At exactly seven o’clock, Jeremy picked up a golden-colored Tibetan bowl. Using a polished wooden wand, he rang it three times. As the high, clear tones sang out through the room, the chatter instantly dissolved. Everyone closed their eyes.

“We meditate before she comes in,” Lucy whispered.

Never having meditated before, I wasn’t at all certain what to do. I snuck furtive peeks at my neighbors, all of whom appeared to have developed sudden breathing problems as they struggled to take in as much air as possible. Grinning to myself, I crossed my legs, closed my eyes and took a deep, labored breath. At least I could look the part.

I sat that way for I don’t know how long, semi-impatiently wondering how on earth I’d let Lucy talk me into this. My thoughts were drifting between casual judgments of the goofy people around me and anxiety about finding another job when suddenly, I had the eerie sensation of being watched. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and my eyes flew open.

Sitting in the white chair at the front of the room was the woman from the picture. Dressed in an elegant pantsuit of silky, deep blue fabric with a long, matching coat, she sat in that chair with the commanding presence of an ancient queen. Her hair was shoulder-length, deep black woven with streaks of white, and framed a startlingly youthful face dominated by full lips, a sharp nose,and penetrating blue eyes that were staring directly at me.

“Welcome back,” she said, a soft smile playing around the edge of her lips.

The moment the words left her, I felt as though I’d been hit by a lightening bolt. My stomach did a triple somersault and my skin felt electrified. I reached for the ground to steady myself, breaking away from her gaze as I did so. Totally unnerved, I struggled to regain my composure as the people around me opened their eyes, stretched and shifted on their cushions. By the time I had calmed down a bit and looked back at the woman on the chair, she was staring off into the distance with a pleasant smile.

“You’ve come here today to learn about love,” the woman began in a gentle, yet strangely hypnotic voice. “It is your very nature, this love, the core of who you are, but you have forgotten that. You have forgotten,” she paused, staring intently for long moments at several people in the crowd, “that you are this love, and so you think you need to learn about it. In reality, there is nothing you need to learn. You simply need to remember. But, since you don’t remember,” she said with a generous smile, “I will teach you. Until you do.”

A slight chuckle went through the crowd. The joke was lost on me, as was the majority of what she said for the next twenty minutes. I was still reeling from the impact of her pointed welcome statement. Had she really been talking to me? What did she mean, welcome back? I’d never seen this woman before in my life. True, there was something strangely familiar about her, but I was certain I’d never met her. Why on earth would she be talking to me?

I looked back at her, trying to figure out what it was about her that was having this effect on me. On the surface, she looked very relaxed, and her face radiated an inviting warmth. There was a nurturing quality to her, something very comforting about her smile and her grace. But at the same time, she brimmed with a focused intensity that was so strong it was almost frightening. It was as though she somehow had access to more energy than the rest of us. Lucy had told me over dinner that Ma was enlightened, but I knew so little about the concept that it hadn’t really registered for me. Watching her now, however, and seeing how palpably different she was from anyone I had ever met before, left me with a suddenly powerful curiosity.

“In our dualistic Universe,” Ma continued, “love seems to exist only in relationship to hate. They are opposites, and they give each other life. So, we go back and forth between them, forever back and forth. That’s how duality works,” she paused again, continuing her focused survey of the crowd. “But when you learn to transcend duality, then,” she paused yet again, “then, you exist only in love. And that is God.”

I looked over at Lucy, who was staring with rapt attention at Ma, nodding every now and again with a sense of new insight. I felt envious of the ease with which she seemed to understand all of this. I turned back to Ma, and tried to pay closer attention.

“You know,” Ma continued, leaning forward as though she was about to share a great secret with us, “if you want to understand your relationship with the Divine, all you need to do is look at your relationship with the opposite sex. The issues you experience with the opposite sex are a mirror for how you experience God. And if you have not resolved your issues with God,” she stressed, “how do you think you will ever be able to experience peace in your human relationships?”

As I listened, I felt a sudden current of electricity prickle under my skin. Aside from Harris, I’d never dated a man for more than a few months. My history of abandoned relationships flashed before my eyes as I surveyed my non-existent connection with anything even remotely divine. Could that really be it? Was having so much trouble in relationships with men because I had no relationship with God?

If I’d felt off balance before, I felt even more so now. I had been raised entirely without religion, and I barely even had a concept of God, let alone any idea how to have a relationship with Him. Or Her. Or Whatever. I wondered nervously if God would even be interested in a relationship with me.

I spent the rest of the lecture in knots of internal confusion. Ma’s comments about using love relationships as a spiritual path—seeing the beauty in your partner even when you were angry, becoming aware of the tendency to project negative emotions onto your partner, and embracing all conflict as an opportunity for growth—all of that seemed remarkably logical to me. But underneath everything, her high-minded path seemed dismally unattainable. How on earth was I supposed to see God in another when I barely had any idea what that even was?

When Ma completed her lecture, she leaned back and closed her eyes. As if on cue, the class settled into a deep, reflective meditation. When Jeremy rang the Tibetan bowl signaling the end of the sitting period, Ma was gone.

A serene Lucy stretched out her legs in front of her before turning to me. “Well? What did you think?”