I spent much of my time the last few days at Vashistha Caves, where the great sage Vashistha meditated for several years. Journeying the 25 kilometers or so from Rishikesh on a rented scooter, I parked atop a hill along a roadside curve and descended to the Vashistha Guha Ashram; monastics fed cows or swept walkways next to the emerald green waters of the Ganges. Mountains rose up all around us. A pedestrian suspension bridge led to a Buddhist monastery hidden somewhere in the lush, green foliage across the river.

Arriving early in the morning, I passed with light steps through the peace and quiet of the ashram. At an adjacent courtyard I took off my shoes and found the opening of the cave, ducking into the darkness and groping my way forward toward a dimly lit shrine. Individual mats covered the floor. What a magnificent experience meditating in the depths of this rock in the foothills of the Himalayas! Just the sheer thought of being here made my mind restless, but once I settled in, the silence sent subtle vibrations up and down my spine.

I didn’t want to leave this silence, but once a few others started to arrive, I decided to move on and free up some space. I walked down to the white sands and boulders along the riverside, following a sandy trail to the neighboring Arundhati Cave, where Vashistha’s wife, Arundhati, performed her meditation and sacred rites, and later, many other advanced yogis of world renown. Some of them, including Papa Ramdas and Swami Rama Tirtha, had visions of Jesus while meditating in the cave.

Papa Ramdas wrote in his 1934 book In the Vision of God that Ram (God) directed him to find Arundhati Cave, at a time when it lay hidden in the jungle with no passageway leading there. His first night there Jesus materialized before him. With growing evidence that Jesus spent many of his “lost years” in India, many refer to this as the Jesus Cave. Indeed, when I was at Hemis Monastery in Ladakh a few months ago, a monk there told me it was common knowledge that Jesus had lived at their monastery for several years and meditated in the surrounding mountainsides.

What a thrill to meditate here. With the sun shining brilliantly in a clear blue sky, I wandered further down the riverbank, enjoying the sand, the rocks, the whisper of rushing water, and even the occasional cry of white water rafters floating past. I went to the waters and waded in up to my knees, dipping to splash my face in the sparkling clear river. I then spotted an even smaller cave hidden in the embankment, and dipping inside, felt immediately at peace. I closed my eyes and felt I could stay here forever. Such peace! Such serenity.

On my climb back up to the scooter I met a “Baba” (wise elder/saint) washing his clothes next to the abandon building where he slept. He met me joyfully. We struck up a conversation, and in broken English he shared tales from his life. He had lived three years in that small cave I discovered at the end of the embankment (this was confirmed the next day by a local I met). He also pointed up one of the neighboring mountains and told me there was a very sacred cave up there visited by few, and that I would just have to follow the winding road about ten kilometers or so to find it. I told him that I would love to live here, and he thought I meant NOW, of course, and said that I could sleep in the abandon building but would have to bring my own mat.

“And you can bathe in the Ganges at 6:30 in the morning with no one around,” he said. “How wonderful!”

I told him that I would pass on spending the night, at least for now, but that I would be up tomorrow and would see him. I vowed to make that climb to the next cave!

PART 2