasm and intensity.

On September 9, 2007, 59-year-old Vijaya Claxton became the oldest American woman to swim across the English Channel, completing the swim in just under 22½ hours. This story is taken from a talk Vijaya gave to Sri Chinmoy and his students one week later, as well as reminiscences from her assistants Bahula, Sahana and Nilima.

Vijaya: this was my fourth attempt to swim the English Channel. First, I have to say I love the Channel. Second, I am eternally grateful for this opportunity because it is such a remarkable experience. It gives you the opportunity to transcend; you have no choice.

One thing I wanted to do, since this was my fourth attempt and, hopefully, the successful one, was to re-read Guru’s talks on the Channel given to other swimmers who had not succeeded in their initial attempts. What struck me was his use of the word ‘Grace’ and the idea of making the mind calm and quiet: ‘no mind’. I remember reading over and over again that Grace is so powerful, it can change the tide, so I was really relying on Grace and ‘no mind’.

The first aspect of Grace that happened for me this time was that the UN sent me to a meeting in Brindisi, Italy, in June, and I could then stay in Europe, because the tide for my swim was in July. This enabled me to have unfettered training for about three weeks. I went to nearby Croatia, and a UN colleague and her remarkable family put me up while I swam every day in the Adriatic Sea, which was about 20 metres from where I slept. It was just incredible training.

Then I went to England, and another aspect of Grace occurred: a very sweet person who has swum the Channel twice and is a good friend, Laura, offered me a place to stay in her house in Canterbury. So I rented a car and, from Canterbury, drove down to Dover where I trained in the harbour each day.

It was fun staying in Canterbury, and Laura also took me to France, where I could see the infinite possibilities of where I might land.

Then my brother, Keith, came from California and Bhitihara came from New York to be on the boat as the crew. My scheduled tide was the 20th through the 29th of July. We got totally ready for the 20th, but I was the fourth scheduled swimmer, so it was not necessarily a sure thing that I would have a chance to swim. As it turns out, the weather was so bad that none of those swimmers got to swim.“

So I came back to New York, and in September, I was in touch with Alison and Freda Streeter. For those of you who don’t know, Alison and her mother, Freda, are like the heart and soul of Channel swimming. Guru lifted them while we were in Australia a few years ago, in 2003. Alison has the world record for the most crossings of the Channel: 43 times. She had actually said that the 40th swim was the final swim for her, and I was lucky enough to be on that boat with her. Then after Guru lifted her, she said, ‘Well, maybe I’ll swim some more,’ so she did the Channel three more times.1

Freda, her mother, is incredibly self-giving. She’s on the beach every Saturday and Sunday during the season, and trains who ever shows up. They send you into the water for six hours, and you come out every hour. Someone’s there to feed you, and Freda’s there saying, ‘Go back in the water.’ They’re really, really a presence in Channel swimming. I can’t imagine it without them.

Alison and Freda had said to call when the first tide came up, which was the 4th of September. I called them just before that weekend, and they said, ‘Oh, it’s looking good. Think about training very little this weekend. You might be on a plane Sunday or Monday.’ The tide actually started on Tuesday, so I didn’t train much that weekend; I did about half of what I usually did.

Then I called Alison again, and she said, ‘Oh, sorry, looks really bad. It doesn’t look like anyone’s going to go. How do you feel about mid-September? How do you feel about October?’“ I conveyed that to Guru, and his only advice was not to swim if the weather was bad.

Then a day went by, and I thought, ‘Why don’t I just call them again?’“ I was supposed to swim with Neil, Freda’s son and Alison’s brother, as my pilot, but he had booked too many people, it seems. This time when I called, Alison said, ‘Maybe we could give you another pilot. How fast can you get here?’ This was Tuesday, so Wednesday night Bahula and I were on a plane. Thursday we arrived, and Laura very graciously put both Bahula and me up. Then Friday I went into Dover just to swim. I hadn’t been in cold water for a month, so I was a little nervous. When we got back to Canterbury Friday night, Freda called and said, ‘Mate, you’re going tomorrow.’

Bahula: Only on the evening of the second day did we find out that Vijaya’s swim would begin the following morning. Sahana Gero, who would be joining us on the escort boat, was still at her flat in London at the time. She had to drive for more than two hours in the middle of the night, and arrived in Dover with little time to spare. That morning Cliff Golding, a Channel swimmer and Vijaya’s good friend, came in his van to transport us and our gear to the Western Docks, treating us to his favourite amusing song about swimming the English Channel while en route. When we arrived, who was waiting for us in the marina’s parking lot but Vijaya’s beloved trainer Freda!

Vijaya: I was to go with a different pilot whom I’d never met named Eddie Spelling. We were up quite late trying to get the boxes together. As luck would have it, I could not sleep, not at all. So I had about two hours’ sleep on the plane, and then Thursday night I slept, and Friday night I didn’t sleep at all.

At 7:00 in the morning, we were on our way to the dock, getting a ride with Cliff Golding. Freda met us there, and I was very grateful that she had come to wish us well. Sahana came from London, and she was to take photos and video. Bahula and Laura were going to do the feeds, which would be every 30 minutes.

Then I met the pilot, Eddie, and he was so sweet. I don’t know what Freda said to him, but it was clear the man had a mandate to get me to France. He looked at me, and he actually bowed. It was really kind of cute, and he said, ‘Well, Freda told me a little bit about you.’“I said to myself, ‘I don’t know what she told you, but okay.’ I let him know that I wanted to meditate before I took off, and he said, ‘Fine, meditate as long as you want. Just lift your arm when you’re ready.’

Then we all got on the boat, and I got greased up. They were putting the decorations up, including a photo of Guru meditating and another of him swimming, and Sahana had brought some garlands to put around the photos.

Some of Vijaya's favourite poems of Sri Chinmoy that her helpers placed around the boat:

Daring enthusiasm and abiding cheerfulness
Can accomplish everything on earth
Without fail.

Just make tremendous progress
And tremendous improvement
In your own life.
Others will definitely be inspired
By the result.

I accept no limits
Because I come from
The limitless One.

Sri Chinmoy

We went out of the harbour into Shakespeare Beach. I jumped out of the boat, swam into the shore, and then stood on the dry land. Then when I was done meditating, I lifted my arm and went into the water.

Bahula: Vijaya was absolutely radiant and all smiles. The time had come. As the boat pulled away from its berth in the marina, Freda and Cliff waved from the shore.

With three decks, the Anastasia was quite a change from the Aegean Blue, as we were much higher above the water. On the rear deck, which was the highest, the movement of the wind and waves seemed to be amplified. The height of the boat also meant a different approach to feeding was needed. The first mate - ‘Scotch Dave’ - jumped right in with a demonstration. He had fashioned a ‘fishing reel’ system, with a very long cord tightly secured to the neck of a sports bottle, just under its pop-up cap. On the other end, the string could be released easily and then rewrapped around the reel to prevent it from becoming tangled. We had tried a system similar to this in earlier years, but Dave’s ingenuity made all the difference. ‘Let me show you how, luv,’ he said, grabbing the bottle and tossing it into the water like an American football. After a few tries, I felt like a National Football League quarterback throwing a touchdown pass, bringing my arm back and, with a snap, tossing it to land in easy reach of Vijaya almost every time.

Sahana was shooting video, although after driving most of the night and being able to apply the scopolamine patch only at the last minute, she looked a bit exhausted and ‘green around the gills’. But a little seasickness did not stop her from getting the excellent footage that served as the only visual record of Vijaya’s swim. Sahana was also in charge of communicating with New York, all along the way giving progress reports for Sri Chinmoy, via Nilima.

Laura was part coach and part cheerleader. Knowing from personal experience the importance of every minute and every stroke, Laura wanted to ensure that Vijaya did not waste a second. Whenever Vijaya raised her head out of the water to look around, Laura would lean over the railing, shouting, ‘Swim, swim!’

Vijaya: I wasn’t sure of the time because I had decided that this was going to be a meditative swim, where I would keep my mind calm and quiet and invoke God’s Grace and Guru’s spiritual strength. So I didn’t wear a watch, and I wore earplugs– it would take a sonic boom to get through those earplugs, so if they said anything to me, for the most part I didn’t hear them.“The water was a little rough, and right away I had stomach problems and felt nauseous. I wasn’t having an easy time of it, and I fed the fish a little. Then at one point, I said, ‘You know, I’d like to take some Dramamine,’ which is actually a lethal thing because it knocks you out. It’s what I’ve always taken before, and I think it’s been an impediment to being successful. At the time, they looked at one another, talked it over with the pilot, and decided, ‘You know, she hasn’t had any sleep. We don’t want to give her this because we think it will make her drowsier.’ I didn’t know that they had given me a placebo. I was actually being so dutiful, and I bit it in half, thinking, ‘I don’t want to be sleepy, but I just don’t want to throw up anymore.

Bahula: For hours, we watched Vijaya intensely. Laura was like a worried mother. In between loudly cheering on Vijaya, in an ‘aside’ tone of voice Laura would say to me, ‘She needs to get on with it! She’s fussing about out there!’ I replied, ‘Laura, I know this look. Vijaya is feeling seasick.’ Shortly there after Vijaya began vomiting, sometimes violently. It was painful and heart-wrenching to watch, but we were afraid to give her Dramamine, which can cause drowsiness.

Nilima: At the weekly Saturday morning two-mile race, Sri Chinmoy asked if I would call Vijaya’s boat on my cell phone to see how she was doing at that moment, and thus began my task as Channel liaison. After speaking to Sahana on the boat, I conveyed to the Master that Vijaya was quite strong, but was having trouble with nausea and seasickness. Shortly after that, I heard back that Vijaya’s seasickness had disappeared.

Vijaya: I think I was finally okay after Sahana, who was our communicator, relayed the information on how I was doing back to Guru in New York, via Nilima. At that time I think that Grace came and relieved me of that particular anguish, and I just started swimming without that problem.

It was an incredible swim because, by quieting the mind, I really was just invoking Guru’s meditative presence with every stroke. It was a very personal, very deep experience, and I was full of gratitude. At one point I looked up, and they were putting garlands around the photos, and it was very beautiful. And the co-pilot – he was a bit of a character – was running around with the garlands all over him while he was helping them put them on the pictures, and that gave me some joy, just to see that they were up there having fun.

But for the most part, I had my head down and I was just swimming, and really having this lovely, beautiful meditation, never once doubting that I would get to France.

Nilima: After the race, the Master wrote a race prayer as part of a series that he composed weekly. I was happy when I realized that it had a swimming theme, so I conveyed the prayer to the boat. Sri Chinmoy also set tune to the prayer, as he often did, and Tanima Bossart, an excellent singer and musician, later taught the song to Sahana and Bahula over the phone, and they sang it for Vijaya as she was swimming. The prayer reads:

My Lord Supreme,
No more will You suffer
For my sake.
My life has stopped swimming
In ignorance-lake

Fortunately, Sri Chinmoy was usually very accessible on Saturdays, from the morning race, to afternoon and then evening gatherings with disciples at Aspiration-Ground. He was frequently asking what Vijaya’s situation was, so I did not have to feel that I was intruding on his privacy. Each time he was informed of a problem, the next thing I heard was that it had been resolved, as was the case with Vijaya’s early nausea. It was as if he was already aware of each difficulty, and was taking action to solve the problem on the spiritual level, even as he was asking us for information.

Bahula: As the hours clipped by, Vijaya swam on. We sang; we timed her strokes. I prepared feeds in the galley and marched up and down the two sets of narrow wooden stairs that led between the lower and the top deck. As night fell, the wind began to pick up. The air became chilly and damp, and we donned our jackets. A new and improved system for watching swimmers at night had been introduced since our last trip. Vijaya was wearing a bright red battery-operated flashing light, which could be seen from quite far away, and which shone through the water if a large wave came up.

She still had a strong tendency to swim away from the boat, and this problem became quite pronounced at night. Once you are in the middle of the Channel, there is very little ambient light. Lights from the distant coast seem more like stars. The colour of the water and the sky seems to range from black to blacker. There are a few lights from other boats on the water, and a soft glow from the navigation instruments in the cabin. In the quiet of the night, in the vast expanse of water, you can hear the lapping of the waves against the boat. It is beautiful, with almost a hypnotic effect.

Eddie thought that Vijaya might be having difficulty seeing the Anastasia from the water and judging the distance. So he brought out a super-bright spotlight and asked us to shine it along the line where he wanted Vijaya to swim, hopefully helping her to maintain the right distance from the boat. When we first tried to do this, Vijaya looked a bit confused, asking: ‘Why are you shining that light in my eyes?’ After a little time to adjust, however, this seemed to work pretty well. Laura, Sahana and I stood together on the top deck, taking turns watching, holding the spotlight, and throwing feeds into the water.

Vijaya still looked strong. She was maintaining her form, and although her stroke did not have a fast turnover, she seemed to be getting ‘purchase’ out of each pull of her arm - a testament to her weight training.

Vijaya: Then night came, and it was different from my previous swims when I would always say, ‘Oh, night, oh no!’ I don’t see too well at night, and I have a little difficulty following the boat. This time I embraced it, and I thought, ‘Well, this is going to be when I finish, so I’m embracing the evening because at some point in the evening I’m going to finish.’“

Somehow I didn’t make it into shore at Calais. I was noticing that on my left there was shore, and my mind was saying, ‘Hmmm, why aren’t we going towards the shore?’ Then I realised that the tide was taking me along the shore.

Bahula: After a while, Vijaya and her boat seemed to be approaching the French shore. A dense black shape – the shadow of one of the cliffs – seemed to be moving closer. We were feeding Vijaya at half-hour intervals. On my next trip to the galley, Eddie had thrilling news: ‘She’s getting close, maybe only an hour more, it won’t be long now. Since the timing is tight, after this feed, hold off on the next one.’“

But somehow, even with the precious time that should have been saved from skipping a feed, Vijaya seemed to be losing ground. Eddie suggested we encourage her to push harder in the water, to try to go faster. Vijaya looked up at us and said ‘I am already swimming as hard as I can!’ Then, at her next feed, Vijaya added, ‘I can’t breathe.’ O my God! I knew she was exhausted – and I had also heard that after long periods of lying flat in salt water, the salt can enter into a swimmer’s mucous membranes and lungs and cause them to swell. Sahana relayed this problem to New York by phone. In the meantime, Laura and I anxiously wondered if it would it be okay to give Vijaya an antihistamine tablet now. We were afraid of making her drowsy, but breathing difficulties sounded infinitely worse!

Vijaya: The sequence of events might be a little mushy here, but for a long time I was having trouble breathing. Laura in particular was really yelling, ‘Swim, swim!’ and I was panting because my throat was closing up. The body’s very interesting. It found a way to close my nasal passages and my throat so that the salt water couldn’t get in, but the problem was neither could air. When I would turn to draw for air, it wasn’t enough, and I would have to stop and just try to get some air in. Then finally I communicated this to the boat, and I said, ‘Give me an antihistamine, please.’ I think Sahana got the message back to New York very quickly, so with the Grace, along with the antihistamine, just like that I could breathe.

Bahula: After Vijaya took the antihistamine tablet, her breathing seemed to ease somewhat. Once again, Eddie reported that Vijaya was doing well and that we seemed to be moving into shore with the tide. But soon, Eddie was back – to tell us that an opposing current was picking up. It was critical, he said, that Vijaya get past the tide before it changed, because if she was pulled down the coast by the next tide, it would mean hours and hours of swimming.„

Sahana: Vijaya had been swimming parallel to the French coast because she could not break through the tides and get to shore. Finally, we saw the lighthouse which signalled the end of the coast. The pilot came out and said, ‘Whatever you guys do –praying or singing – do whatever you guys do. But if she misses that lighthouse, then there’s nothing I can do. She’s in the open sea, and we’ll have to pull her out.’“

Vijaya: Then they said: ‘Swim hard!’ The only way I can describe my final push is ‘messy’. In a very messy way, I just pushed with everything I had. I know I was definitely swallowing a lot of water, but it didn’t matter. I was just going as fast as I could.

Nilima: After the evening function, there was a small gathering of disciples at Sri Chinmoy’s house. I spent most of the time on the cell phone, keeping the Master abreast of her progress during the last hour or so. Everything was touch and go, with the real possibility – although Vijaya was very near the shore and swimming her hardest – that the tide could sweep her backout to sea. I could hear the crew members screaming, ‘Swim! Swim faster! Go, go!’“ When I told Sri Chinmoy of Vijaya’s dire predicament, he meditated deeply for a few minutes and then gave an enigmatic smile. As the disciples left to go home, I felt that he continued to concentrate on the situation.

Sahana: Vijaya had been fighting and fighting for nearly 22 hours and now everything was very, very close. At any moment she could be thrown into the open sea. Within minutes of Sri Chinmoy’s being informed, the pilot came out and said, ‘I can’t believe what just happened. The current changed direction. We’re putting the dinghy out.’“ When the dinghy goes out, you know the swimmer has made it. Since the larger boat cannot go all the way into shore, the dinghy accompanies the swimmer for the last 15 or 20minutes. Vijaya was finally able to break through the tide and was on her way to the shore. Hardly ever in my life have I felt such a real, concrete victory!

Vijaya: Then at some point, I just felt like looking up. The boat was far away, but I could see that they were lowering the dinghy. And I thought, ‘Ah! Oooh! Wait a minute! This could be land.’Indeed, it was. The co-pilot, Dave, got in the dinghy, and he came over and guided me into the shore. The sky was cloudy, and it was getting light, and I thought, ‘Wow, the moon is so luminous on the French shore.’ And then I realised, ‘You know, this could be dawn.’“And indeed it was, and the beach was beautiful. It wasWissant Beach. I felt sand. I fell a few times, and then I stood on the French shore and looked out. And I was all gratitude.

Bahula: By now it was around 5 am. The dawn was just beginning to break. In a few minutes, first mate Dave was scrambling down the ladder and putting a small dinghy into the water, paddling alongside Vijaya and explaining that he would row to the beach and bring her back to the boat. While Vijaya still had a few minutes to go, the celebrations on the boat began. We were calling everyone and laughing and, at the same time, crying with delight. Vijaya swam onto the sandy Wissant Beach and stood up on the shore. It was a soulful, glorious and unforgettable moment.

Returning from Wissant Beach back to the Anastasia in the dinghy, after having swum for 22 hours and 27 minutes in cold water, Vijaya climbed the ladder to the top deck of the boat, shivering all the while. Laura was the first to greet her, squeezing her tight in a huge bear hug, wrapping her in a dry towel and then in a down jacket and warm hat. After congratulations were exchanged all around, we tumbled down to the seating area on the middle deck of the boat. There was not quite room for everyone, but after a bit of food and warm drinks for Vijaya, we all collapsed onto the boat’s benches and fell into an exhausted sleep. After our refreshing nap on the return trip from France to England, the Anastasia pulled into the Dover marina, with her precious cargo of a newly minted English Channel swimmer.

Vijaya’s friends and admirers were waiting at the dock to congratulate and welcome her with open arms. On this sparkling Sunday morning, Freda and Ali, Cliff, and Kevin Murphy, known as the King of the Channel with 34 successful solo crossings, and his wife, all turned out. Their heartfelt and sincere admiration for Vijaya was obvious. Ali hugged Vijaya, shook her hand, and said, ‘Welcome to the club, Vijaya!’ and added ‘Another one for Sri Chinmoy!’“And Freda asked, ‘What is going to happen now, Vijaya? How is Channel swimming going to survive without you coming over?’

Sahana: Vijaya’s heart became part and parcel of the Channel. She totally embraced the whole Channel swimming world, and the Channel community also embraced her. She was larger than life. It was different for her than for many other swimmers who had easily succeeded on their first try. Vijaya had always said she was not the fastest swimmer. But to have the patience and stamina to swim for that long, to me, shows she was truly amazing.

Sri Chinmoy's comments after Vijaya's talk:

“Marvelous, marvelous, marvelous, Vijaya! Bravo, bravo,Vijaya! Bravo, bravo, bravo, bravo!

I can only say this much: concern is not a mere dictionary word. Concern can be a reality of the heart. In my case, concern was a reality of the heart for Vijaya’s swim, not a mere dictionary word. I offered tremendous, tremendous concern for her victory.

• 1. In honouring awardees with the “Lifting Up the World with a Oneness-Heart" award, Sri Chinmoy would physically lift them overhead, as they stood on a ceremonial platform attached to a weightlifting apparatus.

Considering that I stumbled into this world as a fourth-generation atheist, who would have predicted a future for me on a spiritual path? My immigrant grandmother had never been exposed to the world of spirituality, nor had my mother, who arrived in America when she was all of six months old.

One summer day in the summer camp I ran with my husband in Glen Wild I was visited by an old violist friend, Sol Montlack, whom I hadn’t seen in several years. I recalled that the last time I had seen him, he had been with another spiritual group. A friend had told him of my new interest in yoga. He was no longer with that group or any of the many other groups he had tried. He said, "I have found a Guru who is everything I have been looking for. His name is Chinmoy." He pronounced Chinmoy so that it sounded Chinese. The thought raced through my mind that I would meet his Guru and that he would be my Guru, which surprised me. I was not even sure what a Guru was.

I learned that my old friend Sol was now Dulal, meaning 'favourite son', the spiritual name given him by Sri Chinmoy. He also was president of the Aum Centre, as the Sri Chinmoy Centre was known in the early days. At the end of summer camp, the conversation with Dulal flashed through my mind and, with a feeling of great urgency, I phoned him and said, "I’d like to meet your Guru." Dulal mentioned that he had shown me Guru’s picture at the camp. Although I had no recollection of that, I learned later that when you see a picture of the spiritual Master who is meant for you, the bond may be established then and there. I do believe it was!

I was living in Westchester at the time, but Thursday happened to be the one day of the week that I regularly went into Manhattan for a Spanish dance class. Luckily, it was also the day Guru held meditations for seekers in Manhattan. The following Thursday after my dance lesson I tucked away my castanets and Spanish shoes and, sweaty clothes and all, grabbed a cab and made it crosstown just in time for meditation with Guru.

My first meditation at the AUM Centre

September 21, 1967

I climbed four flights of stairs in an old brownstone building on East 84th Street to a small railroad flat apartment. This was the early home of the Aum Centre and its young Guru. Everyone sat in the living room, most of us on chairs, and a few on a sofa against the side wall. The room was filled with the delicious aroma of incense and a small shelf in one corner held a flickering electric candle. The Guru stood with folded hands in front of us. The silence was profound. I had already been meditating for over a year on my own, so I closed my eyes and turned inward to enjoy the peace that I felt in this room.

After a few minutes, my eyes flew open spontaneously to find Sri Chinmoy standing right in front of me with a small flower in his folded hands. He looked at me with a warm otherworldly smile and gently put the flower into my hands. As he placed his hands over mine, I felt a thrilling vibration flow through my whole being.

Then he turned to a tray of flowers held by an ethereal woman, whose name I soon learned was Alo Devi. I watched him as he moved about the room offering a flower to each meditator. I had no idea that this was the beginning of a 45-year blessing for this former atheist!

Guru then sat cross-legged with folded hands and meditated with us some more. When the meditation was over and everyone had gone home, Dulal introduced me to Guru, who bowed humbly. In my naïveté, I asked Guru if I could have an interview with him. He very kindly offered to speak with me on the following Thursday after the meditation. Some time later I learned that one usually did not obtain an interview until they had been attending meditation for several months. But Guru was all kindness to this new ignoramus.