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.

Next article is Part 4 – Swami Kriyananda & Ananda

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

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!”

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

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

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