The Psychiatrist

Years ago there was a psychiatrist from London who was living here and coming to our meditations. Her name was Rosemary, and her husband’s name was Arthur. He was a Barrister, but then he gave that up and started writing poems. I told him that he had been the English poet Wordsworth in a previous life. He was very pleased – his ego was flattered.

When I used to meditate with the wife, she used to cry. When we used to sit face to face for meditation, she used to shed tears. Otherwise, she was very, very dignified, majestic, absolutely British. Her fee for her patients was $47 or something like that. She used to give me $47 as a love offering – no joke in those days.

They started coming to meditation in Manhattan and also came to my house in Queens quite a few times. They were very, very pleased with the meditations. One day they invited me to come to their place for lunch, so I went there. We were chatting. A young lady came to serve us. I concentrated and saw that lady had been Joan of Arc in a previous incarnation. Joan of Arc was a village girl who was so famous – Jeanne d’Arc. Rosemary and her husband became so jealous of her. That was the end. They stopped coming.

From where to where, my psychiatrist story!³⁴

12 June 2007 Aspiration-Ground, New York