A True Story of a Spiritual Experience: Sri Chinmoy’s Smear Against Me
This is the 4th blog article in my Karma from Smearing Sri Chinmoy series. In addition to karma, these blog articles discuss a spiritual communication with the Master. In this post I describe the Sri Chinmoy Burn—the true story of a spiritual experience with God that resulted in my image being smeared, causing me to lose most of my access to my daughter even though she and I were victims of parental alienation against me. A stipulation in a new Court Order (between me and the mother of my child, Erin,) made it impossible for me to help my daughter with the emotional neglect she had been going through (much of which involved Erin causing her to have issues with me).
It sounds bad. But it is actually positive. And it was the result of my bad karma.
This was my karma for smearing my spiritual Master, Sri Chinmoy, several times to 10 or 15 of his disciples after being disciplined by him — an action I found too humiliating.
The first part of this true story of a spiritual experience with God happened back in 2012. I ended up making a total fool out of myself by publicly warning people all over Facebook about a sickness I thought was being deliberately started. This, coupled with my parents trying to make me look much worse than I really was to several mental health professionals, resulted in me being diagnosed with schizophrenia.
This diagnosis was also due to the fact that, years prior, I spoke to a few psychiatrists. Most of them concluded that I have schizophrenia, which went into my health record.
And as I’ve gradually learned over the years, a psychiatrist’s version of “insight” largely involves looking into your health record to see what previous doctors said.
Why Would I Ever Speak to Psychiatrists in the First Place?
Before I tell you my true story of a spiritual experience with God, I’ll tell you how I ended up speaking to psychiatrists in the first place.
“The blows of my Master
I take as most beautiful flowers
Given to me by my Master.”
~ Sri Chinmoy [Source: Seventy-Seven Thousand Service-Trees, part 20]
The first time was in 2001 in Toronto. I was very mad at Sri Chinmoy for administering “blows,” something I will describe better in a subsequent article. Since he would not surrender to my temper tantrum, and I maliciously perceived him as just simply humiliating me or violating me, I went to a psychiatrist to help “prove” that these “blows” are not a mental illness. Call it an attempt to “expose” Sri Chinmoy to his disciples for doing something “bad” to me. Better yet, it was an attempt to make it appear as though Sri Chinmoy was doing something bad to me. By getting some kind of letter or by somehow making a psychiatrist my “advocate,” I would have “official” documents proving my claim against my Master.
Sri Chinmoy was, however, doing something GOOD. He helped me with some very bad karma I endured from previous bad behaviour. It was I who was adding the element of destructiveness.
Of course, I wrongly assumed psychiatrists were far more intelligent than they actually are. I thought I needed to show certain symptoms to be diagnosed with a mental illness. Therefore, I thought I could show that I don’t have this illness by demonstrating that I don’t have these symptoms.
I told them I have a “being” in my consciousness — which would definitely create a false impression of what I was actually experiencing. So, right off the bat, I caused the psychiatrists to think I have a mental illness, and they believed it.
Sri Chinmoy is not a “being” in my consciousness. It is an experience of oneness with my Higher Self. There is no separation. And that is the true story of my spiritual experience with God.
But my experience didn’t end there.
Something Helpful from a Psychiatrist
“The Master is the disciple’s own higher reality,”
~ Sri Chinmoy [Source: Sri Chinmoy Speaks, part 1]
“But I am not a different person; I am the most illumined part of your own existence.”
~ Sri Chinmoy [Source: The Master’s Inner Life]
After my spiteful intentions seeped away, I tried to help them understand how I do not have a mental illness, but they couldn’t see how it could be anything else.
That was fine. I could just forget about them. They were not going to “force” me to take medication.
Later that year, I went to a different psychiatrist at a different hospital in Toronto. He concluded that I didn’t need medication. He told me that he thought all I needed to do was stay away from drugs and alcohol. He was the only psychiatrist who came to that conclusion (that I know of) out of the more than twenty I talked to. Subsequent psychiatrists were not aware of this meeting with this particular psychiatrist. But then I should expect less from psychiatrists than I had gained through a true spiritual experience with God.
My Attempt to Trick Psychiatrists
About three years later, after graduating from a college graphic design program in Toronto, I found myself living with my girlfriend (Spixy) in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Like many recent graduates, I was unemployed.
I strongly felt that if I could just spend time at home studying certain software programs and building a better portfolio in (likely) non-billable ways, I could make myself a better graphic designer. I believed I would then have a much, much better career in graphic design. Otherwise, I was likely to end up spending years and years working in telemarketing or some other dead-end job despite my four years of college education.
Not the ending one expects (or hopes for!) in a true story of a spiritual experience with God.
For that reason, I went to a psychiatrist again — this time to convince her that I did indeed have a mental illness. I hoped to use my diagnosis (and perhaps a letter from her) to gain monthly disability checks from the provincial government. If I could do that, I could stay home studying every day. I would be set!
Yes, I was tricking them.
I met with a couple psychiatrists and asked them to retrieve my health record from my previous meetings with the psychiatrists in Toronto — the ones that concluded I have schizophrenia — with the hope of convincing them I have a mental illness.
Yup, they were convinced, meaning this and the notes from the previous psychiatrists all went into my health record.
Unfortunately, I had completely failed in my attempt to acquire monthly disability checks because, although Spixy had a menial, pathetic job, she was making enough to support both of us according to government protocols.
So, not only did that achieve nothing, now I am officially schizophrenic according to my health record with the Nova Scotia Health Authority. Making matters worse, the medication they gave me caused me to become sluggish, faint and subject to panic attacks, which made my already cynical girlfriend even more cynical of me.
The Beginning of My Daughter’s Behaviour Problems
Naturally, I discontinued meeting with these psychiatrists and discontinued taking the medication, which did nothing but create negative side effects.
Eventually, I decided to go back to college (in Nova Scotia). And my relationship with Spixy ended (being cynical toward me definitely a deal-breaker for me).
Before that, however, when my daughter was between one and two years old, Spixy and I began noticing behaviour problems. Spixy, of course, was quick to blame me. But I knew it wasn’t my fault. My daughter’s mother (Erin) tarnished our relationship by telling our daughter that “Mommy knows everything, and Daddy knows nothing” and that our daughter should keep secrets from me. I later realized this was also part of my karma for smearing Sri Chinmoy.
I am telling you all this because it directly relates to the true story of a spiritual experience with God. Because of this experience, I ended up in the hospital (involuntarily) which resulted in a Nova Scotia Legal Aid lawyer coming up with the ill-advised decision (which I submitted to due to naiveté on my part) to put a stipulation in mine and Erin’s Court Order stating that in order for me to help my daughter through a legal process, I must first get a letter from a psychiatrist to show the Family Court.
It is because of this stipulation in our Court Order that I have not been able to help my daughter through a legal process regarding the emotional neglect (and parental alienation against me) she has been going through all her life.
The following is the aforementioned true story of a spiritual experience with God, which took place during the early morning hours of June 1, 2012. (There will be more on this in my multi-volume spiritual memoir.)
Sri Chinmoy’s Smear Against Me
In mid-2012, Sri Chinmoy inwardly gave me messages about how some kind of illness, one that wouldn’t be an actual illness but actually just some kind of burn with the help of chemicals, would be deliberately started around late-May/early-June 2012. Naturally, I misinterpreted what he was saying, and I assumed some bad people were going to deliberately start this bad thing around the world (which I even referred to as The Burn to my friend, Tammy). Their goal was to kill a lot of people. I assumed they were mixing chemicals, and that these chemicals would burn skin. I was so fooled that Sri Chinmoy wanted me to try to help in some way that I contacted the FBI on their online tip form. This eventually caused me to suspect that the FBI or the CIA were suspicious of me.
Eventually, after zero sleep for four or five days straight, I plastered publicly all over Facebook how people needed to protect themselves from this “burn.”
In some of my posts, I tried — although I didn’t articulate myself well due to severe sleep deprivation — to warn parents that they needed to protect their children. That prompted one family member to call up my parents and exclaim that I appeared to be making public threats against children.
Shortly after I did this, Sri Chinmoy inwardly revealed to me that this was his Burn against me. I was tricked and made to look bad. A different way of interpreting “burn.”
Lo and behold, the illness that was being deliberately started was me appearing sick due to a burn — a Sri Chinmoy Burn. But that didn’t quite clue in with me very well at the time.
The following true story of a spiritual experience with God happened shortly after this public self-defaming. I thought my Facebook posts had gone viral and that I had become famous, a perception of reality seriously skewed by severe sleep deprivation (but perhaps also due to something else?).
An Unusual Experience with a Divine or Powerful Origin
The following was taken directly from the current draft of Vol. 2 of my multi-volume spiritual book:
At the end of May, 2012, I was having some divine thoughts and spiritual experiences, but I was not able to write them all down or type them all to Tammy because my brain wasn’t working right from lack of sleep. I wouldn’t be able to articulate most of these experiences for you by memory, but there is one I may be able to tell you about. I would love more than anything to re-live this true spiritual experience with God (except for perhaps when I got attacked). This spiritual experience was on May 31 and the early hours of June 1. I had not slept at all for the last four or five consecutive days of May (and I also got very little sleep for the last two or three years, particularly during March, April, and May of that year). Anyway, by May 31, I had not slept for several days straight. However, on that last day of May, I finally slept for about four hours. After I woke up, I had this unusual spiritual experience.
I woke up after my four-hour nap and felt better, like I was sane again. I had a short meditation and took a shower, and then decided to find a place, such as a coffee shop, to use the Internet. My condo was in Bedford, a generally upper-middle-class suburban area of Halifax, near Bedford Place Mall.
According to my out-of-touch-with-the-earthly-scene thoughts that seemed to have some kind of Divine or Powerful origin, the CIA was not only following me but trying to trick me in any way they could. The only period that I ever had any of these kinds of out-of-touch-with-the-earthly-scene thoughts was during the last two or three days of May 2012. And these thoughts not only caused me to think there were bugs (i.e., recording devices) all around my apartment, they caused me to think that the CIA would not let me know what time it was. None of my clocks were working right because the CIA messed with every possible device I would normally use to find out the time.
In fact, these thoughts caused me to think that the CIA was using special outdoor equipment to cause me to think that it was daytime when it was actually nighttime and nighttime when it was actually daytime. This special equipment somehow made the day seem dark when it was actually light out and vice versa. So, I had absolutely no idea what time it was. It was dark out, but as far as I was concerned, it was the middle of the day.
My Spiritual Experience Begins
I took my laptop with me in a reusable grocery bag made of cloth and a few other things that were of no use to me, including a pair of underwear, various useless miscellaneous items, and my cell phone, which wasn’t working right. After I left my apartment, I arrived at a bench at a small park and sat down. There, I took my underwear out of the bag and threw it on the ground by the bench. I also left my cellphone on the bench because that is what my Inner Pilot (God) told me to do. I kind of laughed at him telling me to take the underwear out and then leave it. He’s funny, but it felt that succumbing to laughter like that meant I was losing connection with the flow of my Higher Self (God).
I think it’s important to point out that these out-of-touch-with-the-earthly-scene thoughts that seemed to have some kind of Divine or Powerful origin eventually caused me to have an outer experience, which included interactions with other people. I will gradually build up to that outer experience as I explain this true story of a spiritual experience with God, but first I must explain a different experience I had while walking.
After I got off the bench, I walked over to Dooley’s, a nearby billiards bar, to find out the time. According to my out-of-touch-with-the-earthly-scene thoughts, everybody was cooperating with the CIA, so nobody would speak to me because the CIA told them not to. And I didn’t try to speak to anybody. Instead, I looked at the TV to try to find out what time it was. The news was on, and it displayed the time in the lower right corner of the screen. However, according to my out-of-touch-with-the-earthly-scene thoughts that seemed to have some kind of Divine or Powerful origin, the CIA changed that time, so I still had no idea what time it was.
Listening to My Inner Pilot
I left the bar and walked behind the Atlantic Superstore, a big grocery store beside Bedford Place Mall. Since I felt the CIA was following my every move and everybody was cooperating with them, all the stores were closed despite it being daytime. I walked around aimlessly, believing I was outsmarting the CIA. While walking behind the grocery store, I noticed some red tape around a pipe of some sort. My Inner Pilot told me to rip off a piece of the tape, and I thought, Why would I do that? There didn’t seem to be any point to it. But my Inner Pilot told me to do it, so I did. Later I realized there was a very important reason I held this little piece of red tape between my thumb and index finger.
As I walked toward a nearby subdivision, I sang (out loud) “Jesus Christ” over and over again. There was one note to each of the three syllables of “Jesus Christ,” making it sound like the first three notes of Hot Cross Buns but sung cheerfully and devotedly. When one chants or sings “Jesus Christ” devotedly or cheerfully, it helps one feel more in tune with his true self and receive blessings from Above. While singing “Jesus Christ” around 1:00 or 2:00 am, I felt I was having a divine experience, which was aided by what felt or seemed like a red flower petal between my thumb and index finger. Yes, that piece of red tape.
While singing “Jesus Christ” and holding this red flower petal piece of red tape, my Inner Pilot produced numerous thoughts and experiences. Most notably, I felt that I was soil. At the top was relatively good soil and down below was shit. By chanting “Jesus Christ,” I was cleaning up all the shit and soil to improve the soil. At one point, I felt both Guru and Mother Teresa singing “Jesus Christ” with me. Then I started repeating, “I am the soil,” and felt the sun shine down on me. I don’t remember everything, so I can’t tell you everything, but I sensed two flowers in me and growing up above me, the soil. One flower was Sri Chinmoy, the other Mother Teresa. These two flowers together were the Supreme, i.e., God. I continued singing “Jesus Christ,” producing more thoughts and experiences thanks to my Inner Pilot.
The Universal Language of God
I had the divine thought that long ago, God decided to play a Game, like a little child playing with a toy, and in order to play His Game, which is His Creation, He had to Create something. He is the One, and He had to Create something additional in order to play His Game, but I wasn’t quite sure what that was.
Then, as part of my true story of a spiritual existence with God, I began to feel that everything in my consciousness, and perhaps everything in the Universe, is made up of 1’s and 0’s, like a computer code. The 1’s are Truth or God, and the 0’s, according to what Sri Chinmoy inwardly told me on a later date, are where the seed germinates. While having this spiritual experience, there were times when I had thoughts such as, “I am doing this,” or “I am achieving that,” i.e., preconceived thoughts that were not true. So, when I awakened into realizing that I didn’t know what I was achieving, I saw a 1 going within a 0 at that point in my consciousness where I had that little spiritual awakening. This sort of thing happened again and again. I suspect that the 0’s without a 1 meant ignorance, though Sri Chinmoy has not clarified it.
Eventually, while singing “Jesus Christ,” I went back and forth from my higher self to my lower self. By this I mean I sometimes felt that the higher part of me was singing, in which case I felt Mother Teresa and Sri Chinmoy singing with me. When the lowest part of me was singing, I sounded like a bunch of drunken bums swearing as they tried to sing. This lowest part of me was either matter or similar to matter.
Then Guru (my Inner Pilot) introduced me to the Supreme. He was like an infinitely pure and wise and lovable great-great-great-grandfather, similar to a wise and pure Native Indian elder. It was as though He smoked and drank, but only because so many of His children (humanity) smoke and drink that it is as though He does it too. Yet, somehow, He was also extremely pure.
During this spiritual experience, the Supreme made me feel that everybody should learn the Bengali and Sanskrit languages. They should be the universal languages. These languages complement each other, and it is much easier to understand life, consciousness, Reality, God, and Truth with them rather than English. He told me that whoever created the English language was like the janitor, and whoever created the Bengali and Sanskrit languages was like the professor*. He also somehow made me feel that the English language has too many words, making good communication hard to achieve. He somehow referred me to some animals or birds (which I couldn’t see) within the trees beside me. They said (or He said through them), “We only have two!” While I met the Supreme, at the same time I was the Supreme — not my ego, just my Self.
*You may be interested in reading what Sri Chinmoy had said about the Bengali and English languages (I found this passage from Sri Chinmoy’s writings in December 2016.)
Believing Myself to Be an Ancient Native Indian
[Note: I made the following computer journal entry on June 14, 2013:]
I suddenly felt that I was a Native Indian from long ago sitting around a campfire telling the story of my experiences. That is, of soil and the shit, the two flowers growing in me and above me, the 1’s and 0’s and the 1’s going within 0’s within my consciousness, and so forth. I felt that I was passing this knowledge on from generation to generation personally, drifting through the ages to tell them my story. At times, we acted out the story to communicate it better. I was a Native Indian speaking a different language (out loud), a language I am not familiar with but clearly understood.
Then I felt as though I was Arjuna from the Mahabharata and a Native Indian at the same time. I was like a warrior: very strong, confident, and powerful. At one point I thought that since the CIA was following me and that the whole world knew about me (according to my out-of-touch-with-the-earthly-scene thoughts that seemed to have a Divine or Powerful origin), maybe I should just go live in the woods for the time being, perhaps until the CIA went away. This thought came to me while I was walking along a highway, the woods on one side, a subdivision on the other.
Then I had a thought as the cars zoomed past: Instead of living in the woods, I should walk to a different town where the CIA did not have their equipment set up to make the day appear to be night. Finally, I looked at the subdivision and saw a nice light at a condominium building. It stood out in the darkness around as if God made it seem that this was a good area to go to. It was nice and full of light, so why not? I felt that maybe the FBI was there, which was good because I believed the FBI to be good and the CIA bad.
How I Became a Suspicious-Looking Stranger
I had to get to the FBI.
But in order to reach the lighted condominium, I had to cut through somebody’s property. I did not even remotely think there was any problem with cutting through somebody’s property. In fact, technically, since I was some kind of Native Indian, we share the land with everybody, and since I believed everybody was probably watching me on television anyway, there was nothing abnormal about it. I also wouldn’t have walked through their property if I didn’t think it was daytime instead of nighttime.
I crossed the highway without a problem, and while in the backyard, picked up a dandelion for no reason. As I passed the side of their house, I saw a woman in a second-story window looking at me. I reached up and offered her the dandelion-flower, because she was a woman and women are feminine and delicate and deserve flowers. According to ancient Native Indian culture, at least according to my understanding, there is no such thing as suspicious-looking strangers. Strangers were not seen as a threat — they were immediately welcomed with open arms. And so, I kept walking down their driveway, toward the street.
Again, I don’t remember everything in this true story of a spiritual experience with the divine, so I can only tell you part of it. A woman approached me from the driveway, asking, “What are you doing on our property?” So, I asked, “What are you doing on MY property?” because I was a Native Indian, or Arjuna, and we own or share the entire land with all the other creatures on Mother Earth. Plus, we were here first. But I still had a strong accent from the foreign language I was speaking earlier.
She wasn’t buying it.
Overcoming Nervousness with the Supreme’s Help
She repeatedly asked me what was in my bag, and I responded again and again, “What’s in YOUR bag?” pointing or gesturing toward her vagina, and then I’d say, “That’s personal!” (She was asking me a personal question about what’s in my bag, so I was asking her a personal question.) Then her husband came out and started questioning me. His wife said, “He says he doesn’t speak English.” But that wasn’t true; I didn’t say that. I can understand English perfectly well, I just had a strong accent from the foreign language I spoke earlier.
If you really knew me you would know that it is very unusual for me to have this much confidence. Normally, I don’t have enough faith in myself. The husband questioned me a number of times until I became slightly nervous.
As I grew nervous, the wife grew more hostile, most likely because she could pick up on me getting nervous. Then she said, “I heard him talking earlier. I think there’s someone else back there.” (While trespassing through their property, I was still talking out loud in the foreign language, so it must’ve sounded to her that I was talking to an accomplice.) The husband went to the back of their house to check for the other person who didn’t exist. But when the wife said, “I heard him talking earlier,” the Supreme gave me the thought of the real way, or the better way, to interpret this. According to the Supreme’s thought, she was referring to the fact that earlier I was talking more confidently, more in tune with my Higher Self. And the Supreme’s thought caused me to completely snap out of my nervousness.
Being in touch with your Higher Self and overcoming your fears is one way to know it’s a true story of a spiritual experience with God, but as you can imagine, it can be difficult to maintain.
Fear and Anger Increases Confrontation
The wife insisted I give her my bag. I said, “No,” so she grabbed it from me and wouldn’t give it back. I was quite serious about getting it back even though there wasn’t much of any value in it. (I had left my laptop on the side of the highway earlier because my Inner Pilot advised me to.) But she wouldn’t give it to me. So, I told her to keep the bag and started to walk away. My wallet was in the bag, but it was of no importance to me anymore. She took it out of the bag and held it up, taken aback that I did not care about that at all.
I decided that, although she could have the bag, I wanted a little ball that was in it. It was Abigail’s (my daughter), which she had since she was very young, so it had some sentimental value. But the woman wouldn’t give that to me either.
I then sat down on the curb and began to cry, but it immediately became clear that this was just a pretend cry. I even thought that perhaps it would seem obvious to this lady that I was not really crying. It was then that I realized, on what seemed like a lower level, that all I’m doing here is tricking people. But I continued to go along with it — otherwise, I’d lose touch with the Supreme.
After my short cry, I walked away, crumpling up and throwing away the dandelion-flower I offered her earlier. Now, I was disappointed in her and felt she no longer deserved it.
Never did I suspect that they had any justification to suspect me. I thought they were probably working for the CIA and were just trying to get me in trouble for something I didn’t do. After all, I was in a white T-shirt and flip-flops at the time. It would be kind of strange to try to rob somebody wearing what I was wearing.
A New Day Factually and Spiritually
This all happened around three or four in the morning. I know this because the sun came up a few hours later. I walked down the street a little bit and found a porta potty for construction workers that the Supreme told me to go into. He next told me to sit on the toilet seat (for which the cover was down) because He had something to say to me. I hesitated, but He insisted. So, I sat down. Then the Supreme said, “Now listen. I need you to be tough. Be strong here, okay? This is very important.” I did not know why He said that to me. I felt like I was already being strong. This spiritual experience had infused me with confidence. I thought maybe CNN was going to try to interview me really soon, and I had to be very confident during the interview. But I was wrong — that’s not what happened.
I left the porta-potty and walked through a sort of empty lot or construction area to take a shortcut to get to the condominium building where the nice bright light was. While I was walking through that lot, a taxi cab dropped off a passenger at the condominium entrance. The cab driver looked at me suspiciously, and I suspected he was a CIA boss trying to prevent me from getting into this building where the FBI was and exactly where the CIA did not want me to go. I also thought the guy he dropped off, who also looked at me, was assigned to prevent me from entering the building. I thought he was going to lock it somehow. And I had the thought — an out-of-touch-with-the-earthly-scene thought that seemed to have some kind of Divine or Powerful origin — that the CIA was getting upset with me because I was outsmarting them. Instead of them causing me to go crazy with the psychological tormenting they were inflicting on me such as with their special equipment making it appear to be night, I was proving how I was unaffected by this and outsmarting them and thus some kind of divine incarnation with advanced psychic abilities.
I picked up a little piece of garbage — a small wrapper of some sort — while walking through this empty lot and headed straight for the cab driver to give it to him as his tip. He looked at me suspiciously, and I said, “Call the police. Someone just stole my bag!” I then added, “Here’s your tip,” and gave him the little piece of garbage, because the truth was, I knew he wasn’t really going to call the police, so he didn’t deserve a very good tip.
A Strange Thing to Happen During a Spiritual Experience
By this time, I was right at the entrance of the building when a Halifax Regional Police car pulled up. They didn’t put on their police lights or anything. As far as I was concerned, I was just minding my own damned business, but a policeman approached me seconds before I could enter the building. I thought, There is no way this is a real police car or that he is an actual police officer. It was laughable. It was obvious he was a CIA agent disguised as a Halifax Regional Police officer. It was an out-of-touch-with-the-earthly-scene thought that seemed to have some kind of Divine or Powerful origin. I was sure of it. I even thought they must know that I know they aren’t real police officers.
The “supposed” police officer, who, for some reason wore leather gloves, told me he just wanted to talk to me about something. I recall, in this true story of a spiritual experience with God, backing up a little and moving away from him because he was invading my personal space. He attempted to grab my wrist to presumably get my arm in a locked position behind my back. That didn’t work because I didn’t like that, so I got my arm free ‘cause I know a little Tae Kwon Do.
He didn’t mention one single word to me about why he tried to grab my arm. I was not told I was under arrest; I was not told I was being arrested for something; I was not told to place my hands on the vehicle with my legs separated so he could search me. There was no call for backup, nor did any other police vehicle arrive (at least according to my memory).
The officer asked me some things. Unfortunately, I only remember some of the things that, according to my intuition (or you can call it my out-of-touch-with-the-earthly-scene thoughts that seemed to have some kind of Divine or Powerful origin, or you can call it my thoughts from God or my Self), he implicitly communicated to me by the way that he looked at me or said the things he did.
A Strange Police Officer
First of all, the police officer seemed very strange to me.
He didn’t behave like a normal officer, and the suspicious gloves he wore didn’t go with the rest of his uniform. He also didn’t seem too sure of himself, but was rather passive, even slightly nervous. His approach certainly wasn’t strong or assertive. This gave me the chance to walk toward the condo entrance. I tried to open the door to the foyer, but it was locked, which was very strange because visitors had to get into the building to press the buttons to the various units.
Before my short conversation with the officer, I asked him if he would like to join the FBI with me (explicitly), and he said yes (implicitly). Then, I noticed some boxes on the floor in the foyer. When I tried to figure out what they were and why they were there, the police officer looked very uncomfortable (according to me) and tried to distract my attention away from them.
When I stood at the front door, which had a glass entrance, there began, according to my thoughts from God or my Self, what seemed to me implicit communication between us. I don’t remember the exact words we said, but I strongly recall our implicit communication—the sort that can only take place in a true story of a spiritual experience with God.
The police officer’s eyes revealed that he had to kill me but was deeply disturbed by this because he thought I was innocent. He not only liked me, he loved me because he already knew who I was, i.e., a divine incarnation. He didn’t want to kill me so badly that tears welled up in his eyes.
He implicitly told me he had to kill me but wanted some kind of reassurance from me that he would not be successful. And so I reassured him that no, I would not be killed because I knew that my Guru would protect me. Then he had a different thing to say: he was going to get killed if he didn’t kill me. So, he looked for reassurance from me again on whether he would get killed. I reassured him again, that no, he would not get killed either. I knew that if I said that my Guru would back up my promise. And this was the reason he was so emotional or nervous or uncomfortable.
My Physical and Spiritual Struggle for Freedom
Anyway, shortly after our implicit communication, or what I thought was implicit communication, a second officer approached me from behind and assisted with putting me in handcuffs behind my back. Virtually nothing was said about the reason why I was being cuffed. However, the first police officer did say, “I think there’s going to be a fight,” before I made any effort to fight them (and, according to me, I never gave him any reason to believe I would put up a fight). To me, according to my special thoughts, he just implicitly communicated to me that I needed to fight this if I wanted to win (i.e., survive their attempt to kill me). So, after he said that, I started to fight with all my might.
During the initial struggle, I almost took off one of the first police officer’s leather gloves (the second one wasn’t wearing gloves), and he became very nervous about that. He momentarily ceased struggling with me long enough to put his glove on properly. I thought that was kind of odd.
Then, shortly after they got the handcuffs on me, they asked if I did any drugs that evening. Since I thought they were working for the CIA and wanted to keep me from looking like a wise or spiritual person who was outsmarting them, and that our voices were being broadcasted over live television, I said I took four hits of acid (which wasn’t true). A few minutes later, they tried to reconfirm that with me, and I thought maybe four hits of acid weren’t bad enough so I said fourteen.
They eventually got me into handcuffs, which were very tight around my wrists, cutting off my circulation. With my hands behind my back and me face down on the pavement, they proceeded to sit on me for roughly one-and-a-half hours so that I could not move away. I yelled and screamed for somebody to help me and tried to get them off me the entire time. I was hoping that somebody would hear me and see that I was fighting for my life.
That was not to be in this true story of a spiritual experience with God.
The Need to Remain Spiritually Tough
While I yelled for help and struggled to get them off me, I thought numerous times about what the Supreme told me earlier — how it’s very important that I remain tough and strong. I thought this experience must be what He meant. It completely convinced me that they were trying to kill me. I thought my attempt to get them off me and break my hands free from the cuffs was my being strong according to the Supreme’s advice.
At one point, the first police officer said, “He’s pretty strong,” and I could tell by his tone (or thought I could) that he was happy about that. He was nervous but felt good they were failing to kill me. In other words, despite cutting off my circulation for so long, I was not losing consciousness. I had to repeat certain things over and over again to keep me conscious, such as “I will not give up, I will not give up.” Despite my best efforts, I felt myself beginning to lose consciousness several times. (Though this may have been because I was so low on sleep.)
As far as I was concerned, they were doing everything they could so that I eventually lost consciousness and died, and I was doing everything I could to stay conscious or get somebody to help me.
Eventually, an ambulance arrived, although I did not hear anybody radio for one. The ambulance attendees waited nearby for a few minutes. By the time they came to help me, I was barely conscious. In fact, I think I lost consciousness several times and came back. While they checked my vitals, I thought they were CNN using a hidden camera to film the CIA trying to kill me. I don’t remember much of their attempt to help me or the ambulance ride to the hospital, but I was still technically conscious for most of the trip. I do remember demanding the police officers loosen the cuffs. They eventually loosened one cuff despite my repeated demands for them to loosen both. I actually thought they wouldn’t loosen the other because they wanted me to die.
Meeting More Psychiatrists
The ambulance took me to the QEII Health Sciences Centre operated by the Nova Scotia Health Authority in downtown Halifax. After talking to some doctors and psychiatrists at the hospital, they decided to admit me, involuntarily — pursuant to s. 68 of the Involuntary Psychiatric Treatment Act (S.N.S. 2005, c.42) — to the Abbie J Lane Memorial building, 7th floor, a mental health clinic.
Some of the doctors suspected I must be suicidal to take fourteen hits of acid, although it would be very unlikely for me to overdose on LSD. But I suppose that was one of the reasons I was admitted. My guess is, they were not sure whether I took any acid, since I told the doctors I didn’t, but it still seemed something was wrong with me due to the fact that I felt the CIA was trying to kill me and so forth. So, they admitted me. Although I had some customized perceptions, I was actually infused with and nourished by the Supreme’s Spirit at the time and felt very positive. Despite being attacked, this spiritual experience felt very good. There was one particular female psychiatrist who really seemed impressed with me and moved by my story, which she did not know was a true story of a spiritual experience with God.
As I said on other occasions: it is normal for spiritual people to experience spiritual things — things most doctors wouldn’t understand. Doctors know about things they are familiar with. Most psychiatrists don’t have the ability to distinguish a spiritual experience from schizophrenia.
It is interesting that this particular spiritual experience, probably the most significant experience of my life thus far, took place the same year as the beginning of the new age of my life as well as the year the Golden Age began.
The Result of This Sri Chinmoy “Smear”
My psychiatrist on the 7th floor of Abbie Lane, partially, or perhaps largely, after looking into my health record (as I later learned at a Review Board hearing) diagnosed me with schizophrenia. I was forced to take antipsychotic medication, namely Olanzapine. My psychiatrist thought that by my taking the medication I would eventually “get it.”
I ended up staying at Abbie Lane for about two months. I was able to discharge myself in late July following a Review Board decision on July 13, 2012, which set aside the Declaration of Involuntary Status, making me a voluntary patient. Because they spoke their views about me during the Review Board hearing, I learned, as I had already strongly suspected, my parents spoke negatively about me to the mental health professionals. They tried to make them think I was mentally ill. My father did the speaking for both my parents during this hearing, and among other things, pointed out how I must be mentally ill because I (according to him) made threats against children on Facebook. He also pointed out the ludicrousness of me asking for Abigail’s ball back, which he didn’t even realize was Abigail’s.
Unfortunately, my parents were upset by my behaviour over the last year or two, particularly after one incident a couple months prior. With fueled-up negative emotions toward me, my parents made me look like I was much worse than I really was. Despite that, the Review Board felt I should be made a voluntary patient, with no evidence showing it should be otherwise.
Because I was forced to stay at Abbie Lane, I missed a June 11, 2012 court hearing on varying mine and Erin’s original 2005 Court Order, something Erin was trying to do to pre-emptively prevent herself from losing against me in Family Court. Erin deceived the Nova Scotia Family Court by claiming I was a completely out-of-control and abusive father. In my absence, a Variation Order gave Erin sole custody. They also suspended my access to my child until further order of the court.
How do you like that for karma from smearing Sri Chinmoy to some of his disciples — his spiritual children.
I was advised by a mental health professional at the hospital to meet regularly with an outpatient psychiatrist to help my daughter through a legal process. This largely involved restoring my tarnished image impressed upon Abigail, as well as increasing the amount of time I could spend with her (which, for the moment, was completely nil). I began this process sometime in August or September 2012.
The Effects of the Family Court Ruling
Although it would seem facing the police and being institutionalized would be the worst thing that could happen, that was not the case in my true story of a spiritual experience with God. Because I had to get an improved Court Order from the 2012 Variation Order, my Nova Scotia Legal Aid family matter lawyer, whom I’ll simply call Susan, felt it would be best to put a stipulation in our new Court Order. She subsequently signed this on my behalf without my knowledge or approval. It stated that I needed to get a letter from a psychiatrist for me to move forward and effectively make any future application to the Family Court.
In the meantime, Erin gained sole custody (which, apparently, I agreed to by Susan signing the Order on my behalf — something I wouldn’t do in my wildest dreams), while I would be supervised by my parents during each of my daughter’s visits. These visits would now be about 80% less frequent (from about 24% of the time to about 4% of the time).
Since early 2013, my daughter has been spending far more time with her stepdad — an ex-con convicted for tying up and robbing an older couple — who Erin taught to call ‘Dad’. Because of the way Erin treated her since birth, brainwashing her to keep secrets from me (and her teachers) about Erin’s relationship with her now stepdad while he was in prison, she has no ability whatsoever to differentiate between decisions she can make herself and those that are her mother’s responsibility. Basically, my daughter has little idea there is something wrong with what has been going on.
Meeting Yet Another Psychiatrist
Since late 2012 until early 2018, I met with outpatient psychiatrists, mainly Dr. Nelson, and took the prescribed medication for the sole purpose of helping my daughter through the Family Court. But my schizophrenia diagnosis meant that I could not move forward no matter what kind of letter I could get. That is putting it simply. Proving emotional neglect requires piling through evidence, something I couldn’t get anybody to do. To this day, I am supervised by my parents because Erin is maliciously not making any agreement outside of court. This is absolutely counterproductive to improving my daughter’s mental health. It is hurtful both to me emotionally and to the relationship between my daughter and me. It is not only another example of parental alienation as emotional abuse — both to me and my daughter — it has impaired my daughter’s faith in me, limiting my ability to help her.
All of this is my karma for smearing my spiritual Master to his disciples years ago.
What I Learned After Looking at the Police Report
After I got out of Abbie Lane, I asked the Halifax Regional Police Department for the police report on the incident of June 1, 2012. After I received it and read it, although it was laced with suspicion and some statements that weren’t true, including one that claimed I appeared to be trying to break into a car, it seemed legit. I realized they must have been real police officers and the people whose property I cut across private citizens. The police report did not offer any justification as to why they attacked me and put me in handcuffs. The bottom line, however, is they thought I was on drugs.
It did mention that I was the one that made the cuffs so tight that they were cutting off my circulation. Apparently, according to the police report, if you struggle with handcuffs, you can make them tighter. And it did say that they prevented me from getting up by sitting on top of me because they thought I might get hurt or hurt one of them.
So, in other words, the Supreme tricked me. This true story of a spiritual experience with God involved a Great Big Trick (but it took until sometime in 2015 for that to fully dawn on me). Indeed, though, that was the Supreme saving me from my crack addiction. He helped me live in a complete sanctuary with very helpful, kind, compassionate people. Although I didn’t have any money to use while living there, it played a major role in helping me snap out of my problem (which I had had for the last 1.5 years) by giving me a place to live with such helpful people, plenty of tasty food, and proper sleep.
[In 2015, I stumbled upon the following passage from Sri Chinmoy’s writings. It remains the only example I’ve found in His writings that could indicate that God might “trick” on occasion:]
“When God wants Light to prevail on earth, it means that He has taken responsibility. Right now, we do not know the outcome of the battle. He is playing with a football, kicking it to this side and that side. Here is the goal post. He is pretending to kick the ball, pass the ball through. But instead of doing this, He changes His play, and using His left foot, He kicks the ball. There He secures His goal, His object.”
~ Sri Chinmoy [Source: Earth’s cry meets Heaven’s smile, part 3]
[There is also this passage from Sri Chinmoy’s writings that I found in 2019:]
“I have realised my error. I shall no longer stay with ignorance. Ignorance has understood its folly. It will no longer stay in me. I say to ignorance: ‘You have tortured me.’ Ignorance says to me: ‘You have fooled me.'”
~ Sri Chinmoy [Source: Meditations: food for the soul]
The police report did not mention that I was yelling because I thought they were trying to kill me and that they said nothing to reassure me. This report was a good indication that, clearly, in a police report, you do not necessarily get the right facts. You tend to get things that are not true or the officer’s suspicions, as though suspicion creates a picture of the truth. According to their police report, they were suspicious I was on drugs before I even told them I had taken drugs. Nevertheless, had I not fought with them and told them I had taken fourteen hits of acid, they probably would not have taken me to the hospital.
Sri Chinmoy’s Burn was complete, and I was his unwitting accomplice. Now, this spiritual experience has long past and I must untangle myself from this mess that I have made.
So, the higher point of view, here, is that the Supreme wanted me to go to the hospital, He wanted me to check into the mental health clinic. Sometimes gifts from God aren’t quite as you would expect or desire, but this truly was a gift from God. The Supreme looks after me. And I am grateful.
God gives you what you need, and what you need is ultimately what helps you be happy. That is the lesson to be learned in this true story of a spiritual experience with God.