Guns and Gurus
“Treat death as an ally,” the shamans advise.
I often wondered what Native American medicine men and shamans meant by this saying. One idyllic summer afternoon, I got my answer. The messenger was Indian—not from America, but from India!
His name was Muktananda. My friends in Boston wanted to visit this particular Indian guru they’d read about in books. I usually went along with my friends’ spiritual adventures. We had a track record together of very good karma. Our intuitive guidance was almost always in sync. Whatever they were attracted to usually turned out to be something that was valuable for my spiritual unfoldment. We were what I call “karma buddies.”
I agreed to go with them to visit this newfound sage. Leaving Boston Friday morning, we drove the length of Massachusetts, ending up at an ashram retreat in the middle of upstate New York for a weekend of communing with Muktananda. That evening, we attended our first satsang, a meditative, question-and-answer session of truth-telling with a spiritual teacher. Satsang is a term from India that means literally “abiding in truth.”
As soon as I laid eyes on him, I liked Muktananda. Of short stature and dark complexion, he sported a closely cropped beard speckled with gray. His countenance radiated calm acceptance. He was friendly, jovial and humorous. Exuding a delightful spark, he spoke with penetrating wisdom. In front of several hundred, aspiring disciples, Muktananda talked for a brief period and then answered many detailed questions about spiritual practice and discipline. After countless, lengthy exchanges, we all meditated together in silence for a full hour.
My first