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The Light-Bearer ... a true story

It was a glorious morning in the Ashram … the air filled with the soft murmurs of the devotees as each filed in the Meditation Hall.

The air fresh, belying the hot humidity soon to come, yet we were all happy to be here, in this sacred place, surrounded by others of like intent.

Many of us had traveled many long miles in holy pilgrimage, seeking answers so our human struggles may be better understood, or at least looked at through the eyes of Spirit.

Here we sat, shoulder to shoulder with our brothers from around the world, here we were all beyond cast or creed, and for once united in our Spiritual quest.

We started the morning rituals of chants and prayer, offering our hearts to Spirit, each seeking that internal

release which would open us up to the Spirit Within …

Oh, what a glorious sight it was to see so many men gathered in this holy light … Oh, what a joy it was to see so many lifting up their voices as one … even as the day moved on, and the temperature grew hotter, and the humidity soared … but we were happy, not so …?!

And then he walked in [yes, a bit late, but he was here now … and that’s what counts]

Tall and slim, with shining golden hair tied up neatly in a long ponytail, walking in with deep assurance, clothed in a pure white punjabi he was a delight to our sore eyes … and many quickly moved aside so he may have his place amongst us.

And so he sat, and with eyes closed he joined his honeyed voice to ours, making our chants a splendid sound to behold …

All went well … at least until the flies came, buzzing around, landing and biting at will, so none of us were spared … and even he, of the golden hair, was not immune …

Oh, but with what grace he swatted those pesky pests, and skilled too as he managed to swat many to their

afterlife …“Go to your maker” he was heard to say after each successful strike…and so we too enthusiastically took up his chant and these dark harbingers them with renewed ardor …

He smiled at us so sweetly, and we all smiled back at our blond-haired brother

“Would you like some of my water ?” many offered, and he graciously accepted, even as the flies renewed their attack on his moist lips …

But then the other came in … far too late for good manners to bear.

He was unkempt, wearing only a dhoti as many laborers would … his hair wild, his skin dark, and sweaty as if from a long and hazardous journey.

But then so had we all travelled far and wide, and this was no countenance to be accepted in such a holy place … and so many moved away as he went to seek a place … Ha ! as if he belonged in the Hall of Brotherhood

… and even with his eyes closed and his mouth turned to prayer, there were many of us who looked at him with disdain and moved closer to our blond brother … never once realizing that the flies circled around this grubby newcomer … but never landed on him …

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