I learned to meditate when I was 12, from a disciple of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. My motives were not pure. I wanted to experience something mystical, anything to take me out of my bodily experience and rocket me into another dimension. Existing in bodily form had never been comfortable, but nearing 13, my body curving and getting denser felt almost excrutiatingly unbearable. He taught me to meditate on the mantra AUM, the sound said in the Yoga Sutras to lead to the ultimate realization of the Self because it represents nothing less than the essence of the Universe, the Source of all Being. All I recall are his large hands doing something resembling a blessing, his mala beads, and the basic instruction to repeat the mantra in my head over and over while seated in a semi-lotus position. Nothing more extraordinary than that.Without further instruction, I delved in, learning pranayama from books, and experienced the most profound mystical experience of my life -- until earlier this month. Sidetracked by the world of illusion, I forgot the feeling of Oneness, the loss of the "I" identity, the merging with nature I experienced sitting under a guava tree in my backyard when I "saw" God in every leaf, a shining light flowing in the leaf's veins as if breathing, the entire universe present in it, while both the leaf and the universe were also present in me. The sense of bliss (with a capital B) I felt was a nectar I wanted to hold onto, but the "I" voice called back, reminding me that I could not stay out in the garden (of Eden) forever. So I returned inside, to the TV blaring a Mexican telenovela and my abuelita asking me if I wanted a snack.
I did not have a teacher to help me sort out the experience, or to develop a consistent and disciplined practice. The bliss I experienced (call it the pearl of great price, the kingdom of God, or the nectar of devotion) called me, but I did not know how to return to it. After 13 years of digression, I returned to the quest for spiritual enlightenment, searching for (but not finding) a teacher I could follow and respect.
I was never one to fall for men with long beards in white robes who expected admiration. I followed my inner guru, and finally, my inner guru led me to the right teacher(s). And finally, I tasted, once again, the sweet nectar that resides deep in all of our hearts. Hari Om Namo Narayana, Om Namo Narayana. May we never give up on the spiritual quest, and may we always be vigilant and waiting for the teacher to arrive. May we be silent and "hear" the mantra that speaks to our soul.
