Category: Prose

In the late summer of 1993 I was sent off on a mission of sorts, to canvas the Bay Area with our brochures and new posters, announcing our community and the teachings of MD. With the car loaded with hundreds of these, I embarked on a two or three week excursion to flood the natural food stores, cafes, bookstores, colleges and universities from Sonoma County in the north to Santa Cruz in the south, San Francisco and the east bay. I enjoyed the solitude and the purpose. And it was of particular interest to me to notice how different everything seemed now, as I traveled familiar roads, and yet they were no longer the same to me. I had changed so much in just a few short months. As I visited familiar bookstores and cafes I was struck by the sense that I was no longer living in the same world as I had before. It was the first time I understood, in a real and tangible way, the idea of being in the world, but not of the world. These places, and what they offered, were no longer for me, and I didn’t miss them at all, in fact, I felt liberated and transcendent. I might walk by a theater and place a poster on the notice board out front, and have no interest in what was playing inside. Or visiting a café, to drop off some brochures, I wouldn’t consider buying anything, since I had my oranges and bananas in the car, and that was all I needed. I was satisfied and content, and amused by my surprising transformation.

Upon returning to our campsite a few weeks later I found it transformed as well. I had left in late summer, while the days were still sun-filled and warm and the evenings were temperate, but when I returned it was noticeably early fall; the days had that touch of briskness to them, and the air had that earthy smell that announces the changing of the seasons. And the nights were beginning to be cold. I arrived in the afternoon and found K. and J. in the kitchen preparing for the evening meal. They welcomed me with great warmth, and then they began to tell me about the newest member, who had joined our community while I was gone. They had met L. at Panther Meadow and after spending some time with MD he instantly joined. I was amazed how quickly L. had joined us and become a revered member of our community. He was described in glowing terms and with great zeal by the both of them. I looked forward to meeting him.

We remained at our location west of Mt Shasta for several more weeks and in this time we purchased two vehicles and a trailer. Through a friend L. and M. were able to attend a car dealer auction and purchase for a very good price both a Chevy Suburban and a Ford Taurus, both fairly new and in good condition. Well, at least the Suburban was in good condition, while the Taurus only looked good. MD. had advised them not to purchase the Taurus, but as often occurred M. felt he knew better and did it anyway. The Taurus nearly made it off the car lot before the transmission fell out, but not quite. There are no refunds at a dealer’s auction; though it was just purchased and had barely driven a hundred feet before breaking down, it was our problem.  We were able to get a new transmission and get the Taurus running again and after this it worked well for us for a long time. The trailer was of a heavy steel frame construction with an eight foot by 16 foot solid wood bed. In order to make it more useful, we built a wood box around the perimeter of the frame, four feet high, made of 2×4 framing with 3/4″ plywood sheathing and multiple coats of spar varnish. The back of the wood box was attached to the side panels at its two ends, using rope connections at the corners, so that the back panel could be untied and removed for easy loading. This trailer became an essential part of our lives as we used it for many things: to more our camp, to move materials for our landscaping business, and for our moving company business. But before it became an integral part of our lives it was disputed property and the object of a rift between L. and our community.

Almost as mysteriously as L. had arrived, he suddenly left. I had hardly gotten to know him when I heard that he was gone and he had taken the trailer with him. I believe we had purchased the trailer with money that L. had given to the community, although I don’t know this as a fact, but I assume this, since it explains why he felt justified, at least in his mind, to take the trailer with him when he left. I was treasurer and paid bills so it seems I should know what happened, however I only took care of routine bills, and wasn’t always involved with the cash immediately when it arrived, particularly as gifts or donations. The purchase of the vehicles and the trailer I hadn’t been involved with, but I deduced that L. still felt ownership of the money he had given to the community since he had given it so recently and hadn’t been with us for very long. On the other hand, all of us had taken vows of poverty, L. included, and none of us had individual or sole ownership of anything. In my mind whatever he may have given us, was given freely and had become communal property so it wasn’t right for him to take the trailer with him. In any case, what I thought didn’t matter as I wasn’t directly involved in any of it and was only tangentially involved until the afternoon that someone discovered where L. had hidden the trailer for safe keeping, at a home in town. We had the registration and title to the trailer so legally it was ours to take, so we did. We brought the Suburban and hooked the trailer up and drove it away while L. was elsewhere in town.

In order to keep the trailer safe we drove it far up the south side of Mt Shasta to hide it where it wouldn’t be found. There is an elaborate network of dirt roads reaching up the mountain, probably old lumber roads, and these trails extend far, far up the mountain’s side. We drove several miles up one of these little roads and then cut off onto a side road and drove down to the end, where it abruptly stopped in a surround of tall grasses and small bent trees. We unhooked the trailer and decided that I would stay with it for the night, until they would come back for me at some point later.

It was a chilly night towards the end of November. We had had one or two light dustings of snow already, earlier in the month. I sat on the trailer bed in the solitude of the mountain and looked out towards the mountain tops to the south. Over the darkened ridge rose the large silvery-white disc of the full moon and behind that glowed the sky in vibrant pink and lavender hues. A slight wind blew up the mountain from down below and I breathed it in deeply. It was a stunning and magical night in every way; I reflected on my surroundings and this unexpected adventure I was suddenly a part of, and I wondered what was coming next. Most immediately I wondered when my friends would return for me, would it be a few hours, or in the morning, or would it be days? Then after that, where would we be moving next? Winter was coming very soon and I expected we wouldn’t stay here very much longer.

(to be continued)

~FS

Without You, Lord, I am miserable. Without You as the focus, and the focusing, of my life;

I am lost, and my mind, swirls endlessly.

You give music, dance, and games to enjoy. You give family and friends for company. Yet none of these things can fulfill, without knowing You dwelling in their essence.

After the noise and the fun are all through, there’s an anguish of emptiness that remains; my soul’s hangover from the worldly intoxications of the previous evening.

God, what do we need of you anymore? I hear this asked. We can live quite well on our own they say.

Yet then—what need has meat, of protein? It will still taste as good. And surely chemical bonds don’t make the water more refreshing? Just give those thirsty men glasses of hydrogen and oxygen.

Man, on morphine fails to feel his pain, but the source of the pain hasn’t vanished. If we are now too numb to know our God, does this somehow mean that He is gone?

Is God dead? Or has our perception just grown so very dim? Man is dying, not God.

I’ve sat inside stadiums, filled with promise, excitement and anticipation; filled with noise and colorful lights, the hope of victory, or the magic of art. I’ve heard the thunderous applause, the frenzy and the laughter; and what have I gained from this, what have I bought with my money, time and effort?

Time, merely spent, perhaps a pleasant memory with those I love, but then hollow emptiness, and the passing of time. I did not forestall death, I only distracted myself for a short time, while it crept up a little closer.

There is no distraction that will impede that approach. Entertainment, like morphine, drips into our veins and fills our minds; numbing us to our true lives, dulling our perceptions, and deadening us to God’s presence.

It would be time better spent, to call relentlessly upon our Great Physician; to heal and to calm us, to bring us peace; and rather turn aside from these opioids for the soul, that only imitate a cure, sedating us for a time, mollifying our symptoms, but not addressing our underlying disease.

We need you God, whether we know it or not; whether we will admit it or not. It is existentially true. And without You, Lord, we do not realize how miserable we truly are, and in this, our misery has no cure.

~FS

Each morning S. and I would take a short hike down to the river together. The water was always brisk and sometimes quite cold but it was also refreshing and a great way to start the day. Standing in the midst of the flowing water, with no one but the birds and the fish anywhere to be seen, mist rising off the water, and with the sun alighting the treetops far overhead was simultaneously invigorating and calming. Additionally, there was the joy of growing comradery and brotherhood. I wouldn’t say we had a natural friendship at first, he was direct, blunt and forceful while I tended to be more diplomatic and nuanced. However, his qualities were really very good, and in many cases useful and admirable; I came to appreciate the fact that he had these qualities and I learned these in part, from him, over time. He was also very devoted, loyal and trustworthy and over the years I was often grateful for him and how we all could rely on him. Though he was emotional, and also often spoke without thinking first, which could get us into difficulties, I now look back on many of these and laugh, though at the time I was challenged to find the humor.

K. was a very sweet and peaceful person. She had a wonderful laugh which began as a giggle and lit her whole face with joy. For a long time she was the only woman in the group and because of this she was one of the real stabilizing forces for us; she brought a gentleness and softness that I treasured, and I think we were all very grateful for, and we would have missed, had she not been there with us. She was also very intelligent and loved to discuss the things she was learning from MD. To supplement her intelligence she had a childlike innocence about the world, so it was refreshing and joyful to discuss things with her because she could talk about them with both intellect and wonder. She rarely, if ever, caved into the temptation of cynicism or sarcasm, so it was very pleasant to be around her because with her things were sincere and positive. Actually, this could be said about everyone in our group; there wasn’t a place for unkindness or the usual kinds of traps that people fall into in ordinary life. It could be truly said that there isn’t a place anywhere in the world for these things, nevertheless, we all struggle with them and either make choices to refrain from them, or we give in to them. On the one hand, we create a more joyful tomorrow, and on the other, we sink further into sadness, or anger or any number of damaging emotions.

M. was often very quiet and reflective. It took quite a bit of time, I think, for him to warm up to me and to S. He was about ten years older than us I suppose, so this might have partially accounted for it, as I think he saw us as kids. Over time he became a pillar and bedrock of our community. I believe he was the most naturally gifted of us all, with the exception of MD and his knowledge and abilities contributed immensely to our successes during the many struggles and difficulties we experienced together over subsequent years. His mechanical knowledge kept our vehicles running, his computer programming knowledge enabled him to bring a good income when needed, and in general his clear reasoning and insightfulness benefitted us all. Though perhaps this caused him to struggle with pride more than some and also maybe a feeling of superiority. But this is just speculation on my part, and maybe I’m just projecting my own problems and challenges onto him. Paradoxically, or perhaps because he was good at fighting pride, he also could be heroically humble and was able to suffer great hardship with little or no complaint, and with amazing perseverance. We all considered him to be a deep thinker and though a bit reclusive and independent, also someone that we could rely on when needed. I recall one situation when he and I had a truck broken down on the side of the road, in a torrential storm, and he spent hours throughout the night working on that truck, as he was pelted by rain and hail; and he stayed at the task until he finally got it running again. This was only one of many situations.

In order to keep the temple space for only spiritual matters we set up another large tent on the west end of the meadow for our community meetings. Each morning we met to discuss the day’s activities, chores and events. The months that we spent in the Shasta area were largely spent hosting visitors who came to learn from MD, work to keep the camp in good order, our own group or individual lessons and studies, visits to Panther Meadow on the slopes of Mt. Shasta where MD would meet and engage with spiritual seekers making pilgrimages to the mountain, and also work in town to earn income. S. and I canvassed neighborhoods to offer our labor at various tasks; and washed windows and did other household tasks while K. and I did weeding together. In general this was a time of ease and enjoyment as we all learned to work together, formed the bonds of friendships and prepared for more difficult challenges ahead. I recall MD saying at one point years later that the first year or so of our training was mainly intended to strengthen us and to get us ready to begin the real training to come. So we learned to serve one another and to serve those we worked for, and we continued to do light battle with negative thoughts and emotions within ourselves, watching and making effort to create new kinder habits of thought.

One of the ways MD taught at this early stage was through simple written notes that he would give to us or leave for us individually. I believe I received several hundred of these, perhaps thousands over the course of my time with him. Some I remember better than others, and many I’ve saved to reflect on even today. One short hand-written note that he gave me early in the training that I always loved was this:

“Losing yourself in service

One finds oneself in the heart.

As the pool of the heart grows…pure and still

One sees One’s reflection…looking at One.

that face is God.”

This inspired me to serve, to try to lose myself in giving to others, and to drown out my selfish clambering and noisy greed, with the simple purity and stillness that leads to God. This note still makes me smile as I read it and it still inspires me to give more of myself.

Another hand-written note he gave me early on was a lesson on the importance of our words and thoughts and actions, and it helped me to realign my thinking on what I do inside, even if I think nobody is watching:

“So think as if your every thought were to be etched in fire upon

the sky for all and everything to see;  For so, in truth, it is.

So speak as if the world entire were but a single ear intent on

hearing what you say;  And so, in truth, it is.

So do as if your every deed were to recoil upon your head;

And so, in truth, it does.

So wish as if you were the wish; And so, in truth, you are.

So live as if your God Himself had need of you, His life to live;

And so, in truth, He does.”

About this time we all were also given new King James Bibles to read at our leisure. Often in the mid-afternoon we had several hours of free time before it was time to prepare dinner, and I remember the joy of reading scripture in my tent, under my pine tree at the edge of the meadow. It was just me and the squirrels and the birds sitting in the filtered sunlight, the crisp smell of pine resin filling my nostrils, a gentle breeze blowing across the grasses and through the trees, and the lofty thoughts of God feeding my mind as I read.

One evening J. visited our camp and met with MD. When I first met him I instantly liked him and felt as if I had known him my entire life. We were instant friends and brothers. If I were to imagine an ideal man of honor, J. would be that man, or at least very close to the ideal. He was human after all and had suffered at least his share of grief and sorrow, which affected him in the same way it has all of us in this world, in one way or another. So he wasn’t an ideal, as no man is, but he had integrity, strength and a strong sense of duty. He was also very trusting and childlike and endearing. On the one hand he was a big person and fully capable of defending himself and others, yet on the other hand, he was gentle and innocent and had a tendency to become distraught and overwhelmed by the struggles of life. On the one hand he could protect us all and on the other hand he needed all of our protection. I was very happy when he decided to join us and live as a member of our community. He was a very welcome and important addition, and personally I enjoyed his presence and the simplicity with which he lived.

In the late summer of 1993 I was sent off on a mission of sorts, to canvas the Bay Area with our brochures and new posters announcing our community and the teachings of MD. With the car loaded with hundreds of these I embarked on a two or three week excursion to flood the natural food stores, cafes, bookstores, colleges and universities from Sonoma County in the north to Santa Cruz in the south, San Francisco and the east bay.

(to be continued)

~FS

Soon after our stay along the coast we moved to a property in the hills just south of Santa Rosa, in fact, not very far from where I had lived in a trailer a couple years earlier. The owner of the property lived in a house tucked up near a ravine at the end of a long dusty driveway. It was a spacious home with an enormous woodshop where he worked. There were a few other outbuildings on the property: a small cottage that he rented out and some storage sheds. The rest of the property was covered with large, beautiful oak trees which provided almost continuous cover from one end of the property to the other, while the other side of the dirt driveway had been cleared and cultivated into a beautiful vegetable garden.

Each of us found a place under the oaks and set up our tents. I found a pleasant, quiet little place at the edge of the property, looking out upon a grassy hillside, just under the dripline of a towering oak. S. also found a comfortable place not far from my tent while K. and her boyfriend M. who had recently joined us and moved in with her, were just downhill under the trees. MD had the grandest of tents which he had made himself, which was to be both his personal quarters and also function as our temple. It was a beautiful, high and arching, light structure made of sturdy white canvas. At its base it was rectangular and roughly 16 feet wide by 32 feet long. Along its ridge it stood about 12 feet high and its form was a graceful arc. Every 4 feet or so a sheath had been sewn into the tent walls which allowed a 2″ diameter PVC pipe to be slid in from one side of the tent and pushed up and over and down to the other side; these were the structural ribs that gave the tent its beautiful form and its support which held it sturdily in place during strong winds and storms. Both ends of the tent had a white canvas panel that was attached with large white zippers to the ends of the tent walls, and the center of these panels could be opened using another strong zipper that had been fashioned up the middle of each panel; these were the entrances to the tent, one entering the meeting area, and the other entering MD’s personal quarters. The inside was divided exactly in half by another panel, similar to the two at the ends, which was also attached along its perimeter to the tent walls, and had a zippered opening up its middle which could be opened to connect the public and private spaces. The floor was also made of white canvas and over the top were placed layers of white sheets and pillows. When the tent was fully set up and the entire enclosure glowed in golden white light from the sun, it was truly a serene and sublime place to enjoy.

When I think back to this time, in the community, and how to describe it, I feel as though I will have to settle with writing about only the smallest fraction, and in a most superficial manner, because there was so very much detail and nuance and subtlety that I can hardly hope to be able to provide the proper context for so much of what occurred. Even as I sort through the papers, writings, teachings and other materials that I kept from my four years I can hardly hope to put all of it into a clear and understandable narrative as there are thousands of pages of material to sort through, and I find that so many would require pages and pages of background to set the proper scene for them. Nevertheless, I am encouraged to set in writing at least some of the basics that can give at least a partial overview, from my perspective. Perhaps someone else will someday write a more exhaustive and informative narrative and that would be of great interest I think.

While living on this property we began our first public outreach through the publication of a short introductory brochure which briefly described the teaching of MD, the spiritual life of his followers, the perspective of our group, and an invitation to come and learn, along with a weekly schedule of events that we hosted in the temple tent. The brochure was entitled, Awakening the Light of Peace: Spiritual Initiations, and it was published and presented by The Brothers for “The Light of Peace” which was our name. These we distributed throughout the surrounding cities, in bookstores and cafes. And from this distribution many people came to learn more and to study with MD. The call that it issued, appealed on an intellectual and on an emotional level, as well as of course, spiritual. It was written in both an informative style but also poetic. I’ll share just a few excerpts here:

“You who travel the road of life, who reach up to find the Love of God.

I say desist with such delusion. It distracts you from the place that

God is found, that place that is the altar of your Soul, that cup that God

would fill to overflowing, the manger that The Christ was birthed within-

the scepter of The Heart….”

“Such an awakening is initiated by the remembering of what you have

lost – the quality of Innocence that exists within the Spiritual Self be-

yond the body of flesh.  True Innocence is born in one who is a Child

of God. Such a life expresses itself with a purity of thought and deed

that brings change to all about them….”

“By your choice you make yourself anew. Therefore your decisions

moment by moment are of the greatest import. The Child of God ever

takes the path of service. Here by kind word and thoughtful deed they

create both within them and about them a life of Divine Sweetness.

They have made of themselves the bread of Gentleness and Tender Love

and cast themselves forth to serve a wounded humanity.  Those who

freely sow such Love upon the suffering of their brothers and sisters

without thought of return shall never know poverty of heart.”

(From “Child of God” by MD)

We all assisted with visitors and spiritual seekers who came to meet with MD but we also had a division of labor for the many other aspects to keeping the community running smoothly. I continued to work at my job as a waiter in a nearby Italian restaurant to help with income, K. worked closely with MD as an assistant with typing and other administrative tasks. M. had contributed a lot of personal assets to the functioning of the community in these early stages but also continued with his employment, and S. took care of a multitude of various tasks and errands. In addition to my work in the world I was given the responsibility for overseeing the community finances, bill paying and grocery shopping.

By the end of July 1993 we began to prepare for a move north to the Mt Shasta area which we made in August. Our final month on this property was spent predominantly in the large woodshop, where together we all built a series of large tables and benches that would be used for years to come as our kitchen and dining furniture. I don’t think any of us had much, if any experience with carpentry, however MD had experience and taught us the proper use of the table saws, planers, routers, nail guns, and other tools and equipment needed for the construction of our furniture. He also assigned us each particular tasks so that our work was efficient and streamlined. Over the course of the next couple weeks we went from unskilled newcomers to fairly skilled workers. There was a lot of satisfaction in working together as a team, learning new skills, and eventually turning out a lot of functional and attractive furniture.

Each piece of furniture was large and very sturdy and covered with multiple coats of spar varnish as they were made to be used outdoors full-time. And they were made to come apart into more manageable pieces for transport since we would be moving regularly over the coming years. We built several dining tables, each about 8 feet long with two benches each and several more tables of the same size to be used for storage, food preparation and dishwashing when we set up our kitchen at our more permanent locations. Additionally, we made several other smaller tables for various functions, and two 4×4 wood panels with a 12″x12″ square hole cut in the center and a removable hatch, which would be used to cover latrine pits. We also built a smaller set of tables and shelves which we installed in the bed of my old Toyota pickup and into this we installed outdoor grills and propane tanks so that this became our mobile kitchen when we were on the move.

When we moved to Shasta we had five members. Many others had expressed interest in joining us, and several had camped with us on the land south of Santa Rosa for various periods of time, but in the end none joined us. We did have one additional member however, A. but she was unable to come with us at this particular time, but would join us several months later.

Our next home was in a clearing in the pine forest located not far from the banks of the Sacramento River, about a mile west of where it empties into Lake Siskiyou. Taking our rental van with our supplies down the rutted dirt trail just off Highway 26 was a bumpy journey; the first of many future off-road excursions of which this was to be very tame and pedestrian by comparison.

We had a few neighbors scattered here and there in various small encampments further up river but essentially we had the forest to ourselves. Our encampment included about an acre of land in this forest with our large kitchen set up in the clearing in the midst of a meadow of wildflowers and grasses. Around the perimeter of the clearing we set up several tents: at the entrance and westernmost end we placed two large green canvas tents in which we kept tools and other supplies, at the far eastern end I set up my tent, while M. and S. established their camping places along this same perimeter but about a hundred feet or so to either side of me. MD‘s tent and our temple were placed farther north in a separate smaller clearing against the trees, while K. had her tent in a private location just the other side of a copse of trees adjacent to the kitchen and dining area. Just off this area we set up our solar showers amidst a dense forested area for privacy, but would heat their bladders in the full sun; and farther off to the west we dug the pits for our toilets; and even the setting for these was pleasant.

(to be continued)

~FS

Though I had already been studying with MD off and on for several years, the way I see it, the official start to our community life began early in the summer of 1993 when four of the original members camped for several days on the rocky cliffs at Salt Point on the northern California coast. The location was remote enough, several hours up Highway 1 from San Francisco, that we didn’t have any other visitors during our time there; yet accessible enough, only a few hundred yards off the highway, that we could easily pack our sleeping and cooking gear down to the rocks from our car. Rather than sheer cliffs, this location had a series of large rocky terraces which gradually stepped down to the water, so it was quite safe and afforded wonderful views of the water from many vantage points and heights, some very near the ocean waves and others perched high above.

One afternoon, I sat on the rocks looking out to sea. The sun was high and bright and the ocean swells reflected brilliantly its light. The smell and the taste of the salt air filled my nostrils and lungs and I felt a great peace and calm come over me. As I watched the rising and falling of the ocean I noticed my own breath had begun to follow the same rhythm and pattern. Without forcing, but just observing, I felt myself inhale and my lungs expand as the ocean surged, and as I exhaled and my lungs contracted I watched the waves relax and subside. Over and over I observed the synchronicity between my own breath and the wave’s motion. At some point I no longer felt that I was watching the waves, but instead that they were moving within me; the reflection of the sun’s rays dancing on the surface of the water as it surged within my own chest, the ocean rolling through my torso, my own diaphragm responding to that same force which controls the tides.

This sensation startled me, and frightened me a little, so I turned away from the sea to regain my sense of normalcy. Where did I go just then? In a way I had lost myself; where do I stop, and where does the world begin; what are my limits, if not my physical body? I considered these things for a moment, and then lamented that I had turned away and broken my connection. I was unable to recreate the experience again, so I just watched the surf after that and enjoyed another beautiful day which transformed into another beautiful night. Each of the four of us found a private place among the terraces and rocky grottos to sleep at night. There is nothing quite so soothing and relaxing as sleeping under the stars with a gentle ocean breeze cooling your face as you snuggle down into the warmth of your sleeping bag, while in the distance the ocean hums a strong but gentle lullaby.

(to be continued)

~FS

I found myself in a fantastic place, at a convergence; as if between two lenses: one lens as a mirror reflecting back in time, the other as a telescope projecting into the future.

Were I a train traveling through time, and were my rails made of purest light:

the left rail streaming forth from my past, the right rail bringing light from my future, all three would meet, myself, the right, the left, bending at this one point upon my horizon.

And here I stood, at the point of convergence, and like light arriving from two distant stars, two images appeared:  one young and one old; and here before me stood these men. And I recognized myself in them—as they began to speak—the younger first:

“Of what purpose does worldly work serve? Why must I do this worldly work?”

“Work is a tutor and a guardian. It is a gracious distraction, to keep you busy with trivialities. Until you are ready to seek God with all your heart and all your time, to seek His kingdom first, until then you will work in the world. Lest in your idleness you should fall further away from Him, through apathy and laziness.”

“You’re telling me work is for my benefit then? It feels like a chronic curse; the tedium, the weariness, the never ending busy ness.”

“For now, serve God by serving others. Seeking to know God is not trivial, that is the only non-trivial thing we can do, but we are not ready, or willing to do this, so until we learn that only God is meaningful, and only seeking Him gives our lives lasting purpose, we are occupied with other work which, though trivial, still trains us in the habit of effort, perseverance and service. And even this is better than a life of idleness.”

I’m glad the younger asked such questions of the older, for my troubles were much the same as his.

“I must return now to my work,” the elder said, “the work of prayer and devotion. But I will leave you with this final thought on your work before I go:

“Work makes us men, training out the child within us. But spiritual work makes us children of God, training out the worldly man within us.”

And with that, the images in the lenses faded, their light returning to their proper times, and I reflected on the value of work. I liked what the elder said about this, and resolved to keep this in my heart:

“Work makes us men, training out the child within us. But spiritual work makes us children of God, training out the worldly man within us.”

 

~FS

At a time not long ago there were three brothers who lived upon the earth. Each of the brothers had a fruit tree, planted especially for him at birth, which he was given to tend and care for throughout his life.

The first brother, as a child, loved his tree and cared for it with affection until, eventually, he grew tired of caring for the tree; and when his friends mocked him and asked him to what purpose was he wasting all his time tending to his little tree, he admitted to them and to himself that he no longer needed it. Nor did he want it. So he left the tree and went off to play with his friends.

The second brother found that caring for his tree was tedious and boring. He had little interest in his tree, but he cared for it because he believed that he should. He gave it sufficient water though he never fertilized it, or gave it any affection. Nevertheless, it grew and eventually became a serviceable tree, if not completely healthy; giving the now middle-aged man shade and protection, although it never produced any fruit.

The third brother cared for his tree as if it were his very soul. He watered it daily, fertilized and pruned it so that it grew to be a beautiful tree, full of foliage and heavy with fruit. From his tree, this brother was able to shelter and sustain himself. He derived great joy in caring for his tree and also in seeing the benefit birds and other animals derived from sheltering in its branches and sharing of its fruit. He dwelt in this way, caring for and sheltering under his tree well into his old age.

One day there came upon the land where the three brothers dwelt a scorching heat and a blistering wind.

The first brother, who had been enjoying his life of experiences and adventures, thought back upon his tree, as he sat in a café of a nearby town. Somehow he missed his tree now. He surveyed the crowded room where he sat and was perplexed and dismayed that he felt empty and alone, even here in the midst of this interesting and engaging group. His life had been about culture, novelty and games, yet now it all was meaningless and he felt a need and a yearning to find his little tree again.

At that moment, the second brother was walking past the café on his way back home from the market. The brothers met on the street and the first told the second that he was returning to his tree to find solace there in his old age. The second wished him good luck but said he too must return to his own tree and prepare to die, because the markets in town had no more food, so he would surely starve.

When the first brother returned to his tree he found that it was hardly more than a stick in the ground. Dried and shriveled leaves lay strewn across the ground below its branches. The fierce sun beat down upon its cracking bark and the wind snapped at its remaining twigs. “I have nothing now” the brother said to himself, “I will go and seek shelter and die with my brother.”

He found his brother sheltering in the shade of his own fruit tree and said, “Brother, please let me join you and also shelter under your tree and wait for death, for the sun has scorched my tree, and without water, the wind has blown all of its leaves to the ground.” The second brother then replied, “I am going to find our other brother, come with me. His tree is enormous now and is full of fruit. We will go and find shelter, as well as food, and live.”

The first two brothers found the third under the shade of his tree, eating its fruit and sharing the bounty of his tree with the birds and the other creatures of the land. “Please let us share of the soft, ripe fruit of your tree, dear brother, for we are old now and cannot eat solid food, and we have nothing else by which to live.”

“All that I have is yours, dear brothers,” he said. “All that my tree produces is for you, and you can live by it as long as God intends. Join me and let us live together in joy.”

The three brothers sat side by side under the shade of the tree and ate until they were full.

Thereafter it came time for the first brother to leave this world and he died. Not long after him the second brother also died and then finally the third.

In the afterlife, the first brother immediately found himself on an icy plain, and surprisingly, there beside him stood the remnant of his small, stickly tree, planted firmly in the ice. It was a cold place with little light and he stood shivering. From the dark corners of this place suddenly arrived many grim and evil creatures, as cold and icy as their surroundings. They descended upon his tree, as a thousand slate black crows, while a solemn voice bemoaned the brother’s lack of attention in his life to the needs of the tree, and his neglect which had stunted its growth and caused it to suffer to the point of death. The blackened creatures demanded heat to warm their cold hearts, they required this of the first brother, so he offered them his tree to use as kindling for their fire, as he cowered in the shadows. But when they lit the tree it was immediately consumed leaving nothing in its place but ashes. The multitude of demons turned on the brother and attacked him, for the dismal tree had left them lukewarm, and unfulfilled. The brother screamed in protest and for fear, as they grabbed and tore at him and lifted him upon their oily shoulders and carried him away. “If you have nothing else to give, dear brother,” they cackled sarcastically, “then we shall make you an ember and a coal, and we shall light you, to keep us warm.”

When the second brother arrived to the place the first brother had just vacated, he also was surprised to find his tree planted firmly beside him in the ice. He grew frightened and sorrowful, for he quickly understood that he had not taken his life seriously, but had only pretended to do so, to the extent that he could make a good impression, and maintain certain appearances. His tree was healthy and in full leaf, but he had never put in the added effort to allow it to flourish or to fruit. The air suddenly filled with the sound of ten thousand wings buzzing and whining, and then he heard a hollow, vacant scream. He was startled to discover that the scream was his own, as the demons landed upon his tree and filled its branches. “Give us heat, give us heat,” they screeched, “give us heat to keep us warm!” The second brother recoiled in horror, as a voice recalled to him the many evil and the many good deeds committed during his life on earth; the attention he gave his tree but also the neglect and its failure to fruit. Finally, the demons demanded their payment and their fire, yet as they lit his tree on fire, he saw a means of escape in the growing light. As his tree became a bonfire and the demons danced with glee, he dove into the flames. He was alight but not consumed and in the midst of the flame he was met by another figure who carried him away into paradise.

The third brother arrived to this place in the branches of his tree, sitting aloft, and untouched by the icy plain far below him at its base. As the voice recounted his virtues and his sins he began to weep. “Your tree was shelter and sustenance not only for yourself but also for your brothers, and all the little creatures in your care,” the voice pronounced as the demons descended and joined the brother as he sat on the branches of the tree. “Yours was a tree of service,” the voice continued, as angels began to appear amidst the branches, bringing light, power and warmth. “You were attentive to your tree, and persevering in your life,” the voice remarked as the brother continued to cry tears of sorrow, tears of fear, and tears of joy. The demons surrounding the brother grew silent, and, in the growing light and warmth radiating from the multitude of angels appearing in the tree, the demons began to recede silently into the shadows and to disappear. A river of tears flowed out from this brother’s eyes, streaming down the trunk of the tree and out across the icy plain, melting it and revealing new life as it went forth. As the light increased from the presence of a thousand, thousand brilliant angels, the last of the darkness fled and all that remained was pure light. “Your tree gave life in the former age as it will continue to do in the age to come. It was a tree of giving and of care; it has now become a tree of life eternal, and herein you shall dwell and live in peace forevermore.”

~FS

 

 

 

 

Over the years these scenarios, or consciously designed opportunities to create new habits, in the face of familiar difficulties, would take a wide variety of formats and were designed very differently for each of the members of our community, depending on the person. Each of us had our own unique baggage, or “stuff” as it was commonly called, so each of us had very unique paths and scenarios that MD designed for us. In some cases there would be a group scenario with multiple components and these were very interesting and could be extremely challenging.

The reason these scenarios could be so challenging is that they had to be real in order to work. You can imagine that if one didn’t believe what they were experiencing was real it would just be a farce, or a game, and wouldn’t have the power to evoke real change in the person. In many ways these scenarios were just the same as what any of us undergo in our ordinary life, the same as the trials and frustrations that we encounter every day, but the main difference was that these were created with the specific purpose of changing some negative and unloving part of ourselves, and done in a controlled and consciously directed situation by MD, and could, in effect, speed up the rate of transformation in our lives many times over what we might achieve on our own just living out our ordinary lives.

This was a spiritual training course at least as much, if not more so than a spiritual community. We lived in community, and served one another, and learned to love one another, but all of this was context and environment for the primary goal of our own individual transformation and growth. But through this individual growth we were bound to transform the group as a whole and ultimately have a more joyful and healthy community as a result of our collective individual efforts.

The training course, or community had few overarching rules, however one thing, which MD often repeated to us, was that if one wanted to leave the training, they were of course always free to do so, but to do so with forethought, and to let others know ahead of time; to never run away in the heat of an inner struggle. He explained that this was to our benefit because leaving in a rational and well-thought out way was conducive to health and a balanced life; but to run away in the heat of an inner struggle, when we are losing to some negative aspect of ourselves, when we are overcome with anger or fear or some other inner disturbance, to leave in this way would be damaging to us. Just as victory over these elements within us engenders a feeling of freedom and joy, losing to these elements will usually lead to feelings of sorrow, resentment, unforgiveness or other things that cause us harm throughout our lives.

Over the four plus years that I took the course and lived in the community, I experienced a number of stages in the training. These stages weren’t overtly stated, nor did I pay them much attention at the time, but in retrospect I can see them. In the beginning, we all went through a sort of initiation or introduction to the work, which also included shedding of our old lives and becoming new and refreshed. I can’t speak for others who took the course, as it was certainly complex, and unique for everyone, but my sense is that this progression was generally true for the few that began and remained in the program for the duration.  The initial year or so was a time of strengthening, and healing, and preparing for greater challenges that would come later; it was a time of almost constant joy, with laughing and adventure and excitement. Later stages maintained a great deal of this initial joy and humor and lightness but increasingly the scenarios and challenges became more serious and difficult as we delved into deeper layers of our inner lives and these tested us to, or perhaps beyond our limits at times; or at least we felt like they were beyond us at times, whether they actually were or not, is beyond me to say with certainty.

In order to focus fully on this course of training, we left our worldly lives behind. In addition to selling or giving our possessions away we also let go of other familiar aspects of our former lives in order to achieve freedom. On the mundane level we changed our clothing, our eating and our sleeping habits. On a more profound level, one of identity and sense of self, for some of us, we also changed our names, or MD gave us new ones. I had already experimented a little in college with using my middle name instead of my given name so when I was given a new name, I felt prepared and willing to accept something new, and it didn’t feel strange. I was given the name Jaikananda, which by my understanding means ‘victory to bliss’ in Sanskrit. I went by Jaia for short. Not all of us were given new names at first, some were given new names years later, and some were given many new names over the course of the training; as with most aspects of the program it was unique and different for each of us. One of the members of the community, who joined fairly early on, never had his name changed but kept his birth name throughout the entire time. My name was changed one more time to Francis about a year or two later, and eventually I had it legally changed to this, but for the beginning of this journey I went by the name Jaia.

Our diet was simple and delightful. There were variations to this over the years due to circumstances, but in general it was a vegan diet with very little processed sugars. Some scenarios would involve other types of food, as various members worked on habits around baked goods, or candy or things like that, but apart from these specific reasons, in general we ate very simply. For myself, and the others that I spent the most time with, we typically wouldn’t eat anything until lunchtime, or if we did, we had oranges or bananas. This also was a typical lunch, although sometimes we’d have avocado sandwiches. Dinner was nearly always a wonderful hot dish of primarily potatoes and carrots with various spices along with a green salad with shredded carrots and thinly sliced tomatoes. One would expect after a short time of a diet like this it would get boring but amazingly it never did; in fact, at least for me, it was always satisfying and I never got tired of it even though we ate this way for years. Beverages were equally simple as we almost exclusively drank water or rice milk. Again, there were exceptions to this due to other factors but this was the general rule of thumb.

White was the color of our clothing, though each of us had differing styles; my shirts had Nehru collars, while some of the other men had a more relaxed style of shirt. This changed in later years particularly due to work environments when individuals would be employed and required by jobs to wear other things, but in the beginning years we all wore white. At first it felt a little uncomfortable wearing only white, because we were setting ourselves obviously apart from everyone in the world, and I didn’t like drawing attention to myself, but very soon I enjoyed the white clothing because it gave me a feeling of peace and after a while I also loved the purity and the beauty of it. It occurred to me that my aversion to it wasn’t grounded in anything other than a fear of looking odd or doing something unusual. These certainly weren’t worthwhile reasons to be uncomfortable. Ultimately wearing white was joyful, simplified my choices and allowed me to focus on other more important things.

Our community was primarily nomadic and because of the fact that we never lived in one location for very long we didn’t sleep in beds. I had kept a very good sleeping bag from my former life in the world and used this for the entire time; I remember the first time sleeping in a bed, nearly five years later, how strange it felt and I didn’t like it. It took me several months to get used to the feeling of a mattress again and also the feeling of sleeping inside a house. Most of the time we slept under the stars, under a tarp if it rained, or in tents. We lived in places of incredible natural beauty in the mountains of northern California and Arizona, and in the deserts of New Mexico. Over the years I grew so accustomed to the feel of the night breeze, the sounds of the local animal life, and the beauty of the stars in the night sky twinkling over me as I drifted off to sleep, that it was a difficult transition to sleep inside a stuffy bedroom again when the time came to do so.

(to be continued)

~FS

Prior to leaving my old life and giving all of my possessions away I had already begun to follow MD as a disciple. Earlier in the year, as my graduation was approaching I was in a crisis; not knowing what to do next with my life and not liking any of my options. I woke from a dream one morning with a Latin sentence in my mind about being renewed and reborn. My Latin was not very good, even though I had taken four years of it in high school, and I’m guessing I completely botched the translation, but I interpreted it to be a message of encouragement to myself and others, that we can be reborn and made anew in a spiritual way.  I no longer remember the beginning of the sentence, but the end I remember was ‘…sacra creationem geniti sunt’ or roughly, ‘…you are born of a sacred creation’. I felt inspired to hike to the top of Mt St Helena, not far from my home, carve this sentence into a rock somewhere near the top of the mountain, and spend time reflecting and deciding my next move in life.

I packed my sleeping bag, some food, and a large mallet and chisel into my backpack and drove to the trailhead. It is about a seven mile hike to the top and provides beautiful views into the Napa Valley, overlooking Calistoga and St Helena in the distance. It was a windy late afternoon when I made the summit and quickly found a good rock face for my carving. I began to carve as the sun was setting at my back; I cast a deep shadow onto the stone where I was working, while a warm reddish-golden glow illuminated the rock around my shadow. It was slow going, since I had brought an old wood chisel, not one made for stone; but it was heavy-duty, and solid, and up to the task, even if it wasn’t the right tool for the job.

I finished my carving late in the night, fairly close to midnight, and the wind had really picked up. It was a full moon, or nearly full, and the night was clear. I was joined at the top of the mountain by thousands, or perhaps millions of points of light in the night sky. The silver moonlight and the rising wind thrilled me as I stared out across the night sky. There is an observation tower at the top or the mountain, which I climbed, and from the platform high above everything, one imagines they are on top of the world. I slept here for the night, with the wind howling about me and the moon looking down upon me with a cool magnanimity.

I returned home with a sense of hope. Several days later MD appeared at my door and told me he had been sent by my “brothers from the inner planes” to help me. I didn’t know I had brothers on the inner planes, but I could believe it, and it sounded possible, plus I was happy to believe that these brothers, and MD, were looking out for me, and were responding to my need, and my hope which had been engendered on the mountain several days earlier.

Very early one morning, MD arrived at my home, perhaps a little before 4 am, and knocked on the front door, waking us from a sound sleep. We let him in and he made his way into our bedroom, he then asked my girlfriend and me to join him sitting on the bed.  We sat there together in the dark and he explained to us that it was time for him to become our guru. If we accepted, we would become his disciples. I accepted, but my girlfriend did not. From this point our relationships changed; mine and MD‘s as well as my girlfriend’s and mine. He and I became teacher and student while she and I began to drift apart. It became clear that she was on a more conventional path and had goals that included a master’s degree, a career, children and all of those wonderful things, while I had chosen a different trajectory.

One afternoon he and I visited a local café and ordered a cinnamon roll and took our seats at an empty table near a window. A few moments later it was served to us on a plate with two forks. This was the setting for one of the earliest formal lessons that I remember as a disciple of MD. It was very basic and rudimentary but it has remained with me to this day. Essentially it was a game about giving and receiving, and the object was to pay attention to my inner emotional and mental state over the course of the game, and to draw conclusions about the nature of giving and receiving from these observations. These goals and objectives were not directly stated at the time, but were clearly intended, and I was to infer them and learn accordingly, internalizing them and making the conclusions my own.

MD pushed the plate with the cinnamon roll towards me and said something like, “Here, this is for you.” I took a bite. He then told me to offer it back to him. I actually wanted the whole cinnamon roll so I felt a little disappointed offering it back to him, but I did. He smiled and laughed and took a bite and said, “Thank you.” And then he pushed it back across the table to me and again said, “Here, for you.” I was much happier to receive it this time and I took another bite. “Now offer it back to me again,” he said. So I did and I felt happier this time as I offered it to him. We passed it back and forth several more times, saying, “this is for you” or something very close to that, each time with a smile. It became fun to receive the cinnamon roll and to give it again. “Do you see how giving and receiving are the same thing?” MD asked me as we ate. “There isn’t a difference between the two.” I understood what he was telling me, both giving and receiving were joyous actions made by two parties, and they both were the same; it made no difference whether one is the giver or the receiver in terms of the joy, fulfillment, or other good qualities one enjoys and participates in during the course of acting out generosity. This act of enjoying the gift of the good tasting cinnamon roll, and then of giving it away and letting another enjoy it, and then suddenly getting to taste it again, and then just as suddenly give it up again for the other person, made clear the joy of self-sacrifice, and the humble simplicity of receiving a gift very clear and understandable.

This was the nature of time spent with MD, he could take the commonplace and make it fun, and turn it into a life lesson of lasting value. Over the course of many months I visited him where he was living in a tent near the coast and my task was to bring him oranges when I came to visit. The goal of this task was to prepare the oranges and bring them to him with the purest intentions I could manage; without negative thoughts, or negative feelings, without any unloving inner motivation that would taint the gift of the oranges. The gift was the energy I put into the oranges rather than the oranges themselves. This was the essential basis for many, if not all of the subsequent lessons over the course of my next four years with MD; what was I doing internally, hidden from view, and was this loving or unloving. The fundamental question revolved around whether I was thinking and feeling with love; and on an even deeper level, was I moving on a spiritual level with love and in love, serving others with pure energy and intention, or was I being unloving.

The big question at this point would be, could MD really see into the depths of my being; the places hidden from view, which nobody else could see, and which in many cases I couldn’t see at first myself. My experience told me that I could trust this; though I couldn’t explain how he could do it, I became certain that he could do it, and that it would be to my benefit to listen and learn from him, and allow him to help me operate on myself and transform the parts of me that were truly unloving, turning them into something much closer to genuine love, and if I was able into love itself.

One time we were in my truck and MD was driving while I sat in the passenger seat. As we approached an intersection in town he let me know we were about to enter a simple scenario as a test for me. A scenario was a situation created to give an opportunity to grow and change. Scenarios were common tools MD used to teach his disciples; by creating a situation that would bring up some inner conflict or negative tendency, in which to be transformed by making a better choice in the heat of the moment; it was an opportunity for the person whose scenario it was, to begin a new response, start a new positive habit and to overcome old patterns that were destructive, or hurtful to themselves and others, or just an opportunity to overcome fear, or some other limitation.

This scenario was one of the first he created for me, and it took place in the main intersection of the small town I was living in at the time. When it was our turn to move through the intersection he drove to the middle of the crossing and stopped the truck. We sat there in the truck for a time while other cars began honking at us to move, and drivers angrily yelled at us. It helped that I was in the passenger seat and not driving, but at first it was still uncomfortable to be yelled at, and to be sitting stopped in the middle of the busy intersection. But I quickly understood that this situation was about maintaining my composure and my peace in the midst of anger being directed at me; it was set up for me, who never wants to make anyone upset, partly out of fear, to confront this fear and be unmoved in the face of other’s displeasure.  MD told a joke which lightened my mood and I sat relatively untouched by the mood of the other drivers in the intersection. After a time he started the truck again and we continued on our way. He complimented my inner composure and said I did pretty well with that difficult situation. As we drove away I did feel lighter, as if a burden of some kind had been lifted and also I felt a little stronger and more able to face the inevitability of others displeasure towards me, justified or unjustified, and more able to maintain clarity in the midst of a difficult situation, which could allow me to ultimately act with kindness and compassion towards others who are angry at me rather than act in reaction to them.

(to be continued)

~FS

I’d now like to share the period in my life that is the most seminal, and life-changing; but also the most unusual, and in some respects difficult to understand. I say that it was seminal and life-changing because, through this period, I was brought fully and clearly back into the Christian faith, from out of the spiritual confusion that I had traveled for many years; the pleasant, but vacuous new-age spiritual buffet I had indulged myself was replaced, and I was given instead the simple bread of life—a less flashy and less trendy meal, but a much more fulfilling one.

However, the path taken to reach this goal was not common, and I expect some readers will find some parts of my story misguided, and baffling, or maybe even delusional at times. But, hopefully, at the very least, you will agree that the ends justify the means. I certainly feel this way. Becoming firmly and forever Christian because of this journey; any difficulty, trouble or suffering I endured along the way is a small price to pay.

It may help you, as you read these next chapters, to not take things too seriously, and even if things do take serious turns, to take these with a grain of salt; since this is exactly how I approached it while living it. It helped me to trust God every step of the way, to hold to faith and hope, and to refrain from quick judgements. By keeping open to each step, and each experience I allowed myself to glean the truth in the midst of the challenge and to find the pearls of wisdom and transformation where they could be found. By staying with the process and not running away from it—though it would push every button I had, would require laying down my pride and many other things to which I was attached—I was able to confront my fears and overcome them, and choose love in place of fear, faith in place of doubt, and light in the face of darkness.

After graduating from university in June 1993, I sold or gave everything I owned away and joined a spiritual community. My possessions were not very great, so it wasn’t as difficult as it might have been for someone with more wealth. Still, it was very liberating as I gave away my prized leather jacket and racing bicycle as well as an extensive personal library, and an admirable record collection. Perhaps the most difficult to part with however, were all of my journals, and every photograph or sentimental attachment. With the exception of some clothing, my sleeping bag and a toothbrush, I shed every other possession. My trusty Toyota pickup I gave for the collective use of our community.

I remember hearing a story as a child, of a family friend who had given all his possessions away. I admired and was inspired by him, so when this opportunity presented itself I was excited to follow in his footsteps. Pulling ‘my’ truck up to the landfill, and tossing all of my trophies and ribbons from soccer and track out the back was a strange thrill; and when I swept the last remnants of my childhood possessions off the tailgate, I felt renewed.

Our community was never large, though a large number of people came and went for brief stays with us over the years, but when we first began it was extremely small. There were myself, another young man, R., a young lady, K. and our spiritual master, MD.

I had met MD four years prior to becoming his disciple and joining his fledgling community. We met at my mother’s new home. She had recently remarried and they hired MD to design and install the new landscaping for their home. We immediately became friends, and occasionally, over subsequent years I worked for him part-time doing landscaping. He was about twelve years older than me and had a quick wit and intelligence unlike anyone I had met before. He also shared my love for travel and adventure; and he had a wealth of experiences that intrigued me. During the first couple years of our friendship he often discussed a plan to form a company that would create Sacred Gardens for clients around the world; these would be healing gardens that would tap into the natural power centers of the earth using crystals arranged in rings, pyramids that enhance plant growth and promote healing and other structures of this nature. I didn’t know anything about this sort of thing but it was fascinating, and the idea of traveling around the world together building such interesting projects excited me tremendously. Of the projects I had already see him design and build it didn’t seem that far-fetched that he could make this happen; he had a great eye for design, and he was good at business and marketing.

As the years went by he began to teach a form of kinesiology to me. It was intended to enable a person to achieve freedom within themselves by clearing away mental or emotional issues that were causing the individual problems. The idea was that it could help a person make spiritual advances and achieve greater spiritual health and wholeness. From my experience it seemed to do just that, and it was fun. I had a great time working on this with him and feeling like I was making progress.

In addition to his other abilities and gifts, MD was a lot of fun to be around. He was hilarious, and there was never a dull moment around him. So whatever we were doing it was almost always guaranteed to be interesting, and funny as well. In the early 1990s I lost track of him for about a year but then one day I ran into him at a café in Sebastopol, CA. He was different, something seemed more detached and aloof about him and he was more intense in some way. I had touched his shoulder to say hello and he turned quickly and warned me not to touch him because he was in the midst of a spiritual transformation. His sharp clear blue eyes seemed to penetrate through me and I took a step back. We spoke again later and he gave me a book to read, Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda.

Hinduism was the context of my early explorations into the spiritual life with MD. He had studied with Master Subramuniya in Hawaii and was knowledgeable about yogic philosophies and practices. The book he gave me was a primer into this world of yogis, to help me understand devotion, higher spiritual practices, and the master-disciple relationship, among other things. I never would have imagined at the time that some four years later, after beginning on this path so solidly enmeshed in a Hindu context that I would emerge solidly Christian.

Enantiodromia is a Greek word that literally means: opposite running course, and is used to describe a phenomena of going in one direction and ending up with its opposite; that when we pursue a course of action, or a mental or emotional goal with devotion and extreme focus there is a tendency to end up with its opposite. While Hinduism and Christianity are not opposites, they are very far apart, and as I look back on this period in my life, either consciously, as MD intended, or unconsciously, by a God-guided plan, he met me where I was in my life, walked alongside me, and slowly but inexorably guided me one hundred and eighty degrees about face, into a completely different direction, an opposite path to the one I believed that I was on.

(to be continued)

~FS