It was November 14, 2004. A blustery winter evening in New York. The sun had gone down and the wind was gusting hard. My stomach rumbled relentlessly and I shivered in spite of my down parka. I sprinted briskly along West 63 St., to reach my destination near Carnegie Hall, at 25-C, the apartment/ashram of Yogi Gupta, my spiritual preceptor, as quickly as possible.
I had traveled to Manhattan from Miami primarily to do my work as a simultaneous interpreter at a board of directors meeting for a large multinational client, but I wanted to get a spiritual boost by going to the center as I didn’t often have the opportunity to attend. I had finished a 30 Day Purification Diet that day and made the mistake of going to a Thai restaurant in the city with my colleagues to celebrate a job well done and break the fast. …
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