Not long ago, I commented to a friend of mine who is still in the Center how odd I find it that during all my New York years, I have no memory of ever having a spiritual conversation with another disciple.
Perhaps when you're living the spiritual life at the pace and intensity we were, there's no time or interest. We were so active each day for so many years that in the little spare time we were afforded, talking about metaphysical things was, perhaps, the last thing on our collective mind. But I don't want this blog to suffer the same fate.
All I thought about for much of those years was how to become consciously one with the Divine or how close I was to that goal. As challenging as it is to write about metaphysical experience, my inner life is central to the story. While there's great narrative utility in writing about the big signposts and milestones along the journey, such utility comes at the price of some incompleteness, some lack of depth.
I've purposefully left out many details of my story and forgotten many others -- the myriad small, everyday occurrences and insights that have made me, for better or worse, who I am today.
So, time to slow the story down a bit a talk about the occult, about that which is normally hidden from view.
That's me, Ketan and Sahadeva horsing around behind the counter at the Smile just a few days after the 200 mile race.