Receptive To The Voice Of Sai By: Barbara Rousseau, Ed.d.,

Written by Ted Henry and Jody Cleary on . Posted in How I came to sai

Infinite Reflection
Part I—First Encounter
 
     Who can predict when the sacred hand of unlimited reality unexpectedly knocks at the door? Because of their innocence, children hear that knock and fling the door open with eager hearts. This is their nature. Most adults have been socially weaned from this receptivity.
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     At about age five, I became painfully aware that I was a female child again reliving the same arduous pattern of adult condescension and invalidation. One day my mother and I were at the corner grocery store in downtown Boulder, Colorado in the mid 1950’s. The “divine knock” came to my door and I answered it.  
 

 It happened as I stood staring up at the display case of the meat counter where my mother and the butcher were visiting. It was the glassy face of an insurmountable cliff. My mother was speaking across the peak of this mountainous display case; the faceless butcher’s voice was cheerfully laughing and joking back from the other side. I was a puny insignificant ant at the base of this cliff. 
   

 

 

 As I sullenly wallowed in my self-pity, a random beam of sunlight reflected off the curved glass display case into my eyes and I went into an altered state. I no longer felt limited by the situation but experienced a pervasive peace.  From within this cloud of timelessness, the “Voice” made itself known telepathically and confirmed, “You have been five years old many times.  This can be your last time, if you want.”  The Voice seemed very familiar and comfortable so I felt comfortable engaging in a dialogue. I pointed out, “But I’m female” assuming gender was an obstacle.  The Voice answered, “That doesn’t matter; it is possible for you to make this your last lifetime, if you want.”  It felt true! The exchange ended as quickly as it began. Overcome with joy that there was a “cosmic loophole”, I felt I must inform my mother immediately.
 
     She was still laughing and joking with the butcher when I pulled on her coat and said, “I have to tell you something important, mom.”  She ignored me at first and then asked if I had to go to the bathroom.  I told her no and repeated I had to tell her something important.  She finally relented; the butcher leaned over the top of the mountainous display case, also, to hear what I had to say.  “Mom, I’ve been five years old over and over; this is my last time.  I’m not coming back, anymore.”  
     An awkward silence filled the room. “Who have you been talking to?” she demanded.  I was stunned.  Of course, we both knew I wasn’t ‘talking to anyone’.  My brother and I had no playmates in our rural neighborhood. She continued, “Do you think you’re ‘coming back’ as a horse or a cow?”  
 
     “No! Mom, I’m not coming back!”  She made a red-faced excuse for my outburst to the butcher. And as I watched her damage control scramble, I reframed my perspective. Parents should know these things. How could she not know this? I realized then that age is irrelevant. Because this familiar Voice was so authentic, kind, and wise, amazingly I never blocked the experience. What a comfort to be validated.
 
     Raised in a Catholic family, I was not instructed in this belief system, reincarnation; yet, I knew it was true.  I did not feel any conflict between my love for Jesus and the cycle of rebirth. It seemed logical that the path of the soul endeavored to reach eternal oneness with the Creator through an ever-progressing process of self-realization. Nor did I know this precept was controversially debated in the early days of the Catholic Church. Historical accounts report that whole texts including the books on reincarnation and karma references had been deleted.  These details were confirmed through my own research much later as a college student.  
 
     Fortunately, my younger brother shared my intuitive experiences.  Once, I was learning to “tell time” in second grade. He stunned me when he paused patiently and stated, “There is no such thing as time.”  
 
     I asked, “No such thing as time?!  How do you know that?”  
 
     He said replied, “I just know.”  
 
Michael didn’t fit in the social spectrum; he was visionary, intuitive, and artistic. As an adult, he felt the freest when hang gliding effortlessly with hawks and eagles. It lifted him from the weightiness of the world. We were the wind beneath one another’s wings.
 
     As a high school student, I discovered posters of Krishna, not knowing who He was, and stood in a store crying. I became an avid fan of Ravi Shankar’s sitar music when my friends were following rock stars. As teenagers, my brother and youngest sister and I spent hours in coffee shops talking about the nature of alternate reality and the path of the soul.
 
     Much later, as a young mother of two little girls in a difficult marriage, I found solace in metaphysics and esotericism shared with my siblings and friends. One day, around 1980, my friend brought over the video “The Lost Years of Jesus”, a documentary the compelling research on the biblical gap of the unaccounted 18 years in the life of Jesus. At the end of this video was a brief clip of Sri Sathya Sai Baba, walking among the crowds healing, blessing, and inspiring. The narrator attested to the same characteristics shared by Jesus and Baba including miracles and the teachings of love and forgiveness. 
 
     This visual image of Baba was “jolting”.  The connection was powerful and compelling. I remarked to her, “I feel like I’m watching myself even though we don’t look anything alike! We need to find out everything we can about Him!”  It was the same comfortable, magnetic familiarity I had experienced with the Voice from my early childhood; yet, I didn’t connect these at that time.
 
     My friend continued to study this amazing Sathya Sai Baba. She brought books and audio tapes to my house; however, learning bhajans and complicated Indian prayers seemed so difficult, I decided this must not be the path for me. 
 
     However, I did feel strong guidance during this time to write a simple little book, “Your Spiritual Child” (Milicevic, 1984).  I felt powerful guidance revising and composing. It was so strong I even asked, “Who are you?” which was curtly answered with, “Never mind!”
     Krishna’s presence in my life began in high school with “poster preoccupation”. Later, a “life reader” cross-verified the karmic patterns that were significant for this lifetime. He shared uncanny details about all my family members and said I’d had more lives in India than anywhere else. In one difficult life, my daily respite was singing to Krishna from sunrise to sunset.
 
       September 1, 1985, Michael was killed instantly when he caught a bad “thermal” and his hang-glider crashed head-long into the side of a cliff. He was instructing a non-compliant student who insisted on taking his feet out of the stirrups throwing them into an uncontrollable spin. They both died.  The student was 22 and Michael was 33; neither of them had a wife or children. The grief left me emotionally and physically paralyzed. I cried daily for over a year.  My ever-loyal confidant was gone. Grief sapped my health. Then one night I had three successive dreams in which Sai Baba came to me.
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Part II—Relentless Hound of Heaven 
 
       In my dreams, I see colors, smell scents, feel temperature, and hear conversations clearly.  It was puzzling why, even during the dreams, why my friend’s Teacher would be remotely interested in me.
 
     When He appeared, in each dream scenario, I would scurry away from Him out. Initially I thought it was due embarrassment and guilt because I wasn’t a dutiful student.  Yet, each time I tried to hide from Him, He would laughingly chase me.  It became a “cat and mouse” game. The Hound of Heaven was not giving up and I could not understand why! It wasn’t until much later I realized my avoidance had more to do with my life with Krishna thousands of years ago.
 
     In the first dream, I was on a busy street corner waiting for the pedestrian light to change when I saw Him in the crowd approaching me. I tried to find a way out of the crowd, but there were too many people! There was no escape! To my dismay, He caught up with me in time to cross the intersection when the light turned green. All the while He was smiling charmingly. 
 
     The second dream immediately followed. I was searching for a book in a university library. Going up and down the stacks, I was stunned to unexpectedly encounter Him sitting cross-legged on the floor. I tried to duck behind the stacks, but he smiled again and patted the floor inviting me to sit next to him. He took a sandwich from a paper bag beside him and offered me half. I sheepishly sat down on the floor next to Him and accepted the sandwich. Despite my feelings of reluctance, He seemed to be amused.
 
     In the third and final dream, I was sitting on the ground in the middle of a lovely mountain meadow crying for my deceased brother.  It was a beautiful sunny day; the wild flowers were swaying in the cool breeze. Unbelievably, across the meadow, here came Sai Baba again! I could not believe His incredible determination.  He glided across the meadow, His distinctive frizzy black hair and orange robe were picturesque amongst the pine trees and meadow flowers. Yet, this time He was not smiling but was very somber. I looked for a boulder or tree to hide behind, but there was none. Too tired to continue running, I just gave up and sat there in the meadow waiting for His inevitable approach! I had no idea what He wanted of me.  
     Presently I saw His tiny brown bare feet next to my knee.  I stopped crying, looked at His incredibly perfect feet, and wondered why mine didn’t look as good.  Shining through His hair, the sunlight sparkled like a crown of a million diamonds!  It was breathtaking and I marveled, “You are so beautiful!”. From behind His back he brought forth a wreath of honeysuckle and placed it on my head.  Without a word, He turned and slowly glided back across the mountain meadow.
     I awoke for the first time in over a year of suffocating grief feeling exhilarated, renewed, and rejuvenated.  My broken heart was healed!  The glorious Sun had broken through the clouds. I called my devotee friend to relate the dreams. She informed me that no one can just dream of Sai Baba without His Will; it was not a dream but a visit. One dream, yes; however, three dreams were an indication that Baba was bringing me in to His fold. I argued that it couldn’t be true because I wasn’t doing very well with devotional singing (bhajans) and Sanskrit prayers. And, although I deeply admired the bhakti (devotional) path, I was uncertain if I was “bhakti material”. She insisted He was indeed “calling me”. Furthermore, she informed me, the honeysuckle wreath which was placed on my head was a Baach flower remedy to heal the pain of the past. 
     Despite Baba’s healing my broken heart, I was not clear if this were the path for me. Raised in an emotionally non-demonstrative family, I gravitated to esotericism and metaphysics. The bhakti path was puzzling to me! With my mental rationalizing, I went through the next decade with passing thoughts of admiration for Sai Baba while continuing to meditate and study along the lines familiar to me. I never forgot, however, that it was He who healed my broken heart, He who cared enough to do so, and He who knew my heart-break.
     Within a few years after the triple dream, my marriage dissolved and I relocated from Las Vegas, Nevada to rural southwest Colorado in 1990 to nurture my children and myself living a peaceful mountain lifestyle. I soon found a meditation group, yet was perplexed with the intermittent dream-visits from Baba. I reasoned that there must be some karmic patterns needing to be “cleared”. Following the divorce, I was thrust from a stay-at-home role into that of single mother and I worked hard to support the children and our new country lifestyle. It was a sacrifice to start over with a completely different environment. As an education reformer, my work was successful but stressful. The highly politicized work with government agencies led to my becoming jaded. For survival, I had adopted a shield becoming “tough” to survive and support my girls. During this time, cancer claimed the lives of several relatives and my turn was coming.
     Although He had been “closely monitoring me from childhood”, Baba’s acceleration began in 1994 when my meditation teacher delivered a message to me via an “author friend” who had just returned from Sai Baba’s ashram. In a private interview, Baba gave a message to my teacher’s friend, “Tell Barbara we want her”.  The visiting author was confused, not knowing me. Nevertheless, upon returning to the US, she passed on the message to my teacher who then told me. I didn’t believe it. Besides being a “third party message”, lending doubt to its credibility, I suspected this was my teacher’s Zen ploy to test my ego. I decided I wasn’t going to “bite” even commenting aloud to a meditation colleague, “If Baba is who He says He is, the Divine Incarnate, He’ll know where to find me!”  Little did I know how painfully these words would haunt me later! I stopped studying with my teacher and disregarded the whole incident, unfortunately, including Baba.
     The next five years I was plunged into hell.  Office politics became increasingly toxic. My social life was barren.  My elderly renters, who lived on my property, turned out to be seasoned “scam artists”. They sued my family for possession of our property. An astute judge, who recognized their con tactics, mediated our case and evicted them. They had spent nearly two years squatting in my guesthouse only 200 feet from my home. 
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     My father had already died, in 1992, of lymphoma; in 1997, my mother died of metastasized pancreatic cancer; in 1998 my favorite Irish aunt died of melanoma; and finally in 1999, my younger sister died of bladder cancer at age 43.  In that same year, my doctor diagnosed me with a fast-moving uterine cancer and a tumor on my left ovary. He recommended immediate surgery followed with radiation and chemo-therapy.  Based on my family’s pattern for terminal cancer, I calculated I had about six to eight months left.  
     Reflecting on my life, I decided to “throw in the towel” and let the cancer run its course. I truly felt life “beyond the veil” had to be better since nothing was going very well on this side. And so, not fighting the process seemed a rational, objective, and practical solution. I wasn’t depressed; I was resolved. Although I didn’t initially tell my daughters, my youngest daughter, Bria, encouraged me to spend introspection time in nature. I secretly vowed this would be an excellent time to get my affairs in order. So, the end of August, 1999, I drove to the ancient ruins of Chaco Canyon in Northwestern New Mexico during a full moon.  Little did I know, I was simply playing a role in a Divine Drama.
   Part III—Who decides?  
      Cheerful sunflowers lined the dirt road generously contributing their sunny grace to the dusty ripples of heat. My open window carelessly let the dirt and wind dust away all my thoughts and worries. The campground was empty and eerie at Chaco Canyon ruins. Vacationing families had returned to school. Since there were no food services available, I was grateful I brought along my lightly-stocked cooler. The heat was sizzling; but the sleepy canyon walls were alive with the curious invisible eyes of the ancestral guardians. I felt to be an intruder. 
     Driving slowly through the campsites, I offered a blessing asking respectfully that I might be a welcomed guest in this mysterious homeland for a while. I asked that I might be gently held in their loving hearts while I drafted my last will and testament. 
     As I backed my vehicle into the empty campsite, I saw in my rearview mirror a young dog sitting and observing me attentively against the cliff wall. I wondered, “ Who would leave a dog in this ungodly heat?”   Our throw-away culture included even dumping pets. It wasn’t until I had backed up to the parking area and stopped that the “dog” got up to walk around. I wondered if I were going to have to adopt this poor abandoned creature. To my shock, when the “dog” casually sauntered around my vehicle, I realized she was not a dog. Her tail gave away she was a coyote.
     From my indigenous spiritual studies, I speculated this was an omen.  For many Native peoples, coyotes represent “tricksters” in an ominous sense. If a coyote crosses in front of one’s car, he or she goes home to bed for the whole day!  In my own past experience, a direct encounter with a coyote, such as this, was always followed by a surprising event—not necessarily negative.  This was a “heads up”.  However, the “faceless bureaucrat” part of me rationalized that there was nothing significant about the coyote’s appearance other than wanting a tourist hand-out.   However, when she slowly circled my campsite in a clockwise pattern three times, she got my attention.
      I told her I wasn’t going to give her any human food; she needed to find a mouse or a rabbit.  After taking a few photos of her, she trotted away. The sun was low in the western sky, so I set up my tent and made a small campfire putting a coffee pot and foil-wrapped meal on the grate. Settling in with my folding chair and notepad, I began listing all my belongings in three separate columns: one each for my two daughters and one for my only surviving sister. I noticed as the last of the sun’s light disappeared in the west, the moon was barely peering over the eastern horizon. It seemed astronomically odd to me to have both the sun and the moon simultaneously visible in the sky. It just didn’t seem quite right; however, everything was a little “off” anyway.
      The moon’s soft silver glow stretched across the valley. I was making progressing with my “project” when, unexpectedly, I heard footsteps crunching on the gravel road.  There was a campground host a quarter-mile away at the entrance to the park; other than him, I’d thought I was alone. To my surprise, an Asian man with shoulder-length hair walked past my campsite on his way to the bathroom happily smiling as he passed.  It was still light enough to read his blue t-shirt, “Don’t Worry, Be Hopi”.
    Within a minute after he passed, the coyote returned with a bread wrapper in its mouth and parked herself next to a large boulder near my campfire.  I suspected the bread belonged to the “Don’t worry, be Hopi” man. I had decided I was not going to socialize; however, I betrayed my better judgment when he returned and asked, “Excuse me, sir.  Is that your bread the coyote is eating?”  When he looked at the coyote ripping apart his bread wrapper, he exclaimed, “Oh, no!  That’s all I had!”  Feeling sorry for him, I blurted out, “Well, I’m only here a short time. When I leave, I’ll give you what I have left for your cooler.”  He laughed and said he didn’t have a cooler.  Stunned that anyone would be camping in Chaco Canyon in August with no cooler, I asked where his campsite was.  He pointed a little way down the road where he’d tossed his sleeping bag and backpack on a picnic table.
     “Where’s your car?”  I asked.  He explained he didn’t have one, but hitchhiked from Albuquerque.  When I asked if he lived in Albuquerque, he said he lived in upstate New York, had taken a bus across country, then hitchhiked to Chaco Canyon.  I commented that he must have really wanted to see Chaco Canyon!  
     He stared at me for a moment and then asked why I was here.  I didn’t really want to answer this stranger, deeply regretted I ever initiated a dialogue, and wished he’d leave.  I said I needed time to think.  Then I quickly diverted the discussion to why he came.  He explained he was a healer. When he said “healer”, my head snapped and I looked at him.  Then he asked if I needed healing.  I sidestepped his question with, “Well, everyone needs healing”.  Sarcastically, he asked, “Have you ever had a healing?”  I confessed that long ago I had an unusual healing in a dream from an Indian holy man, a guru.  “Who was it?” he asked.
     Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, I brushed off his question, “You wouldn’t know Him” and said I really didn’t want to discuss it anymore. I quickly excused myself explaining I had to get some things done. His voice softened and he pleaded for me to share my “healing dream”. Noting his softened tone, I relented and said, “Well, I was grieving for the death of my brother and an unusual looking, frizzy-haired Indian guru in an orange robe healed my broken heart.” His eyes lit up and he exclaimed, “Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai Baba?” Stunned, I asked, “You know Him?” He literally jumped for joy and said, “You’re the one I’ve been trying to find! I’ll be right back.”  He ran down the road to retrieve his backpack. 
     Gazing at the crackling campfire and the silvery moon, now fully in the sky, I felt a little nauseous and wished I’d never started a discussion with this stranger. Yet, he knew Sai Baba! Coincidence? Synchronicity? What were the odds of this happening? I decided I might not be in any danger after all. Still, I was nervous and didn’t know why he rushed off with such excitement or, even more stunning, why had he been “looking for me”?
     While awaiting his return, I slowly recollected, much to my deep remorse, my arrogant words uttered four years previously, “If Baba is really who he says he is, He’ll know where to find me!”  I felt a little ill and ashamed of myself. I began to cry because He did, after all, find me—in the most remote unlikely place.
     On his return, this Japanese man whose name was Sho, pulled from his backpack an 8x10 color laughing photo of Baba preserved in light-weight plastic sheeting.  It felt as though I was the brunt of some cosmic joke that was beyond my control and sheer terror slowly crept over me.  I recalled how in my dreams, now nearly 14 years ago, Baba pursued me until I was cornered and could not escape. What was I afraid of? Why was I resisting so?
    Sho took also from his backpack a small baggie of soft light-colored powder, called vibhutti, and said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you; I’m only a messenger.  Let me put some of this on your forehead, throat, and mouth. You will be healed.”  
     Because of the strange way things were unfolding—the odd moon-rise, the coyote circling my campsite, this man saying he’d been “sent to find me”, and my arrogant challenge of four years previously—I had an uncanny feeling I should stop resisting and to be OK with whatever was to happen. The knot in my stomach began to loosen. 
     So, I relented as he gently dabbed the soft, perfume-like powder on my forehead, on my throat, and in my mouth.  Then he smiled and said simply, “You’re healed.”  Still not understanding the auspiciousness of vibhutti, I mumbled that I doubted I was healed. Ignoring me, he stated, “Yes, you are. Now, he wants you to come see him in India.”  
     I said, “Yeah, right.  Go to India? India?  Why?”
     “He wants you to come see him”.  
     I suddenly remembered the message my teacher gave me, “We want Barbara.”  Was this the second invitation from a total stranger?  Why would Baba want ME?  I’m not one of ‘his people’!” I asked the man to give me some space to think—my head was swimming; we could talk tomorrow.  He left and I realized so had the coyote.  They both, it seemed, had done their “jobs”.
      Already by nine o’clock, the heat was rippling along the ground.  So, I decided to leave. I told Sho I had an appointment with the hospital lab in two days for some tests.  He shook his head and said, “No. Healed.” 
     Sho asked for my phone number so he could check on me in a week or so for the test results. Subsequently, Baba had told him that my family genetics were cancer-prone. “It’s true, isn’t it?” he asked. I nodded. He said that although I had an instantaneous healing, the pervasive thought forms and dietary practices, if not changed could set me up for a recurrence. He said that if I felt comfortable he could advise me further how to make life-long changes to stabilize the healing.  sathya-sai-baba
         Meanwhile, he had some additional healing work to do in Chaco Canyon to release earthbound Native American spirits into the Light. He said I was his first ‘assignment’, among others, in an agreement he had with Baba.  
     Sho’s eight-year-old daughter, Thea, was suffering from birth with cerebral palsy. He and his wife had divorced, yet lived close to one another in upstate New York.  The search for any effective healing modality—natural and allopathic—was fruitless.  Someone suggested he ‘try Sathya Sai Baba’.  He spent all night reading a book loaned to him about Sai Baba. As the sun rose in the morning, Baba appeared in his room to propose an ‘agreement’.  The daughter would be healed in two years following Sho’s mission of ‘running errands’ to people who needed healing from Baba.  All his needs—lodging, food, and transportation—would be provided while Sho made the ‘healing rounds’. 
     One troubling question plagued me about this mysterious experience.  How was it that Sho traveled some nine days—seven by bus and two by hitchhiking—to come to Chaco Canyon when I only decided two days previously to come?  I asked him this puzzling question and he burst out laughing, doubled over in tears!  When he caught his breath he blurted, “What makes you think YOU decided?”
      What? I didn’t decide?  I’d been taught we created our own reality.  So Baba decided I was going to Chaco Canyon! The fact that Sho began his journey to Chaco Canyon nine days previously on a cross-county bus journey from upstate New York to the remote northwest corner of New Mexico when I hadn’t even remotely considered going there at that time didn’t make sense at all.  It violated all  my concepts of linear time and three dimensional reality.  It was beyond my comprehension. I felt set up! I suspend my suspicions noting that the medical results that would settle everything. If there was no healing, I was ‘off the hook’.  If I were healed, well….I wasn’t sure what I’d do.
     One week later, I received my lab report from the baffled doctors.  There was no trace of cancer at all.  It was totally gone.  When Sho called and I told him, he laughed and in broken English said, “Good!  Cancer cancel!”  After advising me on a vegetarian, alcohol-free lifestyle and changes to my thinking patterns, Sho continued with his mission and I lost track of him.
     My first step was to make things “right” with those I had invalidated. I made amends with my former meditation teacher to apologize for not believing her.  I told her that my arrogance got in the way and that although I didn’t believe her at the time; I believed her now.  I also brought a small gift to my former Kundalini Yoga teacher who was too ill to receive me; he was dying. Paying homage to these wonderful teachers was an appropriate, ethical, and essential step.
     I finally made my plane reservation to go see Sathya Sai Baba at the Brindavan ashram, outside of Bangalore, March, 2000. I traveled alone and was terrified. Previous to embarking on this pilgrimage, He began speaking in my right ear so I wouldn’t feel so isolated and lost. At first, I thought I might be schizophrenic, but then His guidance in various situations showed me clearly that it was truly Him. His guidance was impeccable and authentic. For example, on the journey, I sat down once in the Amsterdam airport and promptly fell asleep from exhaustion. As my flight was boarding, He yelled, “Pay attention!” jolting me awake so I wouldn’t get left behind.
     Arriving in Brindavan, I was relieved the crowd was relatively small, only about 10,000.  Typically, I was told, the crowds averaged 50 to hundreds of thousand at the large ashram, Prasanthi Nilayam. Pilgrims journeyed from all countries, representing all religions, socioeconomic levels, and ethnicities.  
     Upon my first darshan, visual encounter, with Baba, I was so in awe it was difficult to look at Him.  I observed those around me quite comfortably handing him letters about their issues—health, finance, relationship, career, and spiritual. Eventually, when I overcame my shyness, He began interacting with me even taking my more skeptical letters every day. Once, during darshan, I was worried about the large, aggressive woman seated in front of me who had threatened me previously for getting too close to her.  She obviously had issues with personal space. I wanted to reach around her to pass a letter to Baba; however, she was so ‘mean-spirited’ I had a horrifying fantasy that she might pull me into a fist-fight right there on the prayer hall floor at Baba’s feet. The irony of the situation made me laugh. As Baba approached, He picked up the fantasy, stared at the woman, and exploded in laughter. Then, He hurried over and made an overt gesture of stretching around the woman to take my letter. It was a light-hearted moment but one that again demonstrated to me His omniscience.
     After a year at home following this first pilgrimage, in early 2001, I went to Arizona for the training in Education in Human Values. Only a few months later, in May, Baba directed me to enroll in the EHV teacher training institute in Thailand at the Sathya Sai Baba Institute and School. This intensive ten weeks provides weekend workshops on values-based integrated academic curriculum. The weekdays were practicum application of the training with the students. 
     I was registered to stay ten weeks, but Baba had other plans and directed me to stay nearly a year—through spring 2002. I received two diplomas—the basic and advanced which required writing a thesis. The other reason I needed to spend time there was to resolve karmic issues from a lifetime in ancient Siam.
     My visits to the ashram were three weeks and longer. Once, I tried to go for only two, but he telepathically told me, “Stay longer” which turned into a month and a half and I had one group interview with the institute graduates. In the time I’d been to see Him, He spoke with me several times. Two of those times were inquiries about me staying. I was told by an ashram resident that when Baba mentions “staying”, it indicates that two generations previous and two generations in the future of my relatives would receive the grace of being off the wheel of reincarnation. 
     However, one of the most profound realizations I had with Baba was when He was playfully throwing candy to the crowd from a large basket. The bhajan singers were melodiously singing of Krishna, who Baba says was His incarnation. He was in a yellow robe signifying Krishna.  
      Suddenly, I began to cry uncontrollably. All the signposts of my life came together—the familiar, loving voice of my childhood, the love of sitar music, my high school resonance with the Krishna posters, the life reader who told me of my strong Indian past lives and love for Lord Krishna, my dreams, the messages, the telepathy, the overwhelming love when He looked at me.  
   From deep within me came painful memories of when Krishna died. We all wanted to die, too. We stopped eating and wasted away. There was no purpose to living without our beloved Lord. I, too, languished and departed. That deep memory came forward and I realized that I did not want that to happen again. I did not want to become attached and then be abandoned.  As I sobbed, I buried my face in my hands. This is not uncommon in the ashram prayer hall. The ladies around me handed me Kleenex. I peered out and saw Him coming ever closer. I mentally begged Him not to come closer or I would have an emotional melt-down. I didn’t want to see. I heard the women moan in disappointment. I looked up to see He had abruptly turned and walked away. For several days after, I recovered from the intense pain. I realized this was why I was running from Him all my life. I prayed, “Baba, I don’t want to go through this ever, ever again.”
     He answered telepathically, “No. No. It won’t be like that. Your consciousness has changed. There is no separation. You will see.”
     At home in the United States, there were several incidents of divine intervention saving me from disastrous accidents.  Once, in 2003, I was dangerously close to a roll-over with a car I was towing near a ravine. Later, it occurred to me I needed a second driver to tow a vehicle with a chain obviously because of the steering wheel. He directed me how to safely tow the car back to my home, without a second driver, dangerously driving up the center of the road while He miraculously redirected the usual morning traffic. It was a white knuckle drive home. 
     Another time, April 10, 2008, He warned me, screaming “Sidewalk! Sidewalk!”. Unsure at first why He was screaming this, I looked at the sidewalk. When I looked back, I saw three teens in a truck, coming at me at high rate of speed head-on in my traffic lane. Before I knew what had happened, my truck was up on the sidewalk out of harm’s way. The boys were under the influence and the driver was on probation. It all happened so fast, it was like a dream. Two stunned bystanders were staring at me. I asked them, “What?” They described it as, “One minute your truck was in the path of the oncoming vehicle; the next it was on the sidewalk.” 
     A third time, also in 2008, I was about to step into a cross-walk on a corner near the university when He screamed, “STOP”! I stood paralyzed on the corner when a sports car ran the stop sign, taking the corner on two-wheels and would have killed me instantly. His omniscience, omnipresence, and omnipotence are beyond, beyond, beyond. And, yet, His divine purpose and life has been that He is the Infinite Reflection of who we truly are.
     Aside from Baba’s rescues and my cancer healing, the real miracle was and continues to be, by His Grace, my personal transformation. I have become increasingly compassionate and patient. I experience a greater capacity for forbearance with impossible people in positions of power.  My general attitude has shifted from “what do I need” to “how can I help”.  When things seemingly go amiss; or, when reflecting on how past events could have been different, I now reframe with, “It was meant to be that way”.   
     Baba’s intervention in my life has empowered my work as a teacher, writer, and presenter. My life’s commitment is to provide support and inspiration to those seeking to understand the importance of love in everything we do, in every moment. As we move toward a time of increasing spiritual frequencies, we must take advantage of every opportunity to not worry so much about where to go or what to do, but rather to BE the Light of Love. We must we be mindful of embodying this principle of Love and holding this consciousness for the young people.
     This story began at age five with the loving guidance of Sai Baba.  Life circumstances are not always supportive of intuitive people, especially children. Their experiences are often ignored and invalidated. This will change with the dawn of this planetary consciousness unfoldment. In 1984, before I knew who was editing and revising my writing, Baba penned a book through me, “Your Spiritual Child” (Barbara Milicevic) to emphasize the importance of respect and support of children’s insights and wisdom; they are aware beings in little bodies.  They have their own path; parents and teachers are obliged to guide, discipline, and love.  I close with a favorite  Gibran poem and wish the reader peace, peace, peace.
On Children--  Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts, 
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, 
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, 
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, 
and He bends you with His might 
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, 
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
OM SRI SAI RAM
     
- Received: June - 2012
 
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