Connections With a Mahatma
http://www.blissful-wisdom.com/connections-with-a-mahatma.html
http://www.blissful-wisdom.com/connections-with-a-mahatma.html
A Mahatma is a great soul who expresses selfless compassion in all their deeds. They are living examples of love in action.
There I was on the coast of Kerala, India, in a small native fishing village, pushing a wheelbarrow full of bricks with another volunteer named Mukanda who was from Japan.
We would park and fill the wheelbarrow from a large fully-loaded truck stationed at the side of a narrow dirt road. We were volunteering to haul material for the reconstruction of new homes to replace over fifty that were damaged from the rising Tsunami tide. The tide had washed over the island where the Amritapuri ashram was located. With others from across the globe, and a number of local village mothers, we moved truckloads of sand, gravel and bricks down the narrow paths to the construction sites which the large trucks just could not get to.
Mukanda was a quiet, dedicated and hard-working volunteer. During our daily routine, we would be out by seven in the morning and laugh our way through hauling the loads and loads of material down the mucky paths amidst the lush coconut trees and moist, tropical, seaside heat. It was after one of those grueling days that Mukanda and I sat and talked. He told me that he was shy to meet with the Mahatma of the ashram (Amma) before leaving to do some more service work in the Mother Theresa ashram far north in Calcutta. I encouraged him to explain his shyness, and he told me that in his home country of Japan he was not happy with some procedures that had gone on in the local centre which carried out Amma's work. Without getting into the details, he said that after years of being completely committed and involved with the centre's maintenance and local projects he decided to leave it behind. He felt ashamed about his choice to leave.
Yet, he told me something which I remember vividly. He said that after he left the Japanese centre, Amma sent him a letter from India personally thanking him for his years of service work. She gave him her warmest regards. To me this was unusual. Because out of the 10 million sincere followers of Amma's service work, this devoted Japanese volunteer had received a personal letter of gratitude. I told Mukanda that a hand-written letter of thanks from this Mahatma was, in my view, something to be cherished. I mean, imagine Mother Theresa, the Dalai Lama, or the Pope taking the time to send someone a personal letter of gratitude. Mukanda ended up being able to meet with Amma before his departure for the Mother Theresa ashram. His shame had been replaced by joy.
Mukanda's story reminded me of a similar tale of my own. I had come back from India and was sitting at the local "Coffee on The Moon" cafe' shop when I overheard a young fellow mentioning he had purchased tickets to visit India. I casually joined in the conversation to learn this fellow, whose name was Stuart, had saved his travel money by tending the vineyards in Glenora where my step-mother Bernice lived. I ended up giving Stuart the Amritapuri ashram address, encouraging him to grant himself the favor and meet with the Mahatma of the seaside temple. Then, thinking nothing of it, I put the brief encounter behind me.
About four months later, I was going through a disheartening conflict with a bully at my cook training school and, at the same time, my love-life was painfully crashing. I trudged into my rental suite with tears in my eyes and turned on the telephone answering machine to hear out my messages for the day. There, in the recording, came my step-mother Bernice's voice with an unusual message. She had received a phone call from Stuart's mother. Stuart had phoned his mother from India to pass on a message to me! Stuart informed his mother that when he went up to meet with the Mahatma, and received a hug of greeting from her, before he had a chance to utter a word, the Mahatma told Stuart: "Tell Bill, back home, that Amma's love is always with him".
So there I was, heartbroken in my small apartment on Vancouver Island, BC, listening to this phone message describing how the Mahatma in India had sent a personal message to me through Stuart: "Tell Bill that Amma's love is always with him".
Unbelievable, are the connections with a Mahatma.
We would park and fill the wheelbarrow from a large fully-loaded truck stationed at the side of a narrow dirt road. We were volunteering to haul material for the reconstruction of new homes to replace over fifty that were damaged from the rising Tsunami tide. The tide had washed over the island where the Amritapuri ashram was located. With others from across the globe, and a number of local village mothers, we moved truckloads of sand, gravel and bricks down the narrow paths to the construction sites which the large trucks just could not get to.
Mukanda was a quiet, dedicated and hard-working volunteer. During our daily routine, we would be out by seven in the morning and laugh our way through hauling the loads and loads of material down the mucky paths amidst the lush coconut trees and moist, tropical, seaside heat. It was after one of those grueling days that Mukanda and I sat and talked. He told me that he was shy to meet with the Mahatma of the ashram (Amma) before leaving to do some more service work in the Mother Theresa ashram far north in Calcutta. I encouraged him to explain his shyness, and he told me that in his home country of Japan he was not happy with some procedures that had gone on in the local centre which carried out Amma's work. Without getting into the details, he said that after years of being completely committed and involved with the centre's maintenance and local projects he decided to leave it behind. He felt ashamed about his choice to leave.
Yet, he told me something which I remember vividly. He said that after he left the Japanese centre, Amma sent him a letter from India personally thanking him for his years of service work. She gave him her warmest regards. To me this was unusual. Because out of the 10 million sincere followers of Amma's service work, this devoted Japanese volunteer had received a personal letter of gratitude. I told Mukanda that a hand-written letter of thanks from this Mahatma was, in my view, something to be cherished. I mean, imagine Mother Theresa, the Dalai Lama, or the Pope taking the time to send someone a personal letter of gratitude. Mukanda ended up being able to meet with Amma before his departure for the Mother Theresa ashram. His shame had been replaced by joy.
Mukanda's story reminded me of a similar tale of my own. I had come back from India and was sitting at the local "Coffee on The Moon" cafe' shop when I overheard a young fellow mentioning he had purchased tickets to visit India. I casually joined in the conversation to learn this fellow, whose name was Stuart, had saved his travel money by tending the vineyards in Glenora where my step-mother Bernice lived. I ended up giving Stuart the Amritapuri ashram address, encouraging him to grant himself the favor and meet with the Mahatma of the seaside temple. Then, thinking nothing of it, I put the brief encounter behind me.
About four months later, I was going through a disheartening conflict with a bully at my cook training school and, at the same time, my love-life was painfully crashing. I trudged into my rental suite with tears in my eyes and turned on the telephone answering machine to hear out my messages for the day. There, in the recording, came my step-mother Bernice's voice with an unusual message. She had received a phone call from Stuart's mother. Stuart had phoned his mother from India to pass on a message to me! Stuart informed his mother that when he went up to meet with the Mahatma, and received a hug of greeting from her, before he had a chance to utter a word, the Mahatma told Stuart: "Tell Bill, back home, that Amma's love is always with him".
So there I was, heartbroken in my small apartment on Vancouver Island, BC, listening to this phone message describing how the Mahatma in India had sent a personal message to me through Stuart: "Tell Bill that Amma's love is always with him".
Unbelievable, are the connections with a Mahatma.
Picture courtesy of Amritapuri.org
This was the wheelbarrow full of bricks that Mukanda and I would load and haul to the construction sites. Note that one person pushed and one person pulled the cart from the front with a rope. Many other volunteers, local villagers, and ashramites would also assist.
