The Messenger of God

After Rudi’s Samadhi, I felt totally lost. The situation in New York was in disarray, disconnected and chaotic. A few of Rudi’s teachers came to town fighting for the crown. One of these teachers, who had been a friend of mine, kept on asking me to come and live in his Ashram. I felt reluctant, yet he kept persisting. He promised to let me run the Ashram’s bakery and be made a teacher. Neither of these offers tempted me. I needed THE REST OF THE PUZZLE that Rudi had unveiled for me. Finally, desperate enough, I agreed to come for a week’s visit. While in the Ashram, though enjoying the attention he bestowed upon me, I did not feel the fire in the situation. I felt listless and disconnected.

Then Tom Butler showed up. Tom was a friend from New York who was my fierce competitor for Rudi’s love and attention. We were spiritual rivals. Neither of us let Rudi out of our sight. But I loved Tom. He was a worthy man with a strong flame.

As we talked, he mentioned that he had just returned from Texas. I asked him what was he doing there. "There is a man in Denton who teaches Rudi’s work," was the answer. "His name is Stuart." I had met Stuart on two separate occasions in NYC, (meetings that were deeply profound and life altering) but never really knew much about his life. ‘"How was it?" I asked him. "Terrific," Tom said, "I wish I could stay, but he wouldn’t let me," Tom said answering my unspoken question. "He told me to go back to New York and take care of my responsibilities there. He said that he wasn’t running a refugee camp for wounded yogis."

His words struck me like a thunderbolt. I packed up and flew back to New York. Upon landing I called Stuart and asked to come and visit for a week. He agreed.

I felt like I was burning alive that whole week in Denton. At the end of my stay, I asked Stuart to move in. He refused. "Go back," he said, finish your situation and call me in a year."

As soon as I landed in NYC, I ran to the travel office and purchased a one-way ticket to Denton, Texas. I called Stuart again. "I am coming tomorrow," I said. ‘"f you don’t let me in, I will sleep on your door step." Stuart laughed whole-heartedly. "Come on, then," he said. "You’re welcome to live in my house."

Forty years later, I still remember how deeply my need was to get to God. In many ways, I’m still on my way to Denton.