Meera allows several darshans within a two-week period, for those coming from abroad; I scheduled an optimum interval, bracketed by two weekend darshan periods, about 9 days. Through the guidance of Her small organization, reservations were made at an amenable little hotel, a few miles from the village of Thalheim, where Her house was. Every detail had to be attended to. I was going to be incapacitated there, so the debility had to be planned for. I wouldn’t be renting a car. There would be no movement or traveling whatsoever, save for the four darshans I hoped to attend, so it was important that the hotel have the shuttle service to, and from, Meera’s home.
This being done, the laborious trip had to be scheduled in minute detail. Traveling in another country in a healthy, strong body, or with friends, is wonderful; you can afford to be spontaneous. It’s very different being crippled, and alone. I could leave nothing to chance. And it was a terrifying prospect. After the 12 hour flight, leaving from Washington at about 10 pm, I would have to negotiate the enormous airport in Frankfurt, Germany, to find the train to the village of Linburg – a two, or three hour ride away. From there, I would call the hotel at Thalheim, and be picked up. Every ticket had to be exactly in place, going and coming, because if anything went wrong, I could easily disappear.
Everything was finally in readiness, the day was rapidly approaching. I think it was fall of 1995… and I was getting the shakes. I could not believe it really had to be done, that there was no way to avoid going into this nightmare. When I had made the last-ditch run to India, I was so much younger, in every way, and stronger, relatively speaking. I was going to visit the ashram of the master, with whom I had an established relationship for many years; I had the all-important friend to watch over me, in a foreign world. There was no similarity to what I was now facing. It didn’t help, whatsoever, that I was going to risk the little left of my life, for – what could be argued – was only a photograph, on the cover of a tiny book. There were no years of experience, and trust, built. Was any of this real? You cannot imagine. So in Her wisdom, Meera sent the first of the darshan visitations, near to the departure date, without which I was sure to have folded, before ever leaving for the Dulles airport:
This exquisite astral vision opens with me, sitting in my little brown Toyota, on a grassy hill. Out of heaven, falls a gigantic clock (!?) onto the roof of the car, smashing it to bits. (You may recall, the car is the archetypal symbol for the ego, in the dream language.) I was frantically trying to stick it back together, when I saw, down the slope, a large tent, with many people going in. I knew it was the tent of the Divine Mother, so I forgot about the car, and wandered down the hill. Going inside, and into the atmosphere, laden with Shakti, I saw the radiant Meera, sitting in the midst of the throng. People were in line, receiving Her darshan. When my turn came, She looked at me, and said simply, “So you came.” Such a loaded little phrase. She grasped my hand, and a current of Shakti blew through me, like a wind – my body was actually lifted up, horizontal with the ground, my feet blowing out behind me. I went completely numb from the fire. The vision closes there.