My Dear Fills:
I am now sending you the letter of my inner experiences which 1 mentioned to you. Hitherto I have refrained from relating these experiences for a number of reasons; firstly, I did not wish to create the impression that I was on a pedestal, for a person creating such an impression is always in danger of falling off! Secondly, once an experience is finished with, it then becomes a memory, and all the prayers and pleadings to God will not bring it back, for God never repeats. And finally, I always ask myself, "I have had many experiences, so what! I remember a certain child's song which goes, 'The mill will never grind with the water that is past!'"
However, my dear Filis, I have changed my mind for two very good reasons: one is that I wish to prove, in my own feeble way, that God is not dead; and the second is that a person can reach very high and unusual states of consciousness without taking any kind of drug whatsoever, such as LSD, etc. So here goes!
Many years ago, while living in California, I retired for meditation and prayer into a little shack, situated at a place called Oceano, a small town halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco. The shack was hidden a half mile in from the beach, nestled among fairly high sand dunes. The reverberations of the waves could be heard, as at high tide they beat against the dunes, and my little shack would vibrate with the impact.
Here I closely followed Hindu meditations. My scripture was the Bhagavad Gita, the Lord's Song of the Hindus, which I read over and over again. How vividly the memory of this first experience remains with me, which I will now relate to you:
After meditating a certain part of the night, the next morning at about nine or ten, I was seated upon the parapet of my shack, facing the high dunes, with the sun directly overhead, and at that time I was not meditating. Suddenly, with my eyes open, it began to get dark, the stars were out, a cleansing rushing sound went through me, as the Hindus say, like "thunder in the mountains. " I felt certain that flesh and bones had melted in a fiery crucible; and in consciousness I found myself floating in a most blissful state, among the stars.
The experience was short, and I was back again once more seated on the parapet of my shack, looking towards the dunes. (Many years later it was explained to me by a Hindu authority that this experience was Samadhi.) Matters continued rather dull and uneventful.
There was dryness; there was emptiness; until, in 1934, Baba came to Hollywood. I went down to visit him. I stayed about an hour or more, and then went back to the dunes. I then sent a telegram to Baba, asking him to come to the dunes.