I feel as though I fell through the rabbit hole in 2004. More than at any time in my life, I became involved in the social and political events of the day, the temperature of which presidential election fever pushed to an almost unbearable degree. As we enter the New Year of 2005, I feel drawn to visit my “roots”—the early experiences which continue to define my life and work. I fully intend to journey even deeper into the rabbit hole this year, but last year taught me that it is of utmost importance to stay firmly planted in the soil of my soul and to heed the wise counsel of silence.

If we are going to heal this troubled world, we are going to do it with wisdom, with compassion, and with an elevated sense of our common humanity. Silence teaches us we cannot create peace through violence. We cannot understand others without listening. We cannot bring love and joy into the world with anger and hatred.

And so I tell the following story for my own sake, in order to renew my own heart and spirit. Of course, I hope you will be similarly inspired.

In 1969, I lived in a wood shack near the village of Trinidad, about thirty miles north of Arcata, California. I was supposed to be studying Eastern philosophy at Humboldt State College but spent hardly any time in class. Instead, I sampled a variety of hallucinogens, sat zazen and practiced Aikido, followed the saga of Carlos Castaneda, and read haiku poetry—tiny bridges of words that are connected to the immense emptiness behind conventional thinking and meaning. During this time, I encountered the world of silence, and in that silence I experienced the physical world perceived by the senses, was a paper-thin facade hiding something vast.

It was in search of that vastness that I traveled to India. In 1973, I set off with a friend whom I had met the year before in Israel. Eric and I had decided to go overland from Europe. We set off from Paris, hitchhiking to Brindisi, Italy, intending to take the ferry to Greece, and then trains and buses through Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and into India.

During one of the station stops in eastern Turkey, Eric and I ventured out to the platform, where we met another traveler, a Frenchman. Herve was a shepherd who was returning to India to see his guru, Swami Muktananda. The three of us struck up a friendship and journeyed together another two months, ending up in Delhi, India. We had endured and enjoyed much and had formed a great bond of love. In India, Herve invited us to visit him at his guru’s ashram near Bombay. But Eric and I were headed to Bhutan, so as we parted company to go our separate ways, I was sure I would never see Herve again.

I never made it to Bhutan; perhaps the vast silence I was searching for took control of my itinerary. I was first sent to a small ashram in the foothills of the Himalayas, where the resident guru, Neem Karoli Baba, had passed on just days before. I stayed there for about a week. During that time I heard many stories of Muktananda, and several people, including Ram Dass, suggested I visit him.

Returning to Delhi, Eric decided he wanted to study the sitar in Benares. I bought a third class ticket and boarded a train for Madras. My next adventure, courtesy of the silence, was a two week vipassana meditation retreat with Goenka, a Burmese teacher. I subsequently visited Satya Sai Baba’s ashram, and wandered around south India. Several months later, I ended up in Bombay. I thought of Herve.

I climbed into a battered red bus and spent the day crawling the 60 miles to visit him in his guru’s ashram. I entered through a circular gate into the small marble courtyard that is the entrance wearing sandals, white cotton pants and shirt, and carrying a small rucksack.

Herve was in a Bombay hospital, expected back soon, and Muktananda was up north in Kashmir with a few disciples. I was invited to stay as a guest until Herve’s return. I settled into a tiny room with a cot and mattress and a view of the rice paddies and plantain trees. The ashram was quite beautiful and clean, a real oasis from the pounding I had taken wandering around India for five months. Herve returned two days later, and he became my enthusiastic guide through the ashram’s rigorous discipline.

One was expected to wake up at 3:00 AM and pretty much remain engaged with meditation, chanting Sanskrit hymns, or work of one sort or another until 10:00 PM. As I was still a guest, I was allowed some leniency. I managed a few hours a day of meditating and chanting, and pitched in with the dishes and the gardening. Sometimes, a few of us would escape to the dingy yellowed tea shop next store, where in deep shadows we’d drink strong chai strained through a T-shirt unwashed in a decade.

I began to get restless. I wanted to head up to Benares to meet Eric. Herve went nuts when I told him I wanted to leave. He insisted I wait a few more days to meet his guru. French shepherds can be very persuasive. I relented.

A few days later, a current of intense excitement went through the ashram. Muktananda was coming home. In the late morning we all gathered densely in the front of the ashram with the usual cacophony signaling auspicious events: bells, trumpets, conches, gongs, and clapping, shouting, and stomping. Suddenly, there was the guru.

I spent several more seemingly uneventful days in the ashram. In Muktananda’s presence, everyone seemed more alert and alive, almost on edge. I hadn’t yet felt the hammer of recognition which would come later in a series of excruciating inner experiences. Once again I felt it was time for me to head north and meet up with Eric, and I told Herve I really had to get moving. I think he felt sad for me that I hadn’t connected with Muktananda in the way he had. I told him my wanderlust was inflamed. I was rested and ready for more adventures. Relenting, Herve said that it was customary good manners to request permission from Baba, which is what the devotees called Muktananda, to leave the ashram; it was a gesture of respect. After all, I had accepted his hospitality for over two weeks. Not wanting to offend him or Baba, I agreed, though I thought asking his permission to go was somewhat incredible. I treasured my independence.

I had my small traveling bag packed and was within minutes of the next bus departure for Bombay. Baba was sitting on his small marble perch in the main courtyard where he would often sit for hours, unperturbed by time or events. Even with my mind preoccupied with imminent departure, I was aware of a breathtaking aspect to Baba. To this day I have not encountered anyone or anything as compelling as Baba just sitting on his cushions on that marble verandah. He was so fabulously dangerous. Anything could happen. Anything did happen.

I went up to him and said, “Baba, I’ve been in your ashram for a few weeks, but I have to leave now. Thank you very much for allowing me to stay here.”

He looked at me for a moment and said, “Where are you going?” It was a reasonable and friendly question. I told him I wanted to go to Benares to meet a friend. He looked at me again, differently, as though he were an x-ray machine. Something in me quivered. “Why do you want to go to Benares?” he asked. “It’s cold there at this time of year. It’s cold in Benares.”

At his last word I went totally blank. I can recall that something in me skipped a beat: it was a sudden disruption of equilibrium, as if my feet slipped out from under me on ice without warning. I was disoriented and confused and I couldn’t regain my inner balance. Then I plunged into timelessness for an encounter with silence. I don’t know how to describe those moments. I know it will sound odd, but I wasn’t there: I disappeared. That’s why I don’t know what to say.

The next thing I remember, I was standing in front of Herve, some thirty feet away from Baba. I stammered, “I guess I won’t be going to Benares.” Herve cracked up.

There were many perfectly polite and rational things I could have said to Baba when he told me how cold it was in Benares, like “Yes, but I have warm clothes” or “Don’t worry, I won’t be there long.” But something transpired in that exchange which, to this day, I still can’t quite fathom. My life took a radical turn. That moment foretold a dream I would have months later in which Baba, holding my hand as we soared through space, whispered, “If you stay with me, I’ll take you flying to places you’ve never been before.”

Baba’s guru, Bhagawan Nityananda, was reported to have said, “The heart is the sacred hub of the universe. Go there and roam in that space.” I believe that the experience I still can’t fathom pointed me irrevocably towards that sacred hub. I remained enthralled by Muktananda and remained under his tutelage for the next ten years. During that decade, I was graced with many excursions to the sacred hub of the universe.

I sometimes reflect on a conversation I had with Baba in his room in India shortly before he passed away. He told me to return to America. He said I was to be his emissary. He said he would tell me where to go and what to do. At that time I thought he was referring to work he had asked me to do as a manager in his organization. Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn’t. If there is one thing that is certain, it’s that sages are quite inscrutable. Their words and actions have layers of significance and some of the more subtle layers are revealed over time. I don’t think it is possible to understand a sage definitively. I don’t think anyone can know with certainty or authority what a sage says to a particular person, including the person to whom the sage speaks. I do think that behind everything a sage says is the basic commandment, “The heart is the sacred hub of the universe. Go there and roam in that space.”

Looking back, I think that’s what Baba meant. I think he meant that I should continue to roam in the sacred hub of the universe. He was showing me my path in this life. To be his emissary is to stand for the light of our own true nature, our essence, the Self. I think he meant that I should serve that Self and listen to that Self and follow that Self. Rumi, a Sufi poet of the Self, said the same thing in this way, “Let the love of holy laughter guide you.” I think this is what Baba meant.

A few days after that conversation, I said good-bye to him as he sat on his chair in the courtyard. I began to slowly walk away, resigned to return to America. He called me one last time. As I turned to him, I saw he had leaned forward in his chair. He held a tiny candy in his right hand. With an impish and mischievous smile that contained all the love I could ever want, he said, “You should never leave the ashram without something sweet.” That was the last time I saw him.

Over the years, I have tried to follow his instructions. I agree with J. Krishnamurti, who said that truth is a pathless land. The pathless path is not always clear, rarely certain, frequently terrifying, always challenging. Roaming in the sacred hub of the universe is simple, but it’s not easy. Still, I think we should try. What Baba said to me is an important message for everyone. I think we all know intuitively that our real home is the sacred hub of our own heart and that our real identity is that Self which is identical to the supreme consciousness that pervades the entire universe. I sincerely hope we will all try to experience the truth of that sacred hub, our own Self, and to then fully embody its transcendent beauty in every thing we do.

In this way, our lives and this planet will become a living paradise of joy and peace. May everyone on Earth experience the truth of their own heart, their own Self—the one heart and the one Self to which we all belong.

Hinduism founded:
Hinduism, the world’s oldest religion, has no beginning - it predates recorded history.

Founder: Hinduism has no human founder.

Major scriptures:The Vedas, Agamas and more.

Adherents:Nearly one billion, mostly in India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Bhutan, Nepal, Malaysia, Indonesia, Indian Ocean, Africa, Europe and North and South America.

Sects: There are four main denominations: Saivism, Saktism, Vaishavism and Smartism.

Synopsis:
Hinduism is a vast and profound religion. It worships one Supreme Reality (called by many names) and teaches that all souls ultimately realize Truth. There is no eternal hell, no damnation. It accepts all genuine spiritual paths - from pure monism (God alone exists) to theistic dualism (When shall I know His Grace?). Each soul is free to find his own way, whether by devotion, austerity, meditation (yoga) or selfless service.

Stress is placed on temple worship, scripture and the guru-disciple tradition. Festivals, pilgrimage, chanting of holy hymns and home worship are dynamic practices. Love, nonviolence, good conduct and the law of dharma define the Hindu path. Hinduism explains that the soul reincarnates until all karma are resolved and God Realization is attained. The magnificent holy temples, the peaceful piety of the Hindu home, the subtle metaphysics and the science of yoga all play their part.

Hinduism is a mystical religion, leading the devotee to personally experience the Truth within, finally reaching the pinnacle of consciousness where man and God are one.

Goals of the four Major Hindu sects:
Saivism: The primary goal of Saivism is realizing one’s identity with God Siva, in perfect union and non-differentiation. This is termed nirvikalpa samadhi, Self Realization, and may be attained in this life, granting moksha, permanent liberation from the cycles of birth and death. A secondary goal is savikalpa samadhi, the realization of Satchidananda, a unitive experience within super consciousness in which perfect Truth, knowledge and bliss are known. The soul’s final destiny is vishvagrasa, total merger in God Siva.

Saktism: The primary goal of Saktism is moksha, defined as complete identification with God Siva. A secondary goal for the Saktas is to perform good works selflessly so that one may go, on death, to the heaven worlds and thereafter enjoy a good birth on earth, for heaven, too, is a transitory state. For Saktas, God is both the formless Absolute (Siva) and the manifest Divine (Sakti), worshiped as Parvati, Durga, Kali, Amman, Rajarajeshvari, etc. Emphasis is given to the feminine manifest by which the masculine Un-manifest is ultimately reached.

Vaishavism: The primary goal of Vaishavites is videha mukti, liberation - attainable only after death - when the small self realizes union with God Vishnu’s body as a part of Him, yet maintains its pure individual personality. Lord Vishnu - all-pervasive consciousness - is the soul of the universe, distinct from the world and from the jivas, "embodied souls", which constitute His body. His transcendent Being is a celestial form residing in the city of Vaikuntha, the home of all eternal values and perfection, where the soul joins Him upon mukti, liberation. A secondary goal - the experience of God’s Grace - can be reached while yet embodied through taking refuge in Vishnu’s unbounded love. By loving and serving Vishnu and meditating upon Him and His incarnations, our spiritual hunger grows and we experience His Grace flooding our whole being.

Smartism: The ultimate goal of Smartas is moksha, to realize oneself as Brahman - the Absolute and only Reality - and become free from sausara, the cycles of birth and death. For this, one must conquer the state of avidya, or ignorance, which causes the world to appear as real. All illusion has vanished for the realized being, Jivanmukta, even as he lives out life in the physical body. At death, his inner and outer bodies are extinguished. Brahman alone exists.

Paths of Attainment:
Saivism: The path for Saivites is divided into four progressive stages of belief and practice called charya, kriya, yoga and jnana. The soul evolves through karma and reincarnation from the instinctive-intellectual sphere into virtuous and moral living, then into temple worship and devotion, followed by internalized worship or yoga and its meditative disciplines. Union with God Siva comes through the grace of the satguru and culminates in the soul’s maturity in the state of jnana, or wisdom. Saivism values both bhakti and yoga, devotional and contemplative sadhanas.

Saktism: The spiritual practices in Saktism are similar to those in Saivism, though there is more emphasis in Saktism on God’s Power as opposed to Being, on mantras and yantras, and on embracing apparent opposites: male-female, absolute-relative, pleasure-pain, cause-effect, mind-body. Certain sects within Saktism undertake "left-hand" tantric rites, consciously using the world of form to transmute and eventually transcend that world. The "left-hand" approach is somewhat occult in nature; it is considered a path for the few, not the many. The "right-hand" path is more conservative in nature.

Vaishavism: Most Vaishavites believe that religion is the performance of bhakti sadhanas, and that man can communicate with and receive the grace of Lord Vishnu who manifests through the temple Deity, or idol. The path of karma yoga and jnana yoga leads to bhakti yoga. Among the highest practices of all Vaishavites is chanting the holy names of the Avataras, Vishnu's incarnations, such as Rama and Krisha. Through total self-surrender, called prapatti, to Lord Vishnu, liberation from sausara is attained.

Smartism: Most Smarta-Liberal Hindus believe that moksha is achieved through jñana yoga alone—defined as an intellectual and meditative but non-kundalini-yoga path. Jnana yoga's progressive stages are scriptural study (Shravaa), reflection (manana) and sustained meditation (dhyana). Guided by a realized guru and avowed to the unreality of the world, the initiate meditates on himself as Brahman to break through the illusion of my. Devotees may also choose from three other non-successive paths to cultivate devotion, accrue good karma and purify the mind. These are bhakti yoga, karma yoga and raja yoga, which certain Smartas teach can also bring enlightenment.

1. I believe in the divinity of the Vedas, the world’s most ancient scripture, and venerate the Agamas as equally revealed. These primordial hymns are God’s word and the bedrock of Sanatana Dharma, the eternal religion which has neither beginning nor end.

2. I believe in a one, all-pervasive Supreme Being who is both immanent and transcendent, both Creator and Un-manifest Reality.

3. I believe that the universe undergoes endless cycles of creation, preservation and dissolution.

4. I believe in karma, the law of cause and effect by which each individual creates his own destiny by his thoughts, words and deeds.

5. I believe that the soul reincarnates, evolving through many births until all karma have been resolved, and moksha, spiritual knowledge and liberation from the cycle of rebirth, is attained. Not a single soul will be eternally deprived of this destiny.

6. I believe that divine beings exist in unseen worlds and that temple worship, rituals, sacraments as well as personal devotionals create a communion with these devas and Gods.

7. I believe that a spiritually awakened master, or satguru, is essential to know the Transcendent Absolute, as are personal discipline, good conduct, purification, pilgrimage, self-inquiry and meditation.

8. I believe that all life is sacred, to be loved and revered, and therefore practice ahimsa, “noninjury.”

9. I believe that no particular religion teaches the only way to salvation above all others, but that all genuine religious paths are facets of God’s Pure Love and Light, deserving tolerance and understanding.