WARNING! The following blog posting contains words -- mono and multi-syllabic configurations of letters that have been known to confuse, distract, misrepresent, and otherwise complicate the cognition of readers attempting to understand another person's experience.
That being said, I am going to take a whack at describing what it was like for me to see Maharaji (aka Prem Rawat) on September 23rd in Asheville, North Carolina, where he spoke for 60 minutes to approximately 1,200 people.
Ready? Here goes:
Fast forward to the morning after.
I am sitting in the Asheville Regional Airport, sipping my tall soy latte and waiting for my plane, when the very likeable Ellen Kirschner sits down beside me, laptop in hand and, after a few pleasantries, asks if she might interview me for an article she is writing for Words of Peace Global about last night's event.
"Sure," I say. "Let's do it."
Ellen looks at her notes and asks me a few questions. I look at Ellen and give a few answers, underwhelmed by the vagary of what I have to say in the time I have to say it.
Interview done, Ellen and I both stand and go our separate ways -- she down a ramp to Charlotte, me down a ramp to Newark.
I present my e-ticket. I put my bag in the overhead rack. I listen to a disembodied voice tell me how to put my seat belt on.
And then, like a ton of bricks, 30 minutes later, 35,000 feet in the air, it hits me -- what I really wanted to say to Ellen.
What was it like sitting in a room with Maharaji?
Like being an electric fan and having the plug pulled. Things slowed down. Way down. Everything came to a complete stop. My blades -- those finely honed, energy-efficient abilities I've been so busy developing to cool the room I call my life -- stopped spinning.
Back to square one. Everything became still. Nothing was happening.
But not the nothing that is the absence of anything. No. The nothing that is the fullness of everything. The moment of HERE. The moment of NOW. The moment that is already wonderful without anything extra needing to happen to make it so.
This nothing, like a large bay window opening to the sea, allows me to feel the coolest of breezes -- a breeze that does not depend on my spinning blades for its origination. It allows me to enjoy who and what I am without even trying.
What moves the breeze moves me. And it feels very, very good.
Maharaji, somehow, has the knack for facilitating an experience that enables people, from all walks of life, to feel the fullness of the moment -- to be totally receptive. Receptive to life. Receptive to love. Receptive to the realization that everything is perfect just the way it is.
At moments like this, I am filled with an extraordinary tidal wave of gratitude -- and I had one of those moments being with Maharaji, in Asheville, on September 23rd.
(If you liked this posting, you'll probably like this one, too.)
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at September 30, 2009 11:54 AM
Having been sick and unable to attend the event in Asheville, enjoyed reading this~ lovely. Really. Thanks for sharing.
Posted by: Songwriter2898 at September 30, 2009 01:57 PM
That was so lovely...I loved the post from the link "this one" about the trip to Australia even more. Your writing is so good, Mitch, I can actually see and feel it, almost like I am there inside you---kind of like losing the boundary between being in this body or "Being John Malkovich". I can't recall ever having exactly this kind of connection, this kind of experience before from a writer talking about something that they did. I am thinking this has to do with Maharaji and his spiritual enormity. You are using the power of the word in a deep way. I am very grateful for these moments that you share.
Posted by: willower at October 1, 2009 09:57 AM
please see Chapter 9, AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A YOGI, by Paramahansa Yogananda. p. 94 in the small paperback, p.80 in the large paperback....
Posted by: sanfranciscojim1 at October 1, 2009 02:22 PM
Immensley enjoyed reading your description of what it's like to be with the Great Man!
It was like reading
A Zen Haiku
on an early fall day
sunny and windy! Ah!
Mitch, you are capable of writing what I feel. Thank you!
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