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Preface 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40: 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 |
Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramhansa Yogananda
Chapter 48: At Encinitas in California"A surprise, sir! During your absence abroad we have had this Encinitas hermitage built; it is a 'welcome-home' gift!" Sister Gyanamata smilingly led me through a gate and up a tree-shaded walk.
I saw a building jutting out like a great white ocean liner toward the blue brine. First speechlessly, then with "Oh's!" and "Ah's!", finally with man's insufficient vocabulary of joy and gratitude, I examined the ashramsixteen unusually large rooms, each one charmingly appointed.
The stately central hall, with immense ceiling-high windows, looks out on a united altar of grass, ocean, skya symphony in emerald, opal, sapphire. A mantle over the hall's huge fireplace holds the framed likeness of Lahiri Mahasaya, smiling his blessing over this far Pacific heaven.
Directly below the hall, built into the very bluff, two solitary meditation caves confront the infinities of sky and sea. Verandahs, sun-bathing nooks, acres of orchard, a eucalypti grove, flagstone paths leading through roses and lilies to quiet arbors, a long flight of stairs ending on an isolated beach and the vast waters! Was dream ever more concrete?
"May
the good and heroic and bountiful souls of the saints come here,"
reads "A Prayer for a Dwelling," from the Zend-Avesta,
fastened on one of the hermitage doors, "and may they go hand
in hand with us, giving the healing virtues of their blessed gifts
as widespread as the earth, as far-flung as the rivers, as high-reaching
as the sun, for the furtherance of better men, for the increase
of abundance and glory.
"May obedience
conquer disobedience within this house; may peace triumph here over
discord; free-hearted giving over avarice, truthful speech over
deceit, reverence over contempt. That our minds be delighted, and
our souls uplifted, let our bodies be glorified as well; and O Light
Divine, may we see Thee, and may we, approaching, come round about
Thee, and attain unto Thine entire companionship!"
This Self-Realization Fellowship ashram had been made possible through the generosity of a few American disciples, American businessmen of endless responsibilities who yet find time daily for their Kriya Yoga. Not a word of the hermitage construction had been allowed to reach me during my stay in India and Europe. Astonishment, delight!
During
my earlier years in America I had combed the coast of California
in quest of a small site for a seaside ashram; whenever I had found
a suitable location, some obstacle had invariably arisen to thwart
me. Gazing now over the broad acres of Encinitas,1
humbly I saw the effortless fulfillment of Sri Yukteswar's long-ago
prophecy: "a hermitage by the ocean."
A few months
later, Easter of 1937, I conducted on the smooth lawns at Encinitas
the first of many Sunrise Services. Like the magi of old, several
hundred students gazed in devotional awe at the daily miracle, the
early solar fire rite in the eastern sky. To the west lay the inexhaustible
Pacific, booming its solemn praise; in the distance, a tiny white
sailing boat, and the lonely flight of a seagull. "Christ,
thou art risen!" Not alone with the vernal sun, but in the
eternal dawn of Spirit!
Many
happy months sped by; in the peace of perfect beauty I was able
to complete at the hermitage a long-projected work, Cosmic Chants.
I set to English words and Western musical notation about forty
songs, some original, others my adaptations of ancient melodies.
Included were the Shankara chant, "No Birth, No Death";
two favorites of Sri Yukteswar's: "Wake, Yet Wake, O my Saint!"
and "Desire, my Great Enemy"; the hoary Sanskrit "Hymn
to Brahma"; old Bengali songs, "What Lightning Flash!"
and "They Have Heard Thy Name"; Tagore's "Who is
in my Temple?"; and a number of my compositions: "I Will
be Thine Always," "In the Land Beyond my Dreams,"
"Come Out of the Silent Sky," "Listen to my Soul
Call," "In the Temple of Silence," and "Thou
Art my Life."
For a preface
to the songbook I recounted my first outstanding experience with
the receptivity of Westerners to the quaintly devotional airs of
the East. The occasion had been a public lecture; the time, April
18, 1926; the place, Carnegie Hall in New York.
"Mr. Hunsicker,"
I had confided to an American student, "I am planning to ask
the audience to sing an ancient Hindu chant, 'O God Beautiful!'"
"Sir,"
Mr. Hunsicker had protested, "these Oriental songs are alien
to American understanding. What a shame if the lecture were
to be marred by a commentary of overripe tomatoes!"
I
had laughingly disagreed. "Music is a universal language. Americans
will not fail to feel the soul-aspiration in this lofty chant."2
During the lecture
Mr. Hunsicker had sat behind me on the platform, probably fearing
for my safety. His doubts were groundless; not only had there been
an absence of unwelcome vegetables, but for one hour and twenty-five
minutes the strains of "O God Beautiful!" had sounded
uninterruptedly from three thousand throats. Blas no longer, dear
New Yorkers; your hearts had soared out in a simple paean of rejoicing!
Divine healings had taken place that evening among the devotees
chanting with love the Lord's blessed name.
The
secluded life of a literary minstrel was not my role for long. Soon
I was dividing every fortnight between Los Angeles and Encinitas.
Sunday services, classes, lectures before clubs and colleges, interviews
with students, ceaseless streams of correspondence, articles for
East-West, direction of activities in India and numerous small
centers in American cities. Much time was given, also, to the arrangement
of Kriya and other Self-Realization Fellowship teachings
into a series of studies for the distant yoga seekers whose zeal
recognized no limitation of space.
Joyous dedication
of a Self-Realization Church of All Religions took place in 1938
at Washington, D.C. Set amidst landscaped grounds, the stately church
stands in a section of the city aptly called "Friendship Heights."
The Washington leader is Swami Premananda, educated at the Ranchi
school and Calcutta University. I had summoned him in 1928 to assume
leadership of the Washington Self-Realization Fellowship center.
"Premananda,"
I told him during a visit to his new temple, "this Eastern
headquarters is a memorial in stone to your tireless devotion. Here
in the nation's capital you have held aloft the light of Lahiri
Mahasaya's ideals."
Premananda
accompanied me from Washington for a brief visit to the Self-Realization
Fellowship center in Boston. What joy to see again the Kriya
Yoga band who had remained steadfast since 1920! The Boston
leader, Dr. M. W. Lewis, lodged my companion and myself in a modern,
artistically decorated suite.
"Sir,"
Dr. Lewis said to me, smiling, "during your early years in
America you stayed in this city in a single room, without bath.
I wanted you to know that Boston possesses some luxurious apartments!"
The shadows
of approaching carnage were lengthening over the world; already
the acute ear might hear the frightful drums of war. During interviews
with thousands in California, and through a world-wide correspondence,
I found that men and women were deeply searching their hearts; the
tragic outer insecurity had emphasized need for the Eternal Anchorage.
"We have
indeed learned the value of meditation," the leader of the
London Self-Realization Fellowship center wrote me in 1941, "and
know that nothing can disturb our inner peace. In the last few weeks
during the meetings we have heard air-raid warnings and listened
to the explosion of delayed-action bombs, but our students still
gather and thoroughly enjoy our beautiful service."
Another
letter reached me from war-torn England just before America entered
the conflict. In nobly pathetic words, Dr. L. Cranmer Byng, noted
editor of The Wisdom of the East Series, wrote:
"When
I read East-West I realized how far apart we seemed to be,
apparently living in two different worlds. Beauty, order, calm,
and peace come to me from Los Angeles, sailing into port as a vessel
laden with the blessings and comfort of the Holy Grail to a beleaguered
city.
"I see
as in a dream your palm tree grove, and the temple at Encinitas
with its ocean stretches and mountain views, and above all its fellowship
of spiritually minded men and women, a community comprehended in
unity, absorbed in creative work, and replenished in contemplation.
It is the world of my own vision, in the making of which I hoped
to bear my little part, and now . . .
"Perhaps
in the body I shall never reach your golden shores nor worship in
your temple. But it is something and more, to have had the vision
and know that in the midst of war there is still a peace that abides
in your harbors and among your hills. Greetings to all the Fellowship
from a common soldier, written on the watchtower waiting for the
dawn."
The war years
brought a spiritual awakening among men whose diversions had never
before included a study of the New Testament. One sweet distillment
from the bitter herbs of war! To satisfy a growing need, an inspiring
little Self-Realization Church of All Religions was built and dedicated
in 1942 at Hollywood. The site faces Olive Hill and the distant
Los Angeles Planetarium. The church, finished in blue, white, and
gold, is reflected amidst the water hyacinths in a large pool. The
gardens are gay with flowers, a few startled stone deer, a stained-glass
pergola, and a quaint wishing well. Thrown in with the pennies and
the kaleidoscopic wishes of man has been many a pure aspiration
for the sole treasure of Spirit! A universal benignity flows from
small niches with statues of Lahiri Mahasaya and Sri Yukteswar,
and of Krishna, Buddha, Confucius, St. Francis, and a beautiful
mother-of-pearl reproduction of Christ at the Last Supper.
Another Self-Realization
Church of All Religions was founded in 1943 at San Diego. A quiet
hilltop temple, it stands in a sloping valley of eucalypti, overlooking
sparkling San Diego Bay.
Sitting one
evening in this tranquil haven, I was pouring out my heart in song.
Under my fingers was the sweet-toned organ of the church, on my
lips the yearning plaint of an ancient Bengali devotee who had searched
for eternal solace:
In this world,
Mother, none can love me;
In this world they do not know love divine.
Where is there pure loving love?
Where is there truly loving Thee?
There my heart longs to be.
My companion
in the chapel, Dr. Lloyd Kennell, the San Diego center leader, was
smiling a little at the words of the song.
"Tell me
truly, Paramhansaji, has it been worth it?" He gazed at me
with an earnest sincerity. I understood his laconic question: "Have
you been happy in America? What about the disillusionments, the
heartaches, the center leaders who could not lead, the students
who could not be taught?"
"Blessed
is the man whom the Lord doth test, Doctor! He has remembered now
and then to put a burden on me!" I thought, then, of all the
faithful ones, of the love and devotion and understanding that lay
in the heart of America. With slow emphasis I went on, "But
my answer is: Yes, a thousand times yes! It has been worth-while;
it has been a constant inspiration, more than ever I dreamed, to
see West and East brought closer in the only lasting bond, the spiritual!"
Silently I added
a prayer: "May Babaji and Sri Yukteswarji feel that I have
done my part, not disappointing the high hope in which they sent
me forth."
I turned again
to the organ; this time my song was tinged with a martial valor:
The grinding
wheel of Time doth mar
Full many a life of moon and star
And many a brightly smiling morn
But still my soul is marching on!
Darkness, death, and failures vied;
To block my path they fiercely tried;
My fight with jealous Nature's strong
But still my soul is marching on!
New Year's week
of 1945 found me at work in my Encinitas study, revising the manuscript
of this book.
"Paramhansaji,
please come outdoors." Dr. Lewis, on a visit from Boston, smiled
at me pleadingly from outside my window. Soon we were strolling
in the sunshine. My companion pointed to new towers in process of
construction along the edge of the Fellowship property adjoining
the coast highway.
"Sir, I
see many improvements here since my last visit." Dr. Lewis
comes twice annually from Boston to Encinitas.
"Yes, Doctor,
a project I have long considered is beginning to take definite form.
In these beautiful surroundings I have started a miniature world
colony. Brotherhood is an ideal better understood by example than
precept! A small harmonious group here may inspire other ideal communities
over the earth."
"A splendid
idea, sir! The colony will surely be a success if everyone sincerely
does his part!"
"'World'
is a large term, but man must enlarge his allegiance, considering
himself in the light of a world citizen," I continued. "A
person who truly feels: 'The world is my homeland; it is my America,
my India, my Philippines, my England, my Africa,' will never lack
scope for a useful and happy life. His natural local pride will
know limitless expansion; he will be in touch with creative universal
currents."
Dr. Lewis and
I halted above the lotus pool near the hermitage. Below us lay the
illimitable Pacific.
"These
same waters break equally on the coasts of West and East, in California
and China." My companion threw a little stone into the first
of the oceanic seventy million square miles. "Encinitas is
a symbolic spot for a world colony."
"That is
true, Doctor. We shall arrange here for many conferences and Congresses
of Religion, inviting delegates from all lands. Flags of the nations
will hang in our halls. Diminutive temples will be built over the
grounds, dedicated to the world's principal religions.
"As soon as possible," I went on, "I plan to open a Yoga Institute here. The blessed role of Kriya Yoga in the West has hardly more than just begun. May all men come to know that there is a definite, scientific technique of self-realization for the overcoming of all human misery!"
Far into the night my dear friendthe first Kriya Yogi in
Americadiscussed with me the need for world colonies founded on
a spiritual basis. The ills attributed to an anthropomorphic abstraction
called "society" may be laid more realistically at the
door of Everyman. Utopia must spring in the private bosom before
it can flower in civic virtue. Man is a soul, not an institution;
his inner reforms alone can lend permanence to outer ones. By stress
on spiritual values, self-realization, a colony exemplifying world
brotherhood is empowered to send inspiring vibrations far beyond
its locale.
August 15, 1945,
close of Global War II! End of a world; dawn of an enigmatic Atomic
Age! The hermitage residents gathered in the main hall for a prayer
of thanksgiving. "Heavenly Father, may never it be again! Thy
children go henceforth as brothers!"
Gone was the
tension of war years; our spirits purred in the sun of peace. I
gazed happily at each of my American comrades.
"Lord,"
I thought gratefully, "Thou hast given this monk a large family!"
1
A small town on Coast Highway 101, Encinitas is 100 miles south
of Los Angeles, and 25 miles north of San Diego.
Back to text
2
I translate here the words of Guru Nanak's song:
O God beautiful! O God beautiful!
In the forest, Thou art green,
In the mountain, Thou art high,
In the river, Thou art restless,
In the ocean, Thou art grave!
To the serviceful, Thou art service,
To the lover, Thou art love,
To the sorrowful, Thou art sympathy,
To the yogi, Thou art bliss!
O God beautiful! O God beautiful!
At Thy feet, O I do bow!
Back to text
The End
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Contents |
Preface 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40: 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 |
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