--Baba
Sitting in the medical room of Long Bay's Reception prison, I felt dazed and confused as I tried to comprehend what had just happened. Blood ran down my shirt as a nurse attended to my wounds. "You're lucky you didn't lose your ear," she said, sounding half concerned and half critical. The prisoner who had attacked me had nearly ripped off my left ear.
Since I couldn't see the damage I didn't know how severe it was. All I knew was there was a throbbing pain in my ear. I felt disorientated from pain and medication and drifted in and out of waking consciousness. Dreams and memories came to me of my early life and the circumstances leading up to my recent imprisonment.
I was reminded of a similar painful experience. My father had a short temper and sometimes disciplined my twin brother Mark and I by bashing our heads together. This usually gave me a very sore ear and head.
My father loved my mother dearly. Their marriage was very happy and idyllic until my older brother was born. Then my father discovered that he had a low tolerance for children. This brought out an awful temper that often exploded over the smallest incident. When my older sister was born a few years later, Mum and Dad decided she would be their last child. Therefore, when I came along ten years later, unplanned, and certainly for Dad, unwanted, he was not very pleased. To make matters worse, my twin brother Mark followed ten minutes later. Twins! My father considered this a nightmare. He immediately ordered that we be fed and in bed by the time he came home from work each day.
We were born on July 15th, 1955 in Perth, Western Australia. My mother was suffering from depression and my father's intolerance of us made things worse for her. She needed to rest, so as soon as we were old enough, she left us most of the day in the backyard with our pet parrot and dog. She took care of our basic needs, but spent little extra time with us. This was how my mother dealt with the very difficult situation she found herself in.
All day we interacted with the pets and each other. We had no one else to talk to except our mother occasionally. Our older brother and sister were busy teenagers and didn't have much time to spend with us. This meant there was no one to teach us how to speak, so we didn't learn. When we wanted something, we used sign language. My mother told me later that if we wanted a drink, we panted like a dog with our tongues out and pointed to our mouths.
The doctor thought we were deaf but my mother knew we weren't because we responded to her when she spoke to us. We didn't learn to speak until we were four years old and mixed with other children at kindergarten. By that time we needed special speech lessons from child language specialists to help catch up.
Because of this very late start, I found school difficult. I was always at the bottom of the class. Being dyslexic also didn't help. I didn't care for school, although that may be because of my difficulty in learning. I remember that one time in grade six I got a sum correct. My teacher stopped the class and told me to stand up while every one applauded me for getting one right! I thought it was amusing and fortunately didn't feel insulted by such mocking sarcasm.
Meanwhile, at home my father had decided to put up with us, after making sure we'd never disobey him. If we inadvertently did, he was often physically violent. For example, one time we left out our three-wheeler bicycles in the driveway and he accidentally ran over one with his car. He was furious and chased us around the yard with a stick threatening to beat us. The fact that the stick had old rusty nails sticking out didn't seem to bother him.
Another time I banged into a glass sliding door while sleepwalking. Although I did no damage my father was very angry and said if I did that again and broke it he would send me to a home! For some time after that I went to sleep afraid that I might wake up and be told I was going to an orphanage. A sleepwalker has no conscious awareness of what is happening or any memory of what he has done.
My sweet, affectionate mother said that she would have been stricter with us but she felt she had to compensate for father's extreme authoritarianism. Nevertheless, I am grateful for learning self-discipline from Dad. He usually meant well but just could not control his temper. He only got drunk about twice a year, but when he did, he was terrifying to be around.
Despite the strict discipline and constant threat of violence, life was generally happy for me. I was very obedient and rarely did anything to get Dad upset. I never felt my life to be disadvantaged. Only later upon reflection did this occur to me.
By the time I was a teenager, I began to feel restless and dissatisfied with life. At school, I still did poorly although I was generally very good at sports. I played Australian Rules football and cricket. Later I took up surfing. However, this didn't satisfy a much deeper urge that told me there was something more to life. By the time I was 13, I was binge drinking. It was also in this year that an adult friend of mine sexually abused me. The attempt to forget this horrible experience is probably what led to the drinking.
By the time I was 15, I had discovered marijuana. This was in 1970. I left school and started a five-year apprenticeship in boiler making/welding. In those days 15 was considered very young to be taking drugs, but I felt a very strong urge to find something more in life. I was also becoming quite successful with surfing and secured sponsorship with a surfboard manufacturer. But this still didn't satisfy me.
After a year of marijuana and hash, I tried LSD. During that year, I started going to Hatha Yoga classes. I only lasted one term but it was there that the seed was sown for spirituality. Once my yoga teacher told me she had studied with a yogi who was so elevated that in his presence she felt very happy and peaceful due to the strength of his spirituality. It impressed me that a person could make you feel peaceful and happy just by his presence.
The hippy surfers that I associated with seemed superficial. While I liked them, they didn't 'feel' right. Some of them were getting interested in eastern religion and meditation and that interested me. Meanwhile, the drug taking was becoming detrimental to my mind and my happiness. My memory was starting to fail, which concerned me a great deal. Every time I had a high, it was followed by depression.
Still I wanted something more in life. Drugs were not providing an answer. It was becoming increasingly apparent they were obstructing me from finding an answer by making me more confused, cynical and depressed. Surfing was still very enjoyable but that too seemed to be lacking. I decided I wanted to give up drugs but what would I replace them with? To go back to ordinary life seemed so dry and boring. Then I remembered the yoga classes. I thought about the yogi's peaceful, happy effect on others. I decided to take up yoga again. I also wanted to learn about meditation.
I lived on John Street in Cottesloe, a beautiful beach suburb of Perth. It was not far from the port town of Fremantle where yoga classes were held. During the classes, I felt some satisfaction but still something was missing. Meditation appealed to me, so I leafed through many books. But nothing struck that inner chord. I continued searching.
On Fridays and Saturdays, my yoga teacher taught meditation. Students read from the Bhagavad Gita, the Bible and other spiritually inspiring scriptures. The meditation consisted of concentrating on a candle light. This didn't seem very spiritual to me but it was something&emdash;a good start on a new path.
One night at meditation class, I met Kapil and Karuna. They were members of an Indian based group called Ananda Marga, which means 'Path of Bliss'. They had joined Ananda Marga in India, but there were no other members in Perth and only a few in Australia. They made contact with one of the Ananda Marga monks who had just arrived in Australia and invited him to Perth.
I was elated when they announced that this monk, one of the spiritual teachers of Ananda Marga, would give a talk on meditation during our Friday night class. I still remember that night clearly. I waited anxiously. He was late. Suddenly, the door burst open and in walked a tall, young, handsome yogi in bright orange robes, wearing a turban and, yes, emanating a peaceful aura!
"A real yogi," I thought with excitement and a touch of awe.
The 'yogi' spoke about the search for happiness. He said the desire for happiness is infinite but we try to satisfy it through finite things. Only merging with the infinite cosmic consciousness, or God, can give infinite happiness. The method to experience this cosmic consciousness, he said, is intuitional meditation.
It all made sense to me. Although at the time I didn't realise it, he was describing what had been happening to me. I had been searching for infinite happiness through finite things like alcohol and drugs. Even with surfing and all its magic, I still felt the lack of some mystical link&emdash;a vital factor in my life.
On Saturday night, I attended the yogi's talk again. It was the same as the talk on Friday but I enjoyed just being in his presence. After the talk, he announced that there would be a meditation retreat the following weekend. However, anyone who wanted to attend had to first be initiated into his meditation. This was because there would be a lot of time spent in meditation and everyone had to know how to meditate properly.
"How wonderful," I thought. A whole weekend of meditation. In addition, the meditation instruction would be free! I later found out that all of Ananda Marga practices are taught free of charge.
The 'yogi' was called Dada Sumitananda. 'Dada' means respected elder brother. (Nuns are called 'Didi', meaning respected elder sister) When I asked Dada about initiation he seemed reluctant. He questioned my desire to learn. Later, I realised it was because I was only 17 and he wanted to know if I really was ready. However, I persisted and so finally he agreed. A time was set, next Monday at 5 pm, at Kapil and Karuna's house where Dada lived. I was ecstatic.
In 1972, I was in the second year of my boilermaking/welding apprenticeship. I was working in Fremantle, mostly repairing ships. Work finished at 4 pm, so after work I went straight to Dada's place near Perth. After getting off a bus, I merrily walked to the street where Dada lived. I was so happy, feeling I had finally found what I had been searching for! The sun was shining, the sky seemed bright and the trees beautiful. Even the birds seemed to be singing more than usual!
I walked down the street looking for the house number written on the paper that I clutched in my hand. The number didn't exist! I walked up and down the street, but to no avail. Feeling dejected I felt my initiation must not have been meant to be. As I turned to go home, I noticed a bright orange blur in the corner of my eye. I turned and saw Dada walking out of a corner shop! I quickly called out to him and went with him to his house. I had been given the wrong number!
The yogi took me into a room in the house and we sat down on the floor. He was an 'acharya', which meant that he was specially trained to teach meditation and yoga. He was also a celibate monk and the orange robes he wore were a symbol of sacrifice and renunciation.
Dada explained that initiation involved learning a specific meditation technique using a spiritually vibrated sound called a mantra. Not only did I have to repeat the mantra properly but I also had to be thinking and feeling the mantra's meaning. This is called 'ideation.' Only then would I be able to experience the full spiritual effects of the meditation. Meditation without ideation can create a peaceful feeling, but ideation is needed for deeper spiritual experiences.
Dada also asked me to take three simple oaths. Not to harm others consciously, to help others, and to keep the individual meditation technique that he would teach me confidential. He explained that this was because the mantra and specific techniques are given according to individual personality and mental vibration. The proper mantra has to be given to each person to have the desired benefit, just like a doctor prescribes the right medicine to have the curative effect.
He also explained the symbol of Ananda Marga. As soon as he showed it to me, I became confused and curious. To me it looked like a mix of the Jewish Star of David, the Japanese rising sun, and the Nazi swastika!
Dada explained that there are two interwoven triangles. The downward triangle represents the inner search through spiritual practices, while the upward triangle represents service. Balancing service and meditation brings progress, represented by the rising sun in the centre of the two triangles. In the middle of the rising sun is a swastika, an old Sanskrit symbol which means spiritual victory or enlightenment. Dada explained that Hitler had misused this powerful symbol when he made it the symbol of conquest. Swastika is a Sanskrit word derived from 'swasti' which means welfare or wellbeing. In India it is common to see temples decorated with swastikas. It is supposed to bring good fortune and victory.
Finally, Dada taught me meditation. Afterwards we sat for several minutes in meditation together. I was deeply at peace. I felt like a new person. This is what I'd been looking for! I was overjoyed to have found the key to my inner spiritual self!
I asked Dada many questions about spirituality and the life of an acharya. He asked if I'd like to become one. I laughed at the idea, thinking only the most elevated people could take on such a lifestyle.
Dada said that anyone practicing meditation and moral principles in their life would gradually become 'elevated.' I asked him more about the moral principles he followed. He told me that these principles were vital to success in meditation and explained them in detail.
"Meditation without morality is dangerous. According to ancient yoga texts there are ten moral principles, divided into two parts, yama' and niyama.. Yama includes non-harming, truthfulness, non-stealing, moderation and the effort to perceive God in everything. Niyama stands for purity and cleanliness, contentment, selfless service, spiritual study and faith in God."
"You said selfless service. Isn't all service selfless?" I inquired.
"No, what most people consider service is not real service because they expect something back in return. This is really a commercial transaction, not service. You may see a business that claims it has been 'serving the community for 20 years.' Actually, they did not serve the community at all because the community had to pay for the so-called service they provided. Even to expect praise or a thank you for service is not true service. Real service is unilateral, meaning there is no return or benefit except the satisfaction of knowing you have helped someone. Service has to be selfless and done ideally as an expression of love for God.
Dada had told me during initiation that it was important that I meditate twice a day, as regularly as possible. He also told me I must do some kind of service on a regular basis. I asked him why these things were so important.
"Twice a day for at least half an hour is the minimum time needed for the meditation to have a real spiritual effect and to strengthen your mind. Regular service purifies the ego and removes any vanity that might come from your development through meditation."
I told Dada that, inspired by the yoga and meditation classes I was taking, I had been thinking about going to India to meditate intensively. I had even saved some money for the trip. I thought he would be enthusiastic about this idea, but his answer surprised me.
"There is no need to go anywhere to meditate. God can only be found within you, not without. Ananda Marga is different from many other spiritual groups in this regard. We say you don't have to give up your home, family and worldly life and go to the Himalayas or forests to meditate. Rather by staying in the world and fulfilling your worldly duties, while also meditating, you'll progress faster because service and duty to others helps break down the ego and induces feelings of love for others."
Dada also taught me some specific yoga exercises or asanas to do each day. Like my mantra, Dada specifically 'prescribed' certain asanas for me according to my health and mental tendencies. He also gave me some suggestions about foods that disturb meditation. They included all animal flesh such as red and white meat and fish. Also eggs, onions, garlic, mushrooms and all intoxicants except those given for medical reasons.
Dada also recommended fasting twice a month according to specific moon phases as a method of physical and spiritual purification. That was one of the biggest challenges for me. In fact, it was all a huge change for me and completely different from anything I had ever done. But I was feeling inspired and I understood that this was about more than just learning meditation: I was taking on a new lifestyle. I knew this was what I had been looking for, so from then on, I followed Dada's instructions carefully. I gave up alcohol, drugs and smoking from that day and felt much better for it. The high from drugs seemed quite a 'downer' compared to the high gained from meditation.
I questioned Kapil later about why eggs, onions, garlic and mushrooms were considered bad for meditation. He explained that garlic and onions create extra heat in the body, eggs have a similar effect to meat, and mushrooms have a crudifying energy.
He related an experience he had not long after his initiation. He complained to his Acharya that when he meditated he broke out into uncontrollable sweating. Dada asked him if he had been eating onions or garlic. Kapil replied that he had been eating onions. The Acharya said if he stopped eating onions, the sweating would stop. And it did.
It took me about a year before I was fully over my attachment to meat eating. After that I not only lost the desire for meat, but increasingly found it repulsive. Within a few years I found I could not even eat food if it was on the same plate as meat. The smell alone made me feel ill.
Initially, I was hassled by my friends and by my parents about my diet. In time, they came to accept my new habits and either admired me or dismissed me as being crazy! It was a good lesson in not being swayed by other's opinions. I did what I felt was right for me. I am now very thankful I ignored all the criticism and taunts and followed my convictions.
Later, I read that the spiritual path involves four stages. In the first stage, friends, parents or colleagues put obstacles in your way. Physical obstacles like sore legs and aching backs also present themselves. Internally there are also obstacles in the form of doubts, poor concentration and impatience for results.
In the second stage, the external obstacles recede. Friends stop bothering you, your back and legs stop aching as much, but the internal mental obstacles become stronger. While there is some success in concentration and therefore bliss or ananda is experienced for the first time, your ego can become a major problem. It's easy to feel superior to others because of your spiritual achievements. You have to remember that everything comes from God, so there is nothing for you to be proud of.
In the third stage, meditation becomes blissful and concentration becomes intense. Consequently, you may develop mental or occult powers. If these powers are not surrendered to God, it becomes easy to be tempted to misuse them for self-centred or personal interests. This can lead to your spiritual downfall.
The last stage is where complete concentration and control of your mind is achieved. You experience unshakable bliss and it becomes relatively easy to become totally self-realised.
When I was going through difficulties with my friends and parents about my new lifestyle, it was helpful to understand that this was only a phase of spiritual progress.
After my initiation, I went home. My housemate wasn't there. As soon as I walked in, I felt dizzy and sick. I collapsed on the floor. Intuitively I felt that if I drank some warm milk I would be alright.
I dragged myself along the wooden floor to our kitchen, pulled myself up and managed to warm up a cup of milk. As soon as I drank the milk the weakness, dizziness and sickness disappeared and I felt fine.
I have since learned that a test for the correctness of the mantra given at initiation is that either a pleasant or unpleasant experience should follow. This experience confirmed I had been given the correct mantra.
For the rest of the week, I went to Dada's flat after work. I could not get enough of his company or what he taught me about spirituality. At the weekend retreat, I immediately felt familiar in the new environment and lifestyle. It took a few more retreats, however, before I really began to understand the more complex concepts.
Towards the end of 1973, Ananda Marga had a vegetarian food stall at a fair in a country town just out of Perth called York. The food proved very popular and several people learned meditation after joining in the collective chanting and meditation.
The following year Ananda Marga attended the York festival. At this second festival, a woman told some of us about an incredible experience. She explained how she had attended the previous year's festival and learned a simple meditation. After the festival she returned home and started practicing the meditation regularly. Her husband worked in a psychiatric hospital and the atmosphere eventually got the better of him. He started acting strangely and one night after returning home from work, locked his wife in their house. Then he went outside to get his axe saying he was going to kill her! She searched desperately for a way out but every conceivable exit was sealed.
Suddenly, she noticed a man beckoning her to escape through a door he was holding open. She was too frightened and desperate to question the man, and immediately ran out to safety. She never saw the man again until she came to this second York festival. Seeing a photo of the Ananda Marga guru for the first time, she was completely startled. This was the man who had saved her life! I found out he is known to his disciples as 'Baba', an affectionate term that means 'beloved spiritual father'. This generated a desire in me to know more about this mysterious personality.