By Gurudevi Nirmalananda  

“I lived in a Tibetan temple,” a woman told me.  “They worshipped me as a Goddess in ceremonies every day.”  She truly had an other-worldly look to her.  Her eyes were full of light and space.  Her voice flowed like a stream running silently over rocks.  She didn’t walk like normal people, she glided, almost floated. 

“One day I wanted to actually do something, so I decided to go out.  I slipped past my guards and went into the marketplace.  I wandered around until I got tired and hungry.  Then I realized I didn’t know my way back.  I didn’t even know the name of the temple I’d been kept in.”  She continued, “I asked the Goddess for help. The pathway through the marketplace lit up.  I followed the light back to the front door.  They were so happy to see me!  They were worried about me.” 

She was in the USA when I met her, so that phase of her life had ended somehow.  She didn’t share that part of her story.  A couple of people came over to us and took her away, presumably to their home.  I wondered at how she managed her life.  I think she didn’t. 

Is this the goal?  To be other-worldly, sheltered and cared for, even to have guards at your door?  To be “kept”?  This is not what yoga calls freedom.  While she is one of the most unusual people I met, I have an advantage over her.  I had something to compare her to.  I’d already had the good fortune to meet a dozen enlightened beings. 

Every Master I’ve met is one of the most effective, most productive people on earth.  They live in a state of constant clarity and have an amazing capacity for whatever they turn their attention toward.  I saw my Baba directing a kitchen with 15 chefs, then go outside and…