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My Hospital-Life Experiences - 1

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  • shardul_dillicar
    - Introduction - These stories have seen the light of day due mostly to my own big mouth. In March of this year, I was relating some of my most recent hospital
    Message 1 of 2 , May 2, 2004
      - Introduction -

      These stories have seen the light of day due mostly to my own big
      mouth. In March of this year, I was relating some of my most recent
      hospital stories to our dear sisters Nishtha, Pranika and Shephali
      over the phone. Nishtha retold them at an evening function in New
      York that night and consequently, Sri Chinmoy mentioned to Shephali
      that it would be nice if I could print some stories in book form.
      This was accomplished toward the end of the April celebrations in
      New York and the rest, as they say, is history. It takes the help of
      many people to create even a small book like this one, and I wish to
      thank all those involved for their kind assistance and patience. I
      am still waiting for an agent or publicist to call and have not yet
      heard from either Peter Jackson, Ron Howard. Or even Mridanga. But
      everything takes time ... right?

      Speaking of time, my medical life history could only be described as
      busy, as it began at age nine. (Well, actually, there was the time
      that I swallowed a bee when I was two. But that belongs in another
      book.) There are vast volumes of medical notes in several hospitals
      in New Zealand and Australia to prove this. People, God bless them,
      often tend to want to commiserate with me on my "misfortunes". But
      to be honest, I feel that from the spiritual point of view these
      experiences have actually been opportunities to transcend my
      limitations and to grow spiritually. Like all experiences in life,
      it is not what happens to us, but how we deal with it that counts.
      And I cannot tell you how blessed I feel to have a caring and loving
      Guru to help me through these often trying times and who gives me
      the capacity to garner life-lessons from it all. I do not know
      exactly why I am having these experiences but I can tell you that I
      am genuinely grateful for them. And in this way, I feel that it is
      not me who has written this book, but something of our Dear Lord's
      doing from out of the mists of time. Someone with a wicked sense of
      humour once said to me, "It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
      "Thanks for that!

      In writing these stories, I have come to realise that I have a
      really bad memory. I have received quite a few nice messages from
      Sri Chinmoy over the years and can feel the fragrance of them, but
      cannot for the life of me remember too much of the actual wording.
      Sri Chinmoy has always suggested that we should write our nice
      experiences down in a notebook so that we have a record for the
      long- term. That way, if we are feeling down or in need of
      inspiration, we can read of our own sacred meditation and life
      experiences to re- inspire ourselves. I find myself wishing that I
      had taken the time to do this more often, especially in the light of
      trying to remember details for this book.

      Having thoroughly enjoyed recording these stories, I do hope you
      enjoy reading them. If nothing else, they stand as a testimony to a
      Guru's Love for his disciples; a phenomenon that is beyond mind and
      time and belongs to the realm of Unconditional and Divine Love. To
      feel the sweet fragrance of this Love in your heart is to have
      everything one could hope for in the human life of aspiration.

      Thank You everyone, for your kind encouragement... Shardul.


      Chapter 1
      - And So It Begins -

      1. Rheumatic Fever - 1969

      When I was 9 years old, I was blessed with a serious bout of
      rheumatic fever. This is a medical condition that damages the inner
      workings of the heart, especially the heart valves, and renders them
      susceptible to infection. I remember enduring intense fevers and
      awfully scary and vivid hallucinations. Rheumatic fever often kills
      kids, but by God's Grace and penicillin, I survived. Sri Chinmoy
      rescued me from the ordinary life of spiritual malnutrition some 14
      years later. Who knows how many times we are saved from disaster in
      the sweep of our evolution. The experiences and opportunities that
      we are having as a result of the boon of being Sri Chinmoy's
      students, make a survival like mine very significant, and I pray
      that I can learn to be more grateful.

      2. Cowboys and Indians

      My father had a penchant for watching cowboy movies on the
      television. One Saturday evening, my parents were watching one of
      these rollicking westerns while across the hall in my bedroom, I had
      begun to have a fever and an accompanying nightmare. The two
      realities morphed into one and I found myself tied to a chair at the
      top of the world. Every single cowboy and every single Indian in the
      whole wide world were charging toward each other in what was to be
      the final mad battle of battles. All were screaming and shooting
      wildly. Unfortunately for poor little me, the spot where they were
      about to clash happened to be right where I was sitting tied to the
      chair, which in turn, was tied to a large pole. I remember thinking
      at the time that it must have been the North Pole because I was
      definitely sitting at the top of a very small version of the world.

      Fortunately, my mother came to my rescue just in the nick of time.
      Mothers always have such great timing! Apparently I had been
      screaming much louder than the din of the movie and Mum galloped
      into my room on her horse called "Grave-Concern" to extricate me
      from all danger. The cowboys and the Indians raced off to some other
      battleground, presumably uncluttered by small boys, Mums, chairs and
      poles. I was carted off to hospital for 3 months. 10 years later I
      caught up with the cowboys, but that's another story.

      "Doctors call it an emergency room.
      I call it God's Compassion-Exercise Room." - Sri Chinmoy.

      To be continued...
    • kamalakanta47
      Dear Shardul, Hi! :-) I read your book often, especially when I am working at the computer. It is great when the computer is compressing audio! People must
      Message 2 of 2 , May 4, 2004
        Dear Shardul, Hi! :-)

        I read your book often, especially when I am working at the
        computer. It is great when the computer is compressing audio! People
        must think I'm crazy, for I am often laughing out loud when I read
        your book. Besides "Laughing Gas is No Joke", I like "Drip-Stands I
        Have Known" very much.

        Please, keep it coming!

        Your laughing companion in the Supreme, Kamalakanta

        --- In Sri_Chinmoy_Inspiration@yahoogroups.com, shardul_dillicar
        <no_reply@y...> wrote:
        > - Introduction -
        >
        > These stories have seen the light of day due mostly to my own big
        > mouth. In March of this year, I was relating some of my most recent
        > hospital stories to our dear sisters Nishtha, Pranika and Shephali
        > over the phone. Nishtha retold them at an evening function in New
        > York that night and consequently, Sri Chinmoy mentioned to Shephali
        > that it would be nice if I could print some stories in book form.
        > This was accomplished toward the end of the April celebrations in
        > New York and the rest, as they say, is history. It takes the help of
        > many people to create even a small book like this one, and I wish to
        > thank all those involved for their kind assistance and patience. I
        > am still waiting for an agent or publicist to call and have not yet
        > heard from either Peter Jackson, Ron Howard. Or even Mridanga. But
        > everything takes time ... right?
        >
        > Speaking of time, my medical life history could only be described as
        > busy, as it began at age nine. (Well, actually, there was the time
        > that I swallowed a bee when I was two. But that belongs in another
        > book.) There are vast volumes of medical notes in several hospitals
        > in New Zealand and Australia to prove this. People, God bless them,
        > often tend to want to commiserate with me on my "misfortunes". But
        > to be honest, I feel that from the spiritual point of view these
        > experiences have actually been opportunities to transcend my
        > limitations and to grow spiritually. Like all experiences in life,
        > it is not what happens to us, but how we deal with it that counts.
        > And I cannot tell you how blessed I feel to have a caring and loving
        > Guru to help me through these often trying times and who gives me
        > the capacity to garner life-lessons from it all. I do not know
        > exactly why I am having these experiences but I can tell you that I
        > am genuinely grateful for them. And in this way, I feel that it is
        > not me who has written this book, but something of our Dear Lord's
        > doing from out of the mists of time. Someone with a wicked sense of
        > humour once said to me, "It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
        > "Thanks for that!
        >
        > In writing these stories, I have come to realise that I have a
        > really bad memory. I have received quite a few nice messages from
        > Sri Chinmoy over the years and can feel the fragrance of them, but
        > cannot for the life of me remember too much of the actual wording.
        > Sri Chinmoy has always suggested that we should write our nice
        > experiences down in a notebook so that we have a record for the
        > long- term. That way, if we are feeling down or in need of
        > inspiration, we can read of our own sacred meditation and life
        > experiences to re- inspire ourselves. I find myself wishing that I
        > had taken the time to do this more often, especially in the light of
        > trying to remember details for this book.
        >
        > Having thoroughly enjoyed recording these stories, I do hope you
        > enjoy reading them. If nothing else, they stand as a testimony to a
        > Guru's Love for his disciples; a phenomenon that is beyond mind and
        > time and belongs to the realm of Unconditional and Divine Love. To
        > feel the sweet fragrance of this Love in your heart is to have
        > everything one could hope for in the human life of aspiration.
        >
        > Thank You everyone, for your kind encouragement... Shardul.
        >
        >
        > Chapter 1
        > - And So It Begins -
        >
        > 1. Rheumatic Fever - 1969
        >
        > When I was 9 years old, I was blessed with a serious bout of
        > rheumatic fever. This is a medical condition that damages the inner
        > workings of the heart, especially the heart valves, and renders them
        > susceptible to infection. I remember enduring intense fevers and
        > awfully scary and vivid hallucinations. Rheumatic fever often kills
        > kids, but by God's Grace and penicillin, I survived. Sri Chinmoy
        > rescued me from the ordinary life of spiritual malnutrition some 14
        > years later. Who knows how many times we are saved from disaster in
        > the sweep of our evolution. The experiences and opportunities that
        > we are having as a result of the boon of being Sri Chinmoy's
        > students, make a survival like mine very significant, and I pray
        > that I can learn to be more grateful.
        >
        > 2. Cowboys and Indians
        >
        > My father had a penchant for watching cowboy movies on the
        > television. One Saturday evening, my parents were watching one of
        > these rollicking westerns while across the hall in my bedroom, I had
        > begun to have a fever and an accompanying nightmare. The two
        > realities morphed into one and I found myself tied to a chair at the
        > top of the world. Every single cowboy and every single Indian in the
        > whole wide world were charging toward each other in what was to be
        > the final mad battle of battles. All were screaming and shooting
        > wildly. Unfortunately for poor little me, the spot where they were
        > about to clash happened to be right where I was sitting tied to the
        > chair, which in turn, was tied to a large pole. I remember thinking
        > at the time that it must have been the North Pole because I was
        > definitely sitting at the top of a very small version of the world.
        >
        > Fortunately, my mother came to my rescue just in the nick of time.
        > Mothers always have such great timing! Apparently I had been
        > screaming much louder than the din of the movie and Mum galloped
        > into my room on her horse called "Grave-Concern" to extricate me
        > from all danger. The cowboys and the Indians raced off to some other
        > battleground, presumably uncluttered by small boys, Mums, chairs and
        > poles. I was carted off to hospital for 3 months. 10 years later I
        > caught up with the cowboys, but that's another story.
        >
        > "Doctors call it an emergency room.
        > I call it God's Compassion-Exercise Room." - Sri Chinmoy.
        >
        > To be continued...
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