Growing up in New York, there were three things I found utterly amazing: the accents of people from other places, baseball and snow days. If you're from California, Mexico or Hawaii, you probably know what the first two are all about. But the third? Allow me to explain.
A snow day, for those of you who have never experienced winter, is an unexpected day off from school granted by a benevolent universe. You go to bed at night, dreading your history test the next day, and wake up with three feet of snow outside your window — your mother telling you (having just heard it on the radio) that school is closed.
It's a snow day!
Somehow, while you slept, the whole world shut down. Everything came to a halt. The only thing you can see out your window is a solitary bird looking for food and the kid next door, arms outstretched, making snow angels.
You jump for joy! Yahoo! Hallelujah!
Gone is the need to rush through breakfast. Gone is the need to catch the bus. Gone is the need to perform.
All bets are off. Your time is your own. You are free!
You look out the window and everything is white. The jagged edges of the world have been softened, curved and relaxed. Everything is still, as if the God you've heard so much about in Sunday school has just hit the pause button.
You have time to slow down, time to do nothing at all — and feel really good about it. After all, this isn't a sick day, it's a snow day — a complete and utter gift... an unexpected bit of grace... an inheritance you didn't realize was on its way.
For me, being able to experience the Knowledge that Maharaji teaches is a bit like that.
And the ultimate beauty of the whole thing? I don't have to wait for an "Act of God," while I sleep, to enjoy its benefits. It's with me every second of the day, if I care to pay attention.
Illustration by Sara Shaffer.