When he said it was time to meditate, I was surprised
that he had been speaking for over forty minutes. It had seemed like five.
"Now extend your index fingers and close your eyes," Atmananda instructed.
I squinted to see if anyone else was peeking. From what I could tell,
the twenty or so people obeyed him.
"Now say 'me' out loud and touch your chest."
My "me" was muffled by the group's "me".
"You are not only pointing to your chest," Atmananda explained,
"but to your heart chakra, one of seven psychic energy centers
associated with the subtle body. Concentrating on a chakra is an easy
way to begin crossing the sea of consciousness."
So we sat there, drifting, and though I tried to stop my thoughts
and feel the throbbing pulse of my heart chakra, I found myself
checking out the women in saris.
"Very good," he said after about five minutes. Then he suggested
that we sit back, relax, and ask questions.
There was something hauntingly familiar about this confident,
well-spoken, young professor. Perhaps it was the way his chin
jutted forward, the rich timbre of his voice, or his seeming
interest in helping people that reminded me of the cartoon character
Dudley-Do-Right. I felt drawn to him. I found myself staring into
his full moon, gripping eyes.
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