With what velvet glove of every humility has He not
covered the iron hand of omnipotence!
The following day was one of the most memorable in my life. It
was a sunny Thursday, I remember, in July, 1914, a few weeks after
my graduation from college. On the inner balcony of his Serampore
hermitage, Master dipped a new piece of white silk into a dye of
ocher, the traditional color of the Swami Order. After the cloth
had dried, my guru draped it around me as a renunciate's robe.
"Someday you will go to the West, where silk is preferred," he said.
"As a symbol, I have chosen for you this silk material instead of
the customary cotton."
In India, where monks embrace the ideal of poverty, a silk-clad
swami is an unusual sight. Many yogis, however, wear garments of
silk, which preserves certain subtle bodily currents better than
cotton.
"I am averse to ceremonies," Sri Yukteswar remarked. "I will make
you a swami in the BIDWAT (non-ceremonious) manner."
The BIBIDISA or elaborate initiation into swamiship includes a fire
ceremony, during which symbolical funeral rites are performed. The
physical body of the disciple is represented as dead, cremated in
the flame of wisdom. The newly-made swami is then given a chant,
such as: "This ATMA is Brahma" {FN24-2} or "Thou art That" or "I am
He." Sri Yukteswar, however, with his love of simplicity, dispensed
with all formal rites and merely asked me to select a new name.
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