A new journey

Recently my grocery store installed more automated self-checkout lines and gave the cashiers veiled warnings that our time was up.  I wasn’t surprised last Saturday when I got the axe.  I have by now grown tired of the new corporate mentality.  It is time to go.

Interestingly, I had a dream the night before my dismissal.  In my dream I was back in New York, at The Oneness-Fountain-Heart restaurant.  It was very late at night, well after midnight.  I looked at the dimly lit dining room, all the empty tables and chairs, the Jharna Kalas on the walls.  I walked into the kitchen and I saw a visiting European disciple who had once helped us at the restaurant.  He had been chopping vegetables and was washing off the cutting board, and told me he was about to leave.  I went one more time into the dining room, to meditate on Guru’s picture by his special alcove, and then I returned to the kitchen.  The lights were still on, but the disciple had left.  I was alone.  I was upset, in my dream, because I didn’t have a key and couldn’t even close the gate.

Then, I thought to myself, well, that’s okay, because this restaurant does not exist anymore.

So I just left.  I was still somehow troubled that I had left the restaurant unlocked and after I had traveled a few blocks I turned around and I saw the restaurant from a distance.  It was far away, but there was still light seeping out from the kitchen door, still emanating and spreading over the dark streets.  I thought to myself that the spiritual Masters appear on earth for just the briefest of intervals.  They appear, they have their Lila, their divine play on earth, and then they leave.  People living in the ordinary world, who are not disciples of these Masters, just for a fleeting second perceive something unearthly, divine, in these Masters and their children.  And then the Masters disappear, and people forget what they saw.  But the light is still there.  Like the light emanating from The Oneness-Fountain-Heart.  On the outer plane, the restaurant doesn’t exist anymore.  The very building has been torn down.  But the light is still there.

I offered Guru’s poems at the grocery store- to thousands and thousands of people.  It was one of the most satisfying manifestations of my life.  I’m grateful I got that opportunity.  I don’t know what is next.  I don’t need to know.  I am waiting patiently for another assignment.

–Mahiruha

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