I'm not sure what a "blog" is supposed to be, or even if this will qualify as
one. It is the story of my spiritual life and a journal of my thoughts: Why I
study, why I meditate and why this is important to me.
AUM BABAJI NAMA!
I’m thine O Lord and Master (Babaji)
Thine to follow to the end
Thou art mine, O Babaji, my Savior
Guide and helper, lover and friend
The Very Beginning
My own spiritual journey began at a very young age. It was the summer
of my sixth year when a Gospel Tent found itself in the vacant lot next
to our house in a rural town in Connecticut. It was an age of innocence
and trust and kids were allowed a margin of freedom not enjoyed today.
So, nightly, I was allowed by my parents to join the meetings.
The year before, floods from Hurricane Diane in August and two
months later, from a heavy rain, had reared their ugly heads. Many lives
and many more homes were lost and the wounds were still fresh and deep
and painful. Everyone was affected.
The sermons were attended by people from all over town and numbered
around 30 nightly. With the tent dimly lit with kerosene lanterns, the
Preachers would stand at a podium in the front and preach from the
Bible. People standing, or seated in the wooden folding chairs, would
randomly voice their agreements with an "Amen" or a "Thank you Jesus" or
maybe a "Thank the Lord". Each meeting would begin and end with a prayer
for Comfort and Grace from the Lord.
I was fascinated by the people who ran the nightly meetings. I didn't
see them as Preachers. I had attended Catholic Services with my family
where Ministers wore robes and stood aloof from their congregation. The
men who preached the Gospel under this tent wore suits and ties and hats
and talked directly to the people attending. I saw them, the Preachers,
as people who believed what they were saying, who gave hope to a
grieving people. I saw them as helping people with their lives. To
me, they were genuinely concerned, they were there to give these people
meaning and comfort.
One of the Preachers befriended me and would reward me for memorizing verses of the
Bible. I especially like the Book of John and memorized many of its
verses. At the last meeting of the Summer, before the tent eventually
moved on, he gave me a Bible, my first, so I could continue reading the
story of Jesus. The gift was reverential and, even at six, I understood
the love with which the gift was given.