Guru was always far over the horizons of my comprehension—and what I could comprehend was always wonderful and breathtaking.
I often marvelled at those hundreds of times that Guru walked alone onto a concert stage before audiences of up to 18,000 people, folded his hands together over his heart, and simply by standing there, through the force of his love, the power of his meditation, his abandonment to God, brought a hushed, pin-drop silence to the entire auditorium. His tranquility, absolute poise, and the great achievement of his God-realisation were felt by everyone.
Then I would marvel at how he would sit in front of an unfamiliar piano or pipe organ with absolutely no idea of what he would play, no sheet music, no keyboard training, no mind or anxiety, entirely trusting in the higher worlds of music to pass through his fingers⎯the same surrender to God.
Guru’s personal example in this area of his life—which he also demonstrated in everything, everywhere—taught us much. He wanted us to understand our own capacity to uplift and serve the world, to live cocooned in God-trust, our confidence and power resulting from our growing oneness with him and God.
Once I was very touched by a small incident that occurred prior to a Peace Concert in Auckland. I went to Guru’s dressing room backstage to let him know that the hall was full and all was ready—there were 3,000 people waiting expectantly in the auditorium. I imagined Guru would have at least a little of our human apprehension or pre-concert nerves, but instead he looked at me with absolute attentiveness, calmly and so lovingly.
“Are you all right, Jogyata?” he asked, and looked deeply at me, wanting me to tell him of anything that might be troubling me. He was about to walk out in front of a packed concert hall and play for two hours, but his only concern was my welfare! I was amazed and tears came to my eyes.
The Master is
His torrential Heaven-blessings,
And his Heaven-concern
For his disciples.
Sri Chinmoy 1