Baba

Swami (Baba) Muktananda
1904-1982 ​

I did not speak at Baba's passing. I did not experience that he ever left. He is still with me, even now years after he left his body. I feel his presence beside me, smiling quietly and looking over my shoulder as I write these words. There was once a song written about him. I quote from some of the lyrics as I remember the lines, "You may think that he is an illusion. That he exists only in my mind. That may be so. I really can't say. But at least he's there all the time."

Meeting him profoundly changed my life in positive ways. Below I will recount just a few of the many stories that I was witness to.

I have heard it said, “When the student is ready, the teacher shows up.”

​In the text that follows I share part of the mystery of my personal experiences involving a spiritual master by the name of Swami (Baba) Muktananda. All events are reported as accurately as I can remember them. In the years after I met him an organization called The Siddha Yoga Foundation grew up around Baba. It continues to spread his teachings and preserve his spiritual lineage.

I am not a joiner and have no connection to the organization. I follow my own path. I am willing to listen to others and I am willing to experiment with any spiritual practices that make sense to me. I do not believe in following any person or adopting any practice blindly. I neither advocate nor refute any of the practices suggested by Baba, his disciples, or their organization. I am just sharing some of my experiences around the man himself.

At the Feet of the Guru

I met Swami Baba Muktananda at a lecture presented at the Whole Earth Festival at the University of California Davis campus in 1973[1]. I learned of the event from Tapashi, a girl friend of mine who followed the spirituality scene and suggested we meet him. Tapashi, my young son Raymond and I sat on a blanket on the floor of an elementary school gymnasium facing the stage build to one side.

Baba turned out to be a small bearded man wearing a saffron robe and sitting on an improvised throne. He spoke in Hindi and his words were translated by a shaven-headed monk who stood at his side.

Baba sat before the group answering questions and telling stories. He laughed a lot and so did the audience. I found myself laughing until tears poured out of my eyes. I knew intellectually that I was just viewing a strangely dressed little man, but somehow he was a bright blue point of light that was almost too bright to look at. Have you ever been in a situation where you have the thought, “Something wonderful is happening here that I do not understand?”

I was fascinated, feeling both awe and terror. I was determined to learn more.

Baba and Divine Nature

On an early visit to Baba’s new ashram[2] in Oakland I got lost and found myself in a corridor off the main meditation hall. In front of me approached Baba. As a newbie, I did not know how to behave. Should I bow? Should I step aside? I stood there dumbly. Baba, his translator, and I were alone together in the silent passageway.

Baba grabbed my upper arm and spoke into my ear. His ever-present translator, Dr. Jan, grinned and spoke into my other ear. Although I stand a head taller than Baba, I felt like I was a seven-year-old held up on tip-toe by a parent and powerless to move in an iron strong grip.

Baba whispered something in Hindi into my left ear.

Dr. Jan said into my right ear, “He said to tell you he is God!”

Baba whispered some more.

Dr. Jan, “He said that he does not expect you to take his word for it. He expects you to test his presence in your life.”

Baba grinned and whispered some more.

Dr. Jan, “If and when you are sure he is God, come back and visit him. He says he has a message for you!”

Baba winked, released me, turned and walked away.

Well, I consider myself an engineer. For years I tested in every way that I could imagine. Some of the Baba stories that follow come from those tests. Finally, I was convinced. I asked Baba what he had to tell me.

He said, “Om Namah Shivaya[3]. Honor and worship your own Self. God dwells within you, as you, for you.” It took me years to fully receive and appreciate this message. In fact I am still working on it. Digging back into the message I find:

  • For me: The divine is there for me, to help me.

  • As me: Hiding as me. Little me is enfolded by big me. I just need to somehow, look past my self-obsessed viewpoint.

  • Within me: As close as my own thoughts.

  • Dwelling: I am a house of God.

  • Honor and worship: I need to cherish this house of God and every other house of God.

I am not unique. We are all sanctuaries. The Sanskrit word that Hindus use for “hello” is “Namaste”, “I respect the place in you that is of love, of truth and of Light.”

The Five Aspects of Shiva

This is my take on a story I heard while hanging out at the ashram. I love this story and I hope that you enjoy it also.

Sometimes the Hindu god, Shiva, is pictured holding five objects. He has two legs and four arms to help him accomplish this feat. He stands on one leg. The objects he holds symbolize the five aspects of the divine.

  •  God creates the world—without which there would be no play of consciousness.

  •  God maintains the world—without which there would be no continuous sense of self.

  •  God destroys the world—without which there would be no change and no growth.

  •  God hides himself within the world—without which there would be no drama.

  •  God reveals himself within the world—without which there would be no point.

The last aspect of God is also called grace. Since God is all-powerful, his hiding is perfect. We would never be able to see him if he did not allow it. This gift is so large that no amount of merit would be sufficient. Thus it is a gift given freely.

The first four aspects of divinity come from within us. The fifth aspect comes from outside us. An outer flame ignites our inner flame. Hence the need for the Guru!

Baba and Hello

As Baba became more famous, the Siddha Yoga Foundation established ashrams around the world. An ashram is a place people go to hang out with saints. Part of the ashram experience is greeting the Guru.

For a time I was privileged to sit near the front of the meditation room and watch people come up to meet Baba. I watched hundreds of people approach and to each person, Baba said, “I welcome you with all my heart.” 

He was in no hurry. He seemed to take them in and hold them and cherish them. They may have exchanged a word or two, or not. It was not important.

He had a scented peacock tail wand that he could wave in the face of a visitor. The unique smell could carry a person to rapture.

The message that seemed to be sent was, “I know who you really are. I welcome you totally and completely. You are safe here.”

Near to Baba

One day at the ashram a visitor complained that Baba seemed to have the same group of seekers always around him. It was true that there always seemed to be a drive among the folk living in the ashram to get as close as possible to Baba’s throne in the meditation hall so that we could be near him.

Baba responded to the visitor, “These people try to sit near me because they think that they will get more of my attention. I am an old man and far-sighted. I am actually interested in and devoting my attention to those of you in the back of the hall.”

The next day there was a push to seat ourselves as far back as possible.

Baba and Power

Unlike other paths toward our true nature like Hatha Yoga (The Position Path) or Karma Yoga (The Surrender path), Siddha Yoga (The Power path)[4] is supposed to achieve the results of inner peace through direct relationship with a being who dwells in such a place, a being who can perform miracles. Guru is formed from the Sanskrit words “Gu” which means darkness and “Ru” which means light. The Guru is the teacher that takes a student from darkness into light.

At an auditorium in front of several thousand people, Baba was asked by a questioner to perform a miracle. Baba responded, “I am constantly performing miracles. Even as I am speaking to you now, my beard is growing!”

Suddenly the mundane was sacred!

Baba and the Seekers

There seemed to be two kinds of people that showed up and found value at the ashram: 

Some people who came had led lives that had turned into chaos and disaster; no matter what they were striving for it was beyond them. In helplessness they showed up and begged, “Please help me, I do not understand the world or my place in it. No matter what I attempt I fail to find happiness.”

Other people showed up for whom life had turned into abundance and achievement; no matter what they were striving for it magically came to them. They seemed to easily collect fame, fortune, and good health. In helplessness they showed up and begged, “Please help me, I have mastered the world and my place in it, but no matter what I achieve I fail to find happiness.”

The message to both was the same. “Welcome home. You are loved and safe here.”

Baba and My Baby

I was born several months premature and showed up on the planet at a birth weight, I am told, of only two and one-half pounds. I spent my first month here in a small heated box without human contact. At that time, many years ago, we did not know how important human contact is to an infant. To this day, I can find comfort by pressing the back of my hand to a hard, flat surface, reminiscent of the incubator wall.

I had wonderful parents who made me feel wanted and cherished as a child. But as an adult I kept going into relationships needing something. I could not seem to get enough physical contact. I have since learned that this position of neediness is common among preemies. I had a psychological hole and I was always looking for the sensations of human contact from someone else to fill it.

One day at the ashram, as I sat in meditation, it occurred to me that, as a healing exercise, the adult me inside my head could go back into my story of my history and provide me the hugging and touching that I had missed as a new-born infant. I started to attempt this and my exercise became a vision.

I found myself looking down at infant me in the hospital incubator. I reached in and picked me up. As I cradled me in my arms, I felt another presence.

I turned and discovered Baba standing beside me in his saffron robes. Without words he smiled and held out his hands for the baby. I handed infant me into his care.

He cradled infant me and as he did so I felt my adult self fill up with love from the inside much as a balloon fills up with air. I felt whole, healed, and complete.

Since that day, over thirty-five years ago, I have never needed to seek another to feel loved. I have been happy to be at service to others and to provide whatever measure of love to them that I can give and that they are ready to receive. I have not needed anything back, not because my glass is half full, but because my glass is full to overflowing.

Thank you, Baba.

Baba’s Gift

Forty years ago, it came to pass that I, as a single parent, took my two young children in tow and toured the United States in a car during the mid-seventies. At the start, our travel plan was to head from the San Francisco Bay Area up the coast to the World’s Fair in Spokane and then to continue around the country during the remaining summer months.I planned to leave sometime in the morning on a beautiful spring Saturday. At the time, I was in the practice of getting up fairly early (at least before the children stirred) and spending a half-hour in meditation.

During the meditation Baba appeared to me as a vision and said, “Stop by and see me on your way out of town.” “Where shall I find you?” I asked. I am not really a joiner, and I was not actively following the comings and goings of the Guru. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle the arrangements.” He said. And I found myself back, seated in my bedroom and starting the activities of my day.

As I finished loading the car and making a last goodbye tour of my apartment, I got a phone call from a spiritual friend. “I was just meditating and Baba appeared in front of me. He told me to contact you and give you his itinerary for today. He is staying at an ashram in Piedmont this weekend. It is a large home on a residential street. Here is the address.”

The location was not far out of our way as we drove north. Hard to say no to so strong a message!

I showed up at the mansion with my two children, Ray, age seven and Mandy, age five. We walked into the main entry way and I said, “We are here to see Baba.”

“Baba is not seeing anybody from the public today. He is holding only private conferences.”

“I am here because I was asked to be here. A private conference will be fine with me. Let me know when he wishes to see me. My children and I will wait outside.”

We sat together on a porch overlooking a garden of stone pathways, sculpted bushes, and ancient trees. We shared a snack of some trail mix. I loved being with my kids and luxuriating in the warm sunshine and cool breezes. This was so much better than the rushing, the traffic, and the road noise I had planned on experiencing at this time.

Eventually, I noticed that I had no particular agenda and no real attachment to actually getting in to see Baba. I was just following orders given me by some part of myself.

As I had this thought, a gentleman came out and found us on the porch. He informed me that I was late for my private appointment and that Baba was waiting.

We were escorted through a foyer containing a book sales table and into a large room. Baba was seated in a chair on a raised dais at the far end of the room. About thirty people were seated on cushions on the carpeted floor in front of him. I guess that when you are used to seeing thousands, thirty is private. I entered the room, where conversations were already in progress, and herded the children around the edge of the group to seat us in an open floor space to Baba’s right.

We got settled with minimal disruption. I attempted to gather my wits about me. What the heck was I doing here? I was a stranger in a strange land and I had no clue as to how to behave or what to say. I began to observe the other folk for clues as to behavior.

A woman asked Baba to bless her and her family before they embarked on a trip. Bingo, when it was my turn I would ask Baba to bless my children and our upcoming adventure. No sooner had I thought this, than Baba turned and looked at me with a mischievous grin. He motioned to the children to come up to him. Ray had met Baba before (Remember Davis, California plus Ray had been with me on several other visits to Baba.) so he was unafraid. He led his sister up to the throne. Baba leaned forward and gave each of the children a handful of candy. In the Hindu belief system, candy from the Guru symbolizes blessings flowing from God into the world. I got my wish before I could express it!

I had to think fast. I remembered that when I was walking into the room a man was asking Baba to help him overcome an illness. It must be okay to ask for health and healing.

I had noticed that for the last few days as we were packing, Mandy had a little phlegm in her throat. I was worried that she might be coming down with a summer cold that would interfere with her enjoyment of our camping across the country. When it was my turn, I would ask the Guru to restore her to full health for the trip.

I had this thought just as Mandy was leaving Baba’s dais with her candy in hand. Baba looked up at me over her head and again grinned his mischievous grin. 

He reached out and around her with his right hand. He used the hand to scoop her back against him and cupped her back with his left hand. He then flicked the fingers of his right hand once against her chest, and set her back on her journey to me with a left hand push and pat on her shoulder. The interaction left her giggling as she reached me.

To my bemused amazement her breathing was clear and quiet as she sat there eating her candy. I could not know it at the time, but as it turned out, for the next two months of the summer we traveled without incident and camped all across the country. We did not have an insect bite, a rash, a sniffle or even a scratch that bled more than a minute. We needed no first aid although we traveled from campground to campground all across the states.

At one point, while inner-tubing down the Spokane River, we took a break to sun ourselves, resting in only bathing suits in what turned out to be a patch of poison oak. (I am a city boy.) Some teenagers came along to tell us of our plight. We got back into the river and floated on. The river and the blessing removed all poison and we experienced no symptoms.

Six weeks later I dropped Mandy off at her mother’s house in Cleveland and visited a couple I was friends with who lived in mid-Ohio. Bob, the man I was visiting, was a herbologist. As we walked through the Ohio woods he showed me a patch of jewel weed and explained that it was a poison ivy cure used by the Native Americans. It seems that in Ohio both poison ivy and jewel weed grow in similar locations so if you get exposed to one you have the cure handy in the other.

Over my protestations, he urged me to take a pocketful of jewel weed home with me. He said that something told him it would be useful for me to have. A few days later I showed up back in Cleveland to see Mandy. Her arm had broken out in several places with small running sores that looked like poison ivy rash. As I had been instructed, I made a poultice of the Jewel Weed and applied it to the spots on Mandy’s arm. A few hours later the spots had dried up. There was no itching and no recurrence, as we continued together on our travels through Ohio and on to the New England states.

Meanwhile, here I am still sitting in the presence of the Guru and I have nothing to ask. I get back to watching the other visitors and hoping for inspiration. A college student goes up to Baba and asks him to autograph a copy of his recent book, Guru.

Baba has a stamp of his signature and takes great joy in inking the stamp and applying it to the flyleaf of the book. I decide that that would be sufficient interaction for me at this point. I see that the kids are happy eating their candy, so I get up and walk around to the back of the room and out to the book sales table. I buy a copy of Guru and attempt to sneak back to my place in the room.

As I enter the room with my new book, Baba looks up at me and motions me up to him. I approach and he leans forward and takes the book out of my numb hand.

He opens it and joyfully stamps his signature on it and shoves it back into my hands. He looks me in the eye and grins from ear to ear.

I am confronted with the Guru and I have nothing to say. I search desperately for some words and remember that I am in front of a Siddha Guru, said to be able to grant enlightenment with a single glance.

I look up at Baba and I start to form the sentence, “Baba, please grant me…” I get to the “me” in my mind and, as I search for my internal sense of self, I get lost.

I am me inside my head, then I am me in my body, then I am me throughout the room looking at Baba from thirty plus viewpoints at the same time, then I am a viewpoint that includes looking back at Alan and the room from Baba’s position, then I expand through the walls of the room and the house. (The engineer in me notes, with surprise that, rather than wall board, the outer wall of this old mansion consists of plaster then lathing then air space then exterior brickwork.)

I experience the porch and the garden in which we had played earlier. Only this time my viewpoint includes looking through the eyes of squirrel on the branch of a tree, feeling the bark, smelling the air.

I expand to include the city block. I am in a kitchen making brunch; I notice the redness of my hands and consider putting cream on them later. I am a little girl, trying out my new roller skates and I hit a small bump in the sidewalk. I see, in a different grey-red spectrum, a cat movement that draws me to it with interest. I start as a dog notices me and, with a thrill, I leap away. Now I am driving down a shaded street; my hands tighten on the steering wheel as my foot moves off the gas, ready to hit my brakes as I see a little girl hesitantly skating on the sidewalk.

All this happens at the same time. All this is me. Somewhere I think, “How big am I?” and the expansion stops. I am the size of a city block and there is no center to me. Every part of me is equally me. Every part of me is interesting. I have lots of time to explore. I turn inward from my expanded border.

Part of me in an upstairs room of the ashram flashes a feeling of guilt as she notices that her meditation practice has slipped into a daydream. The links between each of my viewpoints seem to be made of bliss.

All my viewpoints have drama. All are full. I love and cherish each with a depth of feeling I had, up to now, only felt toward my children. Each viewpoint is the world to me. The Alan viewpoint, that I used to call home, is no more and no less important than any of the other viewpoints.

How long did this state last? In some sense only a breath, in some sense I am still there. Did you ever watch a movie and were so enthralled that it seemed to last only a moment but somehow two hours had passed? Later you could recall all the scenes, if not all the specific dialogue.

I would say the direct experience lasted what felt, after the fact, like ten minutes. It must have taken considerably less in clock time, perhaps only a breath or two.

With the “How long will this last?” thought, I was just in my Alan viewpoint, just looking in Baba’s laughing eyes just looking in Alan’s laughing eyes, patiently waiting for me to start and finish my sentence, “ ...grant me enlightenment.

”Silly me! How can I form a coherent sentence about what I want when I have such a limited concept of who I am?

Up to this point in my life I had tried to hold and make sense of the world by artificially bounding the wonder of creation into concepts I could understand. Now, in an instant, all my assumptions were erased by a larger reality. With this new information, just maybe I best rethink the dance of creation and my place in it.

I start to giggle...

Footnotes

[1]  The Whole Earth Festival is a three-day music and education festival in the spring. It usually takes place during Mother’s Day Weekend on UC Davis’ main quadrangle. Every year, thousands of environmentally conscious, politically active and/or music-loving people make the pilgrimage to Davis for this event, for which the UCD quad is filled with hundreds of craft booths, music acts, education booths, and food booths.

[2] An ashram is the dwelling place of a Guru or teacher; a monastic retreat site where seekers engage in spiritual practices and study the sacred teachings of yoga.

[3]  OM NAMAH SHIVAYA: (lit., Om, salutations to Shiva) The Sanskrit mantra of the Siddha Yoga lineage, known as the great redeeming mantra because some folk believe that it has the power to grant both worldly fulfillment and spiritual realization. OM (also written aum) is the primal sound from which the universe emanates; Namah is to honor or bow to; Shivaya denotes divine Consciousness, the Lord who dwells in every heart.

[4] These are my definitions. Here are more precise definitions: SIDDHA is spiritual energy (or power) experienced by a person in a state of enlightenment. A Siddha Guru is said to have the capacity to awaken the dormant spiritual energy of a disciple. HATHA YOGA consists of practices, both physical and mental, performed for the purpose of purifying and strengthening the body and mind. And KARMA is any action, be it physical, verbal, or mental, performed with the same goal in mind. In my opinion, selfless actions result when a person acts from a state of surrender to being of service to the world.