According to the explanation of the cycles of human consciousness (called the Yugas **), we are only about 1,600 years into an ascending cycle of some 12,000 years. In this theory, the good news is that the darkest era of consciousness lasts the least number of centuries (12, to be exact).
Whereas in that dark era (called the Kali Yuga), human beings had names and stations in life that were generic, dictated by birth, and tribe-related, now, as we begin the second era (the Dwapara Yuga..."dwa" meaning second), we have a veritable explosion of choices and the egoism to match.
We speak glibly about selfies, the Me generation, and in general, "me" this, and "me" that. In many cultures now, we have so many choices that it can be overwhelming and down-right stressful. Left unchecked by education, the enlightenment of reason, or the bounty of intuitive grace, we might easily destroy our planet.
The divine intelligence within us offers to sensitive and attuned hearts the message that we are all connected; we are, beneath the superficial differences of race, religion, culture and gender, partakers of the same One Life, the same Spirit.
No other traditional religion or spiritual path has as much to offer to scientific and rational minds as the path of yoga. Meditation, and including physical yoga, can and is being clinically tested and proven to reduce stress, increase longevity and intelligence, and nurture well-being, connection and happiness. Mere belief is not required. Experience through personal practice is the only entrance requirement.
In a world of 6 billion egos rising with energy and intelligence, we need an antidote to the potentially destructive and chaos-producing impulses being unleashed upon our planet.
Kriya Yoga is an advanced meditation practice and way of life that is universal and universally enlightening. Brought to the west and out into public accessibility initially by Paramhansa Yogananda, kriya yoga is rapidly becoming the most sought after meditation technique in the world.
It comes to us from an unblemished lineage that is incomprehensibly ancient and held in high repute.
Soothing the restlessness of the human mind and body's natural inclinations toward ego-protectiveness and assertiveness, kriya yoga awakens us to an unshakable state of inner peace, a natural love flowing from the heart, and the wisdom-filled whispers of intuition.
Admittedly, the practice of kriya will appeal primarily to sensitive and receptive hearts but the good news is that even if only 5 or 10% of the world's population seeks divine solace and enlightenment through daily kriya practice, this planet can be spared the worst effects of the challenges we presently face.
Those who wonder why the Ananda communities worldwide are not as focused on humanitarian relief as we are on the spread of kriya yoga might do well to understand the deeper and practical significance of our public service.
Reality begins with intention and consciousness. Material reality reflects consciousness. While this precept is far beyond the scope of realization of the vast majority of the earth's human inhabitants at this early stage in the 12,000 year upward cycle of awakening, it takes only a relative small number of souls to enable changes in human behavior.
The spread of kriya is part of the divine succor and plan for this age. It constitutes, in no small part, the hope for a better world.
Fortunately for all, the underlying precepts of cooperation and sustainable living are resonating with far more people than even the practice of kriya. The consciousness of unity and cooperation are a natural outgrowth of the new spirit descending like healing balm upon this planet with its billions of "egos rising" and bristling with energy "looking out for No 1."
The word "kriya" means "action" and is, itself, a call to right action: action guided by wisdom and inspired by high ideals.
There is hope for a better world. Yoga practice can strengthen our "aura," our courage and confidence that, no matter what comes of its own, we can stand firm "amidst the crash of breaking worlds." Lightbearers are needed, spreading the light of yoga far and wide.
Tomorrow, November 14, Ananda Seattle conducts our annual kriya yoga initiation as we do our part to spread the light of kriya yoga to truthseeking souls.
Joy to you,
Nayaswami Hriman
** see the book, "The Yugas," by Joseph Selbie and David Steinmetz. Available wherever good books are sold and published by Crystal Clarity Publishers. You might also enjoy the book by Swami Kriyananda: "Hope for a Better World," also published by Crystal Clarity.
This blog's address: https://www.Hrimananda.org! I'd like to share thoughts on meditation and its application to daily life. On Facebook I can be found as Hriman Terry McGilloway and twitter @hriman. Your comments are welcome. Use the key word search feature to find articles you might be interested in. To subscribe write to me at jivanmukta@duck.com Blessings, Nayaswami Hriman
Friday, November 13, 2015
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Yogis, Zombies and Halloween!
Jesus Christ said, “Let the dead bury the dead!” Uh oh, was
he already into zombies long before us? I think so and let me tell you why.
Zombies DO walk the earth and yes they are all around us!
Zombies, the living “dead,” are those apparently human beings who are
un-self-aware. They walk around as if dead, doing the same things, saying the
same things, day after day. Paramhansa Yogananda called them “psychological
antiques!”
We all know some: they repeat the same old opinions, clichés,
stories, and trite conversational subjects day in and day out with bluff and
bravado. What was good for their parents is good enough for them: religion,
race, gender, nationality, occupation and on and on.
The zombie movies simply mimic the great war that is taking
place on this planet between those hanging on with zeal and fanaticism to old
tribal-like paradigms and those, however confused and lacking of a moral
compass they may sometimes be, breaking all barriers (of race, gender,
religion, etc.) and taboos handed unconsciously down from the past. Zombies
mimic and mock the unthinking, unfeeling state of human consciousness. They are
hard to kill because so blind and unconscious that there’s little life in them
to begin with.
Werewolves are those people who, like Jekyll and Hyde, flip flop
in their character and loyalties, or who are perhaps (effectively, if not
officially) manic-depressive, going from one extreme of behavior to another
often with little warning. They are easily influenced to the extreme by the
moon of negative emotions.
Skeletons warn us of identification and attachment to our
physical body, saying, in effect, “Beware to those who live just for today, to ‘eat,
drink, and be merry.’” “The time will come when your body, too, becomes but a bag
of bones.”
All those monsters, witches, super heroes and temptresses
warn us, by their mocking exaggeration, of the foolishness of our own fantasies,
fears and excesses.
And last but not least are the ghosts and ghouls flitting
about in sheets with holes for eyes shouting “Boo!” Our fear of ghosts reminds
us of our fear of death and of the state that lies beyond it. Ghosts also
symbolize our past karma returning to haunt us.
Yogis sometimes meditate in graveyards, for not only are
such places quiet places to meditate but they serve as stark reminders of our
mortality and the transient nature of material existence in human bodies. Medieval
monks used to keep a human skull in their cells for the same purpose. Paramhansa
Yogananda, too, as a young monk would meditate in such places.
In “Autobiography of a Yogi,” Yogananda’s guru, Swami Sri
Yukteswar, told a childhood story of when his own mother tried to scare him by
saying there was a ghost in the closet. Yukteswar’s response was to march over
to the closet and open the door! So Halloween’s playful summoning of our worst fears
offer us a vicarious vehicle for confronting those fears by humorous exaggeration.
If I could revise Halloween, perhaps only for yogis, I would
move the date to November 1 – the traditional Christian day of “All Saints,”
and have parties where we dress up as saints of east or west to affirm our aspiration
and ideals. We could choose that saint who characterizes qualities we aspire
towards. We could do readings or act out skits taken from their lives.
Others might prefer to dress up as famous, admirable, and
noble characters from history, in science, the arts, governance, medicine or
the humanities.
And if some were committed to their ghoulish foolishness,
they could, at the party, start out as ghouls and show, by their change of
costume and with a little acted out drama, how they would evolve
and be transformed into a noble or saintly character.
So perhaps as the modern age evolves, Halloween, too, can
move in a more positive and life and soul affirming direction. From its current
“hollow” meaninglessness, it could ‘tween times, become truly “hallow.”
May the Holy Ghost be with you this Hallowed time Tween
darkness and light.
Nayaswami Hriman
Monday, October 26, 2015
To Whom Do We Pray?
As it was commonly said during World War II, "There are no atheists in foxholes." Most pray when in need though whom exactly they address is often secondary to their desperation.
You've heard the joke about the Irishman who was late for a job interview in Dublin with Microsoft and couldn't find a parking place? He prayed, "Lord Jesus Christ and Mother Mary, help me find a parking place and I'll go to church on Sunday instead of O'Reilly's Pub." Suddenly an empty space appeared and he said, "Oh, never mind, I've got one, thanks." That reminds me of the kind of prayers I said as a child when I knew I was in trouble. I was no more faithful to my pledges than that Irishman.
A story told in India is of a disciple who was inspired by his guru's complete dependence and surrender to God for protection and sustenance in all matters. The next day this disciple is walking along a forest path and behind him he hears someone shouting, "Watch out, get out of the way, this elephant is running wild!"
Blissful (and ignorant) in the "safety" of God's omnipresent protection in all matters, the disciple ignores the shouts and continues walking. The elephant, bearing down upon him, throws him roughly into the bushes with a flick of his trunk. Bruised and battered the man returns to his guru's ashram confused and hurt. "But, my son," the guru explained, "God DID speak to you through the mahoot (elephant driver): "Get out of my way!"
We are all better at praying for (usually) minor material desires or needs than listening for God's answer or feeling the divine presence as an act of devotion. It is no coincidence that on the path of Self-realization only upon taking discipleship to Yogananda and his line of gurus is one taught the technique of "Aum" whereby, using a special mudra and arm rest, one is able (with practice and with concentration) to hear the Aum sound and other subtle sounds (of the chakras). Most of us are great talkers but poor listeners! Listening is the hallmark characteristic of one who enters onto the spiritual path consciously and with deep sincerity. Offering up our attachment to our own likes and dislikes in favor of the daily practice of asking for guidance and seeking attunement, one gradually becomes a true disciple.
But how, then, should we attune ourselves to God? How can we love someone or something that we do not yet know? In the Bhagavad Gita, Arjuna, the archetypal disciple, asks his guru, Lord Krishna, "What is the best approach to God: with devotion to God in some form, or, striving to realize the Infinite beyond all form?" Mind you, now, this question appears in the text just after Arjuna has this mind-blowing experience of "Krishna" as the Infinite Spirit! At the end of that experience, Arjuna pleads with Krishna to return to his familiar, human form! It was simply too much!
Krishna's response is appropriately personal and comforting--not just to Arjuna--but to you and I. He says that for embodied souls, the way of devotion ("I-Thou" relationship) is far easier. Rare is that soul who, striving assiduously to Self-realization by the formless path of seeking the Absolute, succeeds swiftly. Indeed to such a one, even the practice of meditation is taboo for all efforts in duality are tainted with delusion. Yogananda stated that such rare souls are already highly advanced spiritually.
How does this happen, then? To what form of God should we seek as a doorway to Infinity? Patanjali, in the Yoga Sutras, says that to one who sincerely and with intensity seeks to find God there comes to him that perfect form of God, suited to the soul's special needs, called the Ishta Devata, to lead the soul to freedom. As the adage suggests, "When the disciple is ready the guru appears." Down through the ages saints have prayed to God in every admissible form: Father, Mother, Beloved, Friend, child.......as Light, Peace, Joy, Love.......forms both personal and abstract, but always some form.
Yet, God has no form. As Jesus put it: "God is a spirit and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." Yes, but.......God manifested creation out of Himself and therefore IS the creation even while hidden BY the creation. God is omnipresent. God is both infinite and untouched by creation and immanent within creation. As Ananda Moyi Ma put it (in the form of a koan): "It is, and it isn't." To quote Ram Gopal Muzimdar in "Autobiography of a Yogi, [God is] "all pervading, eh?" Yes but that philosophically correct point is not personally all that useful (witness the devotee and the rogue elephant).
This is one reason we each need our own wayshower; another reason is simply that "tat twam asi": you are THAT! We, each one of us, is also a potential Christ, Krishna, Buddha or Yogananda. God is very personal where we are concerned for God has manifested himself AS us but we have yet to perfect our realization of that profound and ego-shattering fact. Because "heaven is within you" (to quote Jesus Christ) we must perforce begin right where and who we are!
Just as we identify with our physical form and personality, with our race, religion, gender, nationality, age, talents, upbringing, family characteristics and much more, therefore it is more natural for us to gradually refine our self-definition and to seek to transform every lower identification to an increasingly expanded form which, at every present point along the way, is necessarily "Other."
[The other direction of our efforts can be to annihilate the ego but this contractive approach, while equally valid, is contrary and contraindicated for most of us owing to the expansive direction of consciousness innate to the age in which we live. This was the hallmark characteristic of spirituality in the former, "Kali," age wherein sincere spiritual aspirants left the world for caves, forests and monasteries in order to achieve any measure of God realization in their lives.]
There's another angle, moreover, to the need to focus our devotion on that which is "Other." And that is the need for concentration in meditation. Concentration in meditation is both a prerequisite and a result. To pray deeply, therefore, we need to have some form to concentrate on? Otherwise, the mind becomes vague if it has no notion of what it seeks to know or unite with.
Yes, it is true that we are not our self-definitions nor is God limited by the form that appeals and inspires us, but, to use an expression from India, "Use a thorn to remove a thorn." On the spiritual path, then, God as "Thou" becomes the oarsman in the boat that takes us across the river of delusion to the shore of Infinite bliss. Achieving Self-realization, we transcend all forms when "Knower, knowing, known" become One.
Our Ishta Devata is like the gravitational pull of a planet that a spaceship that uses to propel it further along in its journey deeper into space.
As God IS the creation so any form will, strictly speaking, suffice for our spiritual journey. However (and there's always a "but" in duality), praying to a sacred alligator is far less likely to uplift us into superconsciousness than praying to a true guru, saint, or avatar! As Paramhansa Yogananda once put it (wryly), "Stupid people will never [sic] find God." (Well, so long as they ARE stupid!)
A more practical point relates to our love of nature and desire for harmony in and with the natural world. Nature, in her mineral, vegetable and animal forms, contains qualities which we admire: calmness, sensitivity, beauty, grace, strength, intelligence and many more qualities. Yet nature is SUB-conscious and, while inspiring to us, not yet self-aware. A saint is awakened in God and a savior is one with God! So while nature's admirable qualities can inspire us with gratitude we cannot "find" God through a form which is not yet self-aware, what to mention God-conscious! Let our love of nature be God-quality-reminding!
In "Art and Science of Raja Yoga," by Ananda's founder, Swami Kriyananda, "It's not what we love but how purely we love." The natural emphasis upon our special form of devotion (Jesus, Krishna, Buddha, etc.) is what can create fanaticism or dogmatism. Better to focus on refining and expanding the love of God in our chosen form to include all beings, all life than to place exclusive emphasis on the uniqueness of that form. In God all are equal, whether or not the roles they play seem greater or lesser on the stage of human history.
It is helpful, therefore, to recall the story from the life of Krishna where his adopted mother, Yasoda, tries to tie up the naughty boy Krishna but finds that every piece of rope she uses is always just TOO short! We cannot define or contain in form that which is beyond form. Nor can we, in duality, "see" God (or limit God to) any one of the divine forms of the great God-realized saviors, or avatars, on earth.
Someone once asked Paramhansa Yogananda, "Where does all spiritual striving end? "It ends in endlessness," the great guru replied!
We grow in stages: we begin to admire, love, and emulate goodness and virtue. We hear God spoken of in scripture, books, and, in time, from the lips of God-fired messengers. We seek to know God for ourselves and He responds by sending to us one who knows and shows the way. We go within to "find" Him and discover "tat twam asi:" We are THAT!
Joy to you,
Swami Hrimananda
You've heard the joke about the Irishman who was late for a job interview in Dublin with Microsoft and couldn't find a parking place? He prayed, "Lord Jesus Christ and Mother Mary, help me find a parking place and I'll go to church on Sunday instead of O'Reilly's Pub." Suddenly an empty space appeared and he said, "Oh, never mind, I've got one, thanks." That reminds me of the kind of prayers I said as a child when I knew I was in trouble. I was no more faithful to my pledges than that Irishman.
A story told in India is of a disciple who was inspired by his guru's complete dependence and surrender to God for protection and sustenance in all matters. The next day this disciple is walking along a forest path and behind him he hears someone shouting, "Watch out, get out of the way, this elephant is running wild!"
Blissful (and ignorant) in the "safety" of God's omnipresent protection in all matters, the disciple ignores the shouts and continues walking. The elephant, bearing down upon him, throws him roughly into the bushes with a flick of his trunk. Bruised and battered the man returns to his guru's ashram confused and hurt. "But, my son," the guru explained, "God DID speak to you through the mahoot (elephant driver): "Get out of my way!"
We are all better at praying for (usually) minor material desires or needs than listening for God's answer or feeling the divine presence as an act of devotion. It is no coincidence that on the path of Self-realization only upon taking discipleship to Yogananda and his line of gurus is one taught the technique of "Aum" whereby, using a special mudra and arm rest, one is able (with practice and with concentration) to hear the Aum sound and other subtle sounds (of the chakras). Most of us are great talkers but poor listeners! Listening is the hallmark characteristic of one who enters onto the spiritual path consciously and with deep sincerity. Offering up our attachment to our own likes and dislikes in favor of the daily practice of asking for guidance and seeking attunement, one gradually becomes a true disciple.
But how, then, should we attune ourselves to God? How can we love someone or something that we do not yet know? In the Bhagavad Gita, Arjuna, the archetypal disciple, asks his guru, Lord Krishna, "What is the best approach to God: with devotion to God in some form, or, striving to realize the Infinite beyond all form?" Mind you, now, this question appears in the text just after Arjuna has this mind-blowing experience of "Krishna" as the Infinite Spirit! At the end of that experience, Arjuna pleads with Krishna to return to his familiar, human form! It was simply too much!
Krishna's response is appropriately personal and comforting--not just to Arjuna--but to you and I. He says that for embodied souls, the way of devotion ("I-Thou" relationship) is far easier. Rare is that soul who, striving assiduously to Self-realization by the formless path of seeking the Absolute, succeeds swiftly. Indeed to such a one, even the practice of meditation is taboo for all efforts in duality are tainted with delusion. Yogananda stated that such rare souls are already highly advanced spiritually.
How does this happen, then? To what form of God should we seek as a doorway to Infinity? Patanjali, in the Yoga Sutras, says that to one who sincerely and with intensity seeks to find God there comes to him that perfect form of God, suited to the soul's special needs, called the Ishta Devata, to lead the soul to freedom. As the adage suggests, "When the disciple is ready the guru appears." Down through the ages saints have prayed to God in every admissible form: Father, Mother, Beloved, Friend, child.......as Light, Peace, Joy, Love.......forms both personal and abstract, but always some form.
Yet, God has no form. As Jesus put it: "God is a spirit and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." Yes, but.......God manifested creation out of Himself and therefore IS the creation even while hidden BY the creation. God is omnipresent. God is both infinite and untouched by creation and immanent within creation. As Ananda Moyi Ma put it (in the form of a koan): "It is, and it isn't." To quote Ram Gopal Muzimdar in "Autobiography of a Yogi, [God is] "all pervading, eh?" Yes but that philosophically correct point is not personally all that useful (witness the devotee and the rogue elephant).
This is one reason we each need our own wayshower; another reason is simply that "tat twam asi": you are THAT! We, each one of us, is also a potential Christ, Krishna, Buddha or Yogananda. God is very personal where we are concerned for God has manifested himself AS us but we have yet to perfect our realization of that profound and ego-shattering fact. Because "heaven is within you" (to quote Jesus Christ) we must perforce begin right where and who we are!
Just as we identify with our physical form and personality, with our race, religion, gender, nationality, age, talents, upbringing, family characteristics and much more, therefore it is more natural for us to gradually refine our self-definition and to seek to transform every lower identification to an increasingly expanded form which, at every present point along the way, is necessarily "Other."
[The other direction of our efforts can be to annihilate the ego but this contractive approach, while equally valid, is contrary and contraindicated for most of us owing to the expansive direction of consciousness innate to the age in which we live. This was the hallmark characteristic of spirituality in the former, "Kali," age wherein sincere spiritual aspirants left the world for caves, forests and monasteries in order to achieve any measure of God realization in their lives.]
There's another angle, moreover, to the need to focus our devotion on that which is "Other." And that is the need for concentration in meditation. Concentration in meditation is both a prerequisite and a result. To pray deeply, therefore, we need to have some form to concentrate on? Otherwise, the mind becomes vague if it has no notion of what it seeks to know or unite with.
Yes, it is true that we are not our self-definitions nor is God limited by the form that appeals and inspires us, but, to use an expression from India, "Use a thorn to remove a thorn." On the spiritual path, then, God as "Thou" becomes the oarsman in the boat that takes us across the river of delusion to the shore of Infinite bliss. Achieving Self-realization, we transcend all forms when "Knower, knowing, known" become One.
Our Ishta Devata is like the gravitational pull of a planet that a spaceship that uses to propel it further along in its journey deeper into space.
As God IS the creation so any form will, strictly speaking, suffice for our spiritual journey. However (and there's always a "but" in duality), praying to a sacred alligator is far less likely to uplift us into superconsciousness than praying to a true guru, saint, or avatar! As Paramhansa Yogananda once put it (wryly), "Stupid people will never [sic] find God." (Well, so long as they ARE stupid!)
A more practical point relates to our love of nature and desire for harmony in and with the natural world. Nature, in her mineral, vegetable and animal forms, contains qualities which we admire: calmness, sensitivity, beauty, grace, strength, intelligence and many more qualities. Yet nature is SUB-conscious and, while inspiring to us, not yet self-aware. A saint is awakened in God and a savior is one with God! So while nature's admirable qualities can inspire us with gratitude we cannot "find" God through a form which is not yet self-aware, what to mention God-conscious! Let our love of nature be God-quality-reminding!
In "Art and Science of Raja Yoga," by Ananda's founder, Swami Kriyananda, "It's not what we love but how purely we love." The natural emphasis upon our special form of devotion (Jesus, Krishna, Buddha, etc.) is what can create fanaticism or dogmatism. Better to focus on refining and expanding the love of God in our chosen form to include all beings, all life than to place exclusive emphasis on the uniqueness of that form. In God all are equal, whether or not the roles they play seem greater or lesser on the stage of human history.
It is helpful, therefore, to recall the story from the life of Krishna where his adopted mother, Yasoda, tries to tie up the naughty boy Krishna but finds that every piece of rope she uses is always just TOO short! We cannot define or contain in form that which is beyond form. Nor can we, in duality, "see" God (or limit God to) any one of the divine forms of the great God-realized saviors, or avatars, on earth.
Someone once asked Paramhansa Yogananda, "Where does all spiritual striving end? "It ends in endlessness," the great guru replied!
We grow in stages: we begin to admire, love, and emulate goodness and virtue. We hear God spoken of in scripture, books, and, in time, from the lips of God-fired messengers. We seek to know God for ourselves and He responds by sending to us one who knows and shows the way. We go within to "find" Him and discover "tat twam asi:" We are THAT!
Joy to you,
Swami Hrimananda
Monday, October 19, 2015
Ananda & SRF: Part 5 - What the Future May Hold
Since these posts appear in reverse order, scroll down the blog page and at the very bottom is a link that says "Older posts".....click on that to find the first two articles. Sorry for the inconvenience. Next time I'll post last first.
Part 5 - Conclusion: What the Future May Hold
Part 5 - Conclusion: What the Future May Hold
I cannot separate my Ananda life experience from my thoughts here,
but I do feel that my visit to the SRF shrines gave me some deeper insight and
appreciation for our fellow SRF gurubhais and for the differences between SRF
and Ananda.
The SRF shrines need to be stewarded, preserved and protected.
Ananda members need, in our communities, to support ourselves as we share the
teachings and serve our guru’s nonsectarian work. To do this, we must build
meditation and yoga centers, residential communities, retreat centers, publish
books, create schools for children, and much more. All of this must, by the
necessity of our material circumstances and by the necessity of our own ideals,
must come from the efforts and support of our own members. We have never had,
nor would it have been good or right for us to have had, an endowment.
So naturally, and without regard to our past differences, we
express and share PY's teachings with different styles. Yet, when I think of
those monastics who are truly living the life, I see the same twinkle of joy
and vibration of wisdom that we were blessed to have in Swami Kriyananda.
Even in his will and written legacy, Swami Kriyananda enjoins Ananda
members to hold in respect and love SRF: its leaders, members, and monastics.
He wants us to be open to cooperate with SRF, if ever the opportunity is found,
as equals and with mutual love and respect. Each will remain independent and
separate; each must be focused on our respective dharma and special manner of
expression, forged in and by the crucible of our own history and training.
It is not easy for those of the conflict generation to forget,
forgive and reconcile. Like a grease stain on a white shirt, it will never
entirely be the same. Time may heal by the anesthesia of forgetfulness or the ignorance
of future generations, but for those who experienced the years of conflict, it
is difficult to erase the scars of wounds forged and incurred on the
battlefield of the past.
And yet, it will happen. It IS happening. We ARE devotees of a
great master. "Only love will take my place," PY told us. There is no
other way. Ironically, this phase may be the real spiritual test,
greater even than the battles of the past (where black and white were crystal
clear, each according to his point of view)! But it must and will take place.
It takes place, however, person to person. Institutional memories are long and,
well, “institutionalized.” The hard shell of past portrayal will only be
cracked by softened, attuned individual hearts and souls, warmed by the
sunshine of the guru’s grace and wisdom.
This pilgrimage showed me the truth that this forgiveness and
reconciliation will come and is taking place. The pace or form of it is
certainly not mine to know, but of its progress, even if halting or taking two
steps back before progressing again, I have no doubt. This, I feel, is a
blessing I have received from our pilgrimage, and it is a grace at least as
great as the spiritual vibrations of my guru felt at the SRF, sacred shrines,
for, in fact, there is no difference.
Joy to you!
Swami Hrimananda
Ananda & SRF: Part 4 - Swami Kriyananda & Ananda
Part 4 – Swami Kriyananda
& Ananda
Not only was Swamiji very young when he came to Master, but the
guru was in his final and more withdrawn years of life. Swami himself was
inspired by the expansive universality and power of these teachings. But on a
personal level he stood, he often told us, in “awe” of his guru. The thought of
any form of familiarity was unthinkable. (This did not, apparently, stop the
young “Walter” from pestering his guru with many questions.)
Added to this, was the fact that Swamiji’s own dharma and inspiration
was to share these teachings. Yogananda had no need, at least from Swamiji, for
personal service; others held those roles. Yogananda, in turn, focused his training
of the young monk, Walter, who later took the spiritual name, Swami Kriyananda,
on the teachings themselves. Within months, the Master appointed Walter in
charge of the other, older (and longer term) monks; he soon gave a kriya
initiation; began teaching, editing, and writing. He wasn’t even 25 years old!
Thus we find, here also, a difference between SRF and Ananda. The
one inclines to view Yogananda more personally with the teachings standing in
the (now absent) guru’s stead (in the form of those impersonal, bi-weekly
printed lessons); and the other, Ananda, inclined to emphasize the teachings as
universal and as having personal and creative application in each person’s daily
life. The first generation of SRF leaders seem to have established and accepted
the fact that their guru was gone and what remained was for the organization to
take on a caretaker role of sharing the teachings of the Master bereft of his
magnetic and transforming presence.
The latter, Ananda, by contrast, was conceived and born after the
guru was gone and with the mission to experiment and see how to apply those
teachings to daily life. This was to be done through the dynamic and very personal
vehicle of the “world brotherhood colonies” that Yogananda sowed “into the
ether” by his “spoken word” at the garden party in Beverly Hills in 1949. The
difference is understandable and not noticeably different in the beginning, but
over time, like non-parallel lines, becomes widely divergent. SRF’s removal,
after Yogananda’s passing, from the “Aims and Ideals” of SRF of the goal to establish
and support world brotherhood colonies follows this distinction just as much as
Ananda’s dedication to this ideal supports this divergence.
Yogananda’s many efforts to reach out past the monastic life — establishing
a school for children at Mt. Washington, a Yoga University, a world brotherhood
colony in Encinitas, a farm, a café, etc. etc. — all were ultimately abandoned.
It would be natural for those monastics to consider that he also abandoned the ideals
that inspired him to try. (Swami Kriyananda taught us that while it wasn’t the
right time in American history for these projects to succeed, Yogananda’s
efforts signaled his guidance for future disciples. In part, Kriyananda’s view
is based on the simple fact that until his guru’s death in 1952 Yogananda spoke
forcefully and frequently about the ideal of communities.)
Returning to my original point, it seems to me that from the very
beginning, the SRF monastic experience contained the seeds of "us and
them." When many years later SRF became financially endowed, they could at
last afford to remain apart from the need to depend upon public acceptance.
PY's autobiography has immortalized him in the public mind. This is the
Master’s legacy. It also has minimize the need for his SRF children to do more
than mostly hold up the “Autobiography” and continue to offer the lessons.
(There’s the annual convocation, and travel by the monastics to various centers
worldwide, as well. Both of these are primarily offered to its own members.)
The world, like Elvis Presley or the Beatles, would simply have to
come to them.
In quite a contrast, Swami Kriyananda founded the first Ananda
community in the hectic heyday and backyard of the San Francisco-based hippy
movement with its "back-to-the-land" and anti-establishment culture.
It was communal in spirit and it was communitarian in form. Though a magnetic
spiritual leader, Swami's ("SK") intention was to manifest PY's ideal
of intentional communities. It was not simply to create another monastery.
This required a more participatory and involved approach rather
than a traditionally hierarchical one. SK never had a financial endowment and
from the beginning needed and welcomed the support, commitment and creative
contributions of others. I won't go further to describe his enlightened,
supportive leadership and wisdom, but suffice to say, by contrast, Ananda's
very communitarian mission required
fostering an openness and inclusivity markedly different than that of SRF.
Next article is Part 5 - Conclusion: What
the Future May Hold
Ananda & SRF: Part 3 - Our Respective Narratives
Part 3 – Our Respective
Narratives
Setting aside any residual feelings between Ananda members and SRF
monastics for the battles we once waged against each other, I can understand how
card-carrying SRF members might be treated differently from the general public.
Members would be disciples; disciples would come on pilgrimage, treating these
places as sacred ground, attuning themselves to the vibrations of the guru. Thus
the impulse to create and validate membership credentials would arise
naturally. And, once a visitor presented his credentials, he might be welcomed
more warmly than the many casual visitors.
Even if there had not been a long, drawn out lawsuit or preceding
years of SRF displeasure, Ananda members would occupy some kind of middle
ground between SRF members and the general public. But given the simple fact of
Ananda not being a part of SRF and the reality that Swamiji and Ananda were
viewed akin to apostates, it is not surprising that for decades Ananda members who
visited these shrines encountered from the hosting monastics mixed and confused
signals ranging from welcome to disdain.
Most younger monastics, having little knowledge of or interest in Ananda,
or any personal animus toward Swami Kriyananda (whom they never knew), were at
least cordial if not welcoming. (If they knew anything at all it would have
been presumably negative.)
So, you see: quite apart from our particular and specific challenges
with each other, we would have been grouped primarily with the general and
unknowing (and “heathen”) general public! Polite, yes…..but….
This idea of Ananda members being “neither fish nor fowl” played
itself out in our recent visit. Our hosts were friendly and warm and, as is
natural and their training as docents, shared stories of the history of the
property we were visiting and stories of Master and his disciples. What they
presumably did not know was that the stories (even some of the historical
anecdotes) were as well known to us (from Swami Kriyananda) as to them. In some
cases they were likely repeating stories told them by others who were much more
distant in time from the occurrence of those stories than Kriyananda was (who
personally knew Master and heard many stories from him, first hand).
The experience was both surreal and disconnecting. We of course
appreciated their sincerity and presumed their innocence but whereas other
visitors would be naturally appreciative of the effort, we couldn’t help feel
distanced for it made our discipleship invisible (or, worse case, considered of
no value).
Another facet of these stories is a distinction we have found commonplace
between SRF monastics and Swamiji over many years, many visits, recordings, and
publications. Swami rarely told a story of Paramhansa Yogananda that didn’t
convey a spiritual lesson applicable not only to himself but to his audience.
By contrast, the stories we heard on our tour, apart from the
merely historical ones, portrayed the guru as sweet, charming or otherwise being
very human or relating in a human way to his close disciples. The lesson of
such stories was at least as much the message that those direct disciples were
greatly blessed as how charming or sweet the Master was. But no lesson — useful
to us — accompanied the story.
This, too, hints at an even deeper distinction (though not an
absolute one) between SRF and Ananda. It has to do with the extent each has
inherited a view of Yogananda as either unique or as timeless; as personal or
as universal.
The narrative goes something like this: Swami Kriyananda came to Paramhansa
Yogananda as a young man, age 22. The other close disciples had, in the case of
SRF’s leaders, been with the Master many more years, meeting him not only when
they, too, were young but when Master himself was much younger and in a
different phase of life. Charming, gracious, a powerful orator, and mixing affably
with the low and the high of society…...
It is not surprising that the early and close disciples related to
their guru in a more personal manner. Think what they went through together;
how small was their group; how personal and particular was the form of service
they rendered to him (cooking, cleaning, paying bills, etc.) living in close
quarters. None of these were appointed as public teachers as Master was the
guru. (Who could possibly represent him adequately!) With few exceptions, he
appointed men to public roles and with few exceptions these men betrayed him by
taking pride in their roles and even competing with their guru for attention.
Ananda & SRF - Part 2 - Yogananda comes to America
Part 2 – Paramhansa
Yogananda comes to America
So, let's roll back the film of our vision to the early days of
Yogananda's life in America. When I look at old photographs of Yogananda
("PY") taken during the 20's and 30's I observe among the many faces that
surrounded him people who seem clueless as to the true nature and consciousness
of the “Swami” (and avatar) standing beside or in front of them. Not only
clueless but many seem positively worldly, even skeptical.
It must have been difficult for him in America. What a "great
work" PY had to do to overcome prejudice and to dig deep to find fertile,
intuitive souls from the midst of the frenetic and materialistic American
culture. There's an oft repeated story that at one lecture, attended by
thousands (as most of his lectures were during his "barnstorming"
days touring the cities of America), PY was congratulated by a student on the
size of the crowd. PY replied, perhaps wryly, "Yes, but........only a
handful will take up this teaching."
And, sure enough it was true. PY had to struggle against great
odds and crushing indifference and ignorance, to share his message of
Self-realization to Americans. Only a small handful became disciples committed
to serving his work with him. This small band included those who lived with him
at Mt. Washington during those first two decades and a half. During the Depression
of the 30’s, he said they grew tomatoes and other vegetables there simply to have
enough to eat.
But even during Paramhansa Yogananda’s final years and after his
acclaimed autobiography had been published, Swami Kriyananda described Mt.
Washington headquarters as a “hotel,” with students checking in and out, as if
the guru there didn’t meet their standards! Swamiji quotes Master describing
the final days (or years) as including a housecleaning, “many heads will roll,”
he stated. And indeed, as Swamiji recounts in his own autobiography (“The New
Path”), many monks left. In his lectures, Swamiji would sometimes make the
comparison to Jesus’ life when, near the end of his ministry, the Bible says “and
many walked with him no more.”
In the book, “American Veda,” by Phillip Goldberg, he describes
Paramhansa Yogananda’s innovation to send out mail-order lessons in meditation
and philosophy as revolutionary in his generation as was the Sears Roebuck
catalog in a prior generation. It made accessible to people at great distances Paramhansa
Yogananda’s high spiritual teachings, even kriya yoga – people who would never, otherwise, have had
access to them.
But, it also created a gulf of time and distance between the
Master’s close disciples (who printed and sent them out) and the faceless students
they served. The very format of the printed lessons, impersonal by necessity,
only contributed to the gulf between them.
Thus, it seems to me that from the very beginning of Paramhansa
Yogananda’s ministry, there was a chasm between the public and the close
disciples. Jesus, too spoke to large crowds, but few, perhaps only the 12, shared
his life and served his ministry full-time. While this was presumably no surprise
to Paramhansa Yogananda, it could have only engendered confusion, insecurity,
fear and doubt, even, perchance, resentment among the close disciples.
Swami Kriyananda, in both writings and lectures, would sometimes
explain the many hardships, and, yes, even lawsuits, PY had to endure during
his life. Those hardships and betrayals were experienced therefore also by the
close-knit spiritual family of the monastic disciples who surrounded and served
him, and, who would naturally want to protect him, feeling also the hurts of
betrayal and apparently failed ventures.
This gap, then is what I perceived visiting these shrines. The
worldly consciousness of those thousands of visitors (at least suggested by
their perfect tans and figures and their up-to-date, chic fashions) contrasted
with the ego transcendent aspirations of the monastics create a climate not
unlike a zoo where each species observes the other with curiosity or
indifference (but certainly not understanding or warmth). The monastics who live
at these places serve as ushers and docents, greeters and hosts, to the curious
general public who appear, day after day, wanting to take from these shrines
their beauty but who do not stay, who make no commitment, offer no (or little) support
and who may never come back again. The monastics are not unlike museum guards
and might easily inclined to be mute and withdrawn.
And, what I know from visiting temples and shrines elsewhere in
the world, curiosity seekers (and even lesser devotees) will sometimes pinch
items to take home for their collections or private devotions. Relics and
furniture must thus be protected in such places. (There were security guards at
the Encinitas grounds.)
Next article is Part 3 – Our Respective
Narratives
Ananda & SRF: Why so Different?
This begins a five-part series inspired by a recent visit of Ananda members from Seattle to southern California where Paramhansa Yogananda had his home and headquarters from 1925 to 1952. Each segment will be posted separately to be read at one's leisure. (Reminder: my views are entirely my own.)
Part 1 – We Visit SRF Locations
in Southern California
I and 30 other members of the Seattle Ananda Sangha spent nearly a
week in the greater Los Angeles area visiting the places where Paramhansa
Yogananda lived and taught. Swami Kriyananda also lived and taught in most of
these same places during the last 3.5 years of Yogananda's life and, between
there and India, for another roughly 8 or 9 years following Yogananda's passing
in 1952. During this time and before being ousted from Yogananda's
organization, Swami Kriyananda was Vice-President and a member of the Board of
Directors for some of those years in "SRF."
As most readers of this blog are keenly aware, Ananda was sued by
SRF and it took some 12 years for the suit to be put to rest. It cost both
parties millions of dollars. Though Ananda was assessed with minor monetary
damages for duplicating and selling two audio recordings of Yogananda's voice,
Ananda's rights to represent Yogananda's teachings, name, image, etc. were
upheld. A book, "Fight for Religious Freedom," authored by Ananda's
main attorney, Jon Parsons, details some of the history and issues. But today I
am not writing about that long and difficult struggle that has so shaped and
focused Ananda's work ever since. This is not an apologist effort, for either
side, nor am I focused on any other aspects of Ananda or SRF beyond the topic I
describe below.
Last week, then, as we toured the SRF places, I could not help but
ask: "Why are we (SRF and Ananda) so different?" This wasn't a “good
vs. bad” question. It is a curious and inquiring one. Members of SRF,
especially referring now to its monastic members who are the stewards of these
shrines, are obviously devoted to Yogananda, practicing the kriya yoga
meditation techniques, and sincere in every possible way. Yogananda's living
spirit and grace surely brings to them, as much as anyone, and possibly more
than to most, the soul awakening and personal transformation that disciples of
a great guru seek.
And, in fact, those whom we met, our hosts, were gracious, kind,
centered and indeed everything one naturally expects from devotees who are
deeply committed.
What, then, do I mean by "different?" To keep my
thoughts focused, clear and simple, I would say the differences are typically
described as follows: the one (SRF) is more reserved and the other (Ananda) is
considered more “open.” The one, SRF, is run by monastics (monks and nuns) and
the other (Ananda) includes families, singles, and couples as well as a small
contingent of monks and nuns. So the simplified “reserved” vs. “open” fits the
picture well enough for my purposes today.
But why? Aren’t we both followers of the same spiritual teacher?
Yes, but here’s my theme for this article: I believe that the circumstances of the
founding and early history of each organization has influenced the character of
each.
As we toured the beautiful gardens at the Encinitas Hermitage on
what was a typical weekday, I observed many other visitors besides our tour
group. Most visitors did not look especially like disciples. It is the same at the
Lake Shrine in Los Angeles, which is better known to the general public and
which sits on the outskirts of one of the world’s most populace cities. At both
of these wonderful places, one more or less observes a wide range of visitors
attracted simply to the beauty, serenity and peace of the place. Based on the
testimony of people I’ve met over many years, I believe that many visitors have
no idea who Paramhansa Yogananda was (or, if so, only generally), or his
teachings or organization.
It was in observing the steady flow of casual visitors that the seed
of my thinking was planted.
Before I begin let me say that most of what I learned about the
life of Paramhansa Yogananda and the history of SRF was from Ananda’s founder,
Swami Kriyananda. Other sources include Yogananda’s own writings and voice
recordings, the writings of other direct disciples, my own, personal
observations, and the testimony of other Ananda members. I am not going to
constantly give resource quotes for the statements I am about to make, as it is
a mixture of all of these sources. Beyond these sources I will admit out front
that I have very little personal experience or personal contacts with SRF and
its members. In my years at Ananda since the late 70’s I’ve had little interest
in the personalities, activities, opinions, writings or ministry of SRF leaders
or any particular interest in SRF’s organizational activities or policies.
Part 2 – Paramhansa
Yogananda comes to America - next article
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Our Visit to the Shrines of Paramhansa Yogananda in Los Angeles!
Last week a group of Ananda members from Seattle flew to southern California to tour the places where Paramhansa Yogananda lived and taught and where, also, our founder, Swami Kriyananda came to live during the last three plus years of Yogananda's life and for another eight or nine years after that.
Our trip began in Encinitas where Yogananda wrote (most of)
his now famous life story, “Autobiography of a Yogi.” Here, on a bluff
overlooking the Pacific Ocean, are beautiful meditation gardens, the Hermitage
itself, and staff and guest quarters. This was the location of Yogananda’s
experiment with what he called a “world brotherhood colony:” where people of
all walks of life, races, religions, monastic or householder would learn to live
and work together. In his time, he grew vegetables and fruits and had a
vegetarian café along the Pacific Coast Highway.
We meditated and enjoyed the
vibrations of the residue of the many hours of samadhi enjoyed by Master and his most advanced
disciple, Rajarshi Janakananda.
We also swam at “Swami’s beach” (the actual name of the
state park/beach below the bluffs; so named by the surfers, residents, and
fishermen of Encinitas for whom a great love for Master was felt) and ate at the
nearby (and now privately owned) Swami’s café.
In Encinitas we chanted and meditated at the local Ananda
center on the property of Casey Hughes. Casey, who has traveled to India some
forty times so far this life, had designed and constructed a lovely outdoor
meditation shrine which he had commissioned and constructed in Bali. It was then disassembled and packed into a shipping container and sent to Encinitas where it was
reconstructed.
In honor of the pilgrimages led by Swami Kriyananda (years ago) that included a visit to Disneyland, we spent a day there, too. Imagine 30+ adults with no children roaming around Disneyland muttering, “Gee, it IS a small world after all!”
In honor of the pilgrimages led by Swami Kriyananda (years ago) that included a visit to Disneyland, we spent a day there, too. Imagine 30+ adults with no children roaming around Disneyland muttering, “Gee, it IS a small world after all!”
We proceeded to the famous Forest Lawn cemetery in Glendale
where the body of Yogananda is interred. This is a popular sacred spot for
thousands of pilgrims from around the world. Meditating and chanting in the
great halls of Forest Lawn where the Master’s body lies is a special experience. (There are also many famous Hollywood celebrities interred there.)
One may easily discover that although Yogananda’s
spirit may be omnipresent, his human remains continue to pulse an undying beacon of
superconsciousness calling us, too, home to eternal bliss.
Next we visited the SRF Hollywood Temple on Sunset
Boulevard. This is where Swamiji met Yogananda on September 12, 1948 and was
accepted as his disciple. At various times both Yogananda and Swamiji gave
Sunday Services, classes and meditations in the simple but elegant chapel. There
one sees two pulpits: one for the resident minister and another for a visiting
minister. He called it the “Church of All Religions.” The grounds are lovely
beyond imagination: simple yet astral in beauty. We chanted and meditated in
the chapel and were hosted by Brother Pranavananda.
Our next stop was Yogananda’s headquarters atop Mt.
Washington: a short distance from downtown LA. As a young monk in India it was
this building (and the Encinitas hermitage and the school at Ranchi) that he
saw repeatedly in visions. We were escorted up three flights of stairs to the
apartments of the Master. Words cannot describe the powerful vibrations of
utter stillness. It is like walking into the “Vacuum of Eternity,” another
world saturated with stillness and divinity hushed but latently infinite.
On the first floor of Mt. Washington, we meditated in the
chapel where Yogananda gave kriya initiations, classes, and led meditations.
Here too the residue of cosmic consciousness lingers like a “worm hole” into eternity. (One cannot
adequately describe the blessing of sacred places where divinity has appeared.
It’s not a matter of religion or belief, but experience. Nor is it confined to
any one culture or time.)
Outside in the
Temple of Leaves we sat and meditated where Yogananda sometimes gave outdoor
classes and where Swamiji and the monks would meditate together. Many of our pilgrims reported their deepest experience here, sitting there under the lovely pepper tree.
We stayed three nights at the Biltmore Hotel, a structure of
such phenomenal artistry and beauty that it stands alone like a time capsule to
the days when Yogananda first came to Los Angeles and lived in the Biltmore
(before Mt. Washington was purchased). It was here in what is now the lobby of
the hotel that he left his body on March 7, 1952. (The occasion was a banquet
in honor of the newly appointed ambassador to the United States from India.)
Reading (as he once predicted in contemplating the end of his life) his poem, "My India," he dropped gently to the floor, leaving his body, as he said he
would, by stopping his heart at the appointed time that he was summoned “home” by
God.
While the former banquet hall is now the lobby, the staff at
the Biltmore are familiar with the story and the fact that people come year round
(but especially in March), to sit calmly with eyes closed near the beautiful Italian
artwork before which Yogananda spoke. (You can see parts of the wall piece in
the well known picture of Yogananda which is called “The Last Smile.”)
We were guided and ably assisted by the Ananda Center in LA
leaders, Narayan and Dharmadevi Romano. They befriended everyone and charmed us
with their sweet and focused presence.
On Saturday we visited the famous Lake Shrine which sits in
a hillside bowl on a tight curve near where Sunset Boulevard ends at the
Pacific Coast Highway. This incredibly beautiful property has as its visual
centerpiece a small lake. On it is a houseboat used for meditation and a
reconstructed Dutch windmill used as a chapel. The most beautiful grounds and
hillsides surround the lake. Ashes of Mahatma Gandhi lie in a sarcophagus (the
only ones outside India) and special shrine by the lake. Much more could be said. Thousands come here: some as devotees, some as neighbors, many, attracted like bees to the nectar of peace in a peaceless world.
We were welcomed warmly with the divine smile of Brother
Achalananda, once a brother and junior monk to Swami Kriyananda (who as the
head monk at the time, accepted Achalananda into the monastery sometime after Yogananda's passing). In two
segments (because we couldn't all fit), he chanted and meditated with our group in the houseboat.
Later, he regaled us with stories at the Lake Shrine temple
(built high above the lake) and also commented with kindness and understanding in
regards to Swami Kriyananda.
It was a special moment for those who were there.
Those of us who were blessed to travel together to these
holy places share an unforgettable memory and grace which is ours to meditate
upon, nurture, and share.
May the blessings we have received radiate outward in waves of peace!
Nayaswami Hriman
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Confrontation with God: the unspeakable truth!
I've been meditating for decades and teaching meditation publicly for at least half of those decades. Whenever I am tempted (in writing articles or speaking) to start describing "God" I know I'm heading down a slippery slope (to hell? or, to hell with it?). Can we just agree that "God is Infinite" and therefore beyond definition? That would make my article here easier to write, ok?
If you, as a reader, have been taught to meditate anywhere in the Ananda world you will know that we describe meditation as having three stages. Using these or other English words, we begin with Stage 1: Relaxation. In this we might use yoga or similar stretches to relax and also energize the physical body as we transition from ordinary activities towards sitting in meditation.
Stage 2 consists of internalizing our awareness and focusing our attention inwardly. We might chant, use a creative visualize, work with the breath, or observe the breath in a popular mindfulness technique which, in our version of it, Paramhansa Yogananda called, simply, "Hong Sau." There are many other techniques, some more advanced, such as Kriya Yoga.
Stage 3 is when we leave behind all techniques and sit in the silence. Hands down this is, for most meditators, the most difficult phase. Here, we let go completely of doing and relax into "being." While there are elements of this process in Stages 1 and 2, in Stage 3 its a bare-bones, down and out fist fight with the ego to shut up, let go, and go away!
So it's not God we are confronting, it's the ego. And yet, to the ego, it IS God we are confronting and "he don't want nothin' to do with Him." It's like a possessed person being confronted by a saint who commands that the evil entity leave the body of the possessed person. The ego kicks and spits and sends out a blistering diatribe of useless, dumb, or purposely hot-button images.....anything to keep our soul nature from emerging from the ego's prison of self-and-body-pre-occupation.
Oh, yes, there are moments of sweetness, calmness, joy, and surrender. But as Deepak Chopra described meditation: it's the "space BETWEEN our thoughts." I don't care much for this negative definition but I confess that for millions of meditators it's probably closer to the truth of their actual experience.
I could write a book about this issue and share ideas taken from Paramhansa Yogananda, and from my teacher (and Ananda's founder), Swami Kriyananda, and from the Yoga Sutras (Patanjali) and from the long and rich tradition of God-realized yogis and saints. But, well, I have other things to do, too. [There are some pointers to meditators that I could give here but .... maybe some other time.]
This is an unspeakable topic in the sense that a teacher of beginning meditation wants to inspire and encourage, not discourage new students. When I contemplate the challenge and what it takes to consistently have meditations where the ego-mind subsides into silence, and the invisible presence of the powerful, loving, joyful, and/or expansive God of the Self "appears," I tremble.
Yet there's a simplicity in truth. The simple truth of "seeing" God is that you really, really, really have to want to. Does that sound dumb? Trite? Well, too bad for you because it's really, really, really true!
We Ananda teachers enjoy telling the story about Paramhansa Yogananda's first kriya yoga disciple (a Boston dentist named Dr. Lewis) who confronted Yogananda, insisting that he be given a taste of cosmic consciousness. After pestering Yogananda repeatedly, Yogananda one day grabbed Dr. Lewis' (wide) lapels, bringing their foreheads close together and said, "Doctor, if I gave it to you, could you take it?" Dr. Lewis being given "stiff shot" of the stuff (so to speak), lowered his eyes and said meekly, "No sir."
When, even in fleeting moments, we are faced with what seems like the possibility of becoming the Self--this immense, invisible, overwhelming Self--the ego invariably stops and asks for a metaphorical "rain check." Like St. Augustine who prayed, "Make me good, Lord, but not yet."
Part of us does; part of us doesn't. Usually, and until only after great and repeated effort and grace, the part aligned with habit wins out. The "demon" of God has to be confronted and wrestled with. I say "demon" because that's more or less how the ego sees it.
It is devotion and the childlike faith and trust of our true Self that dissolves the invisible but ego-built barrier between me and Me and You. You have to sincerely and purely (and for no other reason) want God alone; Love alone; love without condition or expectation. You have to "know" without second thought that there is nothing greater worth having or being. You have to be convinced to your atoms that there is no other thing, desire, experience, person, or state of greater value. No opinion, no talent, no fantasy worth keeping.
I don't want to discourage anyone. After all, meditation has so many benefits (physical, mental and spiritual) that it really doesn't matter that you haven't "hit the wall," or even seen the darn thing yet. "Sufficient unto the day" is the meditation thereof.
Yet we are all -- beginning meditators and lifelong meditators -- confronted, at least sometimes, with the struggle and the wrestle with that invisible state and presence that calls to us out of the darkness of our unknowing. Is it a demon or an angel? We really don't know. Aren't my thoughts (and plans for the day) important? We won't know until we enter the arena. We won't know whether we are wrestling the ego or the angel until one of us, of them, succumbs to the other.
Entering the arena, then, is a supreme act of faith, and love. Faith is born of love and love, of faith. As Job said in the Old Testament, "Naked I came out of the womb and naked shall I return thither." We must leave everything thought, every self-identification, desire, memory, fear....all of it behind not knowing "whence I go."
I leave now chanting Yogananda's chant: "I shall be roaming, roaming, roaming...."
Joy,
Nayaswami Hriman
If you, as a reader, have been taught to meditate anywhere in the Ananda world you will know that we describe meditation as having three stages. Using these or other English words, we begin with Stage 1: Relaxation. In this we might use yoga or similar stretches to relax and also energize the physical body as we transition from ordinary activities towards sitting in meditation.
Stage 2 consists of internalizing our awareness and focusing our attention inwardly. We might chant, use a creative visualize, work with the breath, or observe the breath in a popular mindfulness technique which, in our version of it, Paramhansa Yogananda called, simply, "Hong Sau." There are many other techniques, some more advanced, such as Kriya Yoga.
Stage 3 is when we leave behind all techniques and sit in the silence. Hands down this is, for most meditators, the most difficult phase. Here, we let go completely of doing and relax into "being." While there are elements of this process in Stages 1 and 2, in Stage 3 its a bare-bones, down and out fist fight with the ego to shut up, let go, and go away!
So it's not God we are confronting, it's the ego. And yet, to the ego, it IS God we are confronting and "he don't want nothin' to do with Him." It's like a possessed person being confronted by a saint who commands that the evil entity leave the body of the possessed person. The ego kicks and spits and sends out a blistering diatribe of useless, dumb, or purposely hot-button images.....anything to keep our soul nature from emerging from the ego's prison of self-and-body-pre-occupation.
Oh, yes, there are moments of sweetness, calmness, joy, and surrender. But as Deepak Chopra described meditation: it's the "space BETWEEN our thoughts." I don't care much for this negative definition but I confess that for millions of meditators it's probably closer to the truth of their actual experience.
I could write a book about this issue and share ideas taken from Paramhansa Yogananda, and from my teacher (and Ananda's founder), Swami Kriyananda, and from the Yoga Sutras (Patanjali) and from the long and rich tradition of God-realized yogis and saints. But, well, I have other things to do, too. [There are some pointers to meditators that I could give here but .... maybe some other time.]
This is an unspeakable topic in the sense that a teacher of beginning meditation wants to inspire and encourage, not discourage new students. When I contemplate the challenge and what it takes to consistently have meditations where the ego-mind subsides into silence, and the invisible presence of the powerful, loving, joyful, and/or expansive God of the Self "appears," I tremble.
Yet there's a simplicity in truth. The simple truth of "seeing" God is that you really, really, really have to want to. Does that sound dumb? Trite? Well, too bad for you because it's really, really, really true!
We Ananda teachers enjoy telling the story about Paramhansa Yogananda's first kriya yoga disciple (a Boston dentist named Dr. Lewis) who confronted Yogananda, insisting that he be given a taste of cosmic consciousness. After pestering Yogananda repeatedly, Yogananda one day grabbed Dr. Lewis' (wide) lapels, bringing their foreheads close together and said, "Doctor, if I gave it to you, could you take it?" Dr. Lewis being given "stiff shot" of the stuff (so to speak), lowered his eyes and said meekly, "No sir."
When, even in fleeting moments, we are faced with what seems like the possibility of becoming the Self--this immense, invisible, overwhelming Self--the ego invariably stops and asks for a metaphorical "rain check." Like St. Augustine who prayed, "Make me good, Lord, but not yet."
Part of us does; part of us doesn't. Usually, and until only after great and repeated effort and grace, the part aligned with habit wins out. The "demon" of God has to be confronted and wrestled with. I say "demon" because that's more or less how the ego sees it.
It is devotion and the childlike faith and trust of our true Self that dissolves the invisible but ego-built barrier between me and Me and You. You have to sincerely and purely (and for no other reason) want God alone; Love alone; love without condition or expectation. You have to "know" without second thought that there is nothing greater worth having or being. You have to be convinced to your atoms that there is no other thing, desire, experience, person, or state of greater value. No opinion, no talent, no fantasy worth keeping.
I don't want to discourage anyone. After all, meditation has so many benefits (physical, mental and spiritual) that it really doesn't matter that you haven't "hit the wall," or even seen the darn thing yet. "Sufficient unto the day" is the meditation thereof.
Yet we are all -- beginning meditators and lifelong meditators -- confronted, at least sometimes, with the struggle and the wrestle with that invisible state and presence that calls to us out of the darkness of our unknowing. Is it a demon or an angel? We really don't know. Aren't my thoughts (and plans for the day) important? We won't know until we enter the arena. We won't know whether we are wrestling the ego or the angel until one of us, of them, succumbs to the other.
Entering the arena, then, is a supreme act of faith, and love. Faith is born of love and love, of faith. As Job said in the Old Testament, "Naked I came out of the womb and naked shall I return thither." We must leave everything thought, every self-identification, desire, memory, fear....all of it behind not knowing "whence I go."
I leave now chanting Yogananda's chant: "I shall be roaming, roaming, roaming...."
Joy,
Nayaswami Hriman
Saturday, September 19, 2015
Fall has Fallen Upon Us! Let's Celebrate the Equinox!
So called "modern" man has lost touch with the seasons. As if to prove it, our pollution of the environment has caused the seasons, moreover, to spin out of control, crazily, disturbing traditional weather patterns.
Nonetheless, here in the greater Seattle area, Fall has come! The trees are turning to their Fall colors, bright yet hinting at nostalgia or self-reflection. The sky is mostly gray, with periodic drizzles, hardly worth even the wearing of a hat.
Having for so many years experienced the height of Fall while in Frankfurt, Germany, accompanying Padma to what was her annual trek to the international Book Fair (on behalf of showing [mostly] Swami Kriyananda's books to publishers in other langagues), I receive memory-born glimpses of the colorful trees, the ring of mountains (hills) surrounding the city, bright blue skies alternating with Seattle-like drizzle, the beautiful city park next to the home we stayed, the Fall trees lining the railway tracks that took us to and from the Messe each day......even the fresh, brisk air.
I have come to appreciate, however, in more recent years that Fall is somewhat different for those in the harvest mode. Not yet quite reflective or nostalgic, Ananda Farms staff on nearby Camano Island are busy with the harvest which must get "in" before the weather turns more seriously Fall with hints of Winter!
I suppose each season has at least two, perhaps three, subsets: early, mid and late. Early Fall is characterized by the so-called "Indian summer" of warm days and cool nights. These are sometimes a refreshing change from the unceasing heat of summer days. This is the time of active harvesting, and is a kind of extension of the active nature of Summer.
Consider, too, that school begins in Fall. Early Fall finds millions making key decisions: people move, change jobs, change or enter into new schools, projects start up and summer vacations come to an end. Fall has a quality of beginnings, too!
As a child I recall my own dismay for the undeniable fact of actually welcoming the reappearance of school, even of the familiar routine! Yes, we tend to need structure just as we also need free play!
Mid-Fall includes the October height of Fall colors and the clear transition of nature into withdrawal. The leaves turn and fall; the summer plants drop and wilt, frost may appear in the early mornings. The pace might slow a bit (or, at least we drop into our routines) and the period of reflection begins.
Late Fall might be touched by an early Winter-hinting storm or two but we have been pushed indoors now. This is a great time for Thanksgiving and personal reflection. Being driven indoors symbolizes our coming back together from our "going out" of being outside (in the fields of activity), on vacation, travelling or just being so busy as to not have time to connect.
This is the time of year when I have been blessed to take a week's seclusion at the Camano Island Hermitage (house) which was acquired for this purpose and is shared with many friends.
Fall, perhaps more than the other three seasons, represents for me the "tense and relax" cycle of activity and reflection. Nonetheless, this yin and yang is experienced in all four seasons. For example, the intensity of activity of summer is balanced by vacation and nature. Spring awakens our energy to break out of our routines and get outside: our reflective nature now moves outward into appreciation of nature, beauty, life, and diversity. Winter, while obviously indoors and inward, is yet also a time of deep focus upon our work and life's dharma.
Still, Fall is "my" season, for I was born on a Sunday, October 1st, 1950, and I shall soon be 65 years old! Hard to believe. 65 is the new young, right?
Some days I feel that I've "seen enough" of this world and I want only to be free of the unceasing play of desires, fears, self-identities, success and rejections. I think of the song my teacher, Swami Kriyananda, wrote towards the end of his life: "I don't want to play any more." This feeling (and the song itself) is not a rejection; nor is it sad, either. It is an affirmation: a hard-won affirmation, I might add. I feel the tug of omnipresence, the infinity of God-consciousness.
Other days, the sweetness of pure friendship, the joy of deep meditations, the loveliness of nature, and the diversity and amazing scope of human creativity and inventiveness, are endlessly inspiring as if God has incarnated in so many forms.
I hope for each of us that we commit ourselves to personal soul-time this Fall. Time for reflection. Time for taking retreat or personal seclusion. Life is short and our habits are so deep that too often we live like zombies wandering at night thirsting for life but devoid of joy.
The "Christ" within us yearns to be harvested, but the old habits born of the past must first be shed like Fall leaves. Oh, they might take a "Custer's last stand" by glowing brightly just as you intend to withdraw from them, but fear not, Fall they will as you reach up to pick the harvest of self-reflection in the form of inner, divine joy.
Right about now, mid-September, the night and day are poised in equilibrium. This is an excellent time to feel the growing stillness that is now accessible and which alternates with the intensity of daily activity.
Fall into Joy,
Swami Hrimananda
Nonetheless, here in the greater Seattle area, Fall has come! The trees are turning to their Fall colors, bright yet hinting at nostalgia or self-reflection. The sky is mostly gray, with periodic drizzles, hardly worth even the wearing of a hat.
Having for so many years experienced the height of Fall while in Frankfurt, Germany, accompanying Padma to what was her annual trek to the international Book Fair (on behalf of showing [mostly] Swami Kriyananda's books to publishers in other langagues), I receive memory-born glimpses of the colorful trees, the ring of mountains (hills) surrounding the city, bright blue skies alternating with Seattle-like drizzle, the beautiful city park next to the home we stayed, the Fall trees lining the railway tracks that took us to and from the Messe each day......even the fresh, brisk air.
I have come to appreciate, however, in more recent years that Fall is somewhat different for those in the harvest mode. Not yet quite reflective or nostalgic, Ananda Farms staff on nearby Camano Island are busy with the harvest which must get "in" before the weather turns more seriously Fall with hints of Winter!
I suppose each season has at least two, perhaps three, subsets: early, mid and late. Early Fall is characterized by the so-called "Indian summer" of warm days and cool nights. These are sometimes a refreshing change from the unceasing heat of summer days. This is the time of active harvesting, and is a kind of extension of the active nature of Summer.
Consider, too, that school begins in Fall. Early Fall finds millions making key decisions: people move, change jobs, change or enter into new schools, projects start up and summer vacations come to an end. Fall has a quality of beginnings, too!
As a child I recall my own dismay for the undeniable fact of actually welcoming the reappearance of school, even of the familiar routine! Yes, we tend to need structure just as we also need free play!
Mid-Fall includes the October height of Fall colors and the clear transition of nature into withdrawal. The leaves turn and fall; the summer plants drop and wilt, frost may appear in the early mornings. The pace might slow a bit (or, at least we drop into our routines) and the period of reflection begins.
Late Fall might be touched by an early Winter-hinting storm or two but we have been pushed indoors now. This is a great time for Thanksgiving and personal reflection. Being driven indoors symbolizes our coming back together from our "going out" of being outside (in the fields of activity), on vacation, travelling or just being so busy as to not have time to connect.
This is the time of year when I have been blessed to take a week's seclusion at the Camano Island Hermitage (house) which was acquired for this purpose and is shared with many friends.
Fall, perhaps more than the other three seasons, represents for me the "tense and relax" cycle of activity and reflection. Nonetheless, this yin and yang is experienced in all four seasons. For example, the intensity of activity of summer is balanced by vacation and nature. Spring awakens our energy to break out of our routines and get outside: our reflective nature now moves outward into appreciation of nature, beauty, life, and diversity. Winter, while obviously indoors and inward, is yet also a time of deep focus upon our work and life's dharma.
Still, Fall is "my" season, for I was born on a Sunday, October 1st, 1950, and I shall soon be 65 years old! Hard to believe. 65 is the new young, right?
Some days I feel that I've "seen enough" of this world and I want only to be free of the unceasing play of desires, fears, self-identities, success and rejections. I think of the song my teacher, Swami Kriyananda, wrote towards the end of his life: "I don't want to play any more." This feeling (and the song itself) is not a rejection; nor is it sad, either. It is an affirmation: a hard-won affirmation, I might add. I feel the tug of omnipresence, the infinity of God-consciousness.
Other days, the sweetness of pure friendship, the joy of deep meditations, the loveliness of nature, and the diversity and amazing scope of human creativity and inventiveness, are endlessly inspiring as if God has incarnated in so many forms.
I hope for each of us that we commit ourselves to personal soul-time this Fall. Time for reflection. Time for taking retreat or personal seclusion. Life is short and our habits are so deep that too often we live like zombies wandering at night thirsting for life but devoid of joy.
The "Christ" within us yearns to be harvested, but the old habits born of the past must first be shed like Fall leaves. Oh, they might take a "Custer's last stand" by glowing brightly just as you intend to withdraw from them, but fear not, Fall they will as you reach up to pick the harvest of self-reflection in the form of inner, divine joy.
Right about now, mid-September, the night and day are poised in equilibrium. This is an excellent time to feel the growing stillness that is now accessible and which alternates with the intensity of daily activity.
Fall into Joy,
Swami Hrimananda
Monday, September 14, 2015
Breath Mastery: India's contribution to the world's treasury of knowledge
Paramhansa Yogananda, in his now classic life story,
“Autobiography of a Yogi,” wrote that “breath mastery” is “India’s unique and
deathless contribution to the world’s treasury of knowledge.”
What “knowledge” perchance was he referring to? Knowledge of
the Self. “Know thyself.” (Gnothi Seauton, inscribed in the
forecourt at the Temple of Apollo in Delphi, Greece.) Or as Shakespeare said in
the words of Polonius: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not
then be false to any man.
Since ancient times and from the wise in every tradition
comes this counsel to turn within, to introspect, to become self aware and know
the Self.
Yet, so far as I know, only the yogic tradition gives us the
“how” of gnosis, of going within. That, formerly secret, knowledge is the
science of breath and mind: the science of yoga that is spreading rapidly
throughout the world. For yoga is far more than physical movements or static
bodily positions, no matter how beneficial they may be. Far too long has the
word “yoga” represented only the physical branch of yoga (called “hatha
yoga”).
It is no coincidence that our first breath signals our birth
and our last, our death. Only the most unthinking would limit the experience of
life to the simple act of breathing. As Jesus put it (John 10:11), “I came that
they may have life, and may have it abundantly.”
This breath, this life is abundant when we have health and
happiness. But life is rarely, if ever, a static experience. Joys alternate
with sorrows. So if abundance is measured in things, pleasure, human love,
material security, fame or name, few will have it if but fleetingly, while
those who bask in these are haunted by the shadow of loss ever ready to darken
their door.
Breath, taken as the most elemental aspect of being alive,
functions like a river. For daily life appears to flow only in one direction: out
through the senses into the world around. This direction reverses only during
sleep. Following the life-breath inward to its source would seem, therefore,
beyond our conscious control.
But just as a boat with a motor can travel upstream towards
the river’s headwaters, so too, can we, if we are trained in the science of
breath and mind. The legend of the Fountain of Youth has its origins in the
all-but-lost knowledge of this science. The Fountain of Youth, like the Garden
of Eden, has no earthly location. It is, as Jesus put it, “within you.” Every
night in sleep we are refreshed and baptized, at least partially, in the river
of life. But sleep returns us to neutral. It is not life changing.
Long ago, the yogis discovered the methods, the means and the
science of breath mastery. They discovered how to slow the breath and heart
rate so that the river becomes languid and we can “row” upstream. By analyzing
the experience and the psychophysiological attributes of the state of sleep,
the yogis devised methods by which to enter progressively deeper states of
conscious sleep. Conscious, yes: indeed super-conscious; but this state is akin
to “sleep” only in mimicking the brain’s methods of turning off the five “sense
telephones” (as Yogananda put it) and slowing the heart and breath.
In sleep, we enter the dream state which is as real to us (while
dreaming) as the activities of the day. While the reality of the dream state is
as easily dismissed as the stars at night are by the sunrise, reflection upon the
dream state reveals to us how our reactions, using the brain and nervous system
as instruments, create our reality during the day. The introspective mind
gradually realizes that all sensory input is interpreted and filtered by the
senses and by the attitude, memory, and health of the mind. With poor eyesight
we easily mistake one thing, or person, for another. We thus “create our own
reality” largely by our expectations, emotional filters, and past memory
experiences. I don’t mean to espouse solipsism. Rather, I am saying that our
experience of life is largely, as it relates to what is important to us, a
matter of our mental and reactive processes.
The yogis discovered the intimate relationship between inhalation and positive reactions and exhalation and negating responses. By slowing the breathing process we gain control over the reactive process, detaching life experiences from our unconscious reaction. We thus gain control over our life. We become more conscious; more alive; clearer; wiser, happier because no longer a helpless reactionary. We grow in detachment while intensifying
our inner awareness of a silently flowing river of calmness, contentment and
confidence.
The science of breath mastery allows the meditator to enter
a state of conscious sleep. By calming and monitoring the breath and heart rate,
one can turn off the senses (as we do in sleep) while yet remaining conscious. This
is what scientists observe in meditators when the alpha brain waves coincide
with the theta waves: conscious awareness paired with sleep-like
relaxation.
The meditator can observe the mental processes that
otherwise produce the dream state. I am not referring here to lucid dreaming
(which can be interesting and useful to a limited degree), because meditation
has other goals, such as to transcend the body and sense and memory bound
mental processes of the brain. An experienced meditator focuses the mind
one-pointedly in order to eventually strip the mind and its mental processes of
all self-created images.
Ironically, or so it might seem, most meditation methods use
the mind to focus on a single image or object in order to hold at bay, or
pacify, the habit-induced onslaught of subconscious images. There’s a saying in
India: “Use a thorn to remove a thorn.” When this finally occurs, the image or
object of meditation can be released. The meditator then resides in a state of
awareness devoid of objects.
[Images or objects of meditation vary widely but for the
sake of clarity can include focusing on a mantra, the flow of breath, energy in
the body, especially certain channels and places (chakras, e.g.), the feeling
of peace and related states, the image of one’s deity or guru, or various
subtle phenomenon experienced in meditation such as sounds or images of light.]
The science of meditation encompasses a large knowledge base
of techniques and instructions on how to use the breath to achieve what has
been called, somewhat incorrectly, “altered states” of consciousness.
“Incorrectly,” I aver, because the actual experience of true meditation is so
elemental and so refreshing that anyone who has “been there” with any
consistency says that it is our natural state. All else is just details and the
busy-ness of daily life. It is like finding the pure headwaters of the river of
life that, as it runs to the sea of outward activity, becomes polluted by the
debris of involvement, limitation, and identification! It is like bathing in
pure water or being “born again.”
So life altering are the higher states of meditation that
healing and health consequences are inescapable. In fact, different yoga
teachers and traditions are resurrecting the health benefits of breath control
techniques (traditionally called “pranayams”). The field of yoga therapy, for
example, though still focused primarily on physical postures, is one sign of
the application of yoga science to healing. Use of pranayams for various health
cures is also being rediscovered and subjected to field tests.
A blog like this is not the place for a long string of
health references but they can be easily found. I just typed in this question
in my search engine: Can pranayams help the body? I got 394,000 results!
But when our purpose for meditation is towards higher states
of being, we find steadily that the importance of technique wanes in relation to
motivation and will power. In fact, in any given meditation sitting, we are
taught to leave a portion of our sitting time for inner silence after techniques.
Real meditation begins only as techniques dissolve into the sought after higher
states.
[Don’t be fooled, as some meditation seekers fool themselves,
in thinking, “Therefore, forget the techniques.” That might work once in a blue
moon but such dilettantes rarely stay in the game very long.]
Techniques function much like the motorboat that takes us
upstream; or, the training needed by an astronaut before lift off. Once we are
in space, well fine, that’s when the training pays off. Once we bathe in the
pure headwaters of the river of life, we don’t need the motorboat (we can float
back down the river without it!)
People sometimes ask why kriya initiation requires almost a
year of training and, when given, requires a pledge of silence, an agreement
not to reveal the technique to anyone without prior permission! The reasons for this are, in part, because it
takes training and development to get used to the rarified oxygen-less
atmosphere of inner stillness. The brain and nervous system require refinement.
Like climbing Mt Everest without oxygen, we have to get used to the thin atmosphere
where thoughts subside, the body is left behind, and the emotions have vanished
like clouds beneath the intense summer sun.
You may think you want all this but your entire body,
nervous system, and reptile brain and ego want nothing to do with being asked
to step aside. So far as they are concerned, they are being dismissed and
dissolved into nothingness. Who in their right “mind,” would accede to this
without a fight! “The soul loves to meditate; but the ego hates to meditate.”
So counseled Paramhansa Yogananda.
One needs not only to get used to meditation but also to
demonstrate by will power and motivation the necessary “right stuff” to stick
with it long enough to get results. Otherwise it’s “pearls before swine.” Not
calling anyone here a pig, but what would diamonds be if they were ten cents
each? They wouldn’t be diamonds. It takes will power to learn the science of
yoga and to go deep into the Self.
If given too soon and one gives up in frustration, rebellion
or restlessness, the seed of rejection and doubt is sown. It can take more than
one lifetime before that vasana, impression, or vritti, karma, weakens
sufficiently so that one’s interest and desire to try again might be
re-awakened. One doesn’t give a child a gun or a hammer.
But for most new meditators, there are many pranayams and meditation techniques well
suited to stress reduction, health and healing. You can use breath techniques
to warm or cool the nervous system; to help you sleep; to still the mind and,
as the internet search suggests, heal, help or cure lots of ailments.
Technique, therefore, is a good starting point. Motivation
relative to our needs and wisdom is the fuel of our pranayama rocket. With
self-effort we can accomplish much. With grace, we leave the “we” behind lest
our victories revert and yield, in time, to the grinding wheel of samsara
(duality).
Start where you are. Learn to breathe consciously, deeply.
Try to be conscious of your breathing throughout the day as well as in
meditation. Detective stories say “Follow the money.” Sages say “follow the
breath.”
Namaste,
Swami Hrimananda
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
For Ananda Kriyabans only: How to Deepen Your Kriya Practice
Here for the Ananda Seattle kriya members, we have recently written four sequenced articles on "How to Deepen Your Kriya practice." These are for those who have learned the kriya meditation technique from an Ananda kriyacharya. If you are eligible, and would like me to send you these articles, please let me know. I will need an email address, and, if I don't know you well enough already, I will need confirmation of your kriya initiation. If you don't already have my email address, you can use the "comments" below to contact me and I will simply NOT "publish" the comment.
Blessings to you,
Nayaswami Hriman
Blessings to you,
Nayaswami Hriman
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