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A principle in life to remember is to travel light.
You are traveling all the time.
Travel light, live light, spread the light, be the light.
– Yogi Bhajan
A SCARY MIRROR
Memoirs by Kirpal Singh Khalsa
I cannot imagine how uncomfortable it would be to meet the Siri Singh Sahib if I had turned my back on my spiritual life. My subconscious guilt and shame would create such a fear I think I would do anything to avoid that confrontation. This is the only way I can explain the actions of one of our ashram members when Siri Singh Sahib came to visit. A spiritual teacher is a mirror. He reflects back to us our consciousness, for better or worse. Some teachers are dirty mirrors and do not reflect well. Others, like the Siri Singh Sahib are crystal clear. His ability to reflect back to us who we are and where we are was legendary.
Many time he reflected to me some aspect of my psyche I hid from. In these cases he blasted the tar out of me. But for me, it was always a deeply cleansing and enlightening experience. Still, every time I went to see him, it was with a mixture of fear and love. If not for the love, both for him and for myself, I would have stayed away. In the case of our ashram member, the fear of looking into that mirror got the better of him.
One evening we were driving back to the ashram from some function. Siri Singh Sahib Ji was asking about different people. “How is so-and-so doing? What about this guy? What ever happened to her?”
I did my best to update him.
It always amazed me how detailed was his memory and how well he knew even the most reclusive members of our community.
“What about that little guy, what’s-his-name?”
I knew immediately of whom he speaking.
“Oh, he doesn’t come around very much any more,” I said.
“Why?”
“He’s sort of into his own thing.”
“Let’s go see him.”
As it turned out, we were only a few blocks from his home. I made a couple of turns, surprising our security escort, and pulled into his driveway. The big Lincoln I had rented barely fit into the little space and with security escort and other entourage it must have been quite a scene. We piled out of the cars and walked to the house.
To get to the front door we first passed a large picture window on the porch. The curtains were open and we could look right into the house, through the living room, dining room and even into the back yard. Just as we were passing the window, “What’s his name”, came running out of a back bedroom, dressed only in katcheras, a sleeveless tee shirt and with his hair hanging down in a disheveled mess. “Look!” the Siri Singh Sahib cried. “He’s running away!”
Sure enough, “What’s his name”, ran through the living room, through the dining room, threw open the sliding glass window and ran outside, in his bare feet. “He’s running away!” The Siri Singh Sahib shouted. “Look! He’s in his underwear and he’s running away!”
We all stared in amazement. Without looking back, “What’s his name” dashed through the backyard, scrambled over a six-foot wall and disappeared. “Did you see that?” The Siri Singh exclaimed. “He freaked out and ran away.”
The guy’s wife came to the door and was utterly embarrassed. She said that she had told her husband that the Siri Singh Sahib was here. She said that he jumped out of bed in a panic and just ran. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” the Siri Singh Sahib said as we walked back to the cars.
Unknown to us at the time, “What’s his name” had made the decision to leave the ashram. No wonder the prospect of meeting the Siri Singh Sahib so freaked him out. But, in reality, it was not the Siri Singh Sahib he was afraid of. He was afraid of looking into that crystal clear mirror and seeing his own consciousness. He knew he had chosen weakness over strength, negativity over greatness and karma over destiny. Quite simply, he ran away from himself.
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