Related stories
Sri Chinmoy's students describe their inner and outer experiences.
How my spiritual search led me to Sri Chinmoy
Vidura Groulx Montreal, Canada
The day I saw my Guru for the first time
Natabara Rollosson New York, United States
Meditation Nights at the Sri Chinmoy Centre
Preetidutta Thorpe Auckland, New Zealand
Seeing the God inside my son
Utsahi St-Armand Ottawa, Canada
So much longing, for something
Pushpa rani Piner Ottawa, Canada
Listen to the inner voice
Vidura Groulx Montreal, Canada
My 5 a.m. strategic meditations
Sanchita Fleming Ottawa, Canada
Our Guru becomes the perfect disciple
Devashishu Torpy London, United Kingdom
If I can smile like that, it's worth becoming a disciple
Mahatapa Palit New York, United States
A love that was thick like butter
Mahatapa Palit New York, United States
The connection between Sri Chinmoy's music and my soul
Kamalakanta Nieves New York, United States
It does not matter which spoon you use
Brahmacharini Rebidoux St. John's, CanadaSuggested videos
interviews with Sri Chinmoy's students
Starting a spiritual café
Toshala Elliott Auckland, New Zealand
My favourite part of Sri Chinmoy's path
Muslim Badami Auckland, New ZealandProgress-Pilgrimage: A 1200km run from Vienna to Paris
Shamita Achenbach-König Vienna, Austria
My typical day
Pranlobha Kalagian Seattle, United States
My well-scheduled day
Jayasalini Abramovskikh Moscow, Russia
Love, devotion and surrender
Pradhan Balter Chicago, United States
I can recall only one occasion in my life when, ever so briefly, I fondly imagined that I was about to become enlightened. It was way back in 1978 and I was sitting in the cold winter sunshine on the shores of Rabbit Island, near Nelson in
Alas, as the hours wore on my euphoria receded, along with my expectation of an enlightenment experience, and I realised that I was about to rejoin the great Multitudes of the Unenlightened. The tide had come in and one of my discarded shoes, mocking my dismay, bobbed past me in the tide, enjoying its own brief liberation from worldly constraints. But the doorway had opened and I would never forget this sweet feeling of the inner life, like the distant memory of a happy childhood awoken by the fragrance, half a lifetime later, of a single tiny flower.
