full of awe.
Slowly I hear more about Andrew’s background. Born in New York City in 1955, he had spent nearly his entire youth in psychoanalysis, which was followed by a spontaneous spiritual experience at 16. Over time, he became a restless spiritual seeker, practicing martial arts, Kundalini, Vipassana, but he couldn’t find what he was after. Then he traveled to Lucknow, India, to meet a then little known 80-year-old Advaita Vedanta teacher Harilal Poonja. On the third day of their meeting Andrew had a powerful experience of awakening. Within three weeks of their initial meeting Poonja told Andrew “their work was over,” so the story went. He sent Andrew out to go teach enlightenment in the West, to “create a revolution among the young,” telling him that he was the son he had been waiting for all his life.
Almost immediately Andrew attracted students. His Indian girlfriend Alka, whom he would marry a year later, accepted him as her master early on. Andrew traveled on to Rishikesh, in northern India where he was met by several young Westerners who also became early students. They would hang out all day, sometimes staying up all night, talking about the miracle of enlightenment. Andrew then went to Devon, England, where he was invited to teach by a Buddhist friend. Many long term Buddhists in Devon, several of whom were meditation teachers, became students. They were very devoted and traveled far and wide to be with Andrew in satsang.
“What do you think is the most important thing to reach enlightenment?”
The young man is looking intently at Andrew.
“Well,” Andrew says with a smile, “in the spiritual life it’s most important to have clarity of intention. You have to ask yourself, ‘What do I really want? What is really, when it comes down to it, the most important thing for me in my life?’ Many people say they’re interested in this thing called enlightenment, but do you really feel a passion for enlightenment?”
The young man shows some hesitation. Andrew continues, “Do you really want to be free more than anything else? Are you willing to give up anything for it? If that’s really true for you, you won’t have any trouble reaching enlightenment. Enlightenment will be right here and now for you.” He speaks these last words with passion, and the room suddenly sparks with electricity.
The young man sits as if struck. He seems to be considering this possibility for the first time in his life. Give everything to enlightenment and sacrifice everything else. His eyes start to glow.
I sit as if transfixed on my cushion. I think back on all those years of meditation practice, striving for enlightenment as if it were some far away goal in the future. I consider myself a devoted and serious seeker, but how much have I been willing to give for enlightenment up until now? Hasn’t my spiritual search been more of a convenient life style, a pleasant dressing up? What about my own passion for enlightenment? Then it comes like a thunderbolt: enlightenment has nothing to do with strategizing or some linear path of self-improvement. It is always here, now, this moment, this choice, this fire burning in my guts. This is where I have to act from, not my mind. My mind is only interested in enlightenment as some kind of self protection, to prevent me from actually ever encountering the real thing!
I witness many more conversations with Andrew. I see many seekers who’ve been on the path for many years, who’ve visited the ashrams in India, who’ve done the meditation practices—and still their hearts are longing for fulfillment. Now they see Andrew radiating the very thing they’ve been looking for all these years. And they hear Andrew say, “It can happen to you too! You don’t need any special qualifications. You only have to want it badly enough.” And then, when someone “gets it,” Andrew points to him and shouts, “This is it, you’ve got it!”
I would love to continue sitting here night after night. But the world is still calling me. In two days, the plane awaits me. My employer is sending me to their education center in Dayton, Ohio for three months. There I will be saturated with courses on Unix, C, and data communication. At this point in time it might as well have been Swahili, it feels so removed from me as I am floating in this pool of silence.
Then Andrew suddenly speaks to me, “That man there in the back row, yes, with the glasses. You’ve been here before, right?”
I confirm that I have come every night for the past two weeks.
“Do you have any questions?”
I shake my head no.
“I think it’s time that you and I break the sound barrier. Can you tell me a bit about yourself?”
I tell him that I work with computers and that I have to leave in two days for three months in Dayton. Andrew laughs and says Dayton is the most boring city in America, something like Liverpool. I laugh too, and the ice is broken between us. I’ve gotten past my shyness. I have gone from observer to participant.
I’m lying in the swimming pool of the Dayton Holiday Inn, a cool drink by my side. It is a hundred degrees outside but a soft cool breeze flows past my skin. I’m depressed. What am I doing here? Where is my life going? Am I going to pursue a career in computers, spend the rest of my life among squares and nerds? I can’t see a path for myself in ‘the world’. I’m not interested in getting rich, becoming famous, becoming a scholar. More often than not, my thoughts float back to those evenings with Andrew, the wonderful silence, the passion for enlightenment in that room. Yes, that’s what I’m interested in. That’s the only thing that gives me a thrill.
“This is Harry.”
“Hi Harry, this is Andre. I’m calling from the States. I just wanted to say hello.”
“Hi Andre. Good to hear you! Are you having a good time with your classes there?”
“Well, it’s okay. I’m learning a lot.”
“Well, you’re also missing a lot! It’s fantastic here. You won’t believe what is happening around Andrew. It’s a revolution. Every day more people are coming. And Andrew is so great, so natural, so spontaneous. I feel that all my questions are answered. We really wasted our time with Buddhism! We were so stupid. Only now do I see what enlightenment really means: total revolution, leaving everything behind, going into the unknown; very different from meditating an hour a day. I wish you were here to see it, Andre.”
“Well, er, that sounds really good Harry.”
“Sounds really good? It’s revolution, Andre; it’s the end of the known, living in the unknown. And you know what? Andrew’s invited me to come with him to Jerusalem, he’s going there for six weeks to give satsang, but I have to hang up Andre, Andrew can come and visit any moment. Are you doing all right there? Come back soon! How long are you still there?”
“Three more weeks.”
“Oh, then we’ll still be gone when you come back to Holland. But I’ll see you as soon as I come back from Jerusalem. Bye, lots of love.”
With the receiver still in my hand I continue to stand for a while, overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions. The intensity of Harry’s excitement and enthusiasm is in complete contrast with my own depressive state of decomposition. Is this the way out of my crisis? Harry is now with Andrew; he’s not a Buddhist anymore. Am I still one? I try to sit down in the familiar posture, eyes closed, watching the breath. But it is as if the trick doesn’t work anymore. I remain as restless and haunted as before. I feel the knot in my belly contract.
I am glad when I’m back on Dutch territory, but I can’t find my rhythm. The crisis that I suffered in Dayton is not resolved. I find that I can’t just step back into my old life, like putting on a suit that has hung in the closet for three months. It is as if the moths have been eating away at my life. I stay busy every day at my job, and my brain is absorbing all the newly received knowledge and putting it into practice. But in