Reichel Babaji - Gateway to the Light
Auflage der EPUB Ausgabe
ISBN: 978-3-945574-77-5
Verlag: Reichel Verlag
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)
Experiences with the Great Immortal Master
E-Book, Englisch, 120 Seiten
ISBN: 978-3-945574-77-5
Verlag: Reichel Verlag
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)
Gertraud Reichel, lebte zusammen mit Ihrem Mann einige Jahre in Kairo, Ägypten, und in Daressalam, Tansania, wo sie Ihren Master in Sprachwissenschaften machte. Nach der Begegnung mit dem bekannten Meister Babaji 1979 in Indien gründete sie den G. Reichel Verlag, der als erstes Bücher über diesen Meister herausbrachte. Seitdem ist der Verlag stetig angewachsen mit dem Ziel, Wissen zu vermitteln. Zur Zeit lebt sie in Bayern und hat zwei Kinder.
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Chapter 2
Looking Back - Puri
Babaji was invited to Assam. He was going for one day. During darshan I inwardly asked him if I could accompany him to the airport. He leaned forward and gestured permission. I was always taken aback when Babaji acted so spontaneously upon my simplest thoughts and soundless pleas. Upon his consent, the external circumstances arranged themselves bit by bit like a jigsaw puzzle falling into place.
I managed to squeeze into one of the cars going to the airport. In the departure hall, Babaji sat on a chair handing out toffees to curious spectators who came up to him. Sometimes he waved to some passerby to come over to him and softly spoke a few words, which made the person suddenly pay close attention, for it became startlingly clear Babaji knew the past, present and future of everyone.
"Flight to Assam, flight to Assam!", the loudspeaker crackled. Babaji started to make his way to the gate lounge. I moved with him as he slowly crossed the hall. Then, for no apparent reason, he stopped at a pillar before going through the last check point. Soon another passer-by came up to him and it seemed Babaji wanted to transmit something to this person as well as to me because he kept eyeing us both. It was another awesome moment when the heart is deeply touched, knowing it is in the presence of divinity and witnessing its workings. Babaji slowly removed the mala from around his neck, and from his gestures it seemed as though he were about to put it around mine. But in that moment the stranger leaned forward and bowed his head to receive it and with no hesitation Babaji slipped the beads over his head. I sank to my knees in profound gratitude and Babaji blessed me and the man went away radiant with joy.
I took a taxi back to my lodgings. All my thoughts were on Babaji. I felt so grateful to have met him. His presence fulfilled me entirely.
***
How did I ever come to be with Babaji?
My mother-in-law had first introduced me to some esoteric literature and I devoured everything I read. Afterwards I started to read selected books on yoga and spiritual masters, taking particular interest in the writings of Alexandra David-Neel and Paul Brunton. During my professional life as a stewardess I'd often flown to India and even spent holidays there, but I had never come across any outstanding spiritual being. I was inspired by Ramakrishna and Ramana Maharshi and had even placed Ramana Maharshi's photograph above my bed. I longed for such a master.
In a university library where I was supposedly preparing for my M.A., I discovered Yogananda's "Autobiography of a Yogi" and spent hours reading that instead of studying my course material. When I came to the paragraph saying that Babaji hears everyone who calls his name with reverence, I cried out with all my heart for him, not once, but day after day. My yearning to meet him was so intense that the tears welled.
At the time my husband son and I were living in Tanzania. We planned to travel to India in the spring as we wanted to adopt an Indian orphan. Eight weeks before our departure my mother-in-law sent me the book, "Babaji, Message from the Himalayas", by M-G. Wosien. Immediately after I read it, I had a dream about Babaji. He was sitting on a sort of podium at the top of three small steps and was speaking through a microphone to a large audience of Americans sitting on the floor in front of him, and all of them were using microphones as well. I watched this scene and thought finally: "If you really are who you are supposed to be and if you want to speak to me, then you must try another way of communicating!"
There was an immediate response. Babaji sent a white ray of light into my forehead The sensation of indescribable bliss lasted throughout the next day. Shaken by this experience I wrote to Haidakhan, asking if my husband and I could come. In the reply Babaji sent his blessing and we were advised to each bring along a sleeping-bag and a torch.
We flew from Dar-es-Salaam to Bombay in April. It was holiday time for us so we visited various tourist spots as we made our way north. We intended to spend three days at Haidakhan and return to Africa via Hardwar, Rishikesh and West Germany.
But it all turned out differently. Three days with Babaji became three weeks. Even so, we could still keep to schedule if we left out Germany on the way home. After Babaji, that was no great loss.
From Delhi we arrived in the middle of the night at a hotel in Haldwani, the last stop before Haidakhan. We had just fallen asleep when we were rudely awoken by a loud screech; a very old jeep was ready to take us to Dam Site, where the road ends and the journey through the valley to the ashram begins. Should we take horses, we wondered? No, we decided to walk The scenery was marvellous and we wanted to tune into what lay ahead of us.
High mountains rose steeply above the valley. We walked on stony ground and many times had to ford the clear, exhilarating Gautama Ganga river. The air was warm and scented and a unique vibration seemed to reign over the valley. We were light and joyful as we trekked towards our goal. It was a journey to the Unknown and the beginning of a fairy tale.
Two hours later our porters pointed to a white building on top of a hill with many steps leading to it, that was brilliant in the sunlight. This must be the place. This must be Haidakhan. And how inviting it was!
An Italian woman who lived there came to greet us and took us to Babaji. How did she know we were coming? Already it was baffling. He was seated on a mat on the floor inside the then only guest house. Several other people from Germany were presenting him with various gifts and, amid all these things and the wrapping papers, he played with a little girl, cuddling her in his arms, swinging her behind his back and easing her down on to his lap again. He looked up at us when we entered My first impression was of his eyes radiating power, love and kindness to us.
"When do you come from? How do you know about me?", the translator said. She added on her own account: "And now go ahead and greet him!"
Because everybody in the room was on the floor, we knelt down about a meter in front of him. So soon, I thought. Never before had we knelt before another person. All this was going through my mind as I tried to reply to Babaji's questions.
"You can ask whatever you want!", I heard him say.
"Later, not now!", I replied. "We are too tired from the journey to think clearly."
After a while, watching him unwrap yet more gifts, my mind became more focused, so I ventured to ask "How shall I meditate?"
"Repeat constantly OM NAMAH SHIVAY and concentrate on the third eye!", was his reply.
He then told us to make our beds on the floor. The ashram was cram-full. Every room was overcrowded and people were even sleeping on the roofs and in the kirtan hall. They had all come for the celebration of spring Navaratri and the inauguration of a new temple.
I wasn't at all interested in religion. I thought it was only for weak characters. I hadn't entered a church since my marriage. So I watched the Indian religious rituals out of an interest in the quaint, thinking them strange but at the same time attractive.
It wasn't long before Babaji's presence began to affect me. During the morning and evening services, which he always attended, I couldn't stop crying. On the second day of our stay, as we all sat peacefully in the garden by twilight, Babaji said to my husband,
"Tomorrow you must go!"
"Oh, why is that?", he replied in surprise.
"Come into the light so I can see you better!", Babaji rejoined. After scrutinizing him thoroughly he said he could stay. He hadn't looked at him properly before?!
That evening a Swiss woman took me by the hand and we went up to Babaji together. Since experiencing his divinity I had become too shy to approach him during darshan. This feeling had blocked me for two days but now it had passed.
New arrivals offered small gifts to Babaji. I hadn't brought him anything because I wasn't familiar with this custom. I could purchase sweets and fruit in the ashram, but it didn't seem enough to me. Babaji had touched my inner being and I wanted to reflect this back to him. I wanted to give him something that I cherished. I thought of my diamond and emerald ring. I had bought it in Egypt when we were living there and it had taken quite some time and effort to save the money to buy it. One of the emeralds had fallen out during the journey to India so I had had it replaced and polished at the same time. Yes, this was the perfect thing to offer. I felt the urge to do this.
In the garden I knelt down before Babaji and offered him the ring. Cautiously he took it in his fingers and turned it this way and that. "What's this about?"
"It's for you!"
"For me?" He searched my face.
"Very good. That is very good!"
How proud I was when he placed the ring on his little finger. Diamond and emeralds sparkled in the glow of a kerosene lamp.
To my delight Babaji wore the ring for two days. On the third day, he was with some devotees in the room of an elegant and wealthy Indian woman. The day we arrived he had been playing with her daughter. She had also assisted as interpreter. I joined them and was horrified to see my ring on her finger! Had Babaji really given it to someone else? I was incredulous. I was so hurt that I...
