On a recent errand to buy much needed jewelry-making supplies I carefully inspected the street for the shop I'd visited many times before. I knew it was two to three blocks east of Fairfax Avenue on Beverly Blvd., right next to a gas station. I was keeping an eye out for the gas station and shop but failed to find it. Knowing it had to be there, I turned around and drove back, and poof! There it was. Can somebody tell me what happened? No, my cell phone didn't ring and distract me, and nothing on the radio diverted my attention because it was turned off. Plus, I was actively looking for it! When I walked into the shop, I resisted the urge to ask if in the last five minutes they might have felt something strange (like having shifted into another dimension?).
Another time, I went to hear my Indian teacher (guru, living master, wise man, take your pick) address a crowd who had come to hear him speak about the experience (of peace, love, fulfillment, consciousness, take your pick) that he makes available to those thirsty for such things. That night, something he said resonated deep inside me: "Every time you take a breath, your life is touching you." I didn't really know what that meant exactly--and still don't--but it felt real and important, and I remember mentioning it to the people I'd come with out in the parking lot afterwards. Months later, I helped organize an introductory program on my teacher and his message in Hollywood. We would be showing a videotape of that same talk. I sat in the darkened screening room, waiting to hear him say that line again, wanting to see if it would have the same effect, or whether I might understand it better, but a funny thing happened. He never said it. I watched the whole thing from beginning to end, remembering other things he'd said that night, but that particular line had vanished! Can somebody tell me what happened? Had I imagined it? Was that something he'd said for my ears only? If so, how did he do that?
And more importantly, I must be really special; which reminds me of that old blues song, If you're so smart, why ain't you rich? As in how come you still don't get it? Yet another time, back in the late '70s, my teacher was speaking in Philadelphia, and I had volunteered to help the program organizers in whatever way I could. They ended up assigning me to a task, which I found totally silly, mostly because this service took me out of the hall for a half hour during his address. During those 30 minutes, over and over I prayed to just this once have "an experience" while doing something menial, akin to author Elizabeth Gilbert scrubbing the floor of her guru's ashram in Eat, Pray, Love. When my 30 minutes of "selfless service" ended, I ran back up to the hall and rushed to my seat. And then my teacher said: Why does it have to be just this once!? He was shouting as if so annoyed! Everyone heard him say this, but I knew he was talking to me. Can somebody tell me how that happened?
And the point is...? You might legitimately be thinking this, and my answer is this: in the way that our socks disappear into strange black holes, along with that $3,000 check that was here just a minute ago (!), and we have deja vus with people and places we've never met or visited before, there are strange and mysterious forces at work in this life. For all my friends whom I would describe as author Christine Wicker's "magical people" (see her fabulous book, Not in Kansas Anymore) -- that is, people who believe that the unseen is as real and potent as what we can see, hear and touch -- I have just as many friends who call themselves atheists, Cartesians and observers of the known world. And I can never win when trying to explain to them my belief in the power of intention and imagination -- that they can make things manifest; that the spirit world exists -- animal spirits, nature spirits, you name it; and that, while everything in this racist and cynical world points to the contrary, that a flawed but hopeful guy like Barack Obama could just win the presidency because I believe there's hope for us humans yet. But I'm not looking to win any arguments because I couldn't begin to explain how all this strange stuff happens. I just know that I like it!
(Anyone interested in consciousness, living masters and such things can check out Prem Rawat -- known as Maharaji -- here.)