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But
after
a
particularly
transcendent
meditative
experience
,
he
came
away
with
a
new
understanding
of
it
.
He
said
,
"
Just
as
there
exists
in
writing
a
literal
truth
and
a
poetic
truth
,
there
also
exists
in
a
human
being
a
literal
anatomy
and
a
poetic
anatomy
.
One
,
you
can
see
;
one
,
you
cannot
.
One
is
made
of
bones
and
teeth
and
flesh
;
the
other
is
made
of
energy
and
memory
and
faith
.
But
they
are
both
equally
true
.
"
I
like
it
when
science
and
devotion
find
places
of
intersection
.
I
found
an
article
in
The
New
York
Times
recently
about
a
team
of
neurologists
who
had
wired
up
a
volunteer
Tibetan
monk
for
experimental
brain
-
scanning
.
They
wanted
to
see
what
happens
to
a
transcendent
mind
,
scientifically
speaking
,
during
moments
of
enlightenment
.
In
the
mind
of
a
normal
thinking
person
,
an
electrical
storm
of
thoughts
and
impulses
whirls
constantly
,
registering
on
a
brain
scan
as
yellow
and
red
flashes
.
The
more
angry
or
impassioned
the
subject
becomes
,
the
hotter
and
deeper
those
red
flashes
burn
.
But
mystics
across
time
and
cultures
have
all
described
a
stilling
of
the
brain
during
meditation
,
and
say
that
the
ultimate
union
with
God
is
a
blue
light
which
they
can
feel
radiating
from
the
center
of
their
skulls
.
In
Yogic
tradition
,
this
is
called
"
the
blue
pearl
,
"
and
it
is
the
goal
of
every
seeker
to
find
it
.
Sure
enough
,
this
Tibetan
monk
,
monitored
during
meditation
,
was
able
to
quiet
his
mind
so
completely
that
no
red
or
yellow
flashes
could
be
seen
.
In
fact
,
all
the
neurological
energy
of
this
gentleman
pooled
and
collected
at
last
into
the
center
of
his
brain
-
you
could
see
it
happening
right
there
on
the
monitor
-
into
a
small
,
cool
,
blue
pearl
of
light
.
Just
like
the
Yogis
have
always
described
.
This
is
the
destination
of
the
kundalini
shakti
.
In
mystical
India
,
as
in
many
shamanistic
traditions
,
kundalini
shakti
is
considered
a
dangerous
force
to
play
around
with
if
you
are
unsupervised
;
the
inexperienced
Yogi
could
quite
literally
blow
his
mind
with
it
.
You
need
a
teacher
-
a
Guru
-
to
guide
you
on
this
path
,
and
ideally
a
safe
place
-
an
Ashram
-
from
which
to
practice
.
It
is
said
to
be
the
Guru
’
s
touch
(
either
literally
in
person
,
or
through
a
more
supernatural
encounter
,
like
a
dream
)
which
releases
the
bound
kundalini
energy
from
its
coil
at
the
base
of
the
spine
and
allows
it
to
begin
journeying
upward
toward
God
.
This
moment
of
release
is
called
shaktipat
,
divine
initiation
,
and
it
is
the
greatest
gift
of
an
enlightened
master
.
After
that
touch
,
the
student
might
still
labor
for
years
toward
enlightenment
,
but
the
journey
has
at
least
begun
.
The
energy
has
been
freed
.
I
received
shaktipat
initiation
two
years
ago
,
when
I
met
my
Guru
for
the
first
time
,
back
in
New
York
.
It
was
during
a
weekend
retreat
at
her
Ashram
in
the
Catskills
.
To
be
honest
,
I
felt
nothing
special
afterward
.
I
was
kind
of
hoping
for
a
dazzling
encounter
with
God
,
maybe
some
blue
lightning
or
a
prophetic
vision
,
but
I
searched
my
body
for
special
effects
and
felt
only
vaguely
hungry
,
as
usual
.
I
remember
thinking
that
I
probably
didn
’
t
have
enough
faith
to
ever
experience
anything
really
wild
like
unleashed
kundalini
shakti
.
I
remember
thinking
that
I
was
too
brainy
,
not
intuitive
enough
,
and
that
my
devotional
path
was
probably
going
to
be
more
intellectual
than
esoteric
.
I
would
pray
,
I
would
read
books
,
I
would
think
interesting
thoughts
,
but
I
would
probably
never
ascend
into
the
kind
of
divine
meditative
bliss
Saint
Teresa
describes
.
But
that
was
OK
.
I
still
loved
devotional
practice
.
It
’
s
just
that
kundalini
shakti
wasn
’
t
for
me
.
The
next
day
,
though
,
something
interesting
did
happen
.
We
were
all
gathered
with
the
Guru
once
more
.
She
led
us
into
meditation
,
and
in
the
middle
of
it
all
,
I
fell
asleep
(
or
whatever
the
state
was
)
and
had
a
dream
.
In
this
dream
,
I
was
on
a
beach
,
at
the
ocean
.
The
waves
were
massive
and
terrifying
and
they
were
building
fast
.
Suddenly
,
a
man
appeared
beside
me
.
It
was
my
Guru
’
s
own
master
-
a
great
charismatic
Yogi
I
will
refer
to
here
only
as
"
Swamiji
"
(
which
is
Sanskrit
for
"
beloved
monk
"
)
.
Swamiji
had
died
in
1982
.
I
knew
him
only
from
photographs
around
the
Ashram
.
Even
through
these
photographs
-
I
must
admit
-
I
’
d
always
found
the
guy
to
be
a
little
too
scary
,
a
little
too
powerful
,
a
little
too
much
on
fire
for
my
taste
.
I
’
d
been
dodging
the
idea
of
him
for
a
long
time
,
and
generally
avoiding
his
gaze
as
it
stared
down
at
me
from
the
walls
.
He
seemed
overwhelming
.
He
wasn
’
t
my
kind
of
Guru
.
I
’
d
always
preferred
my
lovely
,
compassionate
,
feminine
living
master
to
this
deceased
(
but
still
fierce
)
character
But
now
Swamiji
was
in
my
dream
,
standing
beside
me
on
the
beach
in
all
his
power
.
I
was
terrified
.
He
pointed
to
the
approaching
waves
and
said
sternly
,
"
I
want
you
to
figure
out
a
way
to
stop
that
from
happening
.
"
Panicked
,
I
whipped
out
a
notebook
and
tried
to
draw
inventions
that
would
stop
the
ocean
waves
from
advancing
.
I
drew
massive
seawalls
and
canals
and
dams
.
All
my
designs
were
so
stupid
and
pointless
,
though
.
I
knew
I
was
way
out
of
my
league
here
(
I
’
m
not
an
engineer
!
)
but
I
could
feel
Swamiji
watching
me
,
impatient
and
judgmental
.
Finally
I
gave
up
.
None
of
my
inventions
were
clever
or
strong
enough
to
keep
those
waves
from
breaking
.
That
’
s
when
I
heard
Swamiji
laugh
.
I
looked
up
at
this
tiny
Indian
man
in
his
orange
robes
,
and
he
was
veritably
busting
a
gut
in
laughter
,
bent
over
double
in
delight
,
wiping
mirthful
tears
from
his
eyes
.
