I am one of the many people who came to know Papaji after his physical passing, who came to know his message of peace, and who has come to know myself in his formless presence. Such a blessing. Papaji’s message speaks directly to my own heart. His presence is alive, in and as my own heart, as this endless fire of Self.
Papaji’s presence is tangibly alive
Nine years ago, when I first I arrived at Papaji’s Satsang Bhavan in Lucknow, India, the intensity of Papaji’s palpable presence was immediately felt. Being in Satsang Bhavan, the building and the hall where Papaji offered satsang, was an incredibly powerful experience. Obviously Papaji was not physically there, as his physical form had passed many years before, and yet this presence, his presence, was huge and directly palpable, an all-consuming fire that burned me into the pure dust of nothingness.
Visiting Papaji’s house for the first time was also an unspeakably profound experience, the reverberations of which have never left me. I had no expectation in visiting his house, no idea what I would see, what I would experience, or what might occur.
I went to the house with others in the group I was traveling with. There we were introduced to Papaji’s beautiful son, Surendra, and to Surendra’s wife, Usha. They are an incredibly open, loving family, who continue to welcome visitors from all over the world throughout the year, into the kitchen, into their living space, and into what was once and still is, Papaji’s bedroom.
In the living room where Papaji once offered satsang, under a huge and beautiful photo of him, is the Sat Guru Crypt, where some of Papaji’s ashes are kept. We sat on the same satsang cushions that so many beloveds had sat on over the years. The energy and presence of Papaji was tangibly alive.
Being in the physical presence of the huge photo over the Sat Guru Crypt, I became aware of a trembling in my body – not from fear, not from cold, but a huge, roaring, shaking presence, softening and dissolving the physical identity.
We were offered chai that was so good, hot, and strong, and it was all I could do to just hold the cup and sip on it. The body simply sat, sipping chai, absorbed in the moment, being pulled into the full presence of Papaji, into his love, and into the bliss of being with him there.
Then the opportunity came for small groups of about 6-10 to go into Papaji’s bedroom for short amounts of time. This was to allow everyone who wanted the opportunity to sit near his bed, to meditate, to soak in his presence. His bedroom, lovingly kept by Papaji’s family all these years, contains all of Papaji’s personal things, left there untouched, his books on the shelf, his glasses in the cabinet, a calendar on the wall, just as it was when he was alive.
Stepping into Papaji’s bedroom was like stepping into a warp in time; in other words, “no time.” It gave rise to an overwhelming feeling of love. I sat on one of the cushions placed around the floor and walls with my back leaning against the side of Papaji’s bed. I know other people were also there in the room, though I have no memory of anyone.
There, immersing myself in the blessing of Papaji, I was dissolved into nothing, no one. No longer was there a me to sit, no body, no mind, no state, no self, just a vast beingness, so deeply quiet, so still.
Suddenly I could hear Papaji’s voice as though he were speaking directly to me and directly into my heart. His voice and inner images of him became an endless stream of love. His grace poured into me, filled me, overflowed me, as he showed me what was needed now with this life that I had until that moment referred to as “mine.”
What occurred in Papaji’s house, this happening that never happened, was the totality of all time and no time, so utterly annihilating and beautiful.
I couldn’t stand up. I could hardly open my eyes. I couldn’t walk. I had to have two people assist me back onto the bus and back to our hotel. This one that I had called me was nowhere to be found, just an endless silence and emptiness.
I feel so moved as I share this, so very exposed. There is a rawness in remembering the details and the profundity of this experience in meeting Papaji.
Nine years ago in India, in Lucknow, in Papaji’s house, I dedicated my life to THIS, to this that Papaji IS. As I write and reflect on those moments in Lucknow, I am aware that life itself is only this one endless moment, this flow that continues – Papaji’s unspeakable Grace.
The most precious gift of all
Papaji’s body is gone, his physical form has passed, but his presence continues to be felt regardless of the passing of the physical form. He is still present and alive in the hearts of those who loved him and to those who have continued to come to know him and his message since the passing of his form.
I am so grateful to you, Papaji, at whose feet I bow. To know the truth of who I am in this lifetime, in freedom, with you, as you, is the most precious gift of all.
In love and gratitude to Beloved Papaji, my true teacher, and to Ramana Maharshi, whose silence holds it all.
© Yantra-ji (Yantra Lindon) and Living Alignment, 2017
Yantra-ji lives in New South Wales, Australia, offering satsang meetings and events in Glenning Valley, 75 minutes north of Sydney. To find out more about Yantra-ji and her schedule, visit her website.
This article was shared in Oasis, the online magazine on Gangajis website: http://oasis.gangaji.org/blog/2017/08/25/meeting-papaji-now/