Once, at the monastery in Ganges, Michigan, I found myself seated next
to Marie Louise Burke. We were just sitting there waiting, and she turned to me
and said, "I owe all my life in Vedanta to you." "What are you saying!"
I said. (I
had always thought that I was on her list of people to
be avoided.) Well, she told
me that when she came to the Temple that
night, long ago, she rang the bell at
the office door, and no one
answered. She rang again, and no one answered.
She told me that she
had said, "It's all dark, and they're not going to let me in. I'm
to jump off the Bridge." Then she said, "You came and invited me to go to
the lecture at the other end of the building."
I was the usher at the far end of the auditorium, but I had heard the bell,
and I was not going to let someone ring the bell and not get in. So I left my post
and went around to the office entrance on Webster Street and found this lady
standing at the door with the tears streaming down her face. I asked her if she
would like to attend the lecture, and I took her around to the Filbert Street
Seated there on the bench in Michigan, I told her that I had always thought
that she had eye trouble. I had thought so all these years.
Now all that is over,
and later, in San Francisco, I gave her the information
and Tesla. And I told her that she was the custodian of information on