Galaxy of Fire: Journey to an ancient spiritual world. [image: Inline image 1]
"Why is he here? How did he get in? The men were all clean shaven and had their best suits on. Worst of all, there couldn't have been more than fifteen Westerners, all total; the very top of Maharishi's Western organization, all there by personal invitation from Maharishi himself, and all sitting in the front row in full view of the main entrance. So much for "blending in." Behind the Westerners sat hundreds of exuberant brahmin boys whom Maharishi was instructing in the Vedas. The few ladies I saw were the top administrators of Maharishi's "Thousand Headed Mother Divine Course." I sat down directly in front of Maharishi who was sitting about fifteen feet away on his dais. To his left, and above him on his own dais was the present Shankaracharya of Jyothirmath, the spiritual "pope" of North India, Sri Swami Vishnudevananda. To his left, sitting on an even higher dais, was Guru Dev's successor (appointed by Guru Dev himself, in his will), Shri Swami Shantanand Saraswati Maharaj, retired Shankaracharya of Jyothirmath. These two sat under the gold and red umbrella of the Shankaracharya, on the throne-like chairs of their position. Surrounding them were about fifty of the most illustrious looking orange-clad swamis I'd ever seen. This was the top of India's spiritual tradition in the flesh. The stage area was surrounded by hundreds of lights (candles, oil and ghee lamps) which are traditionally ]it for Diwali. The scene was a blaze of spiritual light. As I was sitting down Marc looked up at me with an inquisitive, raised eyebrow and silently conveyed, "What in the hell are you doing here ... what's with the beard and the dhoti, are you completely out of your mind?" The other Westerners were also checking me out, having, of course, immediately recognized me. I didn't even want to know their thoughts. All I could think was "God, when you fulfill a desire you really go all out. Since this is probably the last time I'll see Maharishi for not being properly invited, I must thank you for the fabulous send-off." I drank in the whole scene. I'd stepped into the ageless, fiery world of the Swami Order of Lord Shankara. A Sanskrit puja was underway in which Maharishi was the deity. A couple of old pujaris were chanting, with one making offerings to Maharishi splashing Ganges water on him, adorning him with green leaves, offering incense, light from ghee lamps, etc. It reminded me of a silent film I'd seen of Maharishi's master, Guru Dev, in which he was worshiped as Shankaracharya in similar fashion. This was a great honor for Maharishi, and demonstrated in the most symbolic way possible that he was held in highest esteem by the present Shankaracharya Order; with both the reigning and retired Shankaracharyas of Jyothirmath in attendance. They obviously regarded Maharishi as the most enlightened disciple of their own guru, Swami Brahmananda Saraswati (Guru Dev). I had heard that Swami Vishnudevananda was supporting Maharishi and his movement in recruiting Indians for the mass group practice of the TM-Sidhi program. Maharishi always generates a feeling of eternality and transcendent silence around him that is the most profound I've ever felt, but I had experienced this most often in the context of large gatherings of Westerners in Europe. In the midst of his own people, including the most illustrious of the Swami Order itself, the feeling was deeper, more natural, because the land and its spiritual history supported it. This was the "Whole Thing, the Real Thing" as Guru Dev used to say. If this were to be my last sight of the master, I had picked the right night. I felt God smiling on. For the entire evening, Maharishi remained in samadhi, eyes closed. That doesn't mean he was completely lost to the world, though, because at one point I felt as if he were "scanning" me checking me out with his inner vision. He's far too powerful to not have his attention felt by his teachers. I felt him look right through me, my organs, subtle body, mind, everything. While this was going on, I tried to send him the telepathic message: "Lord Shiva got me in here as a boon." If Maharishi was upset about my being here, it was his own fault-he was the one who taught me, in person, the highly effective techniques for locating transcendental consciousness and fulfilling desires through That. I was living proof of his own success this night. I'd gotten through his carefully selected, highly effective human shield and then been delivered at his feet as a VIP. That is the power of the Lord. The deep velvety-red umbrellas of Swami Vishnudevananda Saraswati and Swami Shantanandji Saraswati, embroidered with large gold Sanskrit letters, were obviously very old. To me, they represented the cosmic umbrella that one gets under for spiritual protection when initiated by an enlightened guru into the ancient tradition of the Sanatan Dharma. Each umbrella was imbued with the deep spirituality of ancient India?and great men of cosmic consciousness. I was mesmerized by the rare darshan (sight) of Swami Shantanand Saraswati. He must have been in his eighties at the time, but still had the wrinkle-free face of a baby. The glow on his face was more pure, more translucent, than I had ever seen on any human being before. He looked like the transcendent personified. He remained seated in deep meditation the entire evening. He never moved, never opened his eyes. He looked serene, breathless, in his all-time natural state of cosmic consciousness. From his whole body he radiated powerful waves of love. He was a sensory feast to behold, seated in the highest position in the room on his "throne" chair that was placed directly underneath what looked like the same umbrella that Guru Dev had sat under as Shankaracharya. The man had a pure white halo that encircled his whole body." Source: "Galaxy of Fire" by Jay Latham Sunstar, 2000 p. 550-553.
