The other day, I was on my bicycle rushing to some appointment when I was interrupted by a New York City policeman. Instead of waiting for a traffic light to change, I had jumped onto the sidewalk and when I turned the corner, I drove smack into the officer. Of course, I quickly steered back into the street, but it was too late. The officer ordered me to stop and asked for my license. I dreaded getting a summons and, for a split second, I thought of just cycling away. After all, he was on foot and could never catch me. There were only 2 problems with that. First, it was morally wrong, and secondly, he had a gun! The policeman was compassionate and let me off with just a warning, but it made me think about my experiences involving guns.
About 15 years ago, when New York was a much more dangerous place than it is today, I was working in my health food store with my friend Dhanu. There was only one customer in the store and, since Dhanu was manning the cash register, I thought about going to the luncheonette up the block to grab a bite to eat. As I approached the door, Dhanu cleared his throat and repeated my name a couple of times. I looked at him and he seemed very tense so I said, “What’s up?” He motioned with his eyes and then I understood. The burly customer, who had looked so out of place browsing in the beauty products section, was now standing at the front counter pointing a huge pistol at Dhanu!
A couple of options immediately raced through my head. I could run out the door and try to get some help, but the gunman might get mad and shoot Dhanu, so that option was out. Then I thought of pouncing on the guy’s arm, which was resting on the counter, and trying to wrestle the gun away from him. The funny thing is that, for some reason, I got the distinct impression that the gun wasn’t loaded. But I just couldn’t take the chance. If the gun was loaded, the thief might shoot Dhanu before I could disarm him. So, to be safe, I decided just to remain passive. Poor Dhanu later told me that, knowing my nature, he suspected I might do something and he was trying to figure out which way to duck to avoid the bullets when the fighting started! Fortunately, the robber just took the small amount of money in the register and, after pulling out the phone and locking us in the store with our keys, he left us unharmed.
My second experience with a gun was under much more peaceful circumstances. I had met a police officer in my neighborhood who was deeply involved in fitness and bodybuilding. He had heard about my various records and we got into some long conversations about self-transcendence and the power of meditation. In those days, my spiritual teacher, Sri Chinmoy, conducted weekly meditations at a nearby elementary school. I invited the cop to the meditation and, since it was in the evening, he showed up in civilian dress.
When the time came for the seekers to go up on stage and meditate with Sri Chinmoy, I encouraged the officer to join in. He hesitated for a moment, then agreed. He opened up his jacket to reveal a gun hidden inside a shoulder holster! “Here”, he said with a grin, “hold this for me”, and he calmly walked to the front of the auditorium. Needless to say, I was in shock. There were 300 people all praying and meditating in pin drop silence to God, and I was holding a lethal weapon in my hand. It seemed so out of place.
As a kid, I had fired a rifle a few times in summer camp, but holding a loaded pistol that had possibly killed people was unnerving. My teacher had written that a real Yogi should be able to block out all distractions and have a sublime meditation even in the middle of Times Square. I tried to connect into the peace that I had so powerfully felt just moments ago in the auditorium, but I just couldn’t get my mind off of the gun. My efforts at detachment were a dismal failure. It’s weird, but I was much more disturbed sitting with the weapon in my lap than I had been being robbed at gunpoint! Fortunately, within a few weeks, the officer was transferred to another precinct and I never had to babysit his gun again!
