The Avatar and I

It all started when I first met the spiritual teacher of my yoga center. I felt immediately that he was someone I could trust—and someone I would meet again. A month later, I did—when my terminally ill sister came to live with me. Frail and gray, my sister was no longer the vivacious dynamo I remembered so well. In fact, doctors said she had but one month to live. But, though cancer had already ravished her body, I was determined not to let her go without a fight. We went to a specialist who said that in any disease the whole being must be healed: body, mind, and spirit. We got to work at once. For the body, we found a holistic practitioner; for the mind, a yoga teacher/Reiki Master. For the spirit, someone suggested the spiritual teacher of the yoga center. I was happy for the opportunity to work with him again.

Refusing payment, the teacher tirelessly offered support to both my sister and me during the next weeks. Each time a situation became too much for me, I called him. Even before I had finished my tearful plea for help, he would be there—assuring me that everything would be all right, offering much-needed support, and sending me to take a walk in the mountains. After an hour or so, I would regain my composure. When the time came for my sister to pass over into the hereafter, the teacher held her hand and led her peacefully across.

Several months later, I became a regular member of guided meditation classes held in my teacher’s home. I noticed that he wore a wide, silver armband with a picture of a small, bushy-haired man on it. I asked who he was. I found out, of course, and I was never the same again. As the months rolled by, I was astonished by how much I learned. Over time, I began to realize the true potential of Sathya Sai Baba, Lord of the Universe. But as Christmas approached, I fought the depression of spending the holiday without my sister. At a meeting of our meditation group, I suddenly developed a terrible migraine.

Deep in mediation, I encountered a beautiful white light. Something about it seemed strange. It had an odd, faintly gray circle in its center. As I stared at it, it began to move. I kept staring and soon I felt pulled into it. Then an image materialized. I saw Sai Baba. He sat on a dais dressed in white satin, blessing His devotees with a wave of His hand. Suddenly, I realized that I, too, could receive a blessing for my headache. “Baba,” I said. “Bless me. My head is throbbing.” Since I didn’t know whether he had heard me, I repeated my prayer three times. On the third try, Swami stood up, looked straight into my eyes, and pointed directly at me. I wondered if I had offended Him. He continued to point and shake His head. To my amazement, I saw red and green colors began to swirl around him. He reappeared in the center of the colors, still shaking His head and pointing. Now holly wreaths, gifts wrapped in beautiful green and red paper, toys, and Christmas trees surrounded the avatar. I left the meditation astonished. What did it mean? My spiritual teacher suggested that perhaps I had temporarily gotten caught up in the commercial aspects of Christmas, forgetting the meaning of the season.

During the next months, the bond between members of the meditation group grew stronger. Our eyes opened ever wider to truth; the superficial aspects of the world came to feel more false and unimportant. Spiritually, we grew by leaps and bounds.

I began to get a sense of what I needed to work on through inner messages. In one such experience, I was just about to enter the mouth of a cave. I looked down at my feet and saw that I had on rubber sandals. Just then, Swami strolled past barefoot and went into the cave. I thought if the avatar could go inside barefoot, surely I could enter in rubber sandals. Once I was inside, Swami, much to my surprise, walked straight up a stalagmite. I followed Him, slipping and sliding in my impractical sandals. Swami reached the top—with me in tow. We stood atop the nature-made table surveying our accomplishment. Swami looked at my feet and said, “Take off your shoes.” I removed them and handed them to Him. Without a second thought, He threw them into the ravine below. I watched them disappear, then Swami told me to go fetch them. In disbelief I said, “But You just threw them there.” He looked into my eyes with an expression that made my blood run cold. “You are more afraid of going down there than you are of coming back up,” He said.

I was overjoyed when an opportunity presented itself to visit India Our meditation group was going to see Swami the next month.

When we arrived at Swami’s ashram in Bangalore, I was ecstatic, scarcely able to believe that I was actually about to experience the presence of divinity. AT the first darshan, my emotions plunged to disappointment when we learned there was no room in the great hall. The sevadals (volunteers) placed us outside the hall on the grass. Every eye in the crowd was transfixed on the door behind Swami’s dais. But to everyone’s surprise, He entered instead from His garden. He walked three feet in front of me. He paused and looked deep into my eyes. In mere seconds, I saw my life flash before me. I saw myself as a baby, I saw the birth of my child, and I saw all the good and bad times. Then He moved His fingers in a circular motion and pulled away from my gaze. Suddenly, I saw the most amazing sight: Swami was surrounded by an orange glow. Lightning bolts seemed to spring from Him on every side. As He walked on, I watched every movement. He ascended His throne. My first day in the presence of divinity topped my wildest expectations. Never had I sung such praises to God as I did that day.

At the next darshan, Baba and I again made eye contact. Again, He traced the familiar circles in the air with His fingers. Swami left for Kodaikanal six days later and we followed. When we reached the mountain in that area, I was astonished. It was the same one I had seen in a dream. On our last day at Kodaikanal, our group decided to go sightseeing. We went to a place called Coaker’s Walk where clouds hung around our waists as we climbed the stairs up an exquisite mountain. On the way, the trail passes a moss-covered cave. When I reached it and walked inside, I watched in disbelief as a friend climbed a stalagmite—exactly like the one Swami and I had climbed in my dream.

Later on, when I paid a visit to a palm-leaf reader, I was told that in order to obtain what I wanted I should meditate morning and night. The reading said that on June 15 my life would change forever, and I would obtain what I wanted. I looked forward to that date like a child waiting for Santa Claus.

Soon after my return home, my father died. With Swami’s help, I got through the painful experience. Then a few weeks later I received the news—my mother and my Godmother had been killed in an automobile accident. In deep shock and anger, I wondered what God was doing to me. I called my spiritual teacher. “If this is what I have been meditating for day and night, I would have preferred not to.” He replied gently, “If you hadn’t done it, you wouldn’t have been able to handle this.” I knew he was right. At that moment, I felt Swami place His hand on my shoulder. I closed my eyes and asked Him to please stay with me through my ordeal. Though the funeral was a nightmare, I can definitely say He was at my side.

When I returned home after the deaths, I did the best thing I could think of to do. I bought four small wooden boxes and my best friend and I headed for Balanced Rock, a Native American sacred ground in Arkansas. In the middle of this area, a 200-foot rock pyramid points toward the sky. On its tip is balanced a flat stone twenty feet across. We climbed to the top—a site that once had hosted generations of shamans. Emerald-green mountains surrounded us on four sides. Bright blue skies reached to the heavens. Bald eagles pierced through giant clouds. I thought, “God, you are a breathtaking painter.” Then I scattered the ashes of my family members. As the last ash disappeared, my friend and I watched as a thin mist journeyed toward us from the Ouachita Mountain that stood opposite. The mist covered us in a soft embrace of moisture. We looked at each other. Neither of us was wet. I felt that I had received a gift both from my family and from God.

Every day I thank God for giving me those beautiful people. On their double headstone are inscribed the words, “Some have teachers; some have heroes. We had both.” I also thank God for allowing me to see Him in the flesh. His immortal words ring in my ears, “Why fear when I am here?” Thank You, Swami.