On his birthday, I honor the Teacher of my Teacher, who in fierce beauty and with feral grace lived deep the forest of India for many years, then emerged to become the Guru Dev, Sri Brahmananda Sarasvati, Shankaracharya of Jyotir Math. He passed away the very year I was born, yet his tidal wave of living silence flows down through thousands of years into the grail of my heart, and my life has been transformed by his disciple, who was my beloved Friend and Teacher. My Teacher never called himself "Guru." He always bowed down to his Guru Dev, as Guru Dev bowed down to his, in that never-ending bow of humility that flows back to the source of creation. So the mysterious current of lineage runs deep through the caverns of time to nourish divine Presence. This is a mystery that few of us can comprehend, and many reject. They may claim to need no grace, but not I. My need for grace is infinite. I bow to the ancient Now of the Teacher's breath, and the liberating gaze of his darshan. I am just a dust mote dancing in that untamed beam of golden radiance.
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