men? From the foregoing pages the reader will have formed an idea of him as a stormy
person, struggling, in early youth, against poverty and spiritual unbelief. Afterwards he
is seen wandering from the Himalayas to Cape Comorin, raging against the grievances
and sufferings of the Indian masses. During his first two years in America he had had
to fight tooth and nail against malicious critics in order to establish his reputation as a
religious teacher. When had he, then, tapped the secret spring of inner calmness and
assurance without which a teacher cannot transmit spirituality to his disciples?
One must not forget that Vivekananda, as Ramakrishna has said, was not an ordinary
man, but a nityasiddha, perfect even before birth, an Isvarakoti, or special messenger of
God born on earth to fulfil a divine mission. The silent but powerful influence of the
guru always guided his feet. The outer world saw only the struggles and restlessness of
his wandering days, but not the inner transformation brought about through the practice
of purity, detachment, self-control, and meditation. The veil of maya, without which no
physical embodiment is possible, and which in him was very thin, was rent through the
spiritual struggle of a few years. People were astonished to see his blossoming forth at
Thousand Island Park.
At Dakshineswar, though Sri Ramakrishna had offered young Naren various
supernatural powers of Yoga as a help for his future work, the disciple had refused to
accept them, as being possible impediments to spiritual progress. But later these
powers began to manifest themselves as the natural fruit of his spiritual realizations.
Thus one sees him at Thousand Island Park reading the inmost soul of his followers
before giving them initiation, and foretelling their future careers. He prophesied for
Sister Christine extensive travels in Oriental countries and work in India. He explained
that his method of foresight was simple, at least in the telling. He first thought of space
— vast, blue, and extending everywhere. As he meditated on that space intently,
pictures appeared, and he then gave interpretations of them which would indicate the
future life of the person concerned.
Even before his arrival at Thousand Island Park the Swami had had other
manifestations of such Yoga powers. For instance, while busy with his lecture tour,
sometimes giving twelve or fourteen speeches a week, he would feel great physical and
mental strain and often wonder what he would speak of the next day. Then he would
hear, at dead of night, a voice shouting at him the very thoughts he was to present.
Sometimes it would come from a long distance and then draw nearer and nearer, or
again, it would be like someone delivering a lecture beside him as he lay listening in
bed. At other times two voices would argue before him, discussing at great length
ideas, some of which he had never before consciously heard or thought of, which he
would find himself repeating the following day from the pulpit or the platform.
Sometimes people sleeping in the adjoining rooms would ask him in the morning:
'Swami, with whom were you talking last night? We heard you talking loudly and
enthusiastically and we were wondering.' The Swami often explained these
manifestations as the powers and potentialities of the soul generally called inspiration.
He denied that they were miracles.