Richard Buckley

One morning in the late 70’s, as caretaker of the Point Arena Lighthouse, I looked out the window into fog so dense I couldn’t have reported what was two feet in front of me. There was only the sound of the big horn warning ships not to stray too close to the rocks, and the mighty aum-like roar of the ocean waves to keep me company. No TV, no neighbors, no real connection with the world– just this place that I had grown fond of and the dark blue books on my shelf entitled The Course in Miracles which I had inhaled like a breath of fresh air.

There hadn’t ever really been a time when I felt I hadn’t been searching for something. After my first child died in 1978 of cardiovascular defects, I searched even harder.

By 1985 my wife and I had divorced and I was doing my best to move on with things. By ‘87 my second son, Charlie, and I had begun going to a religious science church in Los Angeles. I liked the church very much but it had no Sunday school for Charlie. Not long afterward, we moved to the Bay Area and began attending the Unity church in Redwood City. One evening, Jyotish, Devi, Asha, David, Karuna, and Shoshana teamed up to give a guest presentation at Unity. Part of their program included a meditation. I sat there, focusing at that point between my eyebrows. Although meditation was completely new to me that night, about a month before I had begun sensing what I would call emerging energy and light whirling around my third eye. Now, without warning, I suddenly felt as if the top of my head were blowing off. It was not an unpleasant experience, just the contrary. It felt wonderful!

Looking back on it now, it hardly seems like a coincidence that Ananda appeared when it did. Even before that meditation lecture at Unity Church, I had stumbled across copies of The Autobiography of a Yogi (AY) but had never picked it up. Somehow I didn’t connect with it very deeply at the time. But right after the lecture I read Swami Kriyananda’s The Path. That book fascinated me. I couldn’t put it down. In contrast to the AY, I found it an easy read and felt a deep connection with Donald Walters. Here was a sincere western man, struggling just as I was. I started going to Wednesday night meditation classes at Ananda on California Avenue. A month later we began attending Sunday services. Eighteen months later, in October of ’89, Charlie and I moved into the community in Palo Alto and for the most part have lived here since. There was a stretch of time when I was gone a lot because I drove truck for a living. But my home and my residence have remained at Ananda. The people here truly seem far more like family than my genetic family.

When I felt the time had arrived for me to become a disciple, it was clear that Ananda wasn’t groping for members. Instead, a minister asked me, "Do you really want to be a disciple? Have you thought about this and do you know what it means?"

Although my commitment was strong, I had heard that there is a honeymoon period for most people that come to Ananda. That was certainly true for me. For about 2 blissful years I felt essentially only joy and happiness, without really having to work at it. By the end of 2 years I had outgrown the honeymoon. My soul must have needed new challenges. I’ve definitely had to work at it more since ‘91. But that earlier time was full of joy and connection like I had never felt and there’s no way I can go back now that I see the big picture. Life is often still difficult, but I know where I’m headed, shy of a few details.

Nowadays, my biggest challenge is to keep myself attuned to God. My meditation practice has enabled me to see everyone as a great soul. That has changed me so that I try to help whomever I meet, either directly, or anonymously. It has even helped me take a more positive view of my early and somewhat violent upbringing. This approach also tends to shrink a lot of my problems rather than expanding them and I find solutions more easily without the worry.

Sometimes I feel close to God, other times not. But each time I drift off center, I know I’ll eventually get back to Divine Mother and that she always has to take me in. Dry periods can feel as if I’m staring at a black stone wall during meditation. But when things are going well in my meditations, I feel Divine Mother reach down and send me soaring into her arms. Sometimes during the touch of light blessing with the ministers at the end of a service, I reach up easily to Divine Mother. But still, I’m afraid to completely let go when a minister touches my forehead– it’s as if I’ll go flying out of my body.

The feeling is similar to one I had as a kid. At age 10 I suddenly developed a terrible fear of flying on an airplane. My stomach would tighten, become nauseated and my whole body would break out in a cold sweat. I would do almost anything to get out of flying, yet it was necessary to accompany my family on many trips.

When the opportunity arose to fly to Assisi, Italy in March of ’98, I wanted to go but simultaneously dreaded it. So I prayed to Master for help. As I boarded the airplane I suddenly realized that the fear had vanished. It had disappeared as quickly as it had come and I haven’t had trouble with it since. And I know that the terror of completely letting go will also evaporate someday. It’ll be me and Divine Mother, no longer separate for even a moment. And that is what I live for– to be free.