A few days later, whilst trying to figure out a guitar solo, my gaze paused briefly upon Sir Chinmoy’s picture. At that moment my gaze softened, my posture straightened, my mind became silent, and in the absence of thought something welled up to fill the space; a deep sense of self, illumining, inspiring, beautiful, intense. I realised I was meditating and that I had never meditated before. Half an hour passed. It was life changing. It dawned on me that there was much more to the whole concept of a spiritual teacher than I had ever thought. The realisation was not cerebral, it came from a far deeper part of my being. Never before had I been so certain about something.
This experience became the launching pad for my spiritual life. In the coming weeks and months, as my meditation experiences became more solid, I entered wholeheartedly into the multifarious activities of the Melbourne Sri Chinmoy Centre; helping at fun runs, doing dishes at The Rainbow-Silence-Heart, packaging donated medical supplies, organising a bicycle relay across Victoria, participating in the Peace Run. These were wonderful ways to nurture my spiritual life without having to sit cross legged in meditation for hours on end.
Meanwhile, the sweetness of my childhood came flooding back to me. It was magical. Suddenly, I could again appreciate the simple joy of kicking a soccer ball, or throwing a tennis ball, or just lying in the grass on a sunny day. It was as if a black cloud of ego, indulgence and impurity had been drawn from me. Such newness I felt in each day- and this newness seemed to be blossoming inextricably with my deepening meditation.
Even in more mundane moments I found I was undergoing a transformation of my nature. Generally more aware of my interactions and reactions with the world, I was learning to better identify my own limitations and subsequently improve upon them or transcend them in some way; tough work at times, but richly fulfilling.