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Preface of the Author

In the first book, readers are shown how to detach themselves from the more obvious outer security symbols or controlling factors in their lives, such as parents, teachers, family members, partners and friends, as well as material objects and aims such as money, jobs, cars, houses and various addictions.

But, after a person is free from these outer controls, there are many inner ones, to be released. These include inherited characteristics, character traits, familial behavioural patterns, religious and family affections, and a multitude of other influences to which we are heir as soon as we are born and take our place as members of a family.

After the first book had come out, specific techniques were forthcoming which clearly belonged in another book – this one.

Both my previous books had been started during visits to see Sathya Sai Baba in India. While staying at his ashram, I was able to concentrate for long uninterrupted periods, which is rarely the case during my very busy life at home, when my days are full, working with people individually, conducting seminars, answering the many letters and telephone calls requesting help, in addition to running a house and carrying out the duties of wife, mother, grandmother and friend. So, again, I decided to start the actual writing of this book on our next visit to Baba.

When we arrived in India, I discovered that the stage had already been set. Baba’s very first question was, ‘How is the new book and what is the title?’ At that time I had given no thought to the choice of a title and was startled by the question which, from Baba’s amused expression, was quite obviously his intention. I replied that it would probably be something like, Cutting the Ties that Bind, Part Two. On hearing this, he made a wry grimace and shook his head, indicating that he was not at all happy with that suggestion. He elaborated by saying, ‘Swami does not like that at all.’ So I quickly mentioned that my husband had chosen the titles for the first two books. Sidney replied that he could not provide a title until he had read the book, and it was only just being started. With that, Baba turned back to me with a questioning look, so I quickly asked him if he would supply the title. He smilingly agreed, saying, ‘Swami will.’ But how or when he would do so I had no idea. I was well aware that he would not necessarily tell me verbally, since he invariably discourages people from relying too heavily on his physical form or spoken word. Instead, he expects them to seek within, to receive their answers from the inner spark of divinity, what I have learned to call the High C. I, therefore, concentrated on writing the book and put the title out of my mind for the time being.

In addition to Baba’s direct personal encouragement, I was given other very practical aids to allow me to concentrate on the task with minimal distractions. We had made an arrangement with an American couple to occupy our room at the ashram in our absence, which they had been doing since Baba’s sixtieth birthday in November 1985. They had supervised tiling the floors to make it easier to clean in that very dusty place and the installation of netting at the open windows as protection from the voracious mosquitoes and other little creatures flying around in search of victims.

When we arrived, we were amazed and delighted with what greeted us. There were wooden frames to raise the mattresses from the floor, bookshelves and kitchen cabinets and even attractive curtains at the windows. It looked delightfully inviting. They had also arranged for a pleasant young Indian woman to cook for them and invited us to join them for the meals she prepared daily. So I was spared many of the usual time-consuming chores and could concentrate on writing. I daily gave thanks, both to Baba and to the American couple.

As I discovered when starting the other two books, when I was in Baba’s physical presence, the ideas began to flow so fast and easily that I found it hard to put them into words and onto paper.

After a while I began to notice that though most of the subject matter followed the original theme, now and then what I found myself writing seemed to be irrelevant. I began to wonder if my mind could be playing tricks on me. As I continued to observe these seeming by-lanes along which it was straying, they started to fit together into a recognisable pattern. The common theme appeared to be a more successful education of children in contrast to the way most adults have been raised.

All of a sudden, as with the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, everything fell into place and the words ‘education’ and ‘re-education’ flashed into my mind. I immediately realised that not only had the title been given to me but the format of the book itself had been abruptly changed and expanded. Instead of the original theme I had conceived, the book would now be in two parts. The book that I had originally envisaged would now become Part-II. Part-I would be new, and would include suggestions or guidelines to help parents and teachers to bring up children in such a way that each child would be encouraged to express his or her true nature with as little overlay from outer sources as possible. So the book would cover both education of children and re-education of adults who had not had the advantage of being taught in such an enlightened way.

The next time I saw Baba, I volunteered that I thought he had given me a better title for the book and told him what had come to my mind. He smiled broadly and said, ‘Yes, Swami likes that much better.’ Of course, I now understood that the whole theme fits perfectly into Baba’s mission of concentrating primarily on presenting a more complete and satisfactory method of education than now exists throughout the world. He says that the world will change for the better only if the children of today are taught to live according to basic human values, particularly love. Then, when they mature and take their places in the many diverse institutions in their own countries, they will be prepared to put into practice the moral training they have been given in addition to the regular academic knowledge. Baba often points out that most adults have become too set in their ways and fixed in their attitudes to be capable of much change, whereas children and young people are more malleable and open to direction.

I had considered the original theme to be quite intimidating in its scope. Now, with this unexpected addition, it was positively overwhelming. However, a comforting thought quickly presented itself. How could I forget, even for a minute, that I, as an individual ego, would not be writing this book any more than I had the other two? By seeking contact with the High C, I would, as before, receive it piece by piece from the source. In doing so, I would be gaining further practice in relying solely on that wise, loving and real part of myself.

However, this method of writing can be most disconcerting at times. Since it is not controlled by the ego, patience needs to be cultivated when the natural flow stops and appears to have dried up, often for extended periods. I have gradually learned to sense when the time is right and avoid trying to use force when it no longer flows easily. In retrospect, I always see how perfect the timing has been whenever I surrender my personal ego to the High C and trust it to direct me when the time is right and accept whenever that may be. But this attitude is in direct opposition to all that most people have been taught, and old habits die hard.

During our stay at the ashram, Baba frequently inquired how the book was progressing and from time to time made remarks which showed me that he was silently supervising it.

At our farewell interview, I handed him the sheaf of pages 1 had by then written in my illegible handwriting that he had once referred to as crow’s feet scratches. As he riffled through the pages, I asked if it was the way he wished it to be. He turned quickly away from scanning the sheets and with his extraordinary eyes penetrating to my very depths, said, ‘No, that is incorrect. Is it the way you think it should be?’ He stressed the word ‘you’, as he pointed his forefinger at me and looked deep into my soul. Again, he was reminding me that I must learn to rely, not on him personally, but on my real Self deep within me. As his eyes pierced the shell of my body, mind and emotions, I experienced an intense understanding that this inner Self is the only part he really sees. It is as if he bypasses our frail and faulty personalities in order to make contact with our real Self. His message to me was that I must constantly turn within to consult It and allow It to guide me. Baba’s human form, living in India, is here to remind all who will listen that this inner teacher to which we all have access, whenever we seek It within instead of outside ourselves, is our true Self.

Many times since then, while writing, I have vividly recalled his gaze and, turning within, have asked for direction and waited for thoughts to enter my mind after I have emptied it of its flurry of worries, questions and doubts. With practice it becomes easier to make this drastic change away from the way we have all been taught to seek our answers and security from external experiences, from books and other people.