A Man Named Mooji
We all have our passions in life. For some it’s primping their poodle for a dog show, for some it’s knowing all the characters in Downton Abbey, and for others it’s collecting crystals. For me, it’s following spiritual teachers on YouTube. It helps remind me again and again (because I stupidly forget again and again), who I am. When I get caught up in my stuff, it helps me to remember that all there is is presence or awareness, and that I am that awareness – not my story, not my thoughts, not my feelings (though they are part of it too). For a few precious moments, I am at peace.
My passion is for those who teach within the tradition of Advaita or nonduality. Simply put, Advaita means “not two.” Everything is a part of and made of one nondual consciousness. If you don’t understand this, don’t worry. I’ve been trying to understand it for a long time; I’m only now realizing that the whole secret of Advaita is that it can’t be understood. It is beyond the mind, beyond concepts, beyond beliefs, yet it’s immediately available here and now in present moment awareness. This is what Eckhart Tolle refers to as “The Eternal Now.”
The nondual philosophy has a wonderful simplicity to it. There are no practices, no rules, no hierarchies, no gurus. Teachers of nonduality are merely pointing us back within to what we already know.
I’ve been pursuing this path for years and have spent time with just about every well-known nondual teacher out there, from Adyashanti, to Gangaji, Francis Lucille, Catherine Ingram, Robert Adams, Satyam Nadeen, and so many others. For years I traveled the world to be with them, schlepping everywhere from Hawaii, to Florida, to New Mexico, to Virginia, to Bali.
Then, one day I got tired of the chase. I got tired of sitting cross-legged on hard floors in long retreats until my butt and legs got so sore I couldn’t stand. I got tired of all the same questions being asked again and again. So I gave up and swore never to do a retreat again.
Then, some years later, technology handed me a little surprise. I didn’t have to go to them. They came to me in the comfort of my own living room. I started a weekly meditation group irreverently called, “Popcorn, Wine and Meditation,” where we meditate for half an hour, then watch a video of one of our favorite teachers.
One night I happened to click on a video by Mooji. “Wow,” I thought, as I watched him speak. “This guy has such a powerful presence. He’s the real deal.” I was touched by how he comes on the stage before beginning his talk, first paying his respect to his teachers by bringing his palms together and bowing to photographs of them, then bowing to those in the hall, over 1000 people. He even acknowledges through the camera, those who are watching his talk around the world.I was reassured to see that his teachers are H. W. L. Poonja (Papaji) and Sri Ramana Maharshi, two of the most respected sages in India.
Who is this man named Mooji? At first glance he appears to be Indian, with his dark skin, grey beard and long hair. But when he turns his head I notice that his hair is in dreadlocks, neatly tied behind his head. I remember that he is Jamaican. His eyes are dark brown, radiating compassion and calmness. He is of medium height, a little on the heavy side, and is conservatively dressed in Indian-style clothing. It’s difficult to tell his age, but I guess he’s in his early sixties. He sits for several minutes looking out at the group sitting before him, without saying a word. There is a profound silence in the hall, which finds its way across 12.000 km into my own living room. I get the sense that nothing in the world could ever shake him away from this calm presence.
Then, after a few words, he invites someone from the audience to ask a question. Mooji teaches by using a question and answer approach. Sometimes the question will be as simple as, “Mooji, I’m stuck,” or it may be an emotionally charged question from someone experiencing pain. No matter what the question, he responds to each person with extraordinary patience. He guides them to go deeper into themselves, inviting them to go beyond the mind and see what doesn’t change. Not at some future time, but right here, in the present moment. “Step into the fire of satsang,” he says. “It will not burn who you are. It will only burn what you are not.”
His talks usually last two and a half hours. He is a great storyteller, and often has the audience laughing uproariously at his gestures and sound effects. I find watching him mesmerizing. Words just seem to flow through him, How can someone who grew up in Jamaica, and with no formal education, speak from a place of such wisdom, I ask myself?
What amazes me the most is that it’s not what he’s saying which is important. It’s what is being communicated beyond words. By some miracle there is a transmission of energy that comes through all those little pixels on the screen that creates a deep sense of calm in me. It is this silent transmission which is at the heart of what Mooji has to say.
I’ve watched with fascination as Mooji has moved from teaching to a few people in his living room, to having sold-out retreats for a thousand people, with many more thousands watching on TV. Mooji has become the guru of the moment, like a brilliant meteor streaming through the sky. He now has his own retreat center in Portugal, with hundreds of young seekers giving up their everyday lives to come and live with him. There is a palpable sense of excitement in the air as this new community takes form. It is like a throwback to the eighties, when spiritual communities were popping up everywhere. He often says he is not here to create a community; he is here to set you free. He clearly is a very charismatic leader.
After my own experience of being in a cult, I am highly sensitive to signs of cult behavior. I’ve watched with some concern as those around him have become more and more openly demonstrative in showing their love for him. Many of his female devotees bow to his feet, sometimes moaning and weeping as they declare their love for their teacher. It’s clear that Mooji does not discourage any of this behavior, and in fact encourages it. It reminds me of when I fell head over heels for my guru, all starry-eyed and innocent.
The temptations of power are immensely seductive for anyone in this position, and the stories of abuse are legendary. Will Mooji be able to stay free of these temptations? I have no idea. In the meantime, he has a powerful message of freedom that is available to anyone who wants to come and drink at the well. He is challenging us to wake up to the truth of who we are and to discover a happiness that does not go away.
For now, I’ll continue to let Mooji break open the doors of my heart, reminding me of who I truly am. The rest will take care of itself.