The Passage, the Storm, and the Silence—How One Book, Two Calls, and a Torrential Rainstorm Led Me to Transcendence
A Personal Origin Story of Awakening, Alignment, and the Unseen Hand of Destiny
Looking back, the path to Transcendental Meditation® was not a straight line but a constellation of quiet callings, strange timings, and meaningful alignments. The journey did not begin with a technique or a teacher—it began with a question, nestled between the lines of a book published by the Yogi Publication Society—Advance Course in Yogi Philosophy and Oriental Occultism. I do not recall the exact hour of that evening, only the stillness of my flat, the weight of the ideas I was reading, and the unmistakable pause I felt after one passage in particular.
The author, William Walker Atkinson, writing under one of his many pseudonyms—Yogi Ramacharaka—wrote in the book’s frontispiece, When the pupil is ready, the teacher appears. In that moment and as I continued to read, it dawned on and nagged at me—One can read about these truths in a book, but to truly go to the next level, one needs a teacher.
I stopped reading. Sat upright. Thought carefully. Who would be my teacher to take me to the next level?
At the time, I had already immersed myself in the teachings of Dr. Will Coleman, Associate Professor of Systematic Theology and World Religions at Interdenominational Theological Center (ITC), through Kamit House in Atlanta—courses steeped in Kabbalah, African spiritual systems, and the hidden architecture of human potential. There was also Dean Lawrence Edward Carter, Sr. at Morehouse, a longstanding mentor and one of the great intellectual and spiritual influences in my life. And Dr. Asa G. Hilliard III, with whom I had travelled to Egypt for his annual weeks-long study tour during my undergraduate years and who also served on the Board of Radical Scholar Inc. the 501(c)(3) nonprofit I founded in 2006. And to my great fortune, I had also taken the two graduate classes he taught at Georgia State University through the university’s generous Tuition Remission Program, which had covered both my second B.A. and two and a half years of graduate coursework. Two of my most favourite Grad Classes during my time in Atlanta, bar none.
I turned that passage over in my mind for days, perhaps even weeks. It lingered not as a haunting, but as an invitation.
And then, as if in response to the question, the universe answered.
It was the fall of 2006. Out of the blue, I received a call from Dean Carter. The moment I answered, he said with urgency and certainty: “You need to read this book.” He was referring to Manual for a Perfect Government by quantum physicist Dr. John Hagelin. Dr. Hagelin had spoken earlier that year during the inaugural Walter E. Massey Lecture on Science and Spirituality—part of Morehouse College’s Science and Spiritual Awareness Week on 6 April. He was later inducted into the International Collegium of Scholars of Morehouse College—an honour I would receive on 3 April 2008, for my work with the nonprofit I had launched in 2006, Radical Scholar Inc.
Either that afternoon or the next day, I walked into Dean Carter’s office in the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Chapel at Morehouse College and picked up the book. I read it cover to cover with rapt attention. The convergence of consciousness, governance, and scientific insight was electrifying. I immediately recognised its potential as a teaching tool—not just for scholars and seekers, but for citizens yearning to understand how human potential and public policy might intersect in meaningful ways.
The book stirred something in me. I recommended it to Dr. Layli Maparyan, then a professor at Georgia State University and a trusted colleague. She saw its merit and soon invited me to speak to her 2007 Maymester class about its core ideas. But before I could teach it, I wanted the students to have access to the text. I contacted Maharishi International University (MIU) Press to request copies. With the support of Radical Scholar, Inc., we arranged to obtain the book—yet the students, eager and determined, secured their own copies in preparation for the session.
Somehow along the way, my email address was added to MIU’s official mailing list. That simple, seemingly mundane detail would prove to be the hinge upon which the door of my life would swing open.
A Sign? Yes. Definitely yes!
On 11 March 2008, I received an email from Shane Zisman, a representative from MIU Admissions. The message announced the upcoming David Lynch Weekend—an event designed to introduce attendees to the university’s academic offerings, the ease of practising Transcendental Meditation, and the larger vision of MIU. The email listed speakers and artists, an invitation to Fairfield, Iowa, and the clear suggestion that this weekend would be more than a conference. It would be, in the truest sense, an initiation.
I paused. Something told me this was the next step.
After responding to the email, my mind nudged me to call. It was early evening. I hesitated but called the number listed in Shane’s email signature. The call went to voicemail, and I left a message. As soon as I hung up, a thought emerged, clear and insistent: Call again. I resisted at first—I had already left a message, after all. But the voice came again, more forcefully: Call again. So I did.
After several rings, a woman answered. She remarked that she had heard the first call but continued working, and when the phone rang again, she felt she should answer it. Talk about alignment.
Her name was Ila, an Admissions Counsellor. She answered my questions about the email and the weekend. Then she asked, “Have you visited our website?” I had not. At her suggestion, I typed in the URL and began exploring the graduate programs. One caught my attention—Maharishi Vedic Science. I thought, “Hmm. What is this?” When I landed on the page and read the description, I knew at my core: this was it. On the interest of full disclosure, I do not know what the other programs were; I never looked as I was drawn to Vedic Science. I thanked Ila for taking the call and sharing the website link. Afterward, I continued exploring both the university and the town of Fairfield and wondered, How have I never heard of this place!? Then a thought surfaced within: “When the pupil is ready, the Master will appear.” I thought, “Wow!”
I applied to attend the David Lynch Weekend. After submitting the necessary materials, I participated in an interview as part of the selection process. Dr. Craig Shaw, who conducted the interview, asked a simple question: “Why MIU?”
I responded, “As best I can tell from my research, it seems the university and its faculty adhere to the Master-Pupil dynamic found in initiatic traditions throughout millennia.”
He replied, “I knew you were a Seeker.”
The call continued for a few minutes more, and he informed me that I would likely be accepted to visit the campus to learn more about the graduate programs. For my part, I was interested in only one: Maharishi Vedic Science.
Upon notice of being officially accepted to attend the David Lynch Weekend, I made the necessary travel arrangements. The anticipation was quiet but deep. Something in me recognised this moment as both a culmination and a beginning.
The Exploratory Visit
I arrived in Fairfield on Thursday, 24 April 2008. The landscape was unfamiliar, but the feeling was not. There was an undercurrent of recognition. This same current was felt among the group assembled at Cedar Rapids Airport as we awaited the campus shuttle. After our arrival at the hotel and a brief respite, we gathered in a circle of about fifteen in the parking lot to share our journeys to this magical place. It was a special moment—one of warmth, sincerity, and shared expectancy. Several of us from that circle and weekend remain in contact today. Later that evening, after the introductory meeting in the campus auditorium, I was scheduled for my TM instruction the following day.
That day—Friday, 25 April—is etched in my memory not only for what occurred inwardly, but for what accompanied it outwardly.
As I walked to my appointment, the sky darkened. Clouds rolled in with sentient force. I reached the Drier Building and took a seat, holding a small white wicker basket containing an assortment of flowers, some uncut fruit, and a white handkerchief. As I stared out the window, the rain began—not a drizzle, but a downpour, torrential and insistent, rolling across the verdant campus. With the arrival of the rain on that day, at that specific time, I knew something sacred was unfolding. Ever since an earlier initiation during undergrad, I had recognised that rain often heralded transformation. It felt… perfect.
Rain has long been a sign for me—an indicator that I am standing at a threshold. Even as a child, moments of inner transformation were often accompanied by water: baptisms of the spirit, renewals of purpose. And so I took the rain as confirmation that this moment would irrevocably change my life moving forward.
What happened next is difficult to articulate without slipping into poetry or silence. I learned the Transcendental Meditation technique that day. My teacher, Mario Orsatti, guided me gently. What I experienced was a deep silence—simultaneously familiar and unknown.
Later that day, a large meeting was held featuring David Lynch, Moby, and a roster of celebrities whose names I have long since forgotten. Many of us made plans for the evening, but I opted to return to my hotel room and rest.
After a shower, feeling refreshed, I sat on the bed to meditate again. As I gently began thinking the mantra as instructed, it happened—I dropped. It felt as if I were in an elevator and someone had severed the cables, sending the car careening downward. Yet instead of fear, I felt peace. I descended into a stillness I had never known, yet somehow always known. A silent vastness. A presence. A remembering. Man!! I was hooked.
Forever Changed
Back in Atlanta, after a few weeks of twice-daily practice, I was sitting in a coffee shop near Morehouse College when my mind said, “Move up your date of admission.” I had planned to resume graduate studies in the fall of 2009—not 2008. Again, the voice persisted.
I called Ila while seated in the coffee shop and asked what would be needed. “Just let me know,” she said, “and I’ll fast-track your application.” I told her to proceed.
This was mid-to-late May. As I began to imagine what it would be like to leave Atlanta—to leave behind all I had known, both the good and the challenging—a sense of peace accompanied the vision. I could see myself walking across campus, eating in the dining hall, studying in the library. And making new friends.
After several weeks, I received a call from Ila: I had been admitted. It was 29 July 2008—the day before my birthday. What a gift from the Divine.
And to think, had I not listened to that voice in the coffee shop urging me to “move up” my date of admission, I would not have been in the dining hall on Monday, 1 December 2008, to sense Mina eating lunch on the opposite end of the hall. As I type these lines, I am reminded of Pascal’s suggestion that there are times when the hand of the Divine guides one’s life. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to both listen and act.
Sadly, far too many people do not. Fear often overpowers the quiet impulse. But I had been heeding such whispers since my early encounter with the book Three Magic Words. Again and again, Nature, Source, the Divine—Pure Consciousness itself—laid breadcrumbs. And I followed.
The same was true when Mina and I completed our respective five-month in-residence trainings to become Certified Teachers of Transcendental Meditation—December 2012 for Mina, January 2013 for me. So many fingerprints of the Divine on my life. Even with the many challenges along the way, I see each one as part of a sacred redirection. And for that, I remain deeply grateful.
Since that time, Transcendental Meditation has become a pillar of my life, my work, my marriage, and my parenting. It has enabled me to go beyond thought, beyond stress, beyond any socially constructed identity—to touch the source of thought itself, as the sages have described for millennia. And in so doing, I became a teacher of the technique. First for myself. Then for others.
But I often return to that one passage—the quiet prophecy that one needs a teacher to go to the next level. Had I not paused on that sentence? Had I not asked the question? Had I not opened the door when it appeared, answered the call when it came, accepted the email for what it was?
Perhaps the storm would never have come. Perhaps the silence would not have followed.
And perhaps I would still be waiting for a teacher—not knowing that the path to one had already begun.
Author’s Closing Note
For those seeking to understand the deeper rhythm of transformation—the relationship between study, guidance, and inner stillness—I invite you to consider that our lives often whisper before they speak. And sometimes, the silence that follows a storm carries more wisdom than all the noise that preceded it.
To learn more about Transcendental Meditation, visit: https://www.tm.org/
Suggested Reflection Prompt
Take a moment to reflect on your own life path. Consider:
Have there been moments when the whisper before the thunder appeared—quiet nudges, inner voices, or serendipitous alignments that changed your course?
Can you recall a time when fear or uncertainty almost kept you from acting on what you knew in your heart to be the next step?
Is there a decision you now recognise was orchestrated by something greater—whether you call it Nature, the Divine, or Pure Consciousness?
In your journal or quiet contemplation, explore this question:
What unseen forces have guided my journey—and where might they be leading me next?
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About the Author
Dr. Baruti KMT-Sisouvong is a consciousness scholar, executive coach, and Certified Teacher of Transcendental Meditation® based in Cambridge, Massachusetts. His work—spanning The Model for Perpetual Growth and Progress and The Seven Layers of Manifestation—explores how Pure Consciousness, neuroscience, and social-systems transformation intersect in the evolution of both the individual and society.
He is the Founder and Director of Radical Scholar Inc., a nonprofit organization dedicated to consciousness-based research and public scholarship, and President of Serat Group Inc., the parent company of Transcendental Brain, a consulting and educational platform bringing consciousness science into leadership and institutional development.
Alongside his wife, Mina, he co-directs the Cambridge and Metropolitan Boston TM Program and serves as Host and Founder of International Meditation Hour (IMH), a quarterly global gathering dedicated to the unifying power of silence.
He writes from the conviction that the most important race is not between nations or machines, but between the conditioned mind and the awakening soul.
To learn more about him, visit: https://www.barutikmtsisouvong.com/.
In the journey between the storm and the silence, where do you find yourself — navigating passage, enduring turbulence, or resting in stillness — and how does each phase shape your inner landscape?