MY TRIPS TO INDIA
Welcome and thank you for watching this fourth episode of My Spiritual Journey, which spans the next 11 years from the age of 37 to 48. We dive into this extraordinary chapter of my life, which is called My Trips to India.
Our business underwent a significant relocation 450 kilometers north. We acquired two 25 acre properties, one for my mother and another for ourselves. These properties were acquired in their undeveloped state, lacking even a basic road for access. For the initial two and a half years, we endured a lack of electricity, relying solely on rainwater and a primitive camp shower suspended from a tree sheltered by a tarpaulin. Throughout the winter, the temperature plummeted to chilling levels, often reaching as low as 3 degrees, and sometimes 1 degree Celsius. The gusty cold winds reached certain areas of my body, which was particularly distressing, leaving lasting impressions in my memory.
Despite the challenging circumstances, my spiritual inclination remained steadfast, driving me to immerse myself in extensive readings about my prospective spiritual teacher. Even after the events depicted in the previous episode, my enthusiasm for acquiring knowledge remained unwavering.
Upon settling in our new property, peculiar occurrences began to unfold. I started noticing lights emanating from within the bushes. Displaying an array of vibrant colours, green, red, white, and blue. I attempted to approach them stealthily, which proved futile, and they eluded me time and time again. During the visit of a close friend, who was staying with us in his caravan, a haunting incident took place. In the early hours of the morning, he was frantically knocking on our door, visibly pale. He awoke to find a green, glowing ball, floating halfway up his caravan wall, about the size of a tennis ball. Yet, by the time we arrived at the scene, the light had vanished. We also occasionally experienced the bewildering phenomenon of spectacular pink lightning, an occurrence I had never encountered before. It became evident that we inhabited an environment charged with heightened energy.
Following is the dream I had which finally convinced me to make a pilgrimage to India. In this dream, I was washing dishes alongside an older version of myself. A conversation revolved around my future teacher in India, when unexpectedly, my older self turned to me and emphatically suggested that I should embark on a journey there. I observed that my older self bore the absence of a front tooth. Interestingly, this dream foreshadowed an incident that unfolded approximately 30 years later. While unloading groceries from my car, an unfortunate incident led me to the loss of my front tooth. I dropped something and instinctively went to catch it, resulting in me hitting my mouth on the corner of the car door, which loosened my tooth, which I, eventually, lost.
I found myself contemplating whether my future self-possessed the capacity to offer guidance to my present day self from 30 years into the future. Which I am inclined to believe that such a connection could be a possibility, or it could be a guide taking my future self's form to give me advice.
Driven by an unwavering resolve. I promptly made the decision to undertake the trip to India, setting in motion a series of adverse events that severely tested my determination. Challenges emerged from all directions. My significant other conveyed an ultimatum to me, stating that if I were to embark on this journey, she would not be here when I returned. However, I reasserted my intention to proceed, despite the potential consequences. Adding to the string of hardships, our generator unexpectedly blew up, necessitating a replacement that would amount to the sum of $1, 460. Remarkably, this sum was exactly the same cost of my return flight to India. Predictably, my partner concluded that this twist of fate signified the termination of my intended trip.
I remained resolute, undeterred by the challenges that presented themselves. The next challenge arose when I visited the post office to renew my passport. The postmaster had to certify my identity. He inexplicably refused, citing insufficient usage of his establishment. A two-year patronage apparently fell short of meeting his criteria. While I was trying to explain this abrupt turn of events. He transformed into an aggressive individual, hurling abusive language in my direction. I stood there bewildered, completely stunned, attempting to comprehend the sudden shift in his behaviour. This spectacle unfolded before a captive audience within the shop. . Remarkably, I maintained an unexpected composure throughout this ordeal. Eventually, he rose from his seat, storming towards the exit, demanding my departure. As I made my exit, I leaned in close, eye to eye, and calmly whispered two words that encapsulated my sentiments towards him. The first word commenced with You. I'll leave the next one to your imagination. I eventually managed to renew my passport through alternative means.
Clearly, the universe was challenging the depths of my commitment to this undertaking. On one hand, I experienced a palpable excitement as I prepared to embark on this journey. Yet, a sense of unease accompanied my venture into an unfamiliar country. I need not have worried, as I was helped and guided throughout the entire trip. The reality of my decision struck me with great force during the layover in Singapore. Transitioning from a state of the art Qantas aircraft to an ageing Air India plane, I found myself seated next to a young Indian man, who inquired about my destination. Upon learning of my intentions. He revealed that my spiritual teacher was a renowned figure known to many. Upon arrival, he went above and beyond to provide me with unwavering support, arranging transportation, and imparting invaluable advice.
The next day at the ashram marked my first encounter with the spiritual teacher during Darshan, where he walked among the crowd. It is widely believed by some that the moment you lay eyes upon your spiritual teacher, a profound connection is established. Reinforcing your compatibility with him is unmistakable. In my case, the instant he emerged, I experienced an inexplicable certainty, that he was the one meant for me. It was a deep inner knowing. Given the series of vivid dreams and inexplicable occurrences, I had previously encountered, and infused with a heightened sense of spirituality. I anticipated a warm reception upon my arrival. To my dismay, I found myself entirely ignored. This was the first real dive into the area of self-transformation or introspection, the beginning of a whole new journey. I was to stay at the Ashram for a duration of three weeks. A growing sense of discontent began to permeate my being. I knew something was wrong, that I must have erred somewhere. Something felt profoundly amiss. This definitely marked the inception of a new phase in my spiritual journey, one characterised by introspection and self-examination. I acknowledged that upon my initial arrival at the ashram, I had yet to transform into the person I have become today, and I still have a long way to go. I was young and immature in a number of ways.
To participate in Darshan, everyone had to assemble outside in arranged rows. The individual positioned at the front of each row drew a numbered token from a bag, ranging from one to the total number of rows. Naturally, the hope was to secure a low number, granting a very close proximity to the spiritual teacher within the Darshan area. Numerous individuals, myself included, composed letters addressed to him, hopefully that he would take them. Regrettably, my attempts were met with silence as he continued to ignore my existence. With each passing day, my concerns and agitation grew, leaving me to rewrite my letter repeatedly, searching for the elusive words that might resonate with him. As my final Darshan approached, I had booked a taxi ride to the airport for 10. 30am. I commenced my descent towards the Darshan lines. I still had a massive sense of unease, something was still not right. About halfway to the lines, I turned around and went back to my bed, and wrote a new letter, which consisted of a solitary one sentence of six words. Hurrying, I returned to the lines, finding myself assigned to row 17 and seated approximately 10 meters from the front. My last Darshan was going to be a miserable failure. While disappointment washed over me, I immersed myself in contemplation. Striving to discern the nature of my missteps. As I sat there, engulfed in introspection and self-pity, he appeared before me ten meters away, resting my arm upon my knee, I listlessly held my letter in the air. It was then that he met my gaze, beckoning me to approach and surrender my letter. Rising to my feet, I navigated through a number of lines of individuals, eventually reaching him to surrender my letter. Instantly, my despondency transformed into one of sheer exhilaration. The lesson I learned from this trip and others was to leave my ego at the Ashram gate before entering. This was nothing compared to the test I had to go through seven years later, when I had my first face-to-face communication with him. As mentioned earlier, this marked the genesis of a new phase in my spiritual journey, a path characterised by self development and self discovery, one that I continue to traverse until this very day. What an extraordinary odyssey it has been, my friends.
Over the years, going to the ashram. I have observed numerous instances throughout the years. Where he would take people's letters, extract the letter from the envelope, and throw it back at them, and retain the envelope. He would crumble up letters, or simply disregard them. Naturally, I became intrigued by the contents of these letters, wondering what individuals had written within them. Believe me, I understood exactly how they felt. Gradually, I began to recognise his unique teaching style. He would draw us close, impart his teachings, and then send us out into the world to live our lives so that we would embody and apply what we had learnt. Once we embark on the path of spirituality, we find ourselves unable to halt its progression. Learning becomes a major part of our journey, whether we choose it consciously, or whether the universe orchestrates circumstances that compels us to learn through sorrow, pain, and anguish, ultimately realigning us with our spiritual path. The swifter we embrace learning, the smoother the journey becomes, and we are graced with invaluable insights along the way. Over the years, my conditioned self has endured considerable pain, but also I have been blessed with profound grace, which far outweighs the tribulations I have encountered. Once we are on the path, We are given signs of our progression, which keeps us interested and focused.
Throughout my 16 trips to India, I found myself protected amidst riots, airline strikes, and even an outbreak of the bubonic plague, the Black Death. Nevertheless, nothing could deter me from embarking on these journeys. Nor could anything hinder my insatiable quest for knowledge. This steadfast mindset has come to define a significant portion of my life.
-Now, let me delve into a few of the experiences I encountered during this period. The pilgrimage to the Ashram evoked a profound sense of spiritual significance. As someone who had rarely possessed any surplus funds. I was determined to make the most of this opportunity.
Dreams have played a pivotal role in my spiritual journey. In one dream, I stood atop a mountain, surrounded by thousands of dilapidated rusty car bodies, stacked high upon each other. Among this scene, an elderly hunchback approached me, forcefully informing me that I was not permitted to be here. I stood my ground and equally forcefully assured him of my rightful place, and he walked off. This dream symbolises individuals who have ascended to the summit, completed their earthly journey. And transcended to higher realms, leaving their physical bodies behind. In another dream, I found myself nervously peering over the edge of a towering mountain summit. It was like gazing out of a window from a 30, 000 foot high airliner. That was how high this mountain was. Suddenly, my teacher materialised from nowhere, seized my hair at the crown of my head, and pulled me out over the edge. Overwhelmed with terror, I screamed as he carried me out over the edge into the air. Upon awakening, I sensed this dream signified the initiation of a new phase of personal growth and development, and involved a massive leap of faith into the unknown. Which I had no choice in doing.
In yet another dream, I discover myself within a cavern near the mountaintop, constructing an aircraft in preparation for takeoff. This dream also symbolises my preparing for the forthcoming stage of my spiritual journey. Ascending to the next level of understanding, and learning.
One particularly vivid dream entailed traversing an expansive cave until I reached its end. There, embedded within the wall, I noticed diamonds and gems. Motivated by curiosity, I picked up a pick and began chipping away at the wall, which eventually crumbled, revealing an adjoining chamber. As I stepped inside, I beheld walls adorned with jewels and at the centre of the room stood a pedestal, supporting a large book. Drawn to it, I opened the book and commenced reading. It became apparent that this chamber contained my records, chronicles documenting my past incarnations and experiences. Each individual possesses their own unique book, commonly referred to as the Akashic Records.
This next event unfolded on one of my trips at Christmas. During this festive season, the entire Ashram was entrusted to us Westerners, the majority of whom identified as Christians. We were granted priority when it came to queuing for darshan in the mornings and evenings. We had our own lines for the tokens and went in first. On Christmas Day, I found myself seated in row number one and thinking, no one receives number one on Christmas Day, on this holy morning, without a reason. Little did I realise how accurate my intuition would prove to be. Positioned right at the front. As he approached, he veered towards me, and his robes brushed against my knees as he passed. At that moment, an intense flush of energy coursed through my entire being, causing instant discomfort and excessive heat.
Later that day, I attended a speech and a nativity play in the main hall, which was packed with a few thousand attendees. As he commenced his discourse, an unwell sensation began to grip me. Intensifying as the conversation progressed. My vitality waned rapidly, and I struggled to maintain an upright posture. My energy dissipated entirely, and all I desired was to lay down and sleep. At one point our eyes met, and silently I pleaded, please grant me the energy to endure this. To which he responded by shaking his head from side to side, indicating a denial. Eventually, an intermission arrived, prompting my retreat to my bed, where I remained for the ensuing two weeks. I started experiencing massive throbbing headaches. And persistent nausea. Once again, the signs of spiritual sickness were upon me. The headaches increased with the rising of the sun in the morning and marginally subsided at night. They were so severe that the veins on my temples protruded. And I even began to bleed from my left nostril. My food intake dwindled to small cartons of fruit juice and headache pills.
Nonetheless, I persisted in attending the darshans each morning and afternoon. On one such afternoon, as I readied myself for darshan, his voice resounded within my mind, instructing me, leave your watch behind. I heeded the directive, sliding my watch beneath my pillow, before descending to the Darshan lines. I knew something was going to happen. And as I stood there contemplating which line to join, his voice gently reminded me, who do you think chooses the tokens? I do, he said, and each person occupies their designated position that I put them in. I promptly assumed my rightful place in the row I had been standing behind, which happened to be row number one, of course. Once inside and positioned at the front, I watched as he made his way from the women's area, with his gaze fixed upon me. As he drew nearer, he veered to the left when he had reached about a meter in front of me. At the very least, I discerned that he was conveying his awareness of my ongoing situation. That night I dreamt of him, and upon inquiring about my condition, he responded by explaining that he was burning out of me all lingering remnants of past life illness tendencies. Some individuals suggested me seeking medical assistance at the hospital, but I refrained, knowing that no doctor could provide the remedy I required. It took approximately six months after my return to Australia to fully recover from this ordeal.
A major desire shared by all who visit the Ashram is to engage in a one-on-one conversation with him. Some individuals venture to the Ashram alone, while others travel in groups. As it is believed that joining a group enhances the likelihood of such an opportunity. While I typically journeyed alone, occasionally I have accompanied fellow seekers. Each country is distinguishable by its distinctive scarf, serving as a means of identification. Upon arrival at the Ashram, I sought out an Australian group to align myself with, as I always did. As he walks through the crowd during Darshan, he may inquire about the group's origin, and if fortunate, he may instruct them to proceed. This entails ascending to the verandah and occupying a position near the entrance to the interview room. When one member of the group arises and walks, the others follow suit, being identifiable by their scarves. Group sizes vary, ranging from a solitary individual to groups comprising 20, 30 or even more participants.
After interacting with the assembled devotees, he ascends to the verandah, traversing the dignitaries and students from his schools. Eventually, he approaches the line of people seated against the wall and ushers them into the interview room. In a speech, he once mentioned that people entering into that room and even their specific seating arrangement within it had been predetermined 10, 000 years previously. No one knows when an interview will be granted, and various theories abound. Perform this ritual, practice that prayer, but ultimately, they prove fruitless. One can only have an interview if it is meant to be. I have witnessed group members ascending to the verandah, only to be turned away. Some individuals have been attending the Ashram for years without receiving an interview, while others, on their inaugural visit, find themselves granted this privilege and sometimes, they even have multiple interviews. Everyone is different, but nothing happens by chance. Chance plays no role in these occurrences. Everything unfolds with purpose. The journey has been arduous and captivating, filled with awe-inspiring encounters and profound revelations. The Ashram remains a sanctuary of spiritual growth where individuals from all walks of life converge, united in their shared quest for enlightenment. It took me seven years of personal development, contemplation, and hard work to finally have my first interview. The events leading up to and during that pivotal moment are as follows.
During the Shivaratri Festival of 1994, shortly after arriving at the Ashram, I connected with an Australian group. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to bring my own scarf from Australia. As it turned out, everything happens for a reason, and this was one of them. The leader of the Australian group assured me that I could borrow someone else's scarf, since they would be leaving the next morning. It was the eve of Shivaratri and as I sat for darshan, my teacher moved through the crowd. I noticed the group leader standing up, and gesturing for the other members of the Australian group to go up and onto the verandah. I attempted to rise and join them, but a Seva Dal, who was the person who was responsible for maintaining order within the ashram, was sitting next to me. He firmly held my arm and instructed me to remain seated. He pointed out that I couldn't go because I didn't have a scarf. The irony of the situation struck me deeply, and a wave of disappointment washed over me. However, I quickly composed myself and realised that it simply wasn't my time to have an interview yet. As I watched my teacher move among the dignitaries and the pupils on the verandah. He eventually approached the group leader, who was sitting against the wall, and said something to him. The group leader then stood up and walked to the edge of the verandah, surveying the gathering below. I instantly knew he was searching for me, so I waved my notepad, which I used to jot down my thoughts, and he motioned for me to come. Later, when I inquired about what transpired on the verandah, he explained that my teacher had looked up and down the line and remarked. One person is missing. Go fetch. I promptly stood up and made my way to the verandah. There was only one seat left at the front of the line for me. So I swiftly took my place. As I looked up, I beheld a sea of 60, 000 plus faces before me. Their expressions mirrored the same yearning I had felt. Year after year, wishing it was me in that sacred place. It was a profound and humbling experience. Still, my stupid mind wandered, contemplating the possibility of being sent away, like I'd seen a number of times before. My heart sank as I saw his feet just two feet away from me, and I heard him say, Go. Believing I was being sent back, my disappointment grew. When I looked up, I saw a small grin on his face, and he instructed me to go into the interview room. I took a seat directly in front of his chair, approximately two feet away from where he sat. He entered the room, settled down and instantly turned towards me, inquiring if I wanted a gift from Swami. With gratitude, I replied, yes, thank you. He extended his arm in front of me, pulling up his sleeve and revealing his palm facing downward. With a circular motion in the air, he produced a gold ring which came out from the centre of his palm, and just as it dropped, he caught it and reached for my hand. I extended my right hand, but he declined it. Opting instead for my left hand where he placed the ring on my wedding ring finger. This action holds immense symbolism and meaning for me, and as he put the ring on my finger, I distinctly remember how hot it felt.
He asked me a few questions about my experiences in Australia, and offered personal advice before attending to the others in the room. I have heard stories of individuals declining the offer of a gift during their interviews, resulting in them receiving nothing. I had always resolved that if presented with such an opportunity, I would gratefully accept.
The next significant experience occurred one night in my room. Over a span of two hours, I received a program, a personal development course designed for couples to complete together. Its content was so distinct and unique. That I sought confirmation that what I had received was indeed correct. In my room, I spoke aloud to my teacher, expressing the need for assurance regarding the accuracy of the guidance. The following day, I was once again fortunate to pick the number one row. As I sat in the front, he approached, accepting letters from those nearby. He literally came and stood between my crossed knees. And I bowed down, placing my forehead on his feet. It is customary, but frowned upon, for people to reach out and touch his feet as he walks through the crowd. Which is considered a huge blessing, if you manage to touch his feet. I remained in that position with my forehead on his feet for what seemed like an unusually long time. About three minutes. A very extended duration for such an interaction. In all my years, I've never seen one longer. At one point, I raised my head to check what was happening. But I promptly returned my forehead to his feet, as he continued to collect letters. I had received the confirmation I had sought the previous night.
During this journey, I encountered a young man who had travelled from Kerala after meeting a teacher known as the Holy Mother. She whispered something in his ear and instructed him to leave and return later. In obedience, he went outside and experienced an overwhelming transformation. In the middle of a field, beneath the luminous glow of the full moon, he shed his clothes and danced naked, seized by a force beyond his control. When he returned to the Holy Mother, she simply said, lie down, and he promptly fell asleep at her feet. When he awakened, a short time later, she told him to go back to his room and then visit the ashram where I was staying. While I rested my forehead on my teacher's feet, this young man was seated directly behind me. He believed that by placing his hands on my back. He would also absorb the energy I was receiving. However, my teacher spoke directly to him in his thoughts, instructing him, do not touch, for him only. The energy was meant for me alone.
In 1996, I had a second face-to-face interview. The first interview had been filled with joy and affection, but the second was marked by sternness and directness. My teacher questioned my activities in Australia, and when I mentioned I was establishing a new business, He corrected me, stating that I was studying a new business instead. He emphasised the importance of work, urging me to devote myself to it. He said, work now, work, work, work, driving the point home. Also, he told me to always follow my conscience. From that moment on, I dedicated an average of 60 hours per week to my work. Only recently have I scaled back my hours to focus on creating these 5 episodes of my life.
It has been 27 years since that interview, at this point of time. Just before leaving for India, my father fell gravely ill. He had been suffering with cancer for quite a long while. So I went to the hospital and bid my final farewells. I had a premonition that he might not survive the two weeks I would be away. During this interview, I took the opportunity to touch my teacher's feet and asked him to look after my father. His warm response as he looked into my eyes, reassuring me, was, I will. The next day, my sister called to inform me that my father had passed away the previous night. When she shared the time of his passing, I realised it coincided with the exact moment of my interview. As I've mentioned before, there are no such things as coincidences. Not long after my return to Australia, I had a dream about my teacher. In the dream, we were walking along a road, and he said he was extremely tired and leaned on me for support. I quickly picked him up and carried him to his residence. As we approached, I noticed the walls were made of solid gold, a concealed door slid open revealing a small room. I gently laid him on the bed and as I did, he fell into a deep sleep. I stepped out of the building and the door slid shut behind me, leaving me with an overwhelming sense of loss. The connection I had cherished had been severed, and I keenly felt its absence.
As previously instructed, my teacher had emphasised the importance of work, and I embraced that directive wholeheartedly. My focus shifted from spiritual experiences to engaging in physical work. Allowing me to develop and learn from these new circumstances while fulfilling karmic obligations and learning many difficult earthly lessons. The physical realm took precedence over subjective spiritual experiences, even though I still had a few here and there when I desperately needed some help. My teacher had once imparted that the shortest path to God for individuals in the Western world involved cultivating relationships and living life fully.
After completing these five chapters of my life, I intend to create a series that explores how we can live spiritually while navigating everyday life. How to recognise our path and harmonise it with our authentic selves, rather than stumbling blindly from one experience to another.
There was another dream that followed a few years after the previous one. When my teacher called me to him, regrettably, I misinterpreted the dream, assuming it signalled a return to more subjective work. However, approximately six months later, he passed away. I treated my journeys to India as a spiritual retreat. I embarked with a firm commitment to absorb and learn all that I could. Initially, I stayed for three weeks, but due to the intensifying learning process, I gradually reduced my stay to 10 days.
The intensity of the experiences would escalate to such a point where I could no longer sustain it, necessitating my departure. He said that I am the flame, and we are the moths attracted to the flame. The closer we come to the flame, the more we are burnt, and no truer words were spoken.
The forthcoming chapter will serve as the final instalment of my life's spiritual journey, titled, “The Night the Devil Whispered in my Ear”. A totally unexpected, significant spiritual event unfolded, completely upending my life. It ranks as the second most energetically impactful event I have ever encountered. Profoundly influencing my perspectives and lifestyle in ways I could never have anticipated. . If it wasn't for this experience, I would not have embarked on creating these episodes. . Thank you for taking the time for listening to this episode, and I hope it has provided valuable insights into my transformative journey.
If you haven't subscribed, please do so to be informed of more upcoming episodes. Thank you.