A few decades ago, my Sundays were dedicated to the Connemara Public Library. My interests alternated between science and spirituality, both equally captivating. The library maintained an ambiance of silence with books neatly arranged in perfect order. The spirituality section was small, with authors attempting to convey their interpretations of ancient wisdom. Despite this, no book thoroughly satisfied my quest for understanding. In hindsight, those texts seemed disconnected from the true essence of spirituality.
On my way home, there was a small temple, easily overlooked
as it was situated between a cinema theatre and a restaurant. Before alighting
from the bus, I would always glance through the window to catch a glimpse of
it. Though usually deserted, I never missed looking at it when passing by. The
temple was quite ordinary in the midst of the bustling area, except once a
month in the evening when it drew significant attention. The priest arrived
early, cleaned the entire place, and meticulously spent hours adorning the idol
with butter and colorful berries, transforming the temple into a spectacle by
nightfall. By evening, the temple teemed with devotees, their worship
accompanied by loud bells and the priest’s chants. It became challenging to see
the idol due to the crowd; however, in brief moments of silence, a gap would
occasionally reveal the idol's face. The sight of Lord Krishna, in all its
beauty and magnificence, with the accompanying chants, evoked profound
emotions.
Over time, I developed a silent conversation with the idol,
filled with questions about life and the world's ways. If he truly possessed
divine power, how could he merely observe without assisting? I resolved that my
belief in him would hinge on witnessing a miracle. At that point, with no faith
in God and facing numerous struggles, I'd mentally converse with the idol amid
my efforts. Despite relentless attempts, failures ensued. I eventually
surrendered myself, convinced nothing would change.
Yet, thereafter, life flowed like a dream, filled with
remarkable miracles. It felt as if rapid events unfolded around me while I
stayed in one place. A well-wisher introduced me to meditation classes, which
included some physical exercises. While meditation intrigued me, the exercises
did not. Balancing the center's location and my work schedule led to
exhaustion, and my supervisor ultimately made me choose between meditation and
my job; I chose the latter. The miracles seemed to cease. Forsaking meditation and spirituality, I moved forward. Decades later, following advice from another
well-wisher and reading a suggested book, I joined another meditation center. I
realized the miracles had only paused temporarily, returning to enrich my life
once more.
In my earlier years, living in a modest abode, I spent
evenings decorating a picture of Lord Krishna with roses and lighting a lamp, a
practice that brought immense satisfaction. Occasionally, Krishna appeared in
my dreams, where we conversed, leaving me with a profound sense of knowing him
for years.
Our meditation teacher, also devoted to Krishna, shared his
encounters with Krishna on the astral plane in his biography. During a class,
he revealed Krishna's formless aspect as light to him, leading our teacher to
transition from idol worship to experiencing Krishna as light. He introduced us
to a new form of worship: offering energy to the Lord and revering him as
light, experiencing this divine presence over prolonged periods.
My meditation teacher imparted wisdom handed down from his guru, who embodied Lord Krishna's essence. On one notable occasion, Krishna physically visited his guru at home, bestowing blessings and bliss upon him. It’s difficult to write more about his guru, as much of his life remains a mystery, having spent most of it in the astral plane, exploring various divine realms and encountering manifested gods, today marks the anniversary of his passing on the 25th of August. His influence continues to enlighten countless lives and endures through my guru.