Eat, Pray, Love

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.
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 in-
ventions 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.
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.
“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