Early Spiritual Life

Sacred Recollections

Due to the non-verbal and non-conceptual condition of infancy, I have no memories of early childhood. But ever since I can remember, it is absolutely amazing and astonishing to me that we even exist. I have never lost my sense of excitement, playfulness and adventure for the incredible miracle of life. There is preciousness, specialness, and delight in just being alive. I’ve always wanted to really live and enjoy life to the fullest. Life feels like a daring adventure with unqualified potential and exciting possibilities.

Presence of the Soul

Like all children, I went through the process of parental conditioning and enculturation. Consciously or unconsciously, my parents had notions of what they wanted and expected me to be. My parents perceived, responded to, and supported the qualities they expected of me – leaving the balance of my potential unseen and undeveloped. Because my mother and father did not see me as I am and wanted me to be a certain way, I had a sense of being rejected by them. I had to mold myself to my parent’s image of me. As a young child, my identity was predicated on pleasing my parents.

Besides feeling rejected by my parents, I also felt betrayed by them. Because I was completely dependent on my parents for survival, I had no choice but to betray myself to avoid the loss of their love and the accompanying, intolerable, aloneness. This is the greatest of all betrayals – leaving a gash in my heart and soul.

Childhood Trauma

As far as I can tell, most children who are 7-8 years old are not consciously aware of parental rejection and betrayal. Children, naturally, have strong, ingrained defense and resistance against not being seen, related to, understood, appreciated, admired, loved and supported for who they are. Unfortunately for me, my defenses didn’t hold up well against the way I was treated by my parents as a young boy.

My mother was spoiled by her mother and never learned how to cook, sew, or even make her own bed. My mother was so naive when she married my father she didn’t even know where babies come from. So, it was quite a surprise when I came along as the first child of three. My mother did not have a clue how to care for me and I have the image of her nervously holding me in her lap with one arm and cradling the Dr. Spock baby book in the other.

To make matters worse, my brother came along sixteen months after me. My father was a travelling salesperson and was away from home a lot during the week. Without a car, my mother was stuck with two rambunctious little boys who liked to playfully wrestle on the living room floor. Taking care of two little boys was too much for my mother, especially when my sister came along when I was seven years old.

I have a very distinct memory of my father returning home after being gone for a week on business. My mother was at her wits end with us three children. She was overwhelmed, distraught, and panicky. She told my father that my brother and I were misbehaving, and she couldn’t take it anymore. On the spot, my father became enraged and took off his belt. He told my brother and me to take off our clothes. I glanced at my father and was terrified. I’ll never forget the look on his face. I thought he wanted to kill us.

My brother and I were crying and begging our father not to hit us. We were crying for mercy. But to no avail. He hit us as hard as he could with his belt – leaving us bleeding with welts on our backs. This is how I became painfully and poignantly aware of being rejected by my mother and betrayed by my father at a tender, young age.

The Good Mother

Although my maternal grandmother and grandfather lived three hundred miles away, on a fairly regular basis, we would visit them, or they would come to see us. My grandmother was always so glad to see us kids. She brought us gifts and special treats and enthusiastically loved us. She was absolutely delighted to be with us, and I remember real hugs and kisses. Since I experienced so much frustration and rejection with mother, I projected the good, loving mother onto my grandmother.

When I was nine years old, it came as a great shock to me when my grandmother unexpectedly died at age 56. My parents did not take me to the funeral. I never got to say good-bye. My grandmother’s death was overwhelming for me. I was so upset that I cried my heart out every day for more than a month. For many years afterwards, I never got over her death. I experienced an on-going, intolerable, aching emptiness in my heart. This was a big wake up call for me. Life was more precious than ever!

Agonizing Adolescence

Within a year after my grandmother’s death, I precociously came into adolescence at the age of ten. Up until that time, I had no sex education, and was completely taken back and shocked by my sexual instincts and energy. On the one hand, it was thrilling and wonderful. On the other hand, I thought something was wrong with me. It felt like I had to keep this a big secret and couldn’t tell anyone. In addition to the emptiness in my heart, I felt estranged from everyone. I felt alone and isolated, ignored, unrecognized and unwanted. And, more times than not, I cried myself to sleep.

Core Wound

At age twelve, I felt not seen by my parents or anyone else for that matter. Without knowing exactly what was not seen, I just knew something was missing. Although parts of me were seen and appreciated to some extent, it was not enough. I started to blame myself for not being related to. I didn’t feel like anyone could relate to my motives, actions or expressions. Seemingly, people did not relate to who and what I am. I felt hurt and bewildered, confused and uncertain about myself. I felt cut-off and castrated from myself without knowing what that self is. I felt deeply wounded. I refer to this as a core wound because it feels like the very core of this self is yanked out from within it.

The salient factor in my day-to-day experience was a vague, nagging sense of emptiness, alienation, and separateness. This state of emptiness was painful for me. I felt as if there was nothing inside me, no substance. There was a sense of vacuity – a deficient inner nothingness – characterized by feelings of unreality, meaninglessness, pointlessness, and insignificance. There was no rhyme or reason for living. My existence was like an empty sound – “sounding brass and tinkling cymbal” – but without meaning a thing, not conveying anything; not registering anything.

“For whom the bell tolls?” There were no bells ringing for me. I felt like I had no center and orientation for my life. The emptiness was accompanied by the painful effects of feeling lost, disoriented, and without purpose, I felt like I did not have the ability to initiate meaningful action and I didn’t know what to do.

Seeking Words of Wisdom

Since I didn’t know what to do, I hoped to find something in the Mackinaw Middle School library that was useful and helpful to me. So, I asked the librarian if they had any books about wisdom. She said that they had very few, if any, books on wisdom, but would look into it, and asked me to come back the next day. When I returned to the library, the librarian handed me “The Collected Dialogues of Plato” – all 1,605 pages! I was so impacted by the sincerity and depth of the Socratic Method of inquiry I ended up reading the entire book over the ensuing months.

On the very first day I glanced through the book to get a sense of the content. As I was thumbing through the pages, Book VII of the “Republic” jumped out at me, and I started to read the “Allegory of the Cave.” Although I didn’t fully understand this passage, I was deeply touched and moved by it. Little did I know at the time, but I was reading about my fate and destiny on the spiritual path. All by myself, in the back of a quiet little library, I was taking the first baby steps on a spiritual journey that would burn up and consume the rest of my life!

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave

Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” is a quite long, so I would like to share the following analysis and summary by Brian Rice:

The “Allegory of the Cave” by Plato represents an extended metaphor that is to contrast the way in which we perceive and believe in what is reality. The thesis behind this allegory is the basic tenets that all we perceive are imperfect “reflections” of the ultimate [Platonic] Forms, which subsequently represent truth and reality. In his story, Plato establishes a cave in which prisoners are chained down and forced to look upon the front wall of the cave. When summarizing the “Allegory of the Cave” it is important to remember the two elements to the story; the fictional metaphor of the prisoners, and the philosophical tenets in which said story is supposed to represent, thus presenting us with the allegory itself.

The multi-faceted meanings that can be perceived from the “Cave” can be seen in the beginning with the presence of prisoners who are chained within the darkness of the aforementioned cave. The prisoners are bound to the floor and unable to turn their heads to see what goes on behind them. To the back of the prisoners, under the protection of the parapet, lie the puppeteers who are casting the shadows on the wall in which the prisoners are perceiving reality. The passage is actually told not from the perspective of the prisoners, but rather a conversation occurring between Socrates and Glaucon (Plato’s brother). While the allegory itself isn’t the story, but rather the conversational dialogues between Glaucon and Socrates (Plato often spoke through Socrates in his works), the two are not mutually exclusive and thus will not be treated so.

As Socrates is describing the cave and the situation of the prisoners, he conveys the point that the prisoners would be inherently mistaken as to what reality is. Because we as readers know that the puppeteers behind them are using wooden and iron objects to liken the shadows to reality-based items and people, the prisoners (unable to turn their heads) would know nothing else but the shadows and perceive this as their own reality. This is an important development to the story because it shows us that what we perceive as real from birth is completely false based on our imperfect interpretations of reality and Goodness. The general point thus far of the allegory is that the general terms of our language are not “names” of the physical objects that we can see. They are actually names of things that are not visible to us, things that we can only grasp with the mind. This line of thinking is said to be described as “imagination,” by Plato. Once the prisoner is released, he is forced to look upon the fire and objects that once dictated his perception of reality, and he thus realizes these new images in front of him are now the accepted forms of reality. Plato describes the vision of the real truth to be “aching” to the eyes of the prisoners, and how they would naturally be inclined to going back and viewing what they have always seen as a pleasant and painless acceptance of truth. This stage of thinking is noted as “belief.” The comfort of the aforementioned perceived, and the fear of the unrecognized outside world would result in the prisoner being forced to climb the steep ascent of the cave and step outside into the bright sun.

Once the prisoner climbs out of the cave and is fully immersed in the sun’s rays, Socrates continues to explain the prisoner’s bewilderment, fear, and blindness to the objects he was now being told were real. The natural reaction of the prisoner would be to recognize shadows and reflections. After his eyes adjust to the sunlight, he begins to see items and people in their own existence, outside of any medium. This recognizes the “cognitive” stage of thought. When the prisoners and recognizes it as the cause of all that is around him – he has perceived the “form look up to the sky and look into the Sun of the Good.” This point in the passage marks the climax, as the prisoner, who not long ago was blind to the “Form of the Good” (as well as the basic Forms in general), now is aware of reality and truth. When this has occurred, the ultimate stage of thought has been achieved, and that is “understanding.”

Plato (through conversation of Socrates) then discusses the prisoner’s newfound awareness of his own knowledge and understanding. He inquires, would the prisoner want to return to the formerly accepted reality of truth, or would his content only lie in following his newly understood perception of reality? Both Glaucon and Socrates agree the prisoner would rather suffer any fate than returning to his previous life and understanding (or lack thereof).

Upon returning to the cave, the prisoner would metaphorically (and literally) be entering a world of darkness yet again and would be faced with the other unreleased prisoners. The other prisoners laugh at the released prisoner, and ridicule him for taking the useless ascent out of the cave in the first place. The others cannot understand something they have yet to experience, so it’s up to this prisoner to represent leadership, for it is him alone who is conscious of goodness. It’s at this point that Plato describes the philosopher kings who have recognized the Forms of Goodness as having a duty to be responsible leaders and to not feel contempt for those who don’t share his enlightenment.

The Allegory doesn’t solely represent our own misconceptions of reality, but also (in tune with the general thesis of the Republic) Plato’s vision of what a solid leader should be. The released prisoner is expected to return to the cave and live amongst his former prisoners as someone who can see better than all the rest, someone who is now able to govern from truth and goodness. He is expected to care for his fellow citizens, “…you have been better and more thoroughly educated than those others and hence you are more capable of playing your part both as men of thought and as men of action.” Upon realizing the Forms of Goodness, one assumes the responsibility of a qualified leader, and this presents the basis for Plato’s arguments for what constitutes just leadership and a just society.

The “Allegory of the Cave” represents a complex model as to which we are to travel through our lives and understanding. The four stages of thought combined with the progress of human development represent our own path to complete awareness of which the most virtuous and distinguished will reach, and upon doing so shall lead the public. The story as told by Socrates and Glaucon presents a unique look at the way in which reality plays such an important part in our own existence, and how one understands it can be used as a qualification for leadership and government.

The Flame

The meaninglessness in my teenage years was so primary and poignant I could not attribute it to the rejection by my mother, the death of my grandmother, the betrayal of my father or the awkward and disturbing onset of puberty. Without attributing this meaninglessness to my eternal life situation, I, quite honestly, did not know what it was really about. But just like Socrates, I wanted to know the truth about it. Without resorting to incomplete and indirect explanations and avoidances, I inquired into my experience with great curiosity. With the support of the Socratic

Method, I was able to stay with the sense of meaninglessness and felt a deep aspiration to uncover its truth. My curiosity about, and interest in, finding out firsthand the truth of my experience became a passionate, blazing hot, inquiry. For me, this is the inner inspiration, the true motive behind the spiritual quest, the search for meaning, which is actually the search for Goodness, Truth and Beauty.

I searched for the truth about meaninglessness without any bias about what this truth might be or where to look for it. I sincerely wanted to discover and know the truth, and as I fervently looked to the “Dialogues of Plato” for pointers and clues, it felt like my soul was on fire. I felt like an upward-looking, high-reaching flame, a burning question mark. Although I was aspiring for the truth about meaninglessness, I truly didn’t know what I was searching for. The flame of the search was an awakening to the helplessness and hopelessness of my situation (a shackled prisoner in a cave) and discovering the profound emptiness of my condition. I knew something was really “off” in my experience and I passionately wanted to understand it. In the very depth of my own soul, I wanted to find out the truth for and by myself.

Wandering in the Desert

High School – “Teenage Wasteland.” Although I primarily experienced my life as empty and meaningless, I was functional in high school. I kept thinking that if I did everything I was asked to do, and well, that I would get approval from others and be happy. So, with enthusiasm and gusto, I excelled academically; lettered in football, basketball and track; went camping and canoeing with the Boy Scouts; became an Eagle Scout; dated nice, fun, attractive girls; became president of the student council and the White Pine Conference student council; and received a football scholarship from Wittenberg University (Division III powerhouse).

Even though there were all of these outward appearances of success, none of it made me happy. I did not realize the promise of fulfillment with all of these accomplishments. In fact, the more I achieved, the more I experienced the emptiness and meaninglessness. I became painfully aware that my self-image was determined by past experience and conditioning. The quality of my life was determined by my upbringing, and I was carrying it around with me like a burden.

Anything and everything I experienced was through the veil of an old and stale self-image. My self-image did not seem genuine and real; it was devoid of any substantial reality and lacked inherent richness. I was experiencing myself through mind. The shape and form of the self-image was a product of the mind and disconnected from authenticity. I felt superficial, phony and fake. I realized I was lying about who and what I am to myself and others.

I experienced the self-image as a contraction around the body – separating all of us from each other and the natural world. My inner climate was dry and parched and I felt like I was wandering around in the desert. But in reality there was nowhere to go and nothing to do. As far as the eye could see, there was a painful deficiency in all directions. I not only experienced the fakeness within myself, but everywhere. It was like everyone’s cup was empty of anything nourishing, significant or real. Even when people said they were happy or acted like it, it was like a shimmering mirage. The whole world seemed like an appearance to me.

Paradoxically, I could also sense the silence, stillness and vastness of this arid desert. I became fascinated by the changes in the desert. The white, hot noonday blast with heat waves rising continually and visibly off the desert floor could quickly change into an amazing coolness. The magnificent sunsets hinted at something wonderful and very real beyond the empty horizon. Then suddenly the total blackness of night and coldness would envelope it all. I could, somehow, sense something of the majesty and the power of God in this empty world. There awoke in me a realization that I must somehow learn more about God and find out about Jesus Christ – who was supposed to be God.

Bible Study

Although I continued to study Plato, his philosophy did not speak directly to my suffering. Since I was raised a Christian, I turned to the Living Christ as my Teacher and to the Bible as a valid revelation of the nature of God and man. God knows, I needed salvation and I hoped to find it within these golden, gilded pages. At the age of fourteen, I started to carefully study the Bible every day, and in a little over a year, I read it from cover to cover.

As far as I could tell, the heart of Christianity is not an opinion about God or a philosophical conclusion, but a personal relationship with God through Christ. Faith in Christ is more than believing in the correct doctrines about God, it is a personal fellowship with the living God. The Bible does not reveal truths concerning God but the Living God Himself. Christ points to and promises his followers a “way” – a way across the chasm between God and man, between man and man…and between man and his real nature. With passion and zeal, I wanted to know how I could get to know God personally and have the Holy Spirit in my life.

After giving my life to Christ, I had a deep intuition of what it is that God wants from me. I realized that God did not want my time or money. God wanted my will, and if I gave God my will, the Bible promised a New Covenant with Christ. I felt like I was being born again and experienced some peace with this understanding. Somehow, someway, I got a taste of new wine and glimpsed the Meaning of Life.

The Meaning of Life

During my last two years in high school, I started to visit and hang out with various ministers, priests and rabbis. One of the rabbis suggested that I read I and Thou by Martin Buber. In this book, Buber tries to describe what happens to a man when he encounters God personally. He says, “Man receives, and he receives not a specific content but a Presence, a Presence as power.” One is bound up in a new relation. This relationship with God doesn’t necessarily lighten one’s life; it makes life heavier, but heavy with meaning. Buber was speaking directly to my profound sense of emptiness and meaninglessness when he wrote:

“There is the inexpressible conformation of meaning. Meaning is assured. Nothing can any longer be meaningless. The question about the meaning of life is no longer there. But if it were there, it would not have to be answered. You do not know how to exhibit and define the meaning of life, you have no formula nor picture for it, and yet it has more certitude for you than the perception of your senses.”

This was my understanding as I set out to try to live my life for Jesus Christ.

During my senior year in high school, I took a speech class. For the final exam, the teacher asked us to give a half-hour speech. So, I decided to give a sermon, and to really make an impact, I turned the stage into a pulpit with fresh cut flowers and a live band that performed “All You, Need is Love” by the Beatles. But instead of preaching about my new-found faith in Jesus Christ, I shared all of my burning spiritual questions with my teacher/ classmates and “blew them away.” To say the least, I “aced” my speech class. As a result, my speech got printed in the “Saginaw News” (Michigan) and several churches invited me to be a guest speaker at their Youth Group meetings before I went off to college.

Faith

In the beginning I didn’t know how to find God’s particular will for me. I naively assumed that the making of a total commitment sort of ushered in the spiritual life and ushered out the self- centered life. When I decided to commit my life wholly to God, I consciously offered up everything in my life to Christ. On some occasions, I would temporarily feel relief and some sense of freedom. But as indicated by Buber, I didn’t experience God’s Presence, especially as power. Instead, the emptiness and meaninglessness unexpectedly became more poignant and painful than ever. And in the summer months following graduation from high school, I fell into a state of abject anguish and despair.

I was filled with discouragement, and I thought I must not have really committed my life to God at all. I soon realized that committing my whole life to God was not true. Although I could commit my conscious life to God, I could not commit a major part of my psyche below the level of consciousness. In my new beginning with God, my empty, pointless life was filled with lust, resentment, and jealousy.

My prayers at that time were as stale and flat as could be. I couldn’t sense God’s Presence at all. With faith, I even thanked God for being with me even though I couldn’t feel his Presence. God was with me because of my faith in the authority of His Word. If we believed in God, He would be with us. I then realized I was a spiritual sensualist – always wanting to feel God’s Presence in my prayers, and being depressed when I didn’t. I saw that until I could believe without spiritual consolation, I would always be vacillating, and my faith would be at the mercy of my emotional feelings. So, I tried praying whether I felt spiritual or not; I tried to live on raw faith. I was communicating with a God who was not alive for me.

With No Thorns

through splattered out-see
i behold
midst flickering terror of
no light
from a wind-torn way of
nothingness
foliage of broken arbor.

a bold greenery
alone,
withered in existence,
nurtured in self,
free of mud and tangle
to fate of
wet there.

in solemn empty-depth
of ardor,
i seek the dripping rapture
with anticipation of
touch

reaching

the imperfect dogwood

Away from Home

I left home for the first time when I attended Wittenberg University in Springfield, Ohio. In my first year, I got hurt and could not play football. Wittenberg had a tough and challenging academic curriculum and I had to really study hard to get good grades. I pledged Beta Theta Pi fraternity my first year in college and the time commitment was demanding. For the first time, I fell in love, and emotionally I went through the ups and downs with my girlfriend. At the same time, there were troubles back home with my brother. While all of this was going on for me, the black students at Wittenberg up and left the University in February 1969. The event received national news coverage in the “World News and Report” magazine and other publications. In protest, the students actually got on a bus and left the campus, and nobody knew where they were.

The black students were represented by a white Catholic priest – Father Grappe. On the Friday night after the students left campus, Father Grappe came back to Wittenberg to give a speech to the community. I attended the assembly because I really wanted to know why the students left the University and why someone like me was considered “a white racist pig.” After Father Grappe was briefly introduced to the community, he stepped up to the podium and promptly gave everyone, including me, the finger.

A Catholic Priest giving me the finger! I took it personally. This was “the straw that broke the camel’s back” for me. I ran out of the field house in the middle of the night to near-by Snyder Park. I was completely beside myself. I felt a desperate despair. I felt completely overwhelmed with all of these things happening in my life at the same time. I was crying and weeping uncontrollably. I carried on unceasingly and acted out in all kinds of bizarre, negative and destructive ways. I was having a breakdown.

Before I knew it, I was climbing over the fence at the end of Snyder Park (which was five miles long). It was now approximately 2:00 a.m. and I was shivering with cold in the middle of the night. On the other side of the fence, they were building a freeway. I found myself scrambling on all fours up the side of an overpass under construction. Once I got to the top of the hill, there was nowhere to go and nothing to do. I was completely freaking out – crawling around in the mud, ice and broken pieces of concrete scattered about. Yelling. Hollering. Crying. And I just kept carrying on and carrying on until I completely exhausted myself.

There I was, on my knees, literally stuck in the mud. I was calling out to the infinite emptiness of the night. Then, unexpectedly, I fell into a great stillness. Lord only knows what I silently said to myself. But I was at the end of my rope. I felt completely helpless and hopeless. Bowing down, with my face in the mud, I cried out to the darkness of the night: “God, if you are real, I need to know now!”

Mystical Experience

Then, suddenly, without warning: In the darkness of the night, I was engulfed by a radiant, white-hot platinum star that was expanding and contracting simultaneously. The star was radiating from an invisible, dimensionless point within my heart and shining out to infinity. Somehow, I fundamentally knew that I was this star and so is everyone else. I experienced the Universe as a single, living Presence and became conscious of eternal life. I saw that all people are immortal, cosmic beings. I saw that all things work together for the good of each and all; that the foundation principle of this world and all of creation is Love; and that in the long run, peace and happiness is a certainty for all sentient beings.

The mystical experience lasted for four hours and afterwards, I had a sense of exultation and joyousness followed by an intellectual illumination impossible to describe. Before I finally fell to sleep early the next morning, I scrawled out the following untitled poem:

On a clear night,
the sky is a jar of fire-flies.

Once, while I was dying,
the jar opened.

The lightning bugs swarmed into my mouth,
and we died
together.

Conversion

When I woke up the next day, my entire life had changed. The emptiness and meaninglessness that plagued me since adolescence no longer haunted me and it was replaced with a flame in my heart to know what the white-hot platinum star was all about. So, I immediately dropped my Business Administration major to take every class possible in religion and philosophy. At the same time, I was able to retain my college scholarship for track even though I could no longer play football. With my passion for learning, I did extremely well in my religion and philosophy classes and graduated “Cum Laude” with a 3.67 GPS. I was accepted into the Beta Theta Pi fraternity and established life-long friendships to this very day. Although I was still dating my girlfriend at the end of the first year, she fell in love with someone else during the summer and the relationship ended. But I now knew what it was like to fall in love with a beautiful woman. And problems with my brother back home cleared up while the black students finally returned to the Wittenberg campus. I attended several consortiums on racism sponsored by the University which resulted in greater understanding about this inveterate problem in our country and a degree of personal resolution.

During my first two years of college, I burned through all of Western philosophy and got to revisit Plato in great depth and detail. But my passionate longing to understand the platinum- white star was unrequited and I now had a strong interest in studying Oriental philosophies like Buddhism, Hinduism, and Taoism. At this time, I very unexpectedly experienced an overwhelming, irrational desire to go to India. Please know that I hardly knew anything about Asian philosophies, let alone India. I didn’t even know what an ashram was. But there I was working 14-hour days in the Grey Iron Factory in Saginaw to make as much money as possible for my trip to India.

In preparation for my trip, Professor Long (Philosophy Department) referred me to Suzy Tattershall – a recent Wittenberg graduate who visited India a few years before me and had a meaningful experience. I drove from Saginaw to London, Ontario to visit Suzy and her boyfriend and spent a weekend with them. Suzy told me many fascinating stories about India and, in a positive way, confirmed my vague longing for this dubious journey to a foreign land. She told me it was a challenging place that lended itself to helping me “divide and decide” on what I really wanted to do in life. When I asked about her favorite places in India, she strongly encouraged me to visit the “Bodh Gaya Ashram” (monastery) in the State of Bihar. Suzy did not elaborate on why she recommended Bodh Gaya and I made note of it.

To possibly earn college credits for my open-ended trip to India, Professor Swanger (Religion Department) suggested I visit local temples throughout India and carefully observe/ document Hindu architecture, rites/ rituals, and spiritual activities. While I was working in the Grey Iron Factory, I read multiple books on Hindui polytheism to prepare for this independent study. Just before my trip to India, I visited with Professor Swanger to confirm the curricula and, at the end of the meeting, he asked where I was going in the land of spirituality, arts, and culture. I told him I was flying into New Delhi and would visit the Taj Majal in Agra before departing for Bodh Gaya.

When I mentioned Bodh Gaya, Professor Swanger lit up like a Christmas tree and took a 360- degree turn in his swivel chair! To account for this unexpected outburst of emotion, Professor Swanger told me he just completed a dissertation on “Ecumenical Developments in Buddhism” and Bodh Gaya played a vitally important role his research. As it turns out, Bodh Gaya is the holiest shrine in Buddhism (much like Mecca to Islam and Jerusalem to Christianity) because it is where the Buddha sat under the Bodhi tree and received enlightenment and, consequently, there are monasteries in Bodh Gaya from every Buddhist country in the world. Professor Swanger briefly explained that all of his information on Bodh Gaya (international center of Buddhism) was “second hand” and, on the spot, he asked: “How would you feel about dumping this Hindu Polytheism project altogether, and doing research for me in Bodh Gaya?” Although I had just spent a couple of months on end studying Hindu Polytheism, I replied: “Sure, let’s give it a shot!” Professor Swanger then gave me a list of questions on a single sheet of notebook paper (with some explanation) and sent me off to India with his well wishes!

Bodh Gaya

After spending three days in Rome, and a lengthy visit with a wonderful family in Athens, I finally arrived in India. When I visited the Taj Mahal in Agra, it completely exceeded my expectations! This mausoleum was so incredibly beautiful and powerful, it “blew my mind.” Each block of pure white marble in this magnificent, sacred site was as big as a living room and originally studded with precious gems and jewels. The “Taj” was mesmerizing and really made an impact on me. I couldn’t get over it and wandered around for three hours before regretfully leaving the grounds. To say the least, I highly recommend visiting the Taj Mahal. In fact, it is worth travelling all the way to India just to see this modern-day “Wonder of the World.”

I took a train for 24-hours to get from Agra to Gaya in the State of Bihar. I had to stay in Gaya a couple of days because there was only one bus per week that goes to Bodh Gaya, located in a remote area of the Bengal Jungle in Northern India (three hundred miles South of Katmandu). When I got off the bus and asked for directions to the Bodh Gaya Ashram, someone pointed to a muddy road running off into the jungle. Upon arrival, I was sun tanned and somewhat chubby (Greek food was incredible) with hair down to my shoulders, wearing green converse tennis shoes, striped bell bottom jeans, a brightly colored T-shirt, and a cowboy hat, and absolutely did not appear to be on a spiritual pilgrimage like everyone else in the village.

After walking about a half mile from the bus stop, I came upon an open area to a gated compound, including several small buildings, and figured this must be the Bodh Gaya Ashram. About seventy-five yards away, I noticed a small group of elderly men enjoying afternoon tea on a veranda. One of them noticed me and walked all the way over to the gate to greet me. I told him I came all the way from Agra because my friend Suzy Tattershall recommended I visit the Bodh Gaya ashram. He then opened the gate and invited me to join them for tea. After a light and late afternoon conversation with these somewhat shy, but friendly men (they spoke broken English), they asked if I wanted to spend the night and I gratefully accepted their offer.

I will never forget the next morning; it was July 4, 1971. At sunrise (4:30 AM), one of the elderly gentlemen came to my tent (on, a wooden platform with mosquito netting); politely woke me up; and asked if I could join them for morning meditation and prayers. Half awake, I agreed, and threw on some clothes. When I opened the front of the tent, I could not believe my eyes. It rained all night; I could hear the unbelievable sounds of all the wild birds and animals “waking up;” and bright, brilliant rays of the sun were shining horizontally through the mist of the jungle! It was stunning; the most idyllic scene I had ever seen in my life! In a state of awe and wonder, I followed this little old man down a path into the depths of the jungle until we came upon a large tent. When I was ushered into this dark tent, I was asked to sit in a circle with a dozen men chanting in Sanskrit. As I sat in silence, I was overwhelmed with a sense of sacred power, and it felt like I was being swept away into another world.

After the prayer and meditation, everyone turned to me, and sincerely asked why I had traveled so far from home to visit the Ashram. So, I told them Professor Swanger asked me to visit Bodh Gaya do conduct research for him. They then asked about the research, and I just happened to have Professor Swanger list of questions folded up in my back pocket. After going through all of these questions, one of the men said this was especially important research. They offered assistance and invited me to stay with them if I helped with their orchards, adapted their vegetarian diet, and would abstain from alcohol, drugs, and sex (no problem!). With this kind and generous gesture, I almost fell over backwards and gratefully accepted their assistance. On the spot, they offered to make formal introductions to key government officials/ monastery leaders, and to provide translation services, a tape recorder, typewriter, and assistance sourcing important government documents like the Bodh Gaya Temple Act. With their love and support, I ended up writing “Bodh Gaya – Holiest Buddhist Shrine” – a book length manuscript for Professor Swanger on Bodh Gaya’s history, government structure, local community, monastic organization/ activities, and ecumenical developments in Buddhism. And it goes without saying, I received full college credits for my independent study and graduated from Wittenberg in four years!

So, what in the world is the Bodh Gaya Ashram and who are these guys!?

After my first week at the Bodh Gaya Ashram, I found out it was the international headquarters for disciples of Mahatma Gandhi. After direct British rule over the Indian sub-continent from 1858 until independence of India and Pakistan in 1947, these disciples were the revolutionary leaders who non-violently forced Great Britain out of the country! After Gandhi was assassinated, in 1949, Vinoba Bhave (1895 – 1982) became the new leader of the Gandhi organization. Bhave was an Indian advocate for nonviolence and human rights. Often called Archaya (teacher in Sanskrit), he is best known for establishing the Bhoodan Movement. As an eminent philosopher, he is considered the National Teacher of India and spiritual successor of Mahatma Gandhi.

On April 18, 1951, Bhave initiated the Bhoodan Movement at Pochampally of Nalgonda district Telangana. He took donated land from Indian landowners and gave it away to the poor and landless, for them to cultivate. Then after 1954, Bhave started to ask for donations for entire villages in a program he called Gramdan. He garnered more than one thousand villages by way of donations. Out of these, Bhave obtained 175 donated villages in Tamil Nadu alone.

When the Bhoodan Movement was completed in 1957, Dwarko Sundrani (1922 – 2021) became the new leader of the Gandhi organization. Sundrani was the last living disciple of Mahatma Gandhi and enjoyed close, personal friendships with Rev. Martin Luther King and his holiness the Dalai Lama. Sundrani is best known for continuing the Sarvodaya Movement throughout India. Sarvodaya means ‘progress of all’ or ‘Universal uplift.’ Gandhi started this Sarvodaya Movement, and people consider it an important addition to his efforts in the non-violence crusade. The main objective of this organization was to establish a new India based on non- violence and love. The Movement aims at creating a society that uses politics of co-operation instead of politics of power. It is an intellectual and powerful movement to develop India’s socio, economic and moral independence.

By devoting his life to the welfare of the people, Sundrani founded a network of 360 schools and engaged in all kinds of social action: from eye camps to vocational services for the underprivileged. He was a staunch believer of non-violent social change. In 1953, Vinoba Bhave and Sundrani set up the ashram named Samanvaya in Bodh Gaya and in 1962 Sundrani was appointed as the chair of the Ashram.

Divine Grace and Guidance

While visiting Samavaya in 1971, I had the privilege of meditating with Vinoba Bhave and intimately working with Dwarko Sundrani. In my first week at the Ashram, Dwarko Sundrani said he wanted to introduce me to someone who lived at the Ashram and could help with my research. Unexpectedly, It was a formal introduction. On the appointed day, Sundrani personally escorted me to a small hut I had not previously seen in the Compound. When we approached the small hut, Sundrani gently knocked on the screen door; someone was ushered out; and I was ushered in.

“Lo and behold,” a little old man was sitting on a cot and the entire room was filled with the same white-platinum light I experienced in Springfield, Ohio when I had my first mystical experience!

In an instant, it was obvious why I had the irrational urge to quit college, work in the Grey Iron Factory, and travel to India with inexplicable purpose. I was stunned as this radiant person motioned for me to sit on the dirt floor. After a few moments of silence which seemed like an eternity, he looked into my eyes and said, “I understand you have some questions for me.” Without saying a word, I handed him my folded notebook paper with all of Swanger’s research questions. After glancing at the paper and gently setting it on the cot, he said: “Are you happy?”

I immediately burst into tears. After leaving family and friends and living in the jungle half-way around the world, deep down, I was feeling really scared and alone. After letting me have a good, hard cry, he said: “Kirk, you speak really good English. Would you mind reading to me?” The first word I could barely utter to him was: “Yes.” He then handed me a book called “Freedom from the Known” by J. Krishnamurti. So, in a room filled with platinum white-light emanating from his heart, I slowly read simple words from this most beautiful little book. They touched me deeply and it was just wanted I needed to hear in that poignant moment. After I read for about five minutes or so, he gestured for me to stop. He then said: “I enjoyed meeting you Kirk and appreciate you reading to me. I hope you can come back soon and read to me again.” And I said, “Yes, I would like that” as I stood up, faced him, pressed my palms together, slightly bowed my head, and said: “Namaste” (the divine in me honors the divine in you).

What an incredible encounter! I was stunned. I was in awe. I was humbled and honored by his presence. By divine grace and guidance, I was able to follow my heart all the way to India to meet this unknown man.

Well, as it turns out, this “unknown man” was known to Mahatma Gandhi, Vinoba Bhave, and Dwarko Sundrani as their spiritual mentor and confidant (guru). His name was Surrendra Ji, and he was well over ninety years old; lived in the Himalaya mountains; and was invited to the Ashram that year to provide guidance and support during the Bangladesh war.

After going back to the hut and reading to him a few more times, we became friends and, eventually, he asked me to live with him. What an incredible honor! But why? Upon reflection, he wanted me to stay with him because I was so desperate and hungry for spiritual knowledge, and because our souls were mysteriously bonded in the platinum-white light.

While I was living with Surrendra Ji, his dear friend J. Krishnamurti (“Freedom from the Known” author and world renown spiritual teacher) came to Bodh Gaya for a brief visit. Surrendra Ji introduced me to him, and all three of us enjoyed a few long, leisurely conversations about spiritual death and rebirth cycles or conversions. During these conversations, white light was literally bouncing off the walls and it felt like I was transported to another world. Only years later did I fully appreciate and understand how extremely fortunate I was to meet and know Krishnamurti. After I graduating from college, I lead a Krishnamurti study group and continued to have contact with him in Ojai, California until his death in 1986.

Although Surrendra Ji provided some spiritual instruction to me, he mostly wanted me to see how he lived such an ordinary spiritual life. We prepared and shared meals, took long silent walks in the jungle, and he asked me to sit with him in meditation. Every evening, we sat around a campfire with others from the Ashram; told stories; and sang songs together. He would normally meditate from midnight until 5:00 AM and, I must confess, I never saw him sleeping. He was in a state of samadhi equivalent to deep sleep or rest, but I do not know for sure.

But Surrendra Ji did not teach me how to meditate. Instead, he introduced me to his friend Anagarika Munindra – head of the Burmese Vihara (monastery) in Bodh Gaya – and asked him to teach me meditation. At a later time, Surrendra Ji introduced me to S. N. Goenka – famous Buddhist Vipassana teacher – when he visited Bodh Gaya to teach a ten-day advanced meditation retreat for fifty-seven Vipassana teachers from around the world.

Although I was a beginner, Surrendra Ji thought it was important for me to sign up for this retreat. In this retreat, we had to sit fourteen hours per day for ten days straight in silence. We could only speak with the teacher if necessary. Oh my, this was quite an eye opener for me! After sitting in 120-degree heat with no air conditioning, I endured severe leg cramps and my “monkey mind” was going crazy. Although I followed the instructions, I was in a fit of physical pain and mental anguish after the first seven days. All I wanted to do was get out of there! So, during one of the lunch breaks, I snuck out of the retreat and went to see Surrendra Ji. When I shared my experience with him, he gently told me to go back to the retreat and do my best to get through the last three days. Out of respect for him, I followed his instruction. Sure enough, at the end of the seventh day, I had a breakthrough in the middle of the night and was able to enjoy a newfound sense of peace for the last three days of the retreat. Since that first meditation retreat, I have meditated every day for more than fifty-two years. I guess you could say the meditation retreat had a big impact on me. It changed the direction of my life. When I went off to college, I never thought I would become a meditation teacher. As Suzy Tattershall said: “When you go to India, you will have a chance to divide and decide on what you will do for the rest of your life.”

Inner Journey Home

While I was living with Surrendra Ji and completing my research for Professor Swanger, there was a 100-year monsoon in the Bengal jungle. Day after day, we experienced torrential downpours and we even got twenty-four inches of rain in a single day. Since they have monsoons every year, there was an entire system of dikes and dams in and around the Bodh Gaya village. But in 1971 the monsoon was so bad that the dikes and dams could not hold the water back and I witnessed their collapse and complete destruction. After the water management system failed, I have photos where there is thirty feet of standing water, and you can barely see the tops of the trees.

At this time, approximately 2,000 people in the village, including some wild animals, had to move to high ground approximately the size of four football fields. There was so much water, no one could get in or out of Bodh Gaya and we were trapped for 48 days. During this time-frame approximately half the people died of starvation and disease, and I lost approximately 70-80 pounds. After the first week or two, there were no more supplies and we had to forage in the jungle for hours on end to find food and wood for fires. We had to make fires to boil the muddy water for drinking and for funeral pyres. Since I was one of the healthier people, towards the end, families would come to me with a newborn child or infant for “mercy” terminations.

Because the child was terminally ill or starving to death, the parents would carefully and lovingly place their fingers down the throat of the child and suffocate them so they could die quickly and peacefully. The parents would then hand the child to me so I could take the body to the funeral pyre. This was a gut wrenching task, and it shook me to my core. After dealing with this profound experience of death, I gained the perspective and inspiration to serve others going through the death and dying process – in the Name of God.

After the waters receded, I had no intentions of leaving Surrendra Ji, the Ashram, and Bodh Gaya. But Surrendra Ji came to me right away and said I needed to take the first bus out of Bodh Gaya and go back home right away. I think Surrendra Ji knew something I didn’t. When I arrived at the San Francisco International airport a few weeks later, my skin was dark yellow, and my urine was dark brown because I had an extreme case of Hepatitis “A” from drinking muddy water during the flood. They took me straight from the airport to the nearest hospital in an ambulance. After staying there for a couple of days, I flew back home to Saginaw, Michigan where I was hospitalized for another ten days.

On my last day in Bodh Gaya, Surrendra Ji and I were sad I was leaving, and we were both quiet all morning. We both knew we would never see each other again. When the time came to catch the bus, we walked in silence on the path back to the village in our finest white Kurtas. While we were waiting for the bus, Surrendra Ji gently looked into my eyes and said: “Kirk, I want you to promise me one thing when you get back to America.” I silently nodded with tears rolling down my cheeks. “I want you to go home and learn everything you can about Jesus Christ.” And I softly said: “Yes. I will.”

As the bus was coming around the corner, Surrendra Ji unexpectedly dropped to his knees and bowed down to me with his face in the mud. That was his good-bye. I leaned down and gently touched his back and I uncontrollably cried on the bus ride all the way to Gaya. And I cried until I was completely exhausted that night. Just like I did when I collapsed on that muddy hill in Springfield more than two years ago. And by the Grace of God, “In the darkness of the night, I was engulfed by a radiant, white-hot platinum star that was expanding and contracting simultaneously. The star was radiating from an invisible, dimensionless point within my heart and shining out to infinity.” My inner journey home!

Good-bye Surrendra Ji! Rest in peace my dear and beloved friend! I will love you forever and can’t wait to see you again in Heaven! Amen