Really makes me smile, Rick. Thanks. I loved the guy.
--- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "Rick Archer" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > By Charles F. Lutes > As Told to Martin Zucker > > CHAPTER ONE > East Meets West > > Nicky and I were out, as usual, taking our nightly constitutional along > Ventura Boulevard. For me, the walking was good exercise and a relaxing form > of therapy, an attempt to flush out the tension built up during a day of > business activity. Nicky, of course, loved it. A dog needs his exercise > after being cooped up in the backyard all day and our little Cocker Spaniel > was no exception. > > It was a pleasant evening around the beginning of 1959. > > Nicky was doing his thing, intently exploring the doggy wonders of the > sidewalk world, and I was absent-mindedly window gazing and mulling over the > day's events. > > From out of nowhere, so it seemed, a stranger approached. He was > distinguished-looking, well-dressed, middle -aged. He greeted me and > expressed admiration for the dog. > > "Yes," I said, "'Nicky' is quite an animal. We are even thinking of sending > him off to culinary school so he can cook and earn his keep." > > The man laughed but immediately turned serious and said, "Very great indeed > is your good fortune because shortly you will meet a master of this earth > and our time who is going to have great impact on the world with his > teaching. And you will become very close to him." > > Before I had a chance to respond, the man bid me good night and walked > briskly away down the street and turned the corner. > > The strange encounter seemed to have paralyzed me right in my tracks. By the > time I got myself in motion again it must have been a full minute. I hurried > to the corner to find the man and ask for an explanation. How did he know > all that? > > I reached the corner and saw no one. He couldn't have gone very far, yet he > had seemingly vanished. I had never seen him before and I never saw him > again. > > A few nights later, Nicky and I were making the same rounds and this time we > had our pal, Peter the Hermit, with us. Peter was an old-time Hollywood bit > player who lived by himself in the Hollywood Hills not far from us. He had a > long white beard and flowing white hair and would get called by movie > producers anytime they needed somebody to play an old prospector or biblical > prophet. > > Peter was also extremely psychic. > > As we were walking along he suddenly said to me: "You know, Charlie, you are > going to meet a great teacher pretty soon and he will have a big part in > your life." > > The message sounded very familiar. > > And just how did he know? > > "I just know, Charlie. I just know." That's all he could say. > > * * * > > Five years earlier, I probably would have laughed off these two incidents as > purely coincidental encounters with neighborhood weirdoes. > > In 1954, I was 40 years old. I had had a standard middle-American Christian > upbringing. My grandfather had won a Congressional Medal of Honor in the > Civil War. My father manufactured window glass. As a boy, I was sent to > military school. I boxed in college and served in the engineering corps > during World War II. Except for a brief crack at acting, I pretty much toed > the conservative straight and narrow. > > An influential family friend counseled me out of an actor's life. "Get > serious," he said, and set up an appointment for me with the general manager > of the Portland Cement Company. I was hired. Later I joined Flintkote > Corporation, a huge firm that supplied steel construction products as well > as concrete. My whole life became wrapped up around my work. I was sales > representative, a career man with blinkers, largely oblivious to almost > everything else, although I did follow world events, business news, and the > Los Angeles Rams with some interest. > > I would have had an impossible time trying to tell you anything about the > meaning of life. There was absolutely nothing in my track record to suggest > a tendency toward spirituality or meditation. To me, life was measured in > tons of steel and yards of concrete. I could tell you how much concrete was > poured into the downtown Los Angeles freeway cloverleaf and how much steel > was holding up the Park La Brea Towers. I knew because I had sold the > materials. > > My friends were people from the industry and we talked steel, concrete, and > construction. In the course of a day, I would be attending the endless > details involved in any number of building jobs. I'd meet with crew foremen, > engineers, architects, and even company presidents. I worked hard and took > the pressures of the job home with me to my wife, Helen. > > In 1954 I became suddenly ill. I was having lunch with a business associate > in Farmer's Market. The waitress was bringing a slice of pecan pie I had > just ordered. All at once, the restaurant turned upside down and my heart > started thumping like a tom-tom. I grabbed onto the table and held on for > dear life. I thought I was having a heart attack. Pretty soon the room > turned right side up again but I felt terrible. > > My friend drove me right over to my doctor's office. The doctor examined me. > It wasn't a heart attack, he said afterward, but something was definitely > wrong. > > That's how it began. I was totally healthy one minute and in bad shape the > next. It was an illness the doctors were never able to explain. In a short > period of time, I lost 65 pounds. From a robust 200-pound six-footer, I > shrank down to skin and bones. I experienced blackouts with such frequency > that my company assigned a driver to me. At one time or another, practically > every gland and organ in my body stopped working. > > This ordeal had been going on for several months when one afternoon I began > to feel the usual symptoms that preceded a blackout: palpitations, a cold > and clammy feeling, and a dry throat. > > I headed for the doctor as fast as I could. When I arrived, I was pretty > groggy. The doctor took one look at me and cleared a treatment room. I > remember him pulling off my coat and shirt and going over me with his > stethoscope. > > "Charlie, it looks real bad this time," he said. "I'm afraid you are dying." > > > Flat on my back on the treatment table, all I could apparently summon out of > a fading mind was concern for an orderly passing. > > According to the doctor, I mumbled to him that the car was in the parking > lot, the keys were in my coat, that he should call Helen and tell her I > loved her and to please bury me in Forest Lawn. > > I only remember some slurred speech, blurred vision, cold extremities, and > the jab of an adrenaline injection. From what seemed like a great distance I > heard, "He's pretty well gone." > > Then there was the most beautiful calm, peace, and warmth I had ever felt in > my life. Sometimes you read about people who cross over the line between > life and death and who somehow revive and describe a momentary ascension > into a sublime state of utter peace and beauty. Apparently, that is what I > experienced. > > During this passage of time a voice spoke up from within my mind and said: > "If you wish you may come home, Charlie. You have done well. But if you wish > to stay, you can be of greater help to your fellow man than you ever dreamed > of." > > I remember answering: "If I can be of any benefit to humanity, then let me > stay." > > "That is very good," the voice said. "So be it." > > The inner dialogue ended. The next thing I became aware of was sensation > returning to my extremities. > > In twenty minutes I could see clearly. In a half-hour I was sitting up on > the treatment table. A little while later I walked out of that doctor's > office, albeit with help, but nevertheless feeling much better than when I > had walked in. Slowly and surely, I started Improving and putting on weight. > I was recovering. > > The doctor was amazed. > > "We doctors see a lot of things and some of them we just don't understand," > he told me about a month later. "Obviously you shouldn't be here. But you > are and we can't quarrel with that." > > Often it is in times of severe illness, or after a near-miss with death, > that people turn to religion or begin to think about the meaning of life. So > it was with me. > > Helen had always been interested in spirituality. She read widely on the > subject and frequently attended lectures. She tried to interest me, but I > would always put her off. Now I asked her about it. I started to accompany > her to talks by such people as Dr. Ernest Holmes of Science of Mind and > Manley P. Hall of the Philosophic Research Society. > > Little by little, I began to explore the concepts of metaphysics and > reincarnation and look beyond the boundaries of my orthodox Christian > background. Together with Helen, I heard the teachers of Theosophy, the > Rosicrucian Order, and Vedanta. We learned to meditate one way and then the > other. Concentration. One-pointedness of mind. Hallucination of light. You > name it. We tried it. > > New avenues of understanding were opening. By the time I met the stranger in > the street, I knew that such an encounter could be more than mere > coincidence. > > It was shortly afterward that the stranger's prophesy was fulfilled. > > * * * > > One day I returned home from work and Helen told me about somebody called > Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. > > "He's an Indian man from the Himalayas," she said, with more than the usual > zeal she radiated whenever she discovered a new teacher. "And he's giving a > lecture tonight on meditation at the Masquer's Club." > > The Hollywood Masquer's Club was a place where film people used to gather to > eat, drink, and socialize. > > Helen said a doctor friend of ours was going and that she certainly wanted > to go, too. I was in no mood to go that evening and I told her so. My brain > was bulging from a big construction deal I was working on. What's more, I > was deeply engrossed in one particular avenue of metaphysical study at the > time. > > "The two of you go," I suggested. > > When she wants to be, my wife can be very determined. "Well, if we go, it > won't hurt you to go either," she said. > > So all three of us went. > > In the lounge of the club, some chairs were arranged around a small drab > stage that was bare except for a bench and what looked like an animal skin > on it. There were twenty-five or thirty other people seated around the > stage. > > We sat down and before very long a small, bearded man emerged from a side > door. He wore a white, sheet-like robe and carried flowers.. He stepped onto > the stage and sat down on the animal skin. > > I had gone to the lecture reluctantly but as he spoke I began to realize he > had something very important to say. He could teach you a technique, he > said, enabling you to go within yourself and fathom your own interior > nature. > > He called the technique "deep meditation." Several years later, he would > change the name to Transcendental Meditation. > > By using the technique you could release an enormous amount of latent > potential into your everyday activity. Your mind could reach the very source > from which thoughts spring. Through the process you infuse an enormous > amount of pure energy into your body. You strip your mind of crippling > tensions and stresses and replace them with bliss and peace. > > "I have brought from the Himalayas the fulfillment of every man's need in > this fast tempo of modern living," I recall him saying. "I have brought from > the land of ancient sages to the modern man of this new world a simple > technique of living in peace and happiness. If we can bring inner > contentment into the daily lives of individuals, then we can put an end to > wars and suffering." > > The man from the Himalayas said his technique could be learned quickly and > need only be practiced twice a day for a half-hour each time. > > Although his heavily-accented Indian English was hard to follow, I found his > message clear enough. He was offering me a way to reduce tension and at the > same time open the door to the interior and all-powerful nature of the mind. > He described a technique that appeared much simpler to do than the laborious > forms of meditation I had been practicing hitherto. > > After the lecture I went up to him and said: "I have an enormous amount of > tension. If I start to practice your deep meditation, will I lose it?" > > "Yes, you will lose it," he said in a soft and friendly voice. > > I thanked him for the lecture and went looking for Helen, who had gone > outside with our doctor friend. > > "Well?" she said. > > "He told me his technique could fix me up." > > "So did you sign up? It would be nice living for a change with a man who > isn't wound up all the time." > > I wanted to think about it. Maybe. Later. > > "Go in and sign up," she said. "I just did." > > So I went back in and signed up. A couple of days later, Helen and I were > initiated into deep meditation. > > Maharishi had set up shop in the spacious, comfortable house of Helena and > Roland Olson, a Los Angeles couple who had attended the same lecture and > offered their home to Maharishi. > > We were told to bring an offering of fruit, flowers and a handkerchief for > the ceremony of initiation. I didn't question any of this. If that was what > he wanted, it was okay with me. > > We arrived at the Olson's house, each of us carrying a great big bouquet of > flowers, a basket of fruit, and a nice new Irish linen handkerchief. > > Helen and I were shown into the den of the Olson house, where Maharishi was > waiting. The room smelled of incense. > > Maharishi welcomed us with a nod and a smile. He asked if we were doing any > other kind of meditation. Yes, I told him, we had been practicing other > forms of meditation involving contemplation and concentration. In fact, I > said, we had meditated with these techniques earlier that same day. I felt a > near sense of pride, of savvy, of not coming in green. > > He put me straight. "If you are going to start deep meditation, then you > have to give up the others. You cannot have a half day of this and a half > day of that. Cease the others.." > > Before we started, there was one important question that I wanted to ask > him. "Will I know God when I meditate?" > > "Better than that," he said, "you will experience God." > > The initiation ceremony began with Maharishi softly and beautifully chanting > in Sanskrit, the language of the ancient Indian teachings. Helen and I stood > there watching and listening. After a few minutes, Maharishi leaned over to > Helen and whispered a word into her ear. Then he did the same with me. These > were our mantras, the special sounds that Maharishi said could turn the mind > 180 degrees into the realm of pure Being. He told us how to repeat the > mantra in our minds when we meditated, but never in a manner of > concentration or effort. > > "We repeat the mantra innocently and effortlessly," he said, "and don't try > to make it do anything. We have thoughts and then maybe we realize we are > not saying the mantra, so we repeat the mantra. And so, the meditation is > like this. Mantra and thoughts. Thoughts and the mantra. A simple, easy flow > of thoughts and mantra. And it is the simplicity, the non-effort, that makes > it work." > > This is what he said then and nothing has changed to this day. > > I didn't really know how it would work or what was coming. I had had great > experiences before, using the other forms of meditation. I didn't know if > this would be the same. > > Maharishi asked us to sit down and meditate. And he sat down too to meditate > with us. We closed our eyes and followed his instructions. > > Well, I became convinced right from the start that he had something very > valid. I experienced bliss with the very first meditation. And I mean bliss. > It came down on me like rain. It was tremendous. And each meditation after > that was filled with bliss. It was very uplifting and difficult to describe. > You can only use one word. Bliss. > > And I had never experienced the same kind of bliss with the other > meditations. > > I thought that everybody would have the same experience and later on I found > out that it wasn't so. Everybody didn't have the same experience because no > two people have the precise degree of mental, physical, spiritual, and > nervous system development, and experience in meditation depends on these > factors. So experiences vary quite a bit from person to person. > > After we meditated the first time, we were told that Maharishi was going to > give a lecture in the Olson's living room that evening and if we wanted to > come we were welcome. We came and listened. And the next night we came. And > we came again and again. > > The thing that impressed me was that he wasn't teaching Hinduism or some > Eastern religion. He was simply giving a universal teaching that worked for > everybody. > > As far as the tension was concerned, I didn't lose it immediately, but > gradually it did diminish. In a matter of three months, I shed considerable > tension. > > It was a few days after our initiation that Helen and I decided we wanted to > help Maharishi spread his technique to others. We volunteered our services. > Helen got involved on a daily basis, helping around the Olson house, > arranging flowers, ushering in new meditators, and doing errands for > Maharishi. I came whenever my work schedule permitted, mostly to offer my > expertise in the construction of a meditation room that Maharishi wanted to > build in the backyard. > > I was out there coaching some volunteers in building fundamentals one day > when Maharishi walked up to me. > > "Do you like your meditation?" he asked. > > "Yes, Maharishi, I do." > > "Would you like to be with me?" > > "Yes, sure, Maharishi," I said, even though I didn't know what he meant. > > "Good," he said. "From today on you will be with me." > > With that he said to get my car, take his deerskin and put it on the > passenger's front seat. As soon as I did, he climbed in and sat down on the > deerskin. > > "Where do you want to go, Maharishi?" > > "We get some air," he said. "We see the city. We take drive." > > So off we drove. It was the first of many trips I would take with him, trips > that would take me around the world, expose me to danger, celebrities, and, > above all, his boundless wisdom. It was the start of a very personal > relationship and a message come true. > > > No virus found in this outgoing message. > Checked by AVG Free Edition. > Version: 7.5.516 / Virus Database: 269.17.11/1200 - Release Date: 12/27/2007 > 1:34 PM >
