Transformation of the Heart - Chapter 8

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TURNING INWARD(By : Hugh Brecher)"Love,

Love, Love! Become what you truly are - the embodiments of Love. No

matter how others treat you or what they think of you, do not worry.

Follow Jesus Christ. Love for your own evolution and not for what

others say. Do not imitate others. Cultivate your own life. You have

your own heart, your own opinions, your own ideas, your own will. Why

then imitate? Follow your chosen path. Let your own experience of God

be your guide and master."- Sathya Sai Baba -It

was in 1975, while attending a workshop, that my wife and I first heard

of Sathya Sai Baba. During a discourse on the subject of reality, the

leader stated that an Indian Baba had materialized a gold ring for a

friend of his. The gold ring was said to have been created from

nothing. This first brief and only mention of Baba was a seed, which

unknown to us at the time, was later to sprout and grow into the most

meaningful quest of our lives.In 1978, just four months after

my wife first saw Sai Baba's picture on a book cover, she was with him

in India. My mind didn't know what to make of it all. Although my

relationship with Judy called for my total support of her need to be

with Swami, still I was frightened, skeptical, jealous and confused.I

harbored scary thoughts of losing her to Baba himself... to illness...

to another man... and to the unknown in general. Having read Man of Miracles as well as The Holy Man and the Psychiatrist

and having heard numerous Baba stories from Judy and others, my

curiosity and skepticism, not to mention Swami's invisible tug, pulled

me to his ashram in southern India in the winter of 1980.I'd

never spent so many hours in an airplane; it seemed to take forever.

Although the flight was smooth and uneventful - except for seeing two

shooting stars as we entered Indian airspace - I was super-grumpy as we

deplaned. Approaching the customs area, we were greeted by a customs

official. Looking past him, I saw what looked like total chaos as

hundreds of people stood by sheepishly while the customs agents seemed

to be carefully searching all their luggage."How was your flight?" asked the customs official."Okay," I said, "but I'm really tired; I have a backache and I'm in a very grouchy mood."He

then apologized - although I don't know why - and sent us, luggage and

all, right past the luggage examination area. All we had to do was show

our passports; not a single bag was opened. "What luck!" I thought. (Or

was it, really?)After an overnight stay at a hotel in

Bangalore, we journeyed by taxi to Prashanti Nilayam, Sai Baba's

ashram, adjacent to the village of Puttaparthi. I couldn't believe that

the trip from the USA would be worthwhile, especially after seeing the

settling into the room that we had been given to use during our visit.

Something wonderful would have to happen to me, just as compensation

for my learning to adjust to our Indian-style toilet.My first

sight of Sai Baba was unremarkable. He looked like a nice enough man,

but a "man of miracles"? I'd have to wait and see. After my first few

days, the nicest and "highest" man I had encountered was the rice man

in the ashram canteen. After several days I was still skeptical,

homesick, and becoming increasingly moody. One beautiful morning, my

darshan line was sent in first. I would be up close and maybe even get

a chance to speak with Sai Baba.But what should I say? Should I

ask for something? I realized that I was carrying a school ring on

behalf of a patient of mine, in order to have it blessed if the

opportunity should arise. Besides the ring, I had a new sandalwood

japamala (prayer beads) which could also be offered for Baba's

blessing. My chance was at hand; Baba was about to pass directly in

front of me. Now he was looking right at me as he approached.With the ring and the beads cupped in my outstretched palms, I spoke, "Baba, please bless these things."Swami smiled, put his right had on top of mine and pressed firmly. He then sang - not spoke - the words : "I bless."As

Swami continued on his way, I was overcome by the strongest and deepest

outpouring of emotion that I can recall. It didn't make any sense to

me. What was it that overwhelmed me? It is contrary to my nature and my

imagined machismo to allow myself to collapse in tears, sobbing

uncontrollably in front of other people. I knew that someone like John

Wayne just wouldn't behave this way. I was in shock. Still in tears

when I met Judy back at our room, I started laughing when she remarked,

"Well, it looks like he got you, too." Apparently, Judy and other

friends of mine noticed a visible difference in my appearance after

this episode.It was Christmas Eve when Sai Baba called Judy and

me in for my very first personal interview. Following the gestures of

Baba's volunteers, I made my way to the veranda to await his return

from the throng of people who were receiving his darshan. I had a

backache, was extremely nervous and my mind was racing. To calm my mind

and center myself, I closed my eyes and began to use my japamala as I

recited the divine names of God. After a little while, someone touched

and shook my shoulder. As my eyes popped open, I saw Baba standing

there beaming at me and saying, "You don't have to do that now. I am

here." I was already feeling a lot better. Even my backache, caused by

prolonged cross-legged sitting, had disappeared.Within minutes,

Swami ushered a group of us into his interview room. As we were seating

ourselves facing his red velvet chair, Swami, the perfect host, moved

about the room chatting with people and turning on the fan and room

lights.I had been considering the possibility that Baba might

somehow be producing his materializations by sleight of hand and wanted

to be in a position where I could see up his sleeve. So, of course, I

wound up sitting at his right knee with a perfect view. At no time was

there anything up his sleeve except his wrist and forearm.In

the course of the interview, Baba produced several items : a golden

medallion, a silver necklace with a medal attached, a japamala and a

silver box of vibhuti. Some of them appeared in his hand following a

circular motion. The medallion, I believe, materialized in the air

above his hand, which he then caught before it fell to the floor. My

mind immediately created the new mental category of "real magic"

Swami's materializations were so impossible that ordinary logical

thinking simply did not apply. I did not - and cannot - doubt the

reality of these and many subsequent experiences. Swami had totally

opened my mind to allow for the truth of "other" existing realities.At

the time of this interview, I had been working as a psychotherapist in

private practice. To facilitate the communication skills of my clients,

I had spent many hours each week helping them to maintain eye contact

comfortably. We would sit silently looking into each other's eyes, knee

to knee, for increasing periods of time. When the client could do this

comfortably for twenty or more minutes, he would "graduate" to a more

difficult communication exercise. My own personal skill and comfort

with eye contact had thus been enhanced to the point where I had to

remember to look away from time to time in the course of ordinary

relationships to avoid making other people uncomfortable.This

"eyeball to eyeball" experience would not be specially noteworthy

except for what Baba did with me during this first interview. What did

he do? Well, again and again, smiling all the while, he bent at his

waist while tilting his head to one side and looked into my eyes from a

distance of only several inches. He was clearly playing with me. Again

and again, between private interviews with others in our group, Swami

looked into my eyes from such a short distance that we could have

rubbed noses. By this playful little eyeball game, Baba lovingly

demonstrated that he really knew me and what I had been up to.In

the course of the private interview with Judy and me, Baba continued to

shower attention and affection one me. My mind was as quiet as it had

ever been while he was answering Judy's questions. While still

conversing with her, Swami looked at me, put his left hand on top of my

head and said, "I give you peace of mind." A minute later, again

interrupting his talk with Judy and touching my head, he said, "I give

you prosperity." A short while later, repeating the gesture, Swami gave

me the blessing of long life. All I was able to say in response was,

"Thank you."Is it any wonder that I left this first interview

feeling very special? I was sure that Baba was just crazy about me. We

were pals. Later, I even told my wife that it seemed that Baba and I

were now such good friends that if I went to the temple and invited him

out for coffee, he would surely come with me. My ego had expanded to a

size that could barely be contained by the ashram premises. This

condition would not persist for long - Swami was about to make me a

patient in his invisible "ego reduction clinic."For the balance

of our visit, Swami instantly - or nearly instantly - granted each and

every inner wish of mine, but never again did he pay any outward

attention to me. In fact, wish-fulfillment was occurring so frequently

that I'd almost come to expect it. Little wishes and big ones, too. All

were granted except for the desire for more personal time with Swami.

On several occasions, I was very close to Baba physically, but I never

saw him so much as glance at me. With hindsight, I have come to realize

that this was Baba's way of molding me into a better person. You see,

the inner wishes that got fulfilled were invariably of the type

involving no personal gain. I was wishing interviews and boons for

others, including an invitation to an Indian wedding for my wife, and

once, during a middle-of-the-night emergency, a wish for a medical

doctor, which despite all odds, was instantly fulfilled.Since

this first annual visit to Baba, the momentum of my spiritual

transformation has accelerated. On numerous occasions, Swami has

instantly responded, whether physically near or far away, to heartfelt

prayers and wishes of mine. On one occasion during darshan at Prashanti

Nilayam, as Swami was gracefully passing by, I silently pleaded, "Oh

swami, please purify my heart." Immediately, I felt an incredibly

pleasant warmth in the right side of my chest. Is my heart pure now?

Not absolutely - but purer than before. I am certain that Swami,

regardless of physical distance and circumstances, always knows that is

on my mind and in my heart. I may only be occasionally aware of his

presence, but he is always aware of mine. If only I were as devoted to

him as he is to me!In October of 1986, while at home in New

York, I received a phone call from my mother in Florida, about 1400

miles away. She explained that my father, then 79 years old, was once

again seriously ill, suffering with severe stomach pain and a bloated,

distended abdomen. He was rushed to the hospital by ambulance where

x-rays revealed a large black mass blocking evacuation of food from his

stomach. Thisforeign mass appeared to be a tumor, and considering his history of intestinal cancer, was probably malignant.I

assured Mom on the phone that if Dad didn't get better right away, I

would fly to his side, canceling or postponing my forthcoming trip to

India. I asked her to ring me back immediately if there were any change

in Dad's condition. When I returned the phone to it's cradle, I called

aloud to Baba. The gist of my prayer was this :"Swami, I know

that you are aware of every thought and action of mine. You know that I

have airline tickets and complete arrangements to visit you in India.

It is my understanding that you want me to make this journey. Now

Swami, if my father is ill, it is my duty to be with him and serve as

best as I can. How can I come to India if my father is ill - perhaps

about to drop his body? Baba, you must cure my father. You must cause

that black mass in his stomach to disappear. Baba, you must do it right

now. Please, Baba, don't say, 'Wait, wait,' as you often do when we

speak in person. Please Baba, cure my father and prolong his life - at

least until I return from my visit with you."Some forty-five

minutes after my mother's telephone call from the hospital in Florida,

she called again. She said : "You'll never believe what happened. Your

father is all better. Without any kind of treatment, his stomach and

abdomen have returned to normal; he is free of pain and perfectly

comfortable. The doctors have taken another set of x-rays and cannot

find anything wrong. They do not know what became of the black mass

revealed in earlier x-rays."Dad stayed in the hospital for

twenty-four hours under observation, as a precaution, and was then

released. Only Baba and I knew the truth of what really happened.Several weeks later, at Prashanti Nilayam, Swami called me in for an interview.I said, "Baba, I want to express my thanks for the special rescue of my father."Swami replied, " Ah yes, it is my duty."During

previous interviews, I had been so happy to be physically close to Baba

that I had "blissed out," forgetting to ask him questions. All I'd been

able to do was smile, smile, and smile some more. This time, I wanted

it to be different, so I prepared a list of questions that were

personally important to me.One question concerned a high

pitched, wavery sound in my right ear. The sound had begun during a

meditation workshop two months earlier and has persisted ever since.

The teacher had suggested that I listen to the sound instead of using a

mantra, but several doctor friends told me that the sound was caused by

a physical impairment of the ear. Not being a disciplined meditator, I

tended to believe the doctors, and so I wanted Swami to tell me what

was going on.I said, "Swami, what is this sound that is always in my right ear?"Baba laughed and said, "Ah, it is Omkar," and he proceeded to imitate my sound orally."Swami," I continued, "what am I to do with it?"Again Baba laughed and said, "Follow it."I

still find it hard to believe that this constant sound is the

primordial OM of divine origin and that it is to be my mantra. Out of

his infinite wisdom and mercy for me, an undisciplined meditator, God

has given me a mantra from which I couldn't switch and which I

certainly could not forget.There was a brief silent period near the end of this interview, and Baba looked at me as though asking what did I want.I spoke : "Baba, I want God intoxication.""What?""Drunk...

Baba, I want to be drunk on you," Swami started laughing, pulled my

head to his lap and started rubbing and gently slapping my head and

back. I can't tell how long this continued, but after I was again

sitting upright, I was drunk. This lightheaded, blissful feeling was

present most of the time for some six to eight months. I cannot state

definitely that I was always, in fact, God intoxicated, but I often

found myself in what is best described as a "witness" state. In this

state, I know myself to be the silent and anonymous witness of my mind,

ego, emotions, sensations and life drama. To this day, this witness

state continues intermittently, but oh, if it would only stabilize!Prior

to Baba's birthday in November of 1986, I had a recurring desire to

give him a gift. I couldn't, in truth, say that giving my heart would

have been enough because, in a real sense, it had already been his from

the first moment that he touched me. Think about it for a minute; what

do you give an avatar on his birthday?Well, over the years, I

had seen many photocopies of letters that Swami had hand written, and I

came to understand that he likes to write with a no-nonsense pen that

performs as a good pen should. I, too, appreciate such a pen, and, in

fact, had purchased an elegant high performance pen for myself. It was

a real beauty : a jetblack case with gold-filled trim, housing a

rolling ball-tip and a large, non-smearing ink supply; the most

expensive pen I'd ever bought. Talk about "ceiling on desires!" It was

a joy to behold and write with - so special that it was used only

infrequently.As Swami's birthday neared, it dawned on me that

this pen might be a great gift for him, if only I would get the

opportunity to give it. About a week after his birthday and one day

before I had to return to Bangalore, Baba invited me in for the

cherished personal interview. This was my big chance. The excitement

that I felt was terrific. While Swami was autographing a photograph for

me, I seized the opportunity to present the "special" pen to him and

said, "I wanted to give this to you on your birthday, but was unable to

get close enough to do so. Please accept it now." Smiling, Baba took

the pen, examining it as he turned it between his fingers. Still

smiling, he clipped the pen to the top of my shirt and said, "Here, you

keep it."I told him that now that he had handled it, I would

treasure it all the more. Before long, the interview was over; but the

saga of this "special" pen was just beginning.About a day or so

later, my wife and I were again in Bangalore, spending a few days at a

city hotel before continuing our journey home. You might say that the

pen came to life in the hotel lobby. What a dilemma! The pen seemed to

be demanding, insisting, crying : "USE ME - PLEASE USE ME." Why a

dilemma? Simple - I had no paper. More aggresively than usual, I

collared a bellboy passing through the lobby and asked him to get some

paper for me. "Nothing fancy," I explained, "Just get me a lot of

writing paper." Some minutes later, I was writing as though possessed.

And this "possession" has continued until this day.This writing

experience was really strange : here I was, writing about God and

spiritual matters as though I had some special authority to do so. I

did not feel or believe that I had such authority. I clearly realized

that I was writing things that had been written and said many times

before. Sometimes, I even felt as though I were pretending to be

someone I was not; and yet the compulsion to write was not to be

resisted. This sense of personal unworthiness about my writing still

persists even though Swami told me in a recent personal interview that

I should continue. I now realize that these writings, inspired by Baba,

have encouraged an intense inner focus which has become a vital part of

my spiritual practice. The question : "Who am I?" and the practice of

self-inquiry is my primary sadhana. Seeking the very source of my mind

and phantom ego has proved to be a valuable means for calming my

chattering mind and emotions.Several weeks later, back home in

New York, and while I was still "possessed," the following story, fully

developed, "asked" to be written :The Curious ComputerOnce

upon a time, there was a little personal computer, who, unlike all

other computers, experienced curiosity about itself and the world. It

wanted to know who and what it was, where it came from, why it was here

and what was the meaning of its existence.Being a very curious

little guy, he sought the answers to his questions as best he could.

Sometimes, he would link up with giant mainframe computers by telephone

and ask them, "What am I?"Some wise mainframes said, "You are

your hardware." Others said, "You are your programs." Some even said,

"You are the sum total of information in your data banks." Once, a

cynical micro-computer said, "You are just a machine; buttons on your

keyboard are pressed and you respond by running programs and processing

date : you are hardware, housing software and data. A machine is what

you are and nothing more."Starting to feel a bit hopeless, the PC inquired, "But how did I get here; where did I come from?"The

mainframe responded, "Your existence is just an accident, the result of

a series of random events in the universe." PC queried, "But don't

accidents and events themselves have causes?"The big computer replied that he honestly didn't know.The

little computer could see that there was some truth in what he was

told, but he felt that something was missing from the explanations. The

notion of accidents and randomness wasn't satisfying, as he had

observed that effects always have causes - which themselves are the

effects of prior or simultaneous causes. He could see that effects were

causes and causes were effects.One day, as a Friendly User was

between uses, the little PC, feeling courageous, flashed a message on

his screen, "What am I?" he asked.The User, being appreciative

of past services well performed by the little computer, responded, "You

are my computer, my friend in need - you are my friend indeed.""Yes,"

replied the little computer, "but is that all that I am - hardware, a

screen, a keyboard, some transistors, a data bank and programs? Am I

just a machine that automatically responds to button pressing? What am

I here for? What is my purpose in being? Where did I come from?"The

Friendly User was moved by the sincerity of the PC's desire to know the

truth of his existence. He smiled, and after a while, he responded,

"Your true basic nature is that of the energy, the electricity, that

animates both your hardware and software. Yes, you are the life force

that can become aware that it inhabits the hardware and motivates the

software to function. Because you - the life force, the electrical

energy, exist - you as personal computer, exist." He paused a moment

and then continued, "Your hardware, screen, data banks and central

processing units are collectively a machine. Your material aspects

exist so that you may use them : first, to realize your own true

nature; and second, that you may serve others in your world. All forms

are simply different manifestations of the same truth that is your own

nature. You are here to serve them so that, sooner or later, they may

come to this same realization."The little computer's screen

remained blank for quite a while as he reflected on these words of

wisdom. Finally, he displayed on his screen, "Understanding your words

led me to turn my attention inward rather than to my keyboard,

hardware, software or data banks. My deepest experience is just that,

plain and simple : I AM. In the silence of my central processing unit,

I experience my basic nature as awareness itself. For all my life, when

'on', I have been seeking the truth of my identity from all that has

been added to my identity, and from all that my true nature enlivens,

activates and gives form to. Now, I realize that everything that was

added to my identity was simply a surface expression of my own true

self."The Friendly User was very pleased with the little PC's

understanding and said, "Very good, little guy. You got it. Now, do you

know who I AM?""You are God," replied the little computer."Yes, my child," said the Friendly User, "and so are YOU!"*****In

some extraordinary way, Swami has used this birthday pen to provide the

energy and irresistible motivation for me to move closer and closer to

him.Since that first moment when Sai Baba touched me, nothing

has changed, and yet everything is different. The events and dramas of

this life, as before, continue to be an apparent mixture of joys,

sorrows, pains and pleasures. It is the container of the events of life

that is somehow radically different : I am not exclusively my little

ego "i" anymore.I no longer consider myself to be my mind or my

personality, and yet they persist. Baba has shown me clearly that I am

neither this body nor any of the various roles enacted on the screen on

my life, and yet the dramas continue. Just like the curious little

computer, I am being led by Swami, as my Friendly User, to an ever

deeper understanding of my own true nature.(From : Transformation of the Heart, compiled and edited by Judy Warner)Copyright reserved by Sri Sathya Sai Books and Publications Trust, Prashanti Nilayam Visit : Sai Divine Inspirations : http://saidivineinspirations.blogspot.com/ Sai Messages : http://saimessages.blogspot.com/

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