It Happened in Pune

In 1979 I read Only One Sky by Osho. I was so moved that I literally jumped on a plane to Pune to meet this remarkable person.

At the Koregaon Park ashram were thousands of people who felt the same pull I did. Every morning we gathered in Buddha Hall to listen to Osho giving discourse. One of the ashram residents that I had a strong connection with was Paritosh, who had studied under Carl Jung.

Everything at the ashram was a life changing experience, culminating in the ultimate life change, my death. Leading up to this, Osho communicated to me one very critical piece of information by saying, “If you can observe fear, how can this be part of you?”

In December 1979, after four months in Pune, I became very sick with amoebic dysentery, food borne hepatitis A, and dengue fever. The physical body weakened to the point where all that could be done was to lie in bed at the hotel; there was no strength left. The state of weakness was very peaceful, with an awareness that death would soon come. There was no fear but an interest for what lay ahead.

With a calm mind, all of the events in life that seemed so important slipped away; they had no interest anymore. Because of this weakened state, thoughts stopped. With the filter of thoughts gone, a greater level of internal awareness arose from the heart.

Slowly a gentle shaking started even though the body was still. Memories came of having done this many times before, it was so familiar. The shaking continued, I found myself looking down at this sick body, and started to laugh. Soon this body would end. My consciousness opened like a lotus flower, everything became vast beyond the size of this universe. Every part of the universe was part of me and every part of me was part of the universe. There was complete inclusion and acceptance.

Then, suddenly, the fierce grip of fear engulfed me. Suffocating, sticky, addictive, desirable, all consuming and compelling. The fear was so overwhelming that it seemed like a separate entity, not part of me. I remembered Osho's words: “If you can observe fear, how can this be part of you?”

With that remembrance, the fear dissolved. What remained was pure awareness, expanding beyond all boundaries. I shifted from the third to the fourth dimension as the life left my body, with ever expanding awareness that reached to the edge of the universe. Then shifted into the fifth dimension, where everything was illuminated, golden. Later I heard this was what the Tibetans call “The Land of The Golden Light.” Everything was absolute perfection.

A being came to me and asked me to return to the body. My response was, “No! I don't want to leave this wondrous place.” Then another being, the persona of a man, seated at a table at a café, gestured for me to sit down. He introduced himself: “In my last life on Earth, I was known as George Gurdjieff.”

He said, “We need you to go back.” After my joyful reunion on this wonderful plane I was reluctant, but he asked in such a way that I could not refuse. I commenced bargaining: “On one condition, that you don't take this memory from me.” He could not refuse me either. Then he added, “This is the last time you will have to return, I promise.”

As I was guided back, first into the 4th dimension, I could feel the expanded awareness shutting down. Then the re-entry into the cold, dense body. My roommate completely freaked out when I re-animated. The next thing I knew an Indian doctor was at my side who had just walked in off the street. He brought me sugar water, ordered some medications. He never asked for any money and I never saw him again.

I was very weak, but wanted to see Osho before I returned to the US. When I sat before him, he leaned forward and said, “You have done well,” followed by a smile.

The last day I was at the ashram, a German sannyasin came up to me and said, “Do you want to buy these three books?” The author of all of them was George Gurdjieff.

I have told this story many times to people I know, how to die consciously and return home. One of them was a doctor, a good friend. He had a deteriorating heart. He asked me, “Tell me again, how to die.” A few weeks later his wife called and told us he had passed. She said he was out working in the yard, laid down on the grass and died. He had a smile on his face. A week later I was asleep and heard him call my name. I sat up in bed, and there he was, all bathed in golden light, with a big grin. He was happy I could see him. Then I knew he made it home.