Eckankar, Religion of the Light and Sound of God

ECK Masters—Lai Tsi

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Mitzi and the ECK Master

Divine Love Saves the Life of a New Zealand Cat


Taking care of my brother’s house while he and his wife spent several years overseas, I became very fond of their cat Mitzi and her warm, open, take-me-or-leave-me nature.

While I was caring for her, Mitzi developed a large infected cyst on her neck, necessitating two trips to a veterinary clinic. On the second visit, I had to leave her overnight to be prepared for surgery the next day to drain the cyst.

As I signed the consent form, I became anxious. The last time I had left a cat, my own, at a veterinary clinic for surgery, it had not survived.

As I drove home from the clinic, all I could think to do, as a good stoic male, was to prepare for the worst. I made imaginary phone calls to my brother overseas: "Don’t panic. Everything’s all right . . . except . . . I’m afraid . . . Mitzi died." I was spiraling into a black hole reminiscent of one I had once plunged into—leading up to the loss of one of my own cats.

Was history about to repeat itself?

Maybe this time I could turn my attitude around. Maybe it wouldn’t stop Mitzi from dying, but surely it could only help her.

I began to chant HU, the sacred name for God. By day’s end I was feeling more relaxed.

"OK, Mitzi. If you have to go, so be it. But I’m very fond of you," I said inwardly. It was both a simple surrender and acknowledgement of my love for Mitzi.

That night, in a vivid dream, I found myself in a busy bazaar-cum-shopping mall. I came upon a pillar covered with some kind of calligraphy. I scrutinized it, keen to decipher its message. As I stared at the writing, the Chinese ECK Master Lai Tsi appeared through the pillar as if I had X-ray vision. Ruddy-cheeked, he was laughing merrily.

Excited, I tried to think what I could do to hold on to this audience with him, but as soon as I did, he began to fade, still laughing merrily as he disappeared.

The next day, on my lunch hour, I rang the vet to see if Mitzi was ready to come home. When I arrived at the clinic, the veterinarian ushered me in.

"It was so good that we didn’t have to operate," she smiled.

"Didn’t operate?"

"During the night, Mitzi must have got her claw in behind the cyst and ripped it open," she responded. "There was quite a mess to clean up in the cage after, but it was good. Quite a saving."

She was probably referring to the saving to my wallet, but I was thinking of another possible saving—that of Mitzi’s life. History had not repeated itself. Lai Tsi’s laughing countenance of the night before had surely been reassurance that divine love was on the scene.

At home, I set Mitzi down on a chest in the lounge. When I went to bed, she was still there, but before I dropped off to sleep, she leaped off the chest and came galloping, cat-fashion, up the passage to my room. Another leap landed her on a nearby desktop, where she settled down with her unique, penetrating purr.

"It’s nice having you back, Mitzi, but I’m not going to get a lot of sleep if you keep that up."

The purring stopped. Another leap from the desk to the floor and another gallop down the passage took Mitzi back to her spot on the chest. She had dropped in to say thank you. With HU, I had gotten my attitude right this time.

Excerpted from the 2003 Eckankar Journal, copyright © 2002 ECKANKAR. All rights reserved.

Eckankar, Religion of the Light and Sound of God
Last modified September 26, 2014  100534