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Sri Chinmoy's students describe their inner and outer experiences.
'You two have been friends for many hundreds of years'
Jogyata Dallas Auckland, New Zealand
'You have to be like a warrior and fight'
Mahiyan Savage San Diego, United States
Listen to the inner voice
Vidura Groulx Montreal, Canada
A spiritual name is the name of our soul, and what we can become
Nayak Polissar Seattle, United States
In the Whirlwind of Life
Pradeep Hoogakker The Hague, Netherlands
I see infinitely more than I say
Agraha Levine Seattle, United States
'Always say things in such a way as to inspire people, not discourage them'
Pradhan Balter Chicago, United States
Bhutan, A Country Less Travelled...
Ambarish Keenan Dublin, Ireland
A 40-Year Blessing
Sarama Minoli New York, United States
It does not matter which spoon you use
Brahmacharini Rebidoux St. John's, Canada
My 5 a.m. strategic meditations
Sanchita Fleming Ottawa, Canada
The day I saw my Guru's Third Eye
Vidura Groulx Montreal, CanadaSuggested videos
interviews with Sri Chinmoy's students
Sri Chinmoy's inner guidance
Kailash Beyer Zurich, Switzerland
Life in a spiritual workplace
Pranlobha Kalagian Seattle, United States
My favourite part of Sri Chinmoy's path
Muslim Badami Auckland, New Zealand
How meditation helped me swim the English Channel
Abhejali Bernardova Zlín, Czech Republic
Beginnings of a spiritual journey
Mahatapa Palit New York, United States
I can recall only one occasion in my life when, ever so briefly, I fondly imagined that I was about to become enlightened. It was way back in 1978 and I was sitting in the cold winter sunshine on the shores of Rabbit Island, near Nelson in
Alas, as the hours wore on my euphoria receded, along with my expectation of an enlightenment experience, and I realised that I was about to rejoin the great Multitudes of the Unenlightened. The tide had come in and one of my discarded shoes, mocking my dismay, bobbed past me in the tide, enjoying its own brief liberation from worldly constraints. But the doorway had opened and I would never forget this sweet feeling of the inner life, like the distant memory of a happy childhood awoken by the fragrance, half a lifetime later, of a single tiny flower.
