The Last Story (10 page)

Then again, when we're happy, our breath is long and light. We feel as if we're floating. We are breathing in the same air through the same two nostrils, but the state of our mind affects it. The breath is the most intimate aspect of our lives. The first act of life is inhalation.

The last act is exhalation. All of life occurs between these two acts. Yet we seldom think of our breath.

Only if we choke on something—then we quickly realize how important it is.

"Breath is the bridge between the inner and outer world. If we can handle the breath, we can handle our minds, thoughts, and emotions. Using the breath, kriya brings rhythm to our lives.

You hear an orchestra tuning up. One person is playing this, another that. It is just noise. But when the conductor comes and waves his baton then everyone plays together, and it's music.

Kriya brings that music to our lives. It's a simple technique."

"Why does it have to be taught?" someone else asked. "Why don't we just do it spontaneously?"

The yogi smiled. "I don't know why. It would make my job easier if it happened spontaneously. I wouldn't have to travel everywhere teaching it. The next time I speak to God, I will ask Him that question."

People laughed. Jimmy stood and raised his hand. "I would like to take your course on meditation and kriya this weekend. But I'm afraid I won't be able to do it because my mind is always wandering.

Just now, when we sat in silence, my mind was all over the place. What can I do?"

"This is a common experience. Normally the mind swings back and forth between the present and the future. We feel angry about something that's happened to us, or else we regret the way things have turned out. See how much time your mind spends on yesterday, last year, when you were a child. Yet the past is the past. It is gone, finished.

Why waste so much life there?

"Then there is the tendency to worry about

tomorrow. When you were in school, you were anxious about what you would do when you graduated.

Then, when you started your career, you worried if you would ever reach your goals. You can spend your whole life concerned about tomorrow.

"Yet you look to the future to make you happy.

I'll be happy, you say, when I'm married. Then, after you get married, you think, I'll be very happy when we have children. Of course, when you have kids you can't enjoy yourself without a house. You postpone your happiness until that perfect future date, but it never arrives.

"Be in the present moment. If you live fully now, tomorrow will take care of itself. If you are happy now, the past will not torment you." The yogi paused. "Meditation and kriya will help you have this experience. Don't worry, you will do just fine. I see it."

"Thank you," Jimmy said, sitting down.

Peter raised his hand. Our little group was asking half the questions. The rest of the audience must have thought we were desperate people, or genuine seekers. I had enjoyed the yogi's last reply. It had hit me right on the head. My mind was never in the present moment.

Some of what he was saying was beginning to remind me of the Rishi. Yet he still seemed so ordinary—funny and insightful, true but lacking supernatural powers. As he had said, I was looking for proof of his God realization. I wished he would heal someone—Peter, for exam pie. It was ironic that Peter would ask the question he did right then.

"I am paralyzed from the waist down," he said.

"Is it possible that I can be healed through meditation and kriya? What I mean is—is it my karma to be crippled?"

"What do you think? Do you have some karma?"

Peter fidgeted. "I think so. I just wish I could get rid of it."

"You want to be able to walk again? Do all the things you could before?"

"Yes. I love to play baseball." Peter glanced at me. "I love many things."

"Do you love football?" the yogi asked out of left field.

Peter stuttered. "Not as much as baseball, but I enjoy watching it."

The yogi scratched his head. "I watched a football game yesterday on TV. A few minutes of it. I kept thinking: why are all these grown men fighting over this ball? What would an intelligent race from another planet think if they were watching this game? Why doesn't someone just give them each a ball so they can relax?" The yogi laughed, as did many people in the audience. He added by way of explanation, "It was the first time I saw a football game."

Peter forced a smile. "In baseball we don't actually fight over the ball."

The yogi waved his hand. "All sports are silly.

That's what makes them fun. Now, I have not

forgotten your question. You sit here in what you think of as a broken physical body. You imagine you are physical, and it would take something physical to fix your spine. But I tell you that is not so. Your body is pure consciousness. The whole of creation is nothing but an ocean of pure consciousness.

It is that consciousness that upholds the entire creation. You can call it God or Jesus or Krishna or Buddha—it doesn't matter. It is all the same. It is that consciousness that maintains your body in the state it's in."

"Can you tell it to fix itself?" Peter asked, a note of hope in his voice.

The yogi shrugged. "Why don't you tell it yourself?

Learn kriya and meditation. Dive deep inside.

There is no physical injury that cannot be healed through the power of God's grace."

"What is grace?" someone asked.

The yogi played with a carnation now. "That is the same as asking what is the meaning of life. That is a great secret. If you ask someone that and they answer you, it means they do not know the answer.

No one who knows the answer ever answers that question."

"That's convenient," Roger said, a sharp edge to his voice.

The yogi laughed. "I think so, too!"

Roger stood this time. "You are vague with many of your answers. It's like you don't really know anything."

The yogi nodded. "That's a beautiful state, the

state of 'I don't know.' Meditation and kriya lead to that state. If knowledge doesn't—if you still feel that you do know—then that knowledge has not taken you to the goal. You see, first we think we are someone. We believe we are special, that we know everything. Then, as we progress on the path, we see that we are no one. We are nothing. We are like grass. It is good to live as if you are grass. Then, when you reach the goal, you realize that you are everyone. That is the flow of life. From someone, to no one, to everyone. Do you understand?"

"No," Roger said.

"It doesn't matter," the yogi said.

Peter had another question. "Could you talk about relationships?"

"I'm a monk. I'm the last person who should talk about relationships."

"Please? I really would like to hear your opinion on them."

"Relationships are mysterious. We doubt the positive qualities in others, seldom the negative.

You will say to your partner: do you really love me?

Are you sure you love me? You will ask this a dozen times and drive the person nuts. But you never ask: are you really mad at me? Are you sure you're angry? When someone is angry, you don't doubt it for a moment. Yet the reverse should be true. We should doubt the negative in life, and have faith in the positive." He paused and stared at Peter.

"Assume that your partner loves you. No matter what happens. Remember this: love is not an

emotion, it is your very existence." He momentarily closed his eyes, almost as if he were checking on Peter's injury. When he spoke next, it was in a soft voice. "It is this love that will heal you. Nothing ever heals except divine love. It is all there is."

More questions were asked: about reincarnation, the New Age, the return of Christ. The yogi danced around most of them, seemingly tired of talking.

He was fascinating, not what I had expected at all.

Obviously he had depth, but was also so childlike.

It was hard to tell when he was being serious and when he was playing with the audience.

Yet maybe it was as he had said at the start—it was all a play to him. At one point he asked for someone to sing a song.

"Singing is important in all spiritual traditions,"

he said. "When we sit here, with our minds busy with whatever, we are separate from one another.

But when we sing together, we leave our small egos behind and merge in the group. That is a form of enlightenment. To feel as if everyone belongs to you, and you belong to them. That is something a Master will always teach. There is no hierarchy in the family of man. We are all equal, all children of the divine. The Master is the same as the student, the disciple, the devotee.

The Master never places himself above them because if he did, he wouldn't be able to help them." The yogi glanced at Roger.

"That's why we don't seek power. Those things separate us from each other. They lead to ignorance, to darkness."

"Does it matter what we sing?" someone asked.

"We can sing a devotional song in English," the yogi said. "Then we will chant a mantra.

A mantra is a sound that has a specific effect. Certain mantras are for meditation. They are to be kept secret inside. Other mantras are for chanting out loud.

One such mantra is Om Namah Shivaya. It is very powerful. We don't mediate silently with it, but we can sing it. It brings harmony to the whole life.

That is the effect of its six syllables on our nervous system. Some might ask: is this a Hindu mantra? Is it Buddhist? In reality it is not connected to any religion, race, or sect. It is very ancient, before there existed such divisions on Earth. Shiva is not the name of a particular deity.

It is that state of perfect innocence we all have inside. No matter what we may have done in life.

No matter how many regrets we have, how many sins we think we've committed—that state of innocence is always there for us to embrace. This mantra takes us there straight away. Then, after we chant, we will sit silently for a few minutes, and let the sound vibrate in our consciousness, in the depths of our being. We never chant to gain something selfish. We do it only to perfect ourselves and come closer to God. It is important to have this attitude of surrender. Innocence and surrender are two keys to the spiritual path."

Before he began, however, he invited people to take a brief break and stretch. Jimmy went to get a drink of water. Peter turned to me, excited.

"This chant really gets you high." Peter looked over at Roger. "You have to try it. You'll like it."

Roger was bored. "I feel like I'm at a Hare Krishna meeting." He turned to me. "Do you want to go?"

"She isn't going," Peter said. "I want her to meet the yogi after the meeting."

"Shouldn't we ask Shari what she wants?" Roger said.

I spoke hesitantly. "I would like to try the chant."

Roger stood. "I'll wait for you outside."

Peter peered up at him. "You don't have to wait if you don't want to."

Roger looked Peter up and down, then chuckled.

"You're a true believer, aren't you? You'll follow any Joe or Harry who comes along. This man is interested in your money, nothing more. When he has it, that will be the last you see of him. I pity you."

Peter was unimpressed. "I see no pockets on his dhoti. I think he's just here to help people." Peter paused and gave him a cold stare. "What are you here for?"

Roger ignored him. "Remember, we have to get up early," he said to me and stepped past us, leaving. Peter was concerned.

"We have to get up early," he said to me. "What is this we?"

I shrugged. "It's nothing. We start shooting tomorrow.

We both have to be there at six."

"You're not interested in this guy, are you?"

I forced a smile. "No. Don't be ridiculous. Relax.

Enjoy the chant."

Yet I had been wrong. Roger had not stood up to leave. Not yet, anyway. Staring warily at the yogi, he crept toward him. The yogi was speaking softly to his assistant; he seemed unaware of Roger's approach until Roger was only a few feet from him.

Then the yogi raised his eyes and smiled.

"Yes?" he said pleasantly, so that only those of us up front could hear. His microphone was turned off. Roger stopped when he saw the yogi's bright smile, and seemed on the verge of leaving. But then he drilled the holy man one last time.

"I won't be staying for the chant," he said. "The only power in a mantra is what you tell yourself there is. It's all self-hypnosis, a bunch of nonsense.

I'm not into playing head games." He turned his back on the man.

"Wait," the yogi said.

Roger glanced over his shoulder. "Huh?"

"You are a fool."

Roger was instantly livid. His face flushed with blood and he drew in a shuddering breath. "How dare you call me a fool! You charlatan! Just because I don't bow at your feet!"

The yogi chuckled softly. "You see the power of one little word? I called you a fool and your whole state of mind was transformed. Not only that, your breathing and heart rate accelerated. Your blood pressure leapt off the scale. Now when a normal word such as fool can have such a powerful effect on you, can you imagine how much more the sacred name of God can change you?" He shook his head.

"Don't be in such a hurry to dismiss this chant.

Not, at least, until you have tried it."

Roger didn't listen to the advice. Obviously embarrassed, and without saying another thing, he turned and walked briskly from the church. Peter watched him go with a smug expression.

"It looks like your star will never be a star," he said. "Not in the sky, anyway."

"Don't be so hard on him," I said, thinking Roger had been a fool to try to match wits with the yogi.

A few minutes later we sang an English song,

"Amazing Grace," and then settled into the chant.

The yogi started us off, then the group continued on its own, as the yogi closed his eyes and appeared to meditate. The yogi had such a delightful singing voice: I wished he would continue to chant with us.

It reminded me of the melodious words of the Rishi.

The power of the mantra, said out loud, was immediately evident. First I began to relax, and the pressure in my head lessened. Then, as I let myself go into the sound of the words, not minding what I was doing or where I was, I felt the endless chatter in my mind easing. It was as if I were tapping into the peace I experienced when I had entered the light after dying. The spot between my eyebrows and another spot close to my heart began to vi brate, as if touched by a powerful magnet. A stream of gladness flowed through me at those two points. I was not imagining it; I enjoyed it immensely. My consciousness was "high up," swimming free in a place devoid of restrictions. I no longer felt as if /