I received shaktipat initiation two years ago, when I met my Guru for the first time, back in New York. It was during a weekend retreat at her Ashram in the Catskills. To be honest, I felt nothing special afterward. I was kind of hoping for a dazzling encounter with God, maybe some blue lightning or a prophetic vision, but I searched my body for special effects and felt only vaguely hungry, as usual. I remember thinking that I probably didn't have enough faith to ever experience anything really wild like unleashed kundalini shakti. I remember thinking that I was too brainy, not intuitive enough, and that my devotional path was probably going to be more intellectual than esoteric. I would pray, I would read books, I would think interesting thoughts, but I would probably never ascend into the kind of divine meditative bliss Saint Teresa describes. But that was OK. I still loved devotional practice. It's just that kundalini shakti wasn't for me.
我在两年前和我的导师在纽约首次见面时，接受了“莎克蒂帕”的开引。那是一次周末静修，位于卡兹奇（Catskills）的道场。老实说，过后我倒没什么特殊感觉。原本希望和神之间有一场别出心裁的邂逅，或许是蓝色闪电或某种异象，但我探寻自己的身体看看有何特殊效果，却只微微感到饥饿，一如往常。我记得心里在想，或许我的信仰不够，因此无从体验被释放的“昆达利尼莎克蒂”这类狂放的事情。我记得心里在想，我太用脑袋，直观不足，我的宗教道路很可能智性甚于奥秘性。我祷告，我看书，我思索有趣的想法，但我可能永远无法登上大德兰所描述的神圣冥想境界。这也没什么不好。我仍喜爱灵修。只是我没福气体验“昆达利尼莎克蒂”。

The next day, though, something interesting did happen. We were all gathered with the Guru once more. She led us into meditation, and in the middle of it all, I fell asleep (or whatever the state was) and had a dream. In this dream, I was on a beach, at the ocean. The waves were massive and terrifying and they were building fast. Suddenly, a man appeared beside me. It was my Guru's own master—a great charismatic Yogi I will refer to here only as "Swamiji" (which is Sanskrit for "beloved monk"). Swamiji had died in 1982. I knew him only from photographs around the Ashram. Even through these photographs—I must admit—I'd always found the guy to be a little too scary, a little too powerful, a little too much on fire for my taste. I'd been dodging the idea of him for a long time, and generally avoiding his gaze as it stared down at me from the walls. He seemed overwhelming. He wasn't my kind of Guru. I'd always preferred my lovely, compassionate, feminine living master to this deceased (but still fierce) character.
然而，隔天有趣的事发生了。我们大伙又一次与导师聚会。她领我们禅坐，进行到一半时，我睡着了（或管它叫什么状态），做了个梦。梦中的我，在海边的沙滩上。海浪大得惊人，且快速翻高。突然间，一名男人出现在我身边。那是我的导师本身的师父——一位具有领袖魅力的伟大瑜伽士，我在此仅以“思瓦米吉”（Swamiji）（梵文意即“敬爱的僧侣”）称之。思瓦米吉在1982年过世。我只从道场周围的相片中看过他。我得承认，即使透过这些相片，这家伙始终让我觉得有点太恐怖、太权威、太热情，不合我的口味。长期以来我避免想到此人，当他从墙上盯着底下的我，我通常避开他的凝视。他似乎压倒一切。他不是我的导师类型。我始终偏爱那位美丽、慈悲、女性的在世明师，胜过这位已殁（却依然凶猛）的角色。

But now Swamiji was in my dream, standing beside me on the beach in all his power. I was terrified. He pointed to the approaching waves and said sternly, "I want you to figure out a way to stop that from happening." Panicked, I whipped out a notebook and tried to draw inventions that would stop the ocean waves from advancing. I drew massive seawalls and canals and dams. All my designs were so stupid and pointless, though. I knew I was way out of my league here (I'm not an engineer!) but I could feel Swamiji watching me, impatient and judgmental. Finally I gave up. None of my inventions were clever or strong enough to keep those waves from breaking.
但现在思瓦米吉出现在我梦中，站在我身旁的海滩上，力量无穷。我惊惶失措。他指着逼近的海浪，严厉地说：“我要你想办法阻止。”我恐慌地掏出笔记本，尝试绘出阻止海浪前进的各种发明。我画了巨大的海堤、运河和水坝。然而我的每一种设计都愚蠢得毫无意义。我一点都搞不懂这些东西（我不是工程师呀！），却感觉思瓦米吉注视着我，显得不耐烦、吹毛求疵。我最后放弃了。我的每一种发明都不够巧妙或强劲，阻挡不了海浪的冲力。

That's when I heard Swamiji laugh. I looked up at this tiny Indian man in his orange robes, and he was veritably busting a gut in laughter, bent over double in delight, wiping mirthful tears from his eyes.
这时我听见思瓦米吉呵呵大笑。我仰头注视这位身穿橘袍、矮小的印度男人，他真可谓笑破肚皮，直不起腰来，拭去眼中欢笑的眼泪。

"Tell me, dear one," he said, and he pointed out toward the colossal, powerful, endless, rocking ocean. "Tell me, if you would be so kind—how exactly were you planning on stopping that?"
Eat, Pray, Love
“亲爱的，告诉我，”他朝浩瀚、强大、无限、汹涌的海洋指去，说，“可否请你告诉我——你究竟打算怎么阻止它？”