Miracles are part of daily life in Sahajayoga

 

Adishakti Mataji Nirmaladevi always takes care of her devotees.  At so many times she has given extension of life to many people.  I had myself had it experienced.  Following is the experience of one of the sahajayogi as to how Mataji Nirmaladvi helped the boy drowned in the pool of water, and who was without oxygen in that condition for a long time, and where doctors and medical staff had given up the hope, just survived and lead fine life only due to love, affection, attention and care of Mataji Nirmaladevi.

Taken from a post on facebook - by suniti Nainwal.

A week later I return to the house, enter the living room and see Jay. He seems in perfect health so I tentatively call his name. He turns to me and smiles. I ask him how he is and though his voice is hoarse from all the tubes that have gone down his throat; he tells me he is fine. I feel like jumping for joy but instead sit beside Jay to meditate, wondering if now that I am in Sahaja Yoga, miracles are just another part of everyday life.

‘I dreamt of Shri Mataji one night. She is seated at the end of a swimming pool on a throne bedecked in jewels. Light emanates from Her face. The pool is silent save for the lapping of the water, with the blue light of the pool dancing around Shri Mataji’s face.

'Jump in,' She says and I wake with these words echoing in my brain.

In the days that follow I try to understand what She said. Her words inspire me as I ‘jump in’ to my Yoga, my day, my work and my relationships. Two weeks after the dream I sit in the living room of the New Jersey ashram, a spacious suburban American home chosen by Shri Mataji complete with outdoor patio and swimming pool. We have just finished a collective meditation, Elizabeth, my baby, is on my lap and the house is full of people. Suddenly there is a commotion by the pool. I hand Elizabeth to someone and rush to the pool area. There are people there pointing in the water and shouting. I jump fully clothed into the pool.

I am in a world of blue water and muffled sound with everything passing as if in slow motion. There, before me at the bottom of the pool, is a young boy, his black hair floating about his face like seaweed, his eyes closed. He is an Indian boy, long and lean, about sixteen years old. I am aware of other people in the water, diving in and out, but I only see him. I swim to him, put my arm across his chest and under his chin. We glide to the surface and over to the side ladder. Hands are there to lift him out, an Indian woman kneels beside him and takes his pulse.

“I am a physician!” she calls out. “He has no pulse, call an ambulance, someone help me!” Someone leaves to call and I kneel down on the other side of the boy. She orders me to give him breaths while she pumps his heart. I follow her instructions but he does not respond. We turn his head to the side; water and bile flow from his mouth. An ambulance arrives after what seems like an eternity and the emergency medical team sweeps up the stairs to the pool. They work quickly, fighting the time.

“He’s not responding, we’re going to lose him, call his name!” one of the team calls out.

“Jay,” someone yells.

“OK, we got something, get him out of here!” the medical technician shouts. Within seconds he is gone, whisked into the ambulance. In the hallway I run into the physician. We stop to talk but she bursts into tears.

“He’ll be alright,” I assure her. She shakes her head.

“He was without oxygen for too long,” she replies, “even if he lives, he will be a vegetable.”

When I come downstairs there is tremendous excitement in the house. Shri Mataji had just telephoned from Cabella. and reassured everyone that he would be alright!

Jay is in a coma for seven days and still there is no change. I remember the physician’s words; technically the boy was dead when he had no pulse. I try to calculate how long he was without oxygen - too long; it had to be at least ten minutes, perhaps there is no hope.

A week later I return to the house, enter the living room and see Jay. He seems in perfect health so I tentatively call his name. He turns to me and smiles. I ask him how he is and though his voice is hoarse from all the tubes that have gone down his throat; he tells me he is fine. I feel like jumping for joy but instead sit beside Jay to meditate, wondering if now that I am in Sahaja Yoga, miracles are just another part of everyday life.’