The Cascading: Knights of the Fire Ring

by CW Ullman

  “In India we call teachers, “masters.” If you want to learn to build a house, you go to the master of houses. If you want to learn numbers, you go to the master of numbers. If you want to have peace, you must come to the Perfect Master, the Sat Guru, the one true Guru: Guru Prajwal.”

  The little man looked slowly around the room into the devotees’ faces and then he rested upon Charlie. He lingered for a long moment as the two looked at each other. Charlie’s eyes were tired and tearing. The little man widened his eyes, smiled gently, and nodded to Charlie. Charlie was not sure the little man ever verbalized the question, but it appeared in Charlie. “Do you want peace?” Charlie nodded.

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  The little man’s name was Mahatma Maharaj Ji. He had been a follower of Sat Guru Prajwal’s father, Sat Guru Sultanpur. Guru Saltanpur’s lineage went back to the sixteenth century when an enlightened child was determined to be wise beyond his years. When he died, a succession of gurus followed through the centuries up to the current one true living master, Sat Guru Prajwal. Mahatma Maharaj Ji, whose shortened name was Mahatma Ji, was sent to the United States to bring his guru’s teaching and meditation techniques to America.

  Charlie wanted to learn more, so he moved into one of their houses. He wanted to know as much as possible; however his conundrum was being voracious when he needed to be passive. He looked for inspiration and at the same moment missed inspiration around him. He felt dense and incapable of understanding it. It was like learning the steps to a dance, but not dancing. Trying to turn off his conversation frustrated him, which made him block instruction all the more. Once, while in a park discussing the techniques of meditation, Mahatma Ji told Charlie how and where to find what he was looking for.

  He said, “Lie on your back, Charlie, and close your eyes.” Charlie lay supine with closed eyes. Mahatma Ji said, “Now when I count to three, I want you to open your eyes and when I tell you to close them, do so. Get comfortable. Okay, one, two, three, open.” Mahatma Ji waited five seconds and said, “Now close you eyes. Tell me what you saw.”

  Charlie thought for a minute, “I saw a cloud, some trees, and two birds flying over head and… that’s it.”

  He said, “Very good, very, very good. How does that make you feel?”

  Charlie said, “It makes me feel okay.”

  He asked if he was sure it made him feel okay. Charlie thought a moment and said it made him feel good that he had noticed so much.

  He asked him, “How many trees did you see?”

  Charlie counted in his head and said, “Twelve.”

  “Twelve trees or twelve branches,” he asked.

  “Uh, twelve –“ Mahatma Ji stopped him.

  He asked, “How do you feel now?”

  Charlie thought for a minute, trying to give the answer Mahatma Ji wanted to hear. He said, “I don’t know how I feel.”

  “Charlie, are you giving me the answer you think I want? You are not in what you saw; you are in your mind. How do you feel?”

  “Um, uh-“ Charlie muttered.

  “Do you not know how you feel, Charlie?” Mahatma Ji needled. “Charlie, I am waiting.”

  “I feel, I don’t know, confused?” Charlie said.

  “How do you not know how you feel? Because every minute of every day you are feeling, we are all feeling. The number one thing that moves us is feeling. It is not intellect, or mind, or thought. It is feeling. Since we were little children, we have been moving away from feeling because we need to be taught survival. We have pushed feeling so far away, only big feelings like love, hate, fear, and jealousy get through.”

  Mahatma Ji continued, “Meditation does not bring God to you; God is all around you. Meditation slows you down so when you look at the trees you also see the branches, and you know the difference, and you don’t let old Indian Mahatmas play with your head and confuse you so they can have a good laugh.”

  Charlie was listening intently to Mahatma Ji. He parsed every word and tried to absorb every part of the lesson. He was unaware that Mahatma Ji, while instructing him, was also playing with him. Mahatma Ji started laughing and Charlie tried to hide his annoyance behind a small chuckle.

  Mahatma Ji asked, “Oh, Charlie, how do you feel now? Are you angry with Mahatma Ji?”

  He was shaking with laughter which drove Charlie deeper into annoyance. Charlie felt his temper getting the best of him. His attempt at suppressing his rising anger was made more difficult by Mahatma Ji’s teasing, “Oh, Charlie, once the elephant stampedes, it is too late to stop it. Charlie, you make me laugh, you are very funny-“

  “Stop laughing at me!” Charlie barked.

  “Then stop being so funny, Mr. Charlie,” Mahatma Ji said. “We are in a beautiful park. Birds are flying, we have food and drink, and people are playing. But look at you, Charlie. You are in your mind; you are in the furnace. Life is full and rich and you cannot feel it. You are not ready, Mr. Charlie. You need to go make your journey.”

  Mahatma Ji laughed as Charlie, deep in resentment, walked away. He thought maybe this was all bullshit. He did not like being the butt of a joke. If Mahatma Ji was just going to ridicule him, he would leave and continue his trip.

  He got back to the house and Darla, the girl from Denny’s, was sitting on the steps when Charlie burst in the front door scowling, and went upstairs taking two steps at a time.

  He went to his room, grabbed his things, and stuffed them in a bag. Darla walked up and leaned against Charlie’s door jam.

  “Going somewhere?” she said.

  “Yeah, I think I’m gonna hit the road, see things I haven’t seen yet,” Charlie said.

  “Well, if you hang here, you’ll see things you haven’t seen yet,” Darla said.

  “Darla, I read Carlos Castaneda’s On the Path of Knowledge. There are four natural enemies: fear, clarity, power and old age. I get metaphor. I was interested in getting answers. I don’t need to be the object of derision for some old guy from India. Mahatma said I’m not ready and I should leave. So guess what? I’m leaving.”

  “What exactly did he say?” Darla asked.

  “He wanted me to close my eyes, count the fairies in the air, and then told me I’m not ready and I should leave,” Charlie said.

  “I know Mahatma Ji. I know he doesn’t believe in fairies and he would not tell you to leave, but he might tell you, you’re not ready. How did he tell you to leave?” Darla asked.

  Charlie thought for a moment and shot back his answer in a mocking Indian accent, “Make your journey, Charlie.”

  “That doesn’t sound to me like he wants you to leave. Hey, if you want to book passage on my bus, I’m pretty sure we’re headed on the same journey. His method is to toy with people, to find out how serious they are about learning the techniques. He pushes buttons until he finds the right annoyance button and then hammers it. Did he start laughing at you and you got pissed?

  “Yeah,” Charlie replied

  “He tried a lot of different buttons with me, but nothing worked until he told me I could never learn the techniques because I was a girl and girls were stupid. I wanted to take a blow torch to the ashram.”

  “What happened?”

  “Before or after I tried ripping a door off the hinges?” Darla continued, “While I was acting like you are now, cursing under my breath and calling him a male chauvinist piece of shit, I realized I had been gotten. I was a pretty easy target, because I arrogantly thought I was smarter than everyone else. ‘Pride goeth before the fall.’ I don’t know if it was the ‘stupid’ or the ‘women’ part that got me, but when I cooled I realized women were in the ashram and I wasn’t stupid. It made me wonder what my tantrum was all about.

  “I knew I had anger issues, insecurity issues, inadequacy issues, you name it. I had seen therapists forever and learned the origin of all my psychological maladies, but I was miserable. The therapy sessions gave me dead-end answers: my mother’s a bitch, my dad’s distant, I didn’t get the lead in the third grade play, I ha
d sex with my older cousin when I was twelve, et cetera, et cetera; knowing all that got me nowhere. I was still miserable. Let me boil down what I learned after six years of psychotherapy: knowing the cause of your behavior problem does not correct your problem behavior.

  “I took enough peyote to get the entire population of Mexico high. The awareness that the entire universe is reflected in one atom, all my conversations with God, discovering how we are all the same and want the same thing were realized through mescaline. It gave me great insight into life; really one of the most brilliant, helpful things I ever did and I recommend it for anyone. I also read The Teachings of Don Juan. But, there was something missing.

  “I saw Mahatma Ji in Los Angeles and decided I had to experience what he was talking about. I wanted to learn meditation. So a few months ago, I received it and now nothing has been the same.”

  “What is the difference?” Charlie asked.

  She said, “The difference is that life isn’t pressing in on me. While I had intellectualized my cosmic musings, I didn’t own them. Meditation allowed my musings to manifest as me. I owned them, like I own my name. With meditation, I get to drop into the cosmic cascade whenever I want and be immersed in that river.”

  “What about God Consciousness and all that,” Charlie asked.

  “I imagine somebody’s having God Consciousness, but I’m not. We’re not all the same television. Each one’s experience with meditation is different. When our TV gets turned on, we’re not all on the same channel. The pictures we receive and project cannot be the same. By the nature of our uniqueness, it’s impossible for it to be the same. None of us processes life the same way. If God exists as a Supreme Being and we’re made in His image and likeness, He wouldn’t want it to be the same. Where’s the fun in that for Christ sake? Pun intended.

  “The Mahatmas came to America to spread the word and tell of this divine state of consciousness that can be achieved through meditation. I already got that on acid. What I have with meditation is sweet serenity and bliss. I think some of these folks are getting high on meditation and they think they’re in the presence of God. I got news for them; we’re always in the presence of God. I can unequivocally tell you that meditation doesn’t strengthen your connection to the Almighty; meditation just lets you feel the connection more strongly. Everyone’s connection to the Almighty is as secure as an umbilical cord between mother and baby. ” Then she winked at Charlie and said, “Oh, by the way the Almighty is a chick.”

  She laughed and walked to the window to look outside.

  “You gotta let go, boy, and yet you have to want it very much at the same time. Mahatma Ji is very cool. He definitely is going to fuck with your head to get you out of your head. He will hassle you in an attempt to make you let go.” Darla continued, “The way you feel now is the way we all felt trying to get a handle on it. Meditation is supra- consciousness, which means it’s outside your thinking or mental processes. Just let your desire for meditation be your soul mate. Desire for it will drive you through exercises designed to break your hold on deductive reasoning and allow the sunshine of meditation to tan your brain.”

  She walked out of the room and halfway down the stairs to the main floor before she pivoted and came back up. She poked her head in Charlie’s room and asked, “Should we set a place for you?”

  “Please,” he said.

  Charlie sat on the mattress on the floor and then lay down and looked out the window. He counted two clouds, four trees, three birds, and the window.

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  The night came for Charlie to learn meditation. He had learned that there were several techniques for meditation. Some organizations used mantras, some focused on candles or objects, others chanted, and some used one word. Most of the organizations were from India and had a guru or a yogi as the titular head of the group. In every organization, the followers were all very devoted to their gurus.

  Throughout the centuries in India, there had been wars between sects as to whose guru was the Sat (True) Guru. One was Guru Gobind Singh, who fought twenty wars between 1686 and 1706 when the local rulers raided the families of his followers for beautiful women to marry off to Muslim leaders to prevent Islamic warring raids. Guru Gobind Singh’s followers were virtual slaves to these rajas who also made them pay exorbitant taxes. To gain respect for his followers, he declared war on the local rajas.

  The followers of Guru Prajwal had the same devotion as those of Guru Gobind. Devotees championed their meditation technique above all others. The followers of Guru Prajwal had preached for hundreds of years that the way to nirvana was to practice his techniques. All the disparate groups taught that if other techniques were utilized, supreme consciousness could not be reached.

  Discussions with Darla helped sort this out. She thought one should follow one’s heart and feelings. She felt if a technique worked for a person, then that was what they should practice. The technique she learned from Mahatma Ji worked for her. It would be much later that Charlie would discover a secret Darla wanted no one to know.

  Charlie gathered with the other people to receive the meditative techniques. All the others in the Race Street house had to leave during the ceremony conducted by Mahatma Ji at eight o’clock in the evening. The group, dressed in white, was told to sit down, while Mahatma Ji sat in a chair in front of them.

  He said, “The technique you are going to learn is hundreds of years old. You must share it with no one who has not learned it from a mahatma. The mahatma must be a devotee of Guru Prajwal. Do you understand?”

  The group answered in unison, “Yes.”

  “These techniques work because the divine order of the universe passes through the Master to us, and your devotion to Guru Ji makes the techniques work for you. We owe all love to our Perfect Master Shri Sat Guru Prajwal Ji.” Then he said, “You must follow me.”

  The twelve participants stood and followed Mahatma Ji through a door, downstairs to the basement, where twelve chairs were circled around one in the middle. Mahatma Ji directed them to the chairs. When they were all seated, he told them to close their eyes and with their index fingers touch the tip of their thumbs.

  He said, “This is the Gyan Mudra or the Circle of Knowledge. All energy must flow and when this circle is formed, the energy flows round and round in your hands. We are trapping universal knowledge in our bodies.”

  Charlie later learned the Shuni Mudra, when the middle finger touched the thumb, creating a state of patience. Charlie used this when he was agitated and it would calm him down.

  “Now, I am going to give you the technique individually. When I do, many of you will experience something new, so don’t freak out,” Mahatma Ji chuckled slightly because he had just learned the American phrase “freak out.” He continued, “When I go to each one of you, you will look at me and all the rest of you must keep your eyes closed. There is no talking.”

  Mahatma Ji moved his chair directly in front of Charlie. The fragrance of his robes wafted over Charlie while Mahatma Ji murmured in Hindi. Charlie recognized some words like Krishna. The line of gurus from which Guru Prajwal descended believed in Hinduism where Krishna is akin to Christ. Mahatma Ji went on speaking for a few minutes and then stopped. He leaned into Charlie, touching forehead to forehead where it is believed the Third Eye is located. This all-seeing, all-knowing Eye is the seat of wisdom. Mahatma Ji leaned back and covered both of Charlie’s ears. Then, he rotated his thumbs to the front of Charlie’s face, while keeping his ears covered, and placed his thumbs lightly on Charlie’s eye brows. He loosened the touch to Charlie’s ears so he could hear him speak.

  He whispered, “All things are divine. This is your mantra. When I touch your head again you will recognize this.”

  He then put his palms flat on the sides of Charlie’s face and leaned in, again touching forehead to forehead. As soon as their heads touched, Charlie could hear his own heart. He saw a circle of light in the darkness of his closed eyes and tasted honey inside his mouth. The voice
he heard all the time, the engine to the conversation in his head, the cause of incessant cacophony, was now far away. All he saw was this ring of light and it gave him a sense of calm. He was with this light and this light was with him.

  It was not until the Mahatma Ji stage whispered from the center of the circle that Charlie opened his eyes. Charlie thought it was strange spending only a few minutes in a short ceremony for such a solemn occasion. It was not until he saw a clock that he realized he had been meditating over four hours.

  Mahatma Ji said, “Premies (lovers), open your eyes. You have received the oldest meditation. Be sure to use it.”

  The girl who sang the first night had come down the stairs to sing. She strummed the guitar and when she started, tears rolled down Charlie’s cheeks. He wiped them away and they came back stronger. He was not sobbing, but releasing tears. He could not stop and when he looked to the girl next to him, she was doing the same. They intertwined their arms, leaned their heads together, listened to the music, and cried.

  He was happy and relieved to experience what other devotees had referred to as being “blissed out.” He felt a kinship to the others in the room, having shared this nirvana. They stood and sang a Hindi devotional to the Lord of the Universe. As they cried, sang, and clapped in rhythm, Charlie was overjoyed, feeling free and light. Mahatma Ji motioned all to follow him, holding each other’s hands with eyes tightly closed. Mahatma led them up the stairs slowly, through the house, and out into the backyard. He told them to form a circle so they were facing out, and on the count of three to open their eyes. When their eyes opened, they were surrounded by other residents of the house, holding flowers and sparklers. The circle of one hundred people in a unified voice shouted, “Jai sat chit anand” (Glory to the acknowledgement of bliss).

  The circle then closed in on the twelve, smothering the new premies with flowers and hugs. A small rock band lit into “Joy to the World” by Three Dog Night.