On the Road to Damascus: Swami Kriyananda: Yogananda's St. Paul?

Swami Kriyananda (www.swamikriyananda.org) lived with and was personally trained and commissioned by Paramhansa Yogananda (author of the now classic story: "Autobiography of a Yogi"). 

While Swami Kriyananda ("Swamiji") never made any claims as to his own spiritual stature or progress, saying only that his goal was to be a good disciple, there's no question objectively speaking that among direct disciples (those who knew and were trained by Yogananda, their guru), Swamiji has done the most publicly to share his guru's teachings. I recount his one hundred fifty books and hundreds (thousands?) of lectures, videos, and interviews given around the world in a lifetime of travel but no matter. The record stands on its own. No other direct disciple, regardless of spiritual stature, has done more. This isn't the proud boast it might seem. I mention it for the purpose of making the points I share below. 

During his life, others commented that Swamiji seemed to be Yogananda's "St. Paul." This means that Swamiji was the one to put Yogananda on the world map, so to speak. Swamiji wasn't particularly fond of this comparison but I think he had to admit it made a point. 

But my point is different from the validity of the comparison. It's close enough to count for my purposes. And what, then, is that purpose? 

Each of us must have our blinding moment of faith, "coming to Jesus" as some Christians might say. St. Paul's moment is famous: on the road to Damascus to persecute more Christians a blinding light struck Paul down from his horse. He remained blind for days until a (nervous) Christian (Barnabas?) came to Paul to heal Paul's blindness and to instruct him in the teachings of Jesus. Paul's was a conversion perhaps like no other.

You and I don't usually have such a dramatic wake-up call. To complete my analogy let me say that I think Swami Kriyananda's moment of faith took a very different form. In 1962 he was summarily dismissed from the board of directors of Yogananda's organization, Self-Realization Fellowship and ordered to leave the monastic order. While this is hardly a blinding vision with the voice of Yogananda, it certainly threw him off the horse of his service to Yogananda's organization. By throwing him out, Swamiji had to learn to stand on his own two feet. It was the beginning of "the great work" that Yogananda privately told him that he, Swamiji, had to do in this lifetime. Had he remained in SRF, little, if anything, of what Swamiji was to accomplish during the rest of his long and fruitful life would have been allowed.

The effect, then, was no different than Paul's blinding light. It changed his life of discipleship in a big and public way.

But what about you and me? I write this in anticipation of sharing some remarks in celebration of Swamiji's birth in 1926 (1926-2013). When Swamiji objected to a comment Yogananda made regarding Swamiji's service to God, Yogananda replied curtly, "Living for God is martyrdom." Didn't Jesus Christ promise such persecution to his devotees?

Indeed, Swami Kriyananda would later endure even greater humiliation in later years in a long and sordid lawsuit behind which SRF was a hidden player. He did so with calm equanimity, refusing to hold back any facts that were demanded of him, and refusing to hate or condemn his detractors. This was, in effect, his version of crucifixion and he accepted it with calmness and faith. Subsequent to those years of trial, Swamiji emerged resurrected in bliss and fired with just as much creative zeal for his guru's work until his very last days. Like St. Paul, Swamiji endured his share of hardships and trials in his ministry.

But, again, what about you and me? Do we, instead, seek merely to have our "cake and eat it too?" Does the balanced life of meditation and service promise a life free from spiritual tests and hardships? Throughout the history of religion, it has been oft-promised that a virtuous life will result in a prosperous and successful life. The so-called Protestant Ethic is one example of this teaching which always exists in some form or another in all religions. This is so because it has some truth to it. But good karma is still just karma. Like a bank account, you can't take it with you because good karma will eventually be eroded by the natural flow of opposites in the world of duality.

Thus it must then be acknowledged and stated that each of us will have our St. Paul or Swami Kriyananda moments. These moments test our mettle; our faith; our trust in God. I've seen that in the latter stages of life, unfulfilled desires and unresolved issues, have a way of returning like "chickens to roost" before death's final exam. 

These might not count in the same way as St. Paul's epiphany or Swami Kriyananda's ouster, but one way or another, if we are sincere in our spiritual aspirations, karma, or if you prefer, Divine Mother, will give us an opportunity to work things out. While in the big picture of cosmic consciousness, the reality is BOTH-AND, in the small picture of our karmic unfoldment, it tends to be EITHER-OR. We have temptations and tests and are faced with making spiritually important decisions. 

In my personal life, I did not have an early-life encounter with falling off a horse, so to speak. My path unfolded naturally, and, indeed, even comfortably in a smooth arc of progressing from one stage to the next. Instead, I find, however, that now I must confront the price of this spiritually comfortable life. Perhaps I just needed a lifetime to prepare for this; maybe I had the good karma of a steady trajectory towards God. But now I feel acutely the need to prepare for my own final exam and I am intent upon doing so. 

My point is this: we each have our moments of truth when the soul confronts the ego with a  choice. You could say that happens every day because, of course, it does. But I'm speaking of those special moments on the road to Damascus--when you think you are just plodding along heedless of what is about to take place, spiritually. 

As in the story of the foolish virgins in the New Testament or Yogananda's story of a similar nature in his autobiography, or Jesus asking the disciples to remain awake while he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, the spiritual life is one that requires us to be "awake and ready." 

Daily meditation, periodic retreats and seclusion, quality time with a spiritual friend, and the company of high-minded souls will draw the grace of God and guru so that bit by bit we can welcome our tests with faith and gratitude. Our tests, to us, are as big as the big tests of St. Paul and Swami Kriyananda. No one will likely read about our tests in the future but to us they are "sufficient unto the day." Swami Kriyananda showed us the courage of living for God and accepting what comes of its own (as Yogananda put it) with faith, equanimity and, yes, even gratitude (for the opportunity to move towards soul freedom).

Happy 97th birthday, Swamiji!

Swami Hrimananda.....

Heaven, Hell or No-thing?

What is our soul's destiny? What is the goal of the spiritual life? 

Is it to find happiness?

Is it to be good, and not bad or selfish?

Is it to earn the reward of an eternal after-death paradise?

Is it to avoid eternal punishment?

Is it to love God (whom you probably haven’t ever met)?

Is it to be virtuous in order to be prosperous?

Is it because you will feel better rather than worse?

 

 A Christian who accepts Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior and is baptized in the church can go to heaven if their sins are not overly egregious. After death, the Christian might suffer in Purgatory in order to purify the soul of the burden of their venial sins before at last entering through the pearly gate where St. Peter welcomes them into heaven (assuming their name appears in the good book). In heaven, some say they sing praises to the Lord, perhaps strumming a harp. Maybe they visit with family and friends. No one is really sure but forever is a very long time. Maybe there’s no sense of time in heaven? The explanation isn’t very complete. I suppose a good Moslem has a similar experience though I’ve heard that his rewards are more heavenly sensual in nature. But for all that, the idea is similar. There’s even the idea that at some future Day of Judgement one’s former physical body is resurrected and returned to your soul. I suppose for many people these rewards are enough for them to try to be good, but not too good.

Judaism is less interested, I’m told, in dogma and more interested in behavior (a very practical, and as it turns out, modern concept). But there is some talk of an afterlife. Details are sketchy, however.

Buddhism started as a sect of Hinduism much as the first Christians were Jews. As the centuries went along and as Buddhism more or less vanished from India much as Christianity left Palestine for Europe, it has taken on, in some of its sects or branches, a more nihilistic tone—even for some to claim they are atheists, though Buddha never said that. Buddhism is not straight-forward on the question of heaven because reincarnation remained in the canon from its original Hindu roots. In general, the idea seems to be that nirvana is achieved when the self is dissolved but as there is no concept of soul and only emptiness, Sunyata, beyond form, there is, appropriately, not much to say about it (ha, ha). No wonder they are more inclined to think about improving their next life. Who would wish to become nothing? It seems a bit like committing spiritual hari kari. No wonder the Bodhisattvas choose to return to help others! While this assessment is not entirely fair and in principle is not unlike the concept of dissolving the ego, Buddhism does not admit of God and does not discuss the transcendent state of freedom from samsara (the cycle of birth, life, death and reincarnation).

Hinduism affirms reincarnation and the states between reincarnation, the afterlife, as various forms of heaven and hell, though such states are temporary rather than everlasting. The end game of this otherwise endless cycle of birth, life, death, afterlife, rebirth moves toward enlightenment and then culminates in soul liberation. Enlightenment is the kind of awakening to the soul-Self (Atman) that, when it reaches its full realization, frees one from the delusion of separateness but not necessarily from the karma of past actions and identifications. Freeing one's soul identification from the past then becomes the next goal of the otherwise free soul called a jivan mukta. Once all past karma is dissolved by releasing one’s memory and identification with past actions, then one merges into God and achieves the final state of samadhi (there are different levels of samadhi). This merging into and union with God is often described with the metaphor of a drop of water, or a river, dissolving into the ocean. The drop of water or the water of the river still exist but have been merged into the ocean. Nonetheless, Hinduism is so old and there are so many branches of it and teachers in Hinduism that there’s no point even attempting to state what “Hinduism” teaches no matter how insistently any one branch or teacher proclaims their definition of liberation, known as moksha.

Paramhansa Yogananda (1893-1952), author of the now classic story, “Autobiography of a Yogi,” offered a nuanced description of moksha: the soul’s liberation in God. Freedom from all karma, he taught, allows the Atman, the soul, to achieve identification with what it has always been: the Infinite Spirit. Yet, from the dawn of time, so to speak, each Atman, each soul, carries a unique stamp of individuality. As all created things, mental, emotional or physical, are manifestations of the One, nothing is ever apart from Spirit no matter how dark it becomes. A rock is as much God as a saint, but the rock is simply unaware of “who am I” while the perfect being (saint) is “One with the Father” even if embodied in form.

The Self-realized saint then enjoys a two-fold beatitude: the bliss of God while in incarnate and in activity and yet with access to the vibrationless Bliss of God beyond creation.

There are many stages described in the Hindu scriptures of the soul’s long journey through time and space and its concomitant levels of awakening. But in this article, we are focusing on the final stage: union with God. God realization is not barred by the fact of being incarnate in form, whether that form be the physical, astral; or causal. While it may be gainsaid that this final step is natural to the causal state of the soul, there are those who maintain that it is the desireless desire of God that the soul achieves its liberation while in the outer form of the creation as a kind of victory dance proving, like the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the supremacy of Spirit over matter.

Once merged into the Infinite, the memory of the soul’s many incarnations remain. While enjoying the bliss of union with God, the Infinite Spirit might send the soul back into the creation to fulfill the divine mission of redeeming other souls. Returning to form, such a soul is called, in India, an avatar: a descent of Spirit into form. “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14)

It is also possible that the deep devotion of an incarnate devotee might be strong enough to call back into vision or even fleshly form, a liberated soul who is in fact the savior for that soul. St. Francis, for example, walked with Jesus. Paramhansa Yogananda was visited by the flesh and blood form of his guru, Swami Sri Yukteswar months of his guru's burial.

In God nothing is lost and all is achieved; all is possible.

Meditate, then, on the indwelling, omnipresent, immanent Spirit in your Self and in every atom of creation. "Hear O Israel, the Lord, the Lord is ONE!" The Infinite Spirit sends into creation in every age a divine "son" to call the children back into the blissful Fold. The "son" says to us "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except by following Me." Krishna, Buddha, Jesus Christ, Paramhansa Yogananda and countless other "sons" (and daughters) of God have been sent. Do you hear their voice?

Blessings, friends,

Swami Hrimananda

 

 

What is BLISS? What might be its relationship to DEATH?

Ananda members, communities and centers celebrated the ten-year anniversary of the passing of Ananda's founder, Swami Kriyananda (a direct disciple of Paramhansa Yogananda). Each of the many celebrations included comments on the remarkable and tangible intensity of bliss manifested by "Swamiji" especially in the last many years of his life. (Paramhansa Yogananda responded to Swami's question about whether he, Swami Kriyananda, would find God in this life that "yes" he WOULD find God but that death would be the last sacrifice).

 But what is the BLISS that we so often reference and sometimes risk doing so blithely?

Consider the nature of God as Infinite Consciousness? Surely that which is INFINITE must include everything that would be needed or desired; it must be whole and complete in its Self. Being INFINITE it must surely be INFINITELY happy and content!

Only when BLISS takes on the appearance of form does it separate its Self and, being INFINITE, it has the ability to produce INFINITE variety. In taking on form, BLISS, being akin to white light, must needs take on the color and attributes of that form. The emotional state of sadness has the attribute of, well, sadness. Whatever BLISS it came from is obscured by this form. Rocks, also, don't seem especially BLISSFUL. And so on. The creation masks the experience of BLISS by its very "nature." (I suppose one might say that a painting masks the nature of the artist even as it might, to those with "eyes to see," reveal something about its creator.)

This is why all spiritual practices attempt to lead us away from our form--including our moods, desires, fears and little-self preoccupations--towards the ORIGIN or CENTER of our BEING where alone we can sip the nectar of BLISS. Every night in sleep we find hints of this BLISS because the body and personality slip away into a state devoid of these attributes. But while sleep may refresh, it cannot transform because it is a less than conscious state while BLISS is a super-conscious state.

Meditation is the most efficient and effective technique of stripping away the "natural turbulence" of the mind in order to peer behind the veil of form to experience the pure but also natural BLISS which is our true nature. As it says in the Old Testament of the Bible, "Be still and know that I AM GOD."

What occurred to me, however, is that there might be a relationship to the well established idea that one dies in order to go to heaven. Yogananda in promising to Swamiji that he would see God but that death would be his last sacrifice, added a tiny bit of substance to this well established view. If this has any element of truth, then why? I think it is obvious and simple: in shedding the mortal coil, our consciousness expands, even if not to Infinity, at least more broadly. Stripped of so much of the burden of ego and body preoccupations, many (not all) people enjoy a certain degree of joy and bliss in the after-death states.

Yogananda also told Swamiji that Swamiji's life would be one of intense activity......and.......meditation. Swamiji evidently did NOT have the karma, or better yet, the spiritual dharma, of being a monk in a Himalayan cave. Neither do most sincere spiritual seekers, these days, I might add. That "intense activity" may be, in Swamiji's case, deeply focused and deeply in tune with his guru, but for all that is was nonetheless ACTIVITY that, by definition, obscures the indwelling BLISS. Thus, having completed his dharma in service to the guru, Swamiji achieved MOKSHA: eternal bliss and soul freedom.

May BLISS be your guide,

Swami Hrimananda

Easter: Our Soul's Victorious Destiny is Assured

 

Mark 14:36

Abba, Father, all things are possible unto Thee: O my Father, if it be possible, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me; nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done

In this passage we discover the key to resurrecting our soul: the courage to do the will of God; the wisdom to do what is right. All action is karma (karma means, simply, "action"): but that action which reveals the soul’s power is "yoga" (fulfillment). Thus, wisdom guided action is "karma yoga" (achieving soul-freedom through right action and grace). Everything else is just more karma!

The resurrection of Jesus Christ affirms the power of higher consciousness over lower consciousness; of Spirit over matter; love over hatred. Jesus’ embrace of his dharma—the will of the Father—produced the victory of the resurrection. It is the necessary consequence of Jesus’ embrace of his Destiny—his acceptance of the will of God.

Jesus didn’t hide from the temptation to want to duck the bullet of his crucifixion; he admitted he would have preferred to give it a miss; but he submitted the decision to the One whose love alone counts.

We all have that choice; indeed, sometimes we make the choice to align with what is right. Often that choice is not convenient to our liking. Even to ask inwardly “what is right?” rather than to act impulsively on our desires or fears is a victory. How few do even this much.

In the "feel good" world of new age thinking, it is not uncommon to hear the mantra "If it's meant to be it will happen." Or, "everything's lining up for me" (to do what I want to do). Paramhansa Yogananda, author of the classic life story, "Autobiography of a Yogi," wrote a poem dedicated to his guru-preceptor (Swami Sri Yukteswar). In that poem is this sentence: “if all the gods protect me by the parapets of their blessings, but yet I receive not thy benedictions, I am an orphan, left to pine spiritually in thy displeasure.”

Applying that sentence to our own life's desires it suggests that we sometimes think that just because all the planets of fate and circumstance support our desire and because fulfilling it “feels right,” this must surely mean that it is God’s will. But karma is NOT necessarily dharma! When our ego calls the shots, emotion is its sidekick; but when Krishna, our soul, drives the chariot of our life, the white horses of dharma bring us to victory. There is a motto from India that says "Jato dharma, tato jaya" (Where there is dharma, there is victory!)

The truth of the facts of Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection are less important to us than the example his heroic choice offers to us. It's generally not the big decisions that move us upward or downward, spiritually. It's the day-to-day, seemingly inconsequential choices, that determine the direction of our path to soul freedom.

The allegory of Adam and Eve exists to shed light on what is the most important choice, and indeed, perhaps the only real choice we are given. We can seek to do what is right and in alignment with God's will (our dharma), or we can decide to do it "our way." All other day-to-day decisions like the Easter bonnet or the designer shirt you are wearing are the consequence of external influences and the complex matrix of past choices made under such influences including that of the demands of ego and body. 

Christianity has focused its devotion and narrative upon the crucifixion rather than the resurrection. That focus is natural to the ego which is more concerned with what it is asked to give up rather than the more important reasons for doing so. The truth-aspiring ego must step-by-step accept God's presence and guidance. In doing so it prepares itself for the final act of self-offering that God will ask of it: its own crucifixion. Like the great and noble Prince and warrior Bhishma in the Indian epic of the Mahabharata, only the ego can consent to die and to surrender to the redeeming power of grace. God does not impose salvation upon us.

The lesson of the resurrection is erroneously seen by some to be a promise of regaining one's human body after death. No! The lesson is the victory of Spirit (and the soul, made in the image of God) over all matter, even death.

As we say each week in the Ananda Festival of Light ceremony: “and whereas in the past suffering was the coin of man’s redemption, for us now the payment has been exchanged for calm acceptance and joy. Thus may we understand that pain is the fruit of self-love, whereas joy is the fruit of love for God.” As the medieval saint—St Francis de Sales said: “A sad saint is a sad saint indeed!” This represents a new understanding of how and why to seek God because suffering no longer inspires truth-seeking souls. The joy of seeking God, however, DOES!

The resurrection proclaims to us the inevitability of our soul’s freedom in God. Our choice is whether to accelerate the timing of that victory or to delay it. That is all. There is no time in eternity and we are as old as God. God will wait forever if need be but eventually our soul’s memory of bliss and freedom in God will awaken to the “anguishing monotony of endless rounds of birth, life and death” and will, like the prodigal son of Jesus’ parable, begin the journey back to its home in God.

Happy Easter, friends!

Swami Hrimananda

 

Who Was St. Patrick? Did he really drink green beer?

 Any account of such a person can be disputed or viewed differently, but I choose this account which I extracted from https://www.history.com/topics/st-patricks-day/who-was-saint-patrick 

​St. Patrick Wasn't Irish

St. Patrick was born in Britain—not Ireland—to wealthy parents near the end of the fourth century. He is believed to have died on March 17, around 460 A.D.

Although his father was a Christian deacon, it has been suggested that he probably took on the role because of tax incentives and there is no evidence that Patrick came from a particularly religious family. 

At the age of 16, Patrick was taken prisoner by a group of Irish raiders who were attacking his family’s estate. They transported him to Ireland where he spent six years in captivity. (There is some dispute over where this captivity took place. Although many believe he was taken to live in Mount Slemish in County Antrim, it is more likely that he was held in County Mayo near Killala.) During this time, he worked as a shepherd, outdoors and away from people. Lonely and afraid, he turned to his religion for solace, becoming a devout Christian. (It is also believed that Patrick first began to dream of converting the Irish people to Christianity during his captivity.)

Early in the 5th century, an Irish ship beat against the waves along the western coast of Great Britain. On the far edge of the crumbling Roman Empire, a band of Irish marauders crept into a secluded cove and raided the village of Bannavem Taburniae.

Among the plunder captured by the band of warriors dispatched by Ireland’s King Niall of the Nine Hostages was a 16-year-old boy named Succat. Although brought to Ireland against his will, the teenager would go on to become Ireland’s patron saint. St. Patrick may have been a foreigner who arrived in Ireland in the hold of a pagan king’s slave ship, but he would become synonymous with the island itself.

Established facts about Patrick’s youth are few, and much of what is known comes from the saint himself in his short autobiography, the Confessio. According to the traditional narrative, Patrick was born into a well-to-do family around 386 A.D. and grew up along Great Britain’s western coast, likely in Wales, which was part of the Roman Empire at the time. His father was a Christian deacon and a minor Roman official, his grandfather a priest.

The raid that tore him away from his family was not all that unusual in the early 5th century, says Philip Freeman, author of St. Patrick of Ireland: A Biography. “We know from a few other late Roman sources that the Irish had been raiding western Britain regularly for at least a century before Patrick was captured in the early 400s, just as the Saxons had been raiding in the east of Britain,” he says.

 One of the most horrifying features of the period is the wholesale enslavement of freemen and -women,” writes Thomas Cahill in How the Irish Saved Civilization. “In the slavery business, no tribe was fiercer or more feared than the Irish.” As Roman power waned, forays by Irish raiders grew more common. On a regular basis, they plundered animals and clothes and snatched children from their sleep in the middle of the night. They abducted young men to herd sheep and cows and young women to serve them.

Ripped from his home, Patrick herded sheep for a local chieftain on the slopes of Mount Slemish in County Antrim in the north of Ireland. Deprived of food and clothes, Patrick lived in virtual isolation. His only companions were his flock and his newfound faith. Amid the desolation, Patrick’s Christianity blossomed. He prayed as many as 100 times during the day—and matched that total at night.

Patrick wrote in the Confessio that six years into his captivity, an angel appeared in a dream and told him, “You have fasted well. Very soon you will return to your native country.” The angel told him of a ship leaving Ireland, and the young man walked across 200 miles of peat bogs and forests before arriving at a port, possibly Wexford, where he found a cargo ship bound for the European continent.

After the captain refused him passage, Patrick began to pray. Before he could finish, though, a sailor from the ship came shouting, “Come quickly – those men are calling you!” After learning that the captain changed his mind, Patrick sailed away from Ireland, believing that God’s protection must have been responsible for his unlikely escape. 

St. Patrick biographer Freeman says that although the escape was unusual, it likely occurred. “It would have been a harrowing and difficult journey, but we have stories of escaped slaves from elsewhere in the Roman world.”

In St. Patrick's telling in the Confessio, he almost died after his escape from slavery. After landing on the continent, the ship’s crew found itself wandering for weeks in a wilderness devoid of food and began to chastise Patrick for his piety. “What about this, Christian? You tell us that your God is great and all-powerful—why can’t you pray for us, since we’re in a bad state with hunger?” the starving sailors asked him. 

“Turn in faith with all your hearts to the Lord my God, because nothing is impossible for him,” replied the young man who led them in a prayer that appeared to be immediately answered when a stampede of pigs crossed their path. Patrick had his first converts.

Patrick eventually returned to his family in Great Britain. His parents begged him to never leave them again, but the religious visions returned and presented Patrick with a different plan. He heard the voice of the Irish call out, “We beg you, holy boy, to come and walk again among us.” After a period of religious training, he was ordained a deacon around 418 A.D. and in 432 A.D. consecrated as a bishop and given the name Patricius.

Although many formerly enslaved people would have dreaded a return to their place of captivity, Patrick asked for an assignment as a missionary to Ireland. When he returned to the pagan island, he tended to a different type of flock. Patrick’s knowledge of Ireland’s language and customs facilitated his work in converting and baptizing Druid priests, chieftains and aristocrats by the thousands before his death on March 17 in 461 A.D.

Music and Chanting at Ananda worldwide

Here at Ananda Sangha Seattle WA, we've been reading the published compilation of Swami Kriyananda’s letters of counsel in the book, "In Divine Friendship." Recently we got to the section of letters on chanting. Swami's "corrective" letter to the leaders of the Ananda communities on chanting in 1998 described the importance of melody in chanting and the importance of the new form of chanting given to us by Paramhansa Yogananda. Swamiji’s letter cautioned us on the overuse of chords, for example, or too much use of guitar with a strong rhythm and beat: forms of music with which we are accustomed from our upbringing in American culture. 

He also distinguished traditional Indian chants from the chants Yogananda has given us, urging us not to chant Indian chants "just because" they are from India but only if they have a uplifting melody and have the vibration of Self-realization. (By this I believe he meant chants of soul aspiration rather than just loud repetitions of divine names which have little, if any, significance to Americans.)

Chanting, he reminded us, should express the primordial AUM vibration and should encourage us to go inward towards silent communion with Aum because we are yogis and neither Hindus nor hymn-singing Christians.

The reaction from Ananda members and leaders prompted Swamiji to modify his statements in the realization that too drastic a change would likely backfire and could prompt unintended results: an atmosphere of dogmatism, for example, or stark but lackluster chanting.

These letters were from the late 90's and much music has flowed under the bridge of Ananda time since then. Our current expression of chanting seems generally, to most of us, to be a good balance between upbeat, rhythmic music that newer members can relate to, and solitary, aspirational and vibrational chants such as Master has given to us as yogis. We also sprinkle into our chanting chants from India that have an uplifting vibration and beautiful melody, chants which, by and large, Swamiji, too, enjoyed. (Sri Ram; Mahamantra; Aum namoh Bhagavate; Narayana Om; and so on.)

One of the members, a professional musician, wrote to me with a series of observations. I wrote back and then we met in person in an harmonious exchange.

The conversation was not so much about chanting as about music. One of the questions was the importance and the role of emotion in music, not just in popular music but hymns and chants everywhere in the world. Why, it was asked, did Swamiji seem to “put down” emotionalism in chanting? After all, what's wrong with emotion? Why does Swamiji seem to discourage it? (Yogananda certainly had sessions of high energy chanting, using the drum for example and encouraging others to feel the power and  "get into it!")

But not only was the question about the role of emotion raised but it was identified as a preference of Swami's rather a guiding principle.

Another question was whether or not Ananda members should play or sing other forms of music. After all, there are many deeply inspiring pieces, for example from Beethoven, Mozart, Bach and other composers.

So here is the written response (edited for general reading) that I would like to share with you:

 

Dear friend, this is a big subject for emails, but I will try to respond to your comments. First, let's not personalize this to Swami, as if we are comparing him with, say, Beethoven or Bach. It's not quite fair to simply write off his thoughts on music as his "preferences" as if the spiritual importance of chants or music is only a question of taste. Ordinarily, our preferences in music ARE a matter of personal taste.  Who doesn't like emotional music of one sort or another? The simple fact that we all enjoy music of various kinds doesn't enter the discussion when the discussion is focused on the spiritual practices of Self-realization.

In pre-covid times many of us would attend concerts and symphonies in and around Seattle. Padma and I just the other evening went to an Irish harp and storytelling performance in Seattle. Swamiji loved classical music of Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and others. He enjoyed and played traditional Indian chants as well.

But in his original chanting letter Swami Kriyananda was wanting to make a course correction away from some of the less yogic Indian chants and away from too much use of heavy Western style beat and chords. He explained that melody represents our soul’s aspiration; chords, emotion; and the beat, the ego.

He was wanting to uphold the aspirational yogic chanting that Paramhansa Yogananda gave to the world. Yogananda created a new genre of chants that are like affirmation put to melody. Mostly his chants are in English, the language of those to whom he was teaching. (He recognized that already in his lifetime English was becoming the “lingua franca” of the world.) But Swamiji’s counsel was not intended to be either-or, but rather, both-and.

But only comparing one form of music to another doesn't go deep enough into what Swami is saying. From the standpoint of soul consciousness, the goal is to transcend emotional states altogether. Consider the bedrock definition of the state of yoga given to us by Patanjali in the second verse of the Yoga Sutras: Yogas chitta vritti nirodha. (The state of “yoga” appears when the reactive mental and emotional processes of heart and mind are stilled.)

Emotionalism is therefore not a preference or a mere matter of taste. That can't, at least within the context of yoga teachings, be a subject of debate. Feeling is deeper than emotion. Feeling relates to the most elemental aspect of consciousness without which we are effectively comatose. True devotion is not emotion even if it starts with emotion.

The question then is: how should our public chanting be best employed to stay in tune with the vibration and goals of the path of Self-realization as Yogananda has given us?

Since you are in fact bringing up music, not really chanting, we find similarities nonetheless. Swami Kriyananda wrote over three hundred pieces of music: for voice, choir, instruments, ethnic, symphonic, and even an oratorio. Some are humorous; others light and tell a folk tale; some pieces echo themes from Japan, India, Egypt, Hawaii, Ireland, and Romania. But all have a message and the vibration of our soul’s memory.  That memory contains that element of divine consciousness we call ananda, or joy! All are inspired in one way or another by the vibration and message of Self-realization.

So, my friend, you ask whether Ananda would sponsor concerts of other music. In general, I don't think we want to go in that direction. And since you have asked, I don't think Ananda members AS members should be encouraged by Ananda’s leadership to gather to sing and perform other forms of music. It's not a question of permission, of course, but neither is it something I would want to endorse, except on specific occasions, for example, July 4^th, Thanksgiving or other secular holidays or special occasions. Inasmuch as Ananda members live all over the world we mustn't be too strict in this regard.

Newer members, especially those with musical talents, would do well to deepen their attunement through the music we have (whether as singers or instrumentalists). We are so accustomed to choose music (and art in general) on the basis of what "I like or don't like." That is natural as it relates to our personal choices, but we generally don't realize the impact music (and art) has on our vibration and consciousness. And here we are discussing music that is endorsed and played in public settings at various Ananda functions like Sunday Service, satsangs, and holy days.

Swamiji was sensitive to the vibration of music, of people, and even of the consciousness of those who prepared his food. Music, as an outer expression of Aum, is especially important to our consciousness. Vibration is more than even imagery and far more than mere words or beliefs. Vibration is the first manifestation of God in the act of creation. It's not to say one genre of music is good and another bad in their artistic expression. It's rather a case that to the extent one is sensitive to vibration and is seeking divine a-tune-ment, it becomes a more important or serious question.

What other churches do for music is fine for them. But the vibration of both their music and their spiritual seeking is simply different. And what others do can be beautiful, positive, and enjoyable without necessarily being resonant with one's own spiritual path.

If Swamiji had not written a wide range of pieces (over 300), the question (or is it the answer?) would necessarily have to be very different. But he did and at Ananda we want to honor that fact as he himself encouraged us to do so. We do not wish to make rules about this, but we do want to be clear that focusing on the music that we’ve been given is a conscious choice we have made for the sake of our own attunement. It is, in fact, part of our sadhana (spiritual practice like meditation and service).

In divine friendship,