Happiness Is A Choice

During the Mid-Atlantic Region ‘s 20th annual conference, guest speaker Seral Rahm of the Bhakti Singers asked us, the audience, to imagine having a dream where we’re at a retreat with many devotees singing and chanting. We would place special emphasis on the dream and look for the teaching symbols in it. Yet we forget to treat everything in our lives from this perspective. Swami has told us that We is a dream. And everything in this dream is to help us wake up. He has incarnated in human form to help us wake up from the dream. But who is dreaming? Who are we? Swami says that we are one, that there is only one and that He is in our hearts. So, God is dreaming in us. Waking up is Self-realization. The following are portions of Seral’s talk where he elaborated on these ideas.

In 1973 Sai Baba appeared in my dream I was shocked to see Him pull up in an automobile with my mother, a very strict Catholic. He got out, opened the trunk and began picking up the grocery bags. I said, “Swami let me carry them.” “No,” He said, “Swami carry.” He walked inside the house with my mother and sat at the table talking with her. I thought to myself, Now I’m sure He’s here to see me because I’m the only one in our family who believes in Him. So, I walked in and Swami said, “Wait, wait.” I waited at the door while He finished speaking with my mother, then my father, then my oldest sister, and I was very impatient. I said, “Swami! They don’t even believe in You!” He said, “Wait, wait.” After He spoke with every member of my large family, He walked right past me. “Swami!” I said. He stopped, looked over His shoulder, and winked. Out of the corner of His mouth, in a soft James Cagney-type of voice, He said, “Talk,” I woke up.

Soon after that, I was in Brindavan. During darshan (being in the presence of a holy person) Swami walked straight to me. My heart exploded! He stopped in front of me with the most beautiful smile on His face. As I stared into His eyes, my mind went blank. When I handed some letters to Him, He said, “Acchaa. Very happy.” He walked away, but after one step He stopped and something magical happened. He looked back over His shoulder and winked. Out of the corner of His mouth, in a soft James Cagney-type voice, He said, “Talk,” exactly as He had done in my dream.

What is a dream? What is reality? It’s all reality to Swami, and to Swami it’s all a dream. For the next few weeks, Swami paid very little attention to me and I was consumed with the thought of having an interview. The day before I was to leave, I stood up as Swami walked by during morning darshan. “Swami, my plane leaves for the United States tomorrow,” I said. He responded brightly. “Yes, yes, very happy.” He materialized some vibhuti (sacred ash). Then He walked on. It was the most unique vibhuti I have ever had. It smelled wonderful and was warm as if it had just come from an oven.

The next morning, my backpack was in the cab and my driver was waiting to take me to the airport after darshan. Swami walked right past me as my desire for an interview was burning inside. As He walked away, I felt that He had given me some more ash. This was the smoldering remains of my desire, and I did not relish the taste. I said to a friend, “I guess I got my blessing yesterday to leave.” “No, you have to go for one more darshan!” he said. “Go up to the gate.” Thinking I’d surely be stopped by the volunteers, I walked slowly toward the gate. To my surprise, they stopped every single person except me. I joined the men standing at the gate, watching Swami on the other side, His back toward me. At that moment, I realized that I had wasted my time in Brindavan. I had been so consumed with the desire to have an interview that I hadn’t fully enjoyed being there with Swami. A tear dripped through my soul and these silent words came into my heart: Swami, since I have been here, I have desired so much to speak to You and I’ve wasted so much time. These last few seconds are so precious, just to see You… just to be here with You. At that moment, Swami turned and walked to me. “You’re leaving today,” He said, “You go there.”

Inside the gate, I joined a group of Indians with cloth-covered trays in their hands. They looked at me rather oddly. Swami peeked out from the side door. He’s like a child in everything that He does. He said, “Come on, come on.” With excitement, everybody headed for the door. I stayed where I was. Swami peeked out again. “Come on, come on.” As I came inside, everyone looked at me and I felt as if I was 15 feet tall. So, I sat down in a corner near a wooden table. Swami closed the door, went to the front of the room and sat cross-legged on a red foot stool in front of the chair. He looked around the room, spotted me in the back, and said, “Come here!” My heart started pounding. I got up, and all the people in the room turned to look at me again. Swami slapped the floor next to Him, indicating I was to sit. I sat down and He looked at me with the most mischievous smile I’ve ever seen.

Swami: The Light-Hearted Teacher

In front of us, the trays, now uncovered, contained red and yellow powder, rice, all kinds of little things. Facing Swami, seated in front of Him, were a young man and woman. Swami addressed them, “What is marriage?” He was about to perform a wedding ceremony for this Indian couple, and I assumed He would speak their language. But He started off in English! Swami said, “In marriage, man and woman become one. The man is the right half of the body, and the woman is the left half of the body.” It was at this point that I realized that I was with a private Indian wedding party! When I realized this, Swami looked over at me and giggled. He then shielded His mouth from the women’s side and said jokingly to the men, “Never let the left half know what the right half is doing.” I started laughing. Sai Baba is a great comedian. But nobody else was laughing. Swami looked at me with a glint in His eye, like aren’t we having fun?

The bride was the embodiment of beauty, love, grace and humility. But the groom appeared to be having a tough time. Swami materialized two rings. One went on the bride’s finger and fit perfectly. The other, for the groom, was huge! Swami said, “Good fit?” The groom responded hesitatingly. “Well, Swami, it’s kind of big.” In a half-surprised voice, Swami said, “Oh, give to me, I will fix.” He took the ring into His hands, held it like a pair of dice, shook it and blew on it twice, all the time smiling as if pleased with the way He was entertaining us. Now, I was doing all I could to control my laughter. I had the urge to pick Swami up, put Him on my back for a piggy-back ride and start running around the room, or something. Swami then put the ring back on the groom’s finger. I think it did change in size; it was bigger. Swami said, “Good fit!” And the groom responded as if half-surrendering his attachment, “Yes, Swami.”

Then Swami decided it was my turn. There was this beautiful, young Indian girl sitting against the wall. At that time, this body was 18 years old, and none of my Catholic family was happy that I’d gone to u India. Swami looked at the girl and smiled. He turned back to me and motioned with His eyes and head asking if l liked her. He looked back over at her and did the same thing. I started to panic. I had this vision of getting off the plane in the United States with this bride and saying, “Hey, Mom, guess what?” Swami looked over at me and laughed as if He got me with a good joke.

Next, He asked the groom, “You want photographs? I’ll get photographer,” and He went through His house calling aloud for the photographer. Peeking through the curtain at me before He re-entered, He smiled mischievously. As He pushed the curtain aside to go between me and the foot stool, His robe caught on the stool. He tripped and gently came to the floor, almost landing in my lap. He’s a Divine clown! He was entertaining everybody. The laughter I’d been trying to contain just broke loose. Swami, lying on the floor in front of me, looked up and started laughing. We were rolling on the floor laughing, as He slapped His thigh. For that moment, the rest of the room didn’t exist; just rolling on the floor with Swami, laughing. Suddenly I thought about the people in the room and looked up to see them staring in bewilderment. I felt their thoughts flashing as if on a marquis in front of -me: Why is this Westerner rolling on the floor with the Avatar at our wedding? As soon as I broke my focus from Swami, He got up, returned to the foot stool, straightened His robe and looked over at me as if waiting for me to regain my composure.

A Polaroid picture was taken, but it turned out fuzzy, gray, and green, a terrible photo. Swami handed it to the groom and asked, “Good picture?” The groom looked at it, “Swami, it’s kind of green and gray.” Swami said, “Oh? Not good picture?” Then He agreed to a second one with the groom’s camera. That photo turned out just as bad, and Swami said, “Good picture!” The groom said, “Yes, Swami.” That groom taught me a wonderful lesson. Being attached to how everything should go, he missed such joy. See, Swami doesn’t take any of it seriously. What’s important is not whether we get married, or whether we get that job. What’s important is that we’re happy. And I think Sai Baba’s greatest teaching is: Be Happy. Happiness is not a condition. Happiness is a choice.

After everybody left, Swami said to me, “For one month you worried. Would you get to talk to Swami? Would you have an interview with Swami?” He was duplicating the process I had gone through just before He had called me in. “Now what good did it do you?” I knew it hadn’t done me any good, and I felt only the waste of precious time.