Sunday 20th - Angel of the Supreme

Either the alarm clock either didn't go off, or we were in a state of sleep far beyond the reach of any terrestrial noise. Either way, it's seven o'clock. Sri Chinmoy recommends we get our meditation finished by seven, as at that time the world starts awakening and it makes it that much more difficult to concentrate; today certainly isn't the best meditation I've ever had. The singing afterwards is much better though, and I get up with that warm glow in my heart which is usually a reliable barometer of a good day ahead. There is packing and cleaning to be done; last night, Sri Chinmoy indicated he might be coming early to meditation, so there's a chance we might catch one last meditation with him before we leave to catch the plane.

The tent which has shielded us from the elements is beginning to be dismantled as we arrive; the New York snow will render Aspiration-Ground unusable for the next couple of months. Niriha gives me a copy of the poem "Goodnight Moon" by Ivan Granger to read on the plane home, which she has printed out from the PoetSeers website. I've allocated myself and Colm two hours to get to Newark, and the time is creeping up to the time when we should be going. I intend cutting the time as finely as possible though, because sometimes even a last glance from one's spiritual master whom you will not see for four or five months can be a memorable experience. I remember the last time I saw Sri Chinmoy in Germany my mind was rather clouded over with all kinds of worldly issues. We were at the end of the last meditation function I was to attend and Guru was getting up to leave, and I was thinking 'oh well, fixing these kinds of things isn't like instant coffee, sure something will work itself out', but then Guru asked everyone who was leaving that day to come up and pass by him so he could meditate on them, and as I passed by Guru gave such a beautiful smile that immediately seemed to dissolve whatever dead elephants I was carrying, and sure enough, when I got back to Ireland a weird and wonderful train of events had already been set in motion, which hopefully I shall write about here someday....anyway, you've gotten the point by now, it's no harm waiting around for one last blessing from your master.

Thankfully Arpan appreciates our situation and offers to drive us to another subway station, buying us some extra time. However, there is no sign of Guru, and by now we really are cutting it late; we reluctantly get into the car and speed off. This is a situation I find myself in at least five or six times a year, on my way to the airport with a real chance of missing the flight. I keep anticipating that this will be the time the Supreme will finally lose patience with me, but every time He merely finds a new form to operate through.... we're in the Port Authority bus station eyeing up the lousy signage in an attempt to find our way to the airport bus, and a Hispanic man overhears us and says 'follow me'; he doesn't look all that well dressed and part of me is wondering whether some kind of hustle is going on, but no, there is something about his manner that makes you trust him...he leads us up a maze of escalators and elevators that would probably have taken us a fatal amount of time to navigate on our own, and gets us on the last bus out to the airport with three minutes to spare. And as the bus pulls out, and I collapse back on the seat, it finally dawns on me that another memorable trip is over, and the time to absorb what one has gained and bring it forward into my daily life has begun.