Daily Meditation on my Gurudeva - Day 1

I want to start a daily reflection on my Guru Maharaja. The idea is to find a photo of him, whether online or in my own files, and write something about it: some memories, some reflections, some thoughts. Here is the first photo:

  
This was actually from Lavanga and Krishna Purvaja. I’m not sure how they initially ended up with the photo, but they gave it to my wife to give to me (along with a couple other photos of my Guru Maharaja) some time ago.

This is the photo of my Guru Maharaja that I have framed and sitting on my desk at work. I sometimes notice it and sometimes I don’t. In that way, it’s kind of like the relationship I really had with him. I sometimes thought about him, yet on many other occasions (often while engaged in sense gratification) he was very far away from my mind. Doesn’t this parallel our eternal storyline with Paramatma/Sri Krishna?

From far away I can only make out the reflection on his glasses and his wide, bright smile, like a sort of Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. That smile would light up a room, change people’s consciousness from gloom to happiness. He had a powerful charisma. His energy/aura was powerful and potent. When he would walk into a room, you could feel the atmosphere vibrate with spiritual energy. I miss that nervous excitement of his physical presence. Feeling safe and secure, knowing this was someone who could guide and protect you. I just imagined him walking into my room right now and what that would feel like. I’m trying not to cry as I type this.

The tears are flowing now. Not tears of ecstasy, rather tears of regret. Tears of not being able to follow his instructions. Tears of being a failure. In my last visit with him before he left this planet he apologized to me. He apologized for being “too hard” on me. I was leveled by his humility and replied that the problem was that I was too selfish to appreciate the service. He smiled…and that was the last time I saw him.

The tears start flowing again. Damn it. I wasn’t doing this to cry, but this is where Paramatma has brought me. Down to this river of tears and regret and shame. Down to the core of the heart and soul. I was expecting to blabber on about the garb he was wearing, the room he was in, the rings on his fingers and how those things would trigger memories of physically being around him. But that’s not important here, is it? Isn’t that just more looking at the externals? More illusion? He wasn’t a black man. He wasn’t a sannyasi. He was an embodiment of Guru-tattva and that is what this photo is telling me today.