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At The Speed Of Flight


Feb 20, 2005
Something didn’t feel right. I had just walked in to my house, and the air was tense. There was another feel to it. Evil. Something was wrong. Something terrible is wrong, here. No one appeared to be at home, which was not unusual for my housemates. I turned and locked the door behind me, but the urge persisted, I need to get out of here. “RUN!” a voice screamed in my head. “RUN!”

I went to my room and quickly gathered a change of clothes, a pillow, and a small stuffed animal. “RUN!” the voice screamed again, getting louder. I gave the cat some food. I stopped. I’m being superstitious, I thought. There’s really nothing wrong. The house is quiet, everything is fine, I’m home now. I’ve just been working too hard.

“RUN! RUN! RUN!” the voice pleaded, each word sounding more desperate. The urge to leave returned with a vengeance. In a panic, I tossed my belongings in a garbage bag, and headed for the door. “RUN!” the voice repeated.

The back door seemed like the logical place to exit, as I climbing up the half-dozen steps to ground level. The hot summer air blasted my face as I dashed towards the alleyway. My head looked around quickly, I was alone. I sprinted behind house towards the street. It was late in the evening, but waning sunlight stilll illuminated the neighborhood. I stopped on the edge of the grass. The street was quiet. I didn’t know why I was so afraid, but I had to get out of here! “RUN!” I ran towards my car and tossed the garbage bag in the back. I thought about the cat. Was he safe? I would not be able to forgive myself if something…”

”Run, and don’t look back!” commanded a clear male voice.

I jumped in my car and started driving, trying to be inconspicuous as I traversed through the neighborhood. The screaming voice was still urging me in my head to run. I looked around frantically for...what was I looking for? I wasn't sure. But whatever it was, I wasn't finding anything.

There were no people in sight, besides a small group of young neighborhood teens that were shooting hoops and carrying on. Traffic on the street, as usual, was very light. Nothing looked suspicious, but I had to get out of here. I urged my car forward, out of the neighborhood. I knew where I could stay the night, but place was far away.

"RUN!" the voice screamed again. “RUN!” it pleaded.

With the highway in sight, I drove towards the entrance and stamped my right foot down. Ramp. Merge. Center Lane. Faster. The motor dutifully strained against the load of the summer heat and it's panicked driver.

"RUN!" the voice again screamed. Enough already..what is going on? What is going on with me? Why am I running? Am I running to something? Or running away from something? Am I getting myself in trouble? Or am I getting out of trouble? Or am I simply crazy?

"RUN!" the voice answered.

*(To be continued...)


Feb 20, 2005
My hands gripped the steering wheel as the speedometer needle clocked forward. The confusion was clearing from my mind. Something in my house. Something wrong. I wanted to redline the engine and get far, far away from whatever it was. Because, it was bad. Very bad. The car started vibrating. Begrudgingly, I lifted my foot from the gas pedal for a moment and leveled off at a more controlable speed.

"Keep going, just as you are," commanded the clear, male voice. "Do not stop."

I was heading to the home of a Sikh family that I had known for a long time. Ironically, it was just two days before when my dear friend had called me over and ask if I could periodically watch the house for a couple of weeks while they take the children on a summer vacation. Her keys were now locked in my glovebox and felt more precious than gold.

"RUN!!!" The voice was continuing to push me onwards. The interstate darkened with the fading sunlight, reducing the other cars on the road to whizzing balls of light. I had been gripping the steering wheel as if it were a rescue tether, saving me from drowing. My shoulders were starting to ache from the pain. I was hungry. Certainly, I could just pull off for a bite... "RUN!!!" yelled the voice. I obeyed, out of fear.

Migod, what was happening to me? I never get panicky, I never hear voices in my head.

“Of course you do,” corrected the clear, male voice. “We just don’t usually start the conversation.”

"Enough,” I said to the empty car.

“RUN!!!!!!!” I was reminded.

Relived, I saw the familiar road signs indicating that my destination was not far ahead. I slowed the car down from it’s breakneck pace, slid down the exit ramp and entered on to the town road…forcing myself to not think of anything until I got to my friend’s house.

“RUN!!!” The voice screamed again.

I navigated the streets, feeling a sense of relaxation when greeted by the street sign that marked my friend's road. "Run…” The voice was quieter now. I glided past the familiar houses, fumbling through my glove box for her door opener. I inched the car in, and with a paranoid glance behind me, clicked the button to close the garage door. I grabbed my bag out of the back and patted the body of the car in appreciation. "Thank you, buddy," I mumbled.

My key let me enter without a struggle, and I quickly locked the door behind me. . The house was stark and quiet. I coughed from the stale air, and turned on lights in a few different rooms. I stepped down to the lower level, in to the guest room. I tossed the bag on the bed and sat down in a chair.

All of the sudden, I didn’t feel as scared, but terribly drained, almost sick. I shook the contents of my bag out on the bed, and looked at the perpetually happy face of the stuffed Beanie Baby that I brought as a companion...a little dog named "Rescue".

I took off my shoes, washed my hands, grabbed Rescue and stumbled across to Guru Sahib’s room. My mata-tek was more like a collapse. The tension of the entire evening had finally broken, and my body was convulsing with sobs.

*(To be continued...)


Feb 20, 2005
Terror, shock, fear, all were washing over me. My body was trembling in shock. I was scared of whatever it was I was running from. I was afraid because I didn't know what it was. I was scared because...a person in their mid-30's shouldn't quite be behaving as I was, yet my mind seemed remarkably and painfully clear...despite the panicked reaction of my body. I stared at Babaji, neatly covered in colorful fabric, and started reciting Mool Mantra, over and over again.

Whipping through my mind was one emotion after another, yet, there was a calming undercurrent to it all...the feeling of being someplace safe. Eventually, the calming feeling of security overcame the emotions that were shaking my body. I don't quite remember how long it took for my body to return to normal, but when I emerged from Baba ji's room, I felt like my normal self again. The worriesome feelings had melted away. With Gratitude, I whispered thanks to Guruji for his help.

Exhausted, I emerged from Baba ji’s room and looked around. I made my way to the kitchen, and decided that a bowl of cereal would be my dinner. I made my way through the house, turning off the lights, then retired back to the downstairs bedroom.

I took my hair down, momentarily pausing at the happy face of Rescue. I clicked off the light. The darkness seemed to underscore the fact that I was here alone. I reminded myself that Baba ji was just over the wall.

If there was ever a night to do Simran before going to bed, this was certainly one. I fumbled through my bag, and drew out a cotton chunni. I wrapped the soft cloth around me and lay flat on my back.

“Waheguru, Waheguru, Waheguru,” I whispered at my usual pace. As my mind began to wander, I felt comforted by Guruji again. I asked what was going on, why things were happening. In His own way, he answered me, saying that what happened was for a reason, and that I would find out soon enough.

I felt unsettled. What was going on? He responded that now was not the time to know the answer. Now was the time to sleep. I stirred a bit. In the distance, I heard the familiar whine of the city fire engines rushing off to help someone in distress. My simran didn’t break. What is going on with me? I wondered. He kept telling me to sleep. But these voices in my head, one may think I’m crazy. I never get panicky. I never hear voices in my head…!!!

My eyes snapped open and I bolted upright in bed. I was sweating profusely as my mind replayed an event from the drive up. "Simran," I gasped.

I had been gripping the steering wheel as if it were a rescue tether, saving me from drowing. My shoulders were starting to ache from the pain. I was hungry. Certainly, I could just pull off for a bite... "RUN!!!" yelled the voice. I obeyed, out of fear.

Migod, what was happening to me? I never get panicky, I never hear voices in my head.

“Of course you do,” corrected the clear, male voice. “We just don’t usually start the conversation.”

Of course, of course, I hear voices in my head…when I do simran. “We just don’t usually start the conversation.” Now I know what that means. It’s ME that starts the conversation by starting the simran. And Guruji answers.

I fell backwards and closed my eyes. God and Guru...telling me to run...getting me out of danger?

“Correct.” said the clear, male voice.

“What am I running from?” I asked the empty room.

“You’ll find out very soon. You will not be waiting long, I promise. But now, you are safe. Rest.” the clear, male voice responded.

I fell asleep.

*(To Be Continued)


Feb 20, 2005
My sleep was broken by the booming voice of a news broadcaster announcing that it was 5AM. I ran quickly through the shower, packed up my belongings, and settled in to the car for the long commute.

Work was uneventful, but my mind was a bit distracted. I didn't want to go home, but I had to. I had to find out what was going on. One of my housemates was in Canada for the week. The other was a tremendously gifted artist and musician who spent most of his time in his downtown studio.

I went home, again, to an empty house. I closed the door behind me and listened. What was I listening for? Voices? I wasn't sure. Did I hear something? I walked in to my room and sat on the bed, and listened again.


"Kitty?" I asked.

"meow," he responded softly.

"Kitty!" I yelled, scooping up the cat in my arms. "You're OK!" I exclaimed, my eyes brimming with tears. But he had been hiding. He, too, could tell that something was not right.

I ventured out of my room, and stepped through the rest of the house. I drew in a sharp gasp when I ventured in to the kitchen. On the table was a letter, written to me, from the artist. In his letter, he apologized for what he was thinking of doing to me.

I screamed, ran for the car, and drove to the police station.

The police already had him in custody.

The artist had taken a liking to a nice woman, who was either the girlfriend or a good friend of one of his benefactors. The artist went out two nights ago to a fancy restaurant, hoping to find her. She was nowhere to be found, so he went home brooding.

The artist was then hoping to find me, and stayed at home for the entire day. The only time he left the house was to take a walk down to the mailbox and get the mail.

It was in this slim window of time that I went home, and quickly left out the back door after hearing the urgent commands to RUN!!

After brooding at home all evening, the artist decided to venture out around midnight. This time, he came across his benefactor. A fight ensued. Both were arrested. The police report mentioned that the artist had threatened the benefactor's girlfriend.

Guruji gave me the darshan to sense danger when I walked in the house that night. When I didn't act upon my feelings, He forced me to run for safety. In doing so, He spirited me to a place where the artist couldn't possibly find me...even if he went looking.

It humbles me to think of the multiple threats that I faced had I been home that evening. Yet Waheguruji had a small miracle in store for me.

That is a favor that I will never truly be able to repay.

I can only hope to never forget it.


Jun 23, 2005
Eugene Oregon USA
mmmmm...... wow!

Thank you for sharing this.
These are the kinds of things I need to hear about.

In what I say below, I am not questioning that it was Guru Sahib in the least. Please understand that.
I am only curious about other ways that people have of talking about these kinds of events.

I wonder if it could be that you were reading the Artists Subtle Body Field when you sensed the danger in such a deep un-nameable way. I do not know much about such things, but the yoga sutras of Patanjali speak of the higher stages of achievement in which yogic powers allow one to read even past life and more of others.

Another way of talking about this kind of sudden "knowing" is to call it an amazing example of very strong spiritual intuition. Yogi Bhajan many times said that doing kundalini yoga improves the intuition and I have found that to be true for me in the one year that I have been doing it. I think that maybe doing simran itself also might open the channels for greater intuition of this kind, since it puts the normal mind into a less active state - where it interferes less with Divine Wisdom coming to us from the etheric realms.

Does anyone else have anything to say about these ideas? I am very fascinated by all these "gifts" of walking the Guru's path.

Wahe Guru!

Nam Hari Kaur, Eugene, Oregon

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