Tempering the Spirit

by

Patrick Marsolek

The Indian holy man, Sathya Sai Baba, has touched the hearts of millions of people around the world. Frequently I hear references to him and the massive public works he's doing in India. His centers are springing up in the farthest reaches of the planet. I hear of the transformational effect he has on people. When someone brings up his name in conversation, I smile and say, "I've been to see him."

When I hear his name a familiar feeling stirs inside me; a fire that's always burning low inside me flares up at the slightest touch of memory. After some discussion of these experiences a felt sense of energy spreads around the room, sparking more fires in whomever is listening. What is this force, reaching across time as if from one breath to another, still working inside me and affecting others?

I go back in time. I'm sitting cross-legged on the sands that surround the Mandir, the pastel-colored residence of Sai Baba, lavishly covered with carvings of the gods and goddesses of the Hindu pantheon. All around me people are packed closely together and there's a continuous, quiet shuffling of bodies. In the palms above the crows loose unceasing squawking sounds as if they too are part of the throng. We're all here, people from all walks of life, to see this holy man: Americans, Italians, Indians, Brazilians, Christians, Moslems, Buddhists, Hindus. We all are seeking some experience with Sai Baba, trying to answer a searching that's within us.

Then he's out walking through the mass of people, an orange willowy figure, moving gently as if with the breeze. Gracefully he goes from person to person , pausing often to speak to individuals and take letters. He waves his hand in the air and hands rush out to wait below his. A stream of ash descends through the air, ash from an invisible source; this is his calling card...

This card called to me several months earlier. At my home half way around the world in Montana, I sit on the stoop of my apartment listening, fascinated. My new friend Howard tells me his stories of India and of Sai Baba, stories of objects materialized out of nothing and of living amidst a fascinating, mysterious force - - this man who walks across the sand and leaves pearls in his footprints and in the hearts of those who meet him. Howard talks excitedly, obviously captivated by memories of his experiences of Sai Baba. Howard excites me and arouses my interest. I have been seeking energy like this: exploring self-awareness through yoga, sexuality and sensuality, meditation and altered states.

On the sands of India the breeze blows warm across my body but still cools the sweat on my skin. Sai Baba draws near and everyone around me becomes restless; people are leaning in closer and bumping into each other. An unseen excitation fills the air. I hear mumbled words: "Baba", "swami" , "interview." Hands holding letters are thrust forward. Baba comes closer and talks to some men nearby while hands go out to touch his feet. Flurried words are spoken and letters are taken. One man walks toward the Mandir; he's one of the chosen few selected for a personal interview. This is strange to me; people seem to be acting abnormally. Sai Baba is pulling them toward a non-ordinary reality. I'm curious but I sit and watch, only partly caught up in the flurry of energy. What is this that I feel?

Then comes a moment when time stops. Baba looks directly at me, right into my eyes, into me. I am completely exposed before this force, yet there's no roughness, no jagged edges, no pain. It's as if there is a gentle hand supporting me, holding me softly, surely, safely. In that moment, for just that moment, nothing is artificial. Then time starts again, the breeze blows, birds squabble, once more thoughts arise: this is close to home, I say to myself, this is a place where I truly want to be.

Having tasted this fruit, I desire more. I read his books, sitting long hours in quiet contemplation. As the days pass he stirs my mind and heart again and again. One day is sweet, like nectar; the next day is turbulence, turmoil and discontent. One day follows the next. Waves of energy -- desire and desirelessness -- pass over me, up and down, in and out. Unknowingly I've stepped into a process of purification, of tempering. It feels like I'm inside a pressure cooker and slowly being cooked clean.

One day my group is called in for a personal interview. We crowd into a small room. Sai Baba sits in a red velvet chair with everyone else seated on the floor. Once again, time comes to a halt. With a wave of his hand a silver chain and pendant appear which he gives to the baby, then a handful of steaming sweets, which are passed around. I feel, physically feel , waves of energy coming from him, flowing love and compassion.We bask in this wonderfulness. The conscious thinking mind has difficulty making the transition to this place, this experience. When he asks me a question my reply is clumsy. I feel like a child. Afterwards, we float away across the sand, drunkenly euphoric. . .

The tempering continues almost daily. Desires come and go, rise and fall. Sometimes I handle them gracefully, sometimes not. I see my lover one day, though I've not seen her much lately. 'Ladies' and 'gents' are separated here to "keep the thoughts pure." This time I see only my breathing, in, and out; I watch waves of awareness from my island self. Another day, I fall into the sight of her, sensuousness and sexual feelings flood into me. We move discreetly to connect with one another, desires flaming, fumbling touches between us. Our skins are hot coals, deliciously alive and swirling us deep into each other. When the heat cools and the waves subside, I'm left feeling awkward and self-conscious. I don't understand what's happened and I leave, struggling to recover calmness and peace. The tempering persists. Twice during this trip my lover and I plunge into our erotic desires, going against the rules of 'good conduct' in the ashram, with passion but also with confusion and misunderstandings. The battle between the idea of myself as a 'spiritual' person and also a sensual person is raging inside.

Looking back it seems the real learning that took place was not the ironing out of the specific wrinkles in my psyche, but more the growing awareness that there was something running underneath all of these phenomena. This was contact with spirit. When focused on with clear intent this contact could become stronger, carrying me through difficult times. For me this connection became rooted in sensual awareness, a feeling of warmth on my skin, a stirring in my solar plexus, heat spreading out from my chest. It is this sensual realization of myself as a human being and spiritual being that has, slowly over the years, allowed me to fuse these aspects of myself into one congruent force. I'm learning to let this energy move through my body, through loving, caring and gifting.

When I think now what it is that still is with me when I talk or think about Sai Baba, it's a continuous thread that I learned to recognize from my time there, the contact with spirit. It's here with me now as I write and I feel it growing stronger as I remember my time with him. I can see Baba stopping on the sand in front of the crowds and holding one hand out, palm to the sky, moving it slowly around in circles. He was deliberately stirring something within each person there, fanning the fire and tempering the spirit.

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