Joe Begley

One day in 1987, I joked to my good friend Kathleen Nacey that I might get a personalized license plate saying ICKTCHR (I seek a teacher). My adventures hadn’t given me the deep truth I wanted so I figured why not demand a guru from the universe.

My plans to walk around the world had stalled, so to appease my wanderlust I figured I’d go to a slide show on India that Kathleen mentioned to me. I went to the address on California Avenue in Palo Alto and walked up to the second floor. Asha Praver was narrating the slides of Ananda’s first pilgrimage to India. The show was great, but what really impressed me was her clarity. Before leaving I got a copy of The Path. After devouring that, I bought The Autobiography of a Yogi.

Somehow I knew the lessons and examples in those books were true and were meant for me. I had found my guru. Looking back I can truly say that not until I was willing to go anywhere and do anything to find my teacher, did he come. I had asked with all my heart and he put himself right in front of me.

After listening to every tape, talk, class, and bit of music I could, I sat in service one morning, listening to the choir sing Cloisters ("Long I’ve called You my LordÉ"), tears streaming down my cheeks. The following spring, I was talking with Asha about what next steps might be good to take. She said, almost as an afterthought, "I’ve heard they’re starting a new work-study program at Ananda Village this summer."

I called and talked to Bent Hansen. I could hear his smile over the phone.

"You’re the first one to call," he said, surprised. "The brochures haven’t even been printed yet!" But he gave me all the information I needed to sign up. Two months into the program, I knew I wanted to move there and take the Ananda Training Program at the Seclusion Retreat. That was the beginning of a long, rewarding stay at both the Seclusion Retreat and Ananda Village that allowed me to delve deep into our line of masters’ teachings.

One incident occurred that taught me a particularly valuable lesson. You know how fads come and go and how folks get swept up in them sometimes. Well, one day a water-fasting practitioner visited Ananda. A lot of people found this individual interesting and jumped on the water-fasting wagon. Although I didn’t water-fast, I soon found myself so preoccupied with proper diet that I hardly ate anything, reducing myself to near skeletal. Without realizing it, I began separating myself from others to make it easier to stick to my diet principles. I was trying hard and I thought I was doing the right thing. But as Swami replied once to someone’s question about attunement, "Attunement is harmony." I had been living in my own smug little bubble, and that bubble was drifting out of harmony with others. My over-scrupulosity had dug a hole deeper than I could see out of. I felt correct, but uneasy.

One day at a gathering at Crystal Hermitage, Swami motioned to me to accompany him outside onto the wooden deck. He said, without hesitation, "I want you to stop fasting. You’re trying to purify your body—purify your heart!"

"How, sir?" I asked.

"By loving God and serving others," he said.

Then he told me about "the grape cure" fad diet, mentioned in The Path that the monks went through at Mount Washington. He smiled and rapped me on the chest at my heart. I knew he understood what I was going through and I knew what he said was the truth. I knew because I felt a huge feeling of relief! With those few words and his gesture, the bubble had popped and my gratitude for his loving friendship was immense. Still, the most precious advice from Swami came much later.

I had been experiencing what devotees call a karmic bomb–in my case, progress had come to a crashing halt and a dark cloud of confusion surrounded me. I knew bolting away out of frustration wasn’t the answer, but staying stuck wasn’t either. Swami heard about my predicament and asked if I’d like to talk with him. I said, "YES!"

On the way down to Swami’s apartment, Alan Heubert, his secretary, handed me a tape recorder. "I think this will be very useful," he said, eyes twinkling. He was right! I’ve listened to that tape over and over since then. When I arrived at Swami’s apartment, I sat on his sofa as he finished stoking the fireplace, then seated himself in a nearby chair. I was concerned that Swami might tell me to buckle down more seriously, but I didn’t know if I was capable of doing any more. Instead, he simply listened.

Waiting for me to finish talking, his calm eyes always with me, he finally said, "Don’t take yourself so seriously. You’ve become a fanatic! The spiritual path should not be approached fanatically. You get all tense and wound up inside, trying to figure it all out. Instead, get calm enough to let the voice of God inspire you. How to do this? Well, by loving God, of course—meditating and serving others, but also by relaxing more inside. Get plenty of exercise and take long walks in nature."

That wasn’t what I had dreaded he would say at all! And then he said something even better: "You should have more fun. Learn to enjoy life— then in that enjoyment, you’ll find joy!"

Swami’s great insight and patience helped me recognize that moving to Ananda’s Sacramento colony would be a good next step. The time I’d spent earlier in Palo Alto was before the present community, so it was in Sacramento that I discovered the joy and practical wisdom of living in a small, close-knit fellowship. Master’s vision of world brotherhood colonies works, I think, because they’re places where devotees have both privacy and community, yet constantly cross paths in a very loving, supportive way.

Of course, I had to find a job in Sacramento, and with help, I got one as an electrician outside the community. I was no electrician at the beginning and it was challenging at times, but by vigilant practice of contentment and gratitude, I learned, and got plenty of exercise too! And by placing me with hard working, hard swearing, very critical construction workers, Divine Mother gave me just what I needed to practice not taking myself too seriously: humility and a good sense of humor. Bless her astute heart! In 1996, I returned to Palo Alto, completing the circle. I love it here! Thank you, Master, Asha, everyone. And bless you, Swamiji, for being such a selfless, Divine friend.