A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Autobiography of a YOGI

P >> Paramhansa Yogananda >> Autobiography of a YOGI




"The silver cup!" Struggling with emotion, he stared at the present,
a tall drinking cup. He seated himself some distance away, apparently
in a daze. I smiled at him affectionately before resuming my role
as Santa Claus.

The ejaculatory evening closed with a prayer to the Giver of all
gifts; then a group singing of Christmas carols.

Mr. Dickinson and I were chatting together sometime later.

"Sir," he said, "please let me thank you now for the silver cup.
I could not find any words on Christmas night."

"I brought the gift especially for you."

"For forty-three years I have been waiting for that silver cup! It
is a long story, one I have kept hidden within me." Mr. Dickinson
looked at me shyly. "The beginning was dramatic: I was drowning.
My older brother had playfully pushed me into a fifteen-foot pool
in a small town in Nebraska. I was only five years old then. As I
was about to sink for the second time under the water, a dazzling
multicolored light appeared, filling all space. In the midst was
the figure of a man with tranquil eyes and a reassuring smile.
My body was sinking for the third time when one of my brother's
companions bent a tall slender willow tree in such a low dip that
I could grasp it with my desperate fingers. The boys lifted me to
the bank and successfully gave me first-aid treatment.

"Twelve years later, a youth of seventeen, I visited Chicago with
my mother. It was 1893; the great World Parliament of Religions
was in session. Mother and I were walking down a main street, when
again I saw the mighty flash of light. A few paces away, strolling
leisurely along, was the same man I had seen years before in vision.
He approached a large auditorium and vanished within the door.

[Illustration: Mr. E. E. Dickinson of Los Angeles; he sought a
silver cup--see dickinson.jpg]

[Illustration: Sri Yukteswar and myself in Calcutta, 1935. He is
carrying the gift umbrella-cane--see gurus.jpg]

[Illustration: A group of Ranchi students and teachers pose with
the venerable Maharaja of Kasimbazar (at center, in white). In 1918
he gave his Kasimbazar Palace and twenty-five acres in Ranchi as
a permanent site for my yoga school for boys.--see teachers.jpg]


"'Mother,' I cried, 'that was the man who appeared at the time I
was drowning!'

"She and I hastened into the building; the man was seated on a
lecture platform. We soon learned that he was Swami Vivekananda of
India. {FN47-1} After he had given a soul-stirring talk, I went
forward to meet him. He smiled on me graciously, as though we
were old friends. I was so young that I did not know how to give
expression to my feelings, but in my heart I was hoping that he
would offer to be my teacher. He read my thought.

"'No, my son, I am not your guru.' Vivekananda gazed with his
beautiful, piercing eyes deep into my own. 'Your teacher will come
later. He will give you a silver cup.' After a little pause, he
added, smiling, 'He will pour out to you more blessings than you
are now able to hold.'

"I left Chicago in a few days," Mr. Dickinson went on, "and never
saw the great Vivekananda again. But every word he had uttered
was indelibly written on my inmost consciousness. Years passed; no
teacher appeared. One night in 1925 I prayed deeply that the Lord
would send me my guru. A few hours later, I was awakened from sleep
by soft strains of melody. A band of celestial beings, carrying
flutes and other instruments, came before my view. After filling
the air with glorious music, the angels slowly vanished.

"The next evening I attended, for the first time, one of your lectures
here in Los Angeles, and knew then that my prayer had been granted."

We smiled at each other in silence.

"For eleven years now I have been your KRIYA YOGA disciple," Mr.
Dickinson continued. "Sometimes I wondered about the silver cup;
I had almost persuaded myself that Vivekananda's words were only
metaphorical. But on Christmas night, as you handed me the square
box by the tree, I saw, for the third time in my life, the same
dazzling flash of light. In another minute I was gazing on my
guru's gift which Vivekananda had foreseen for me forty-three years
earlier-a silver cup!"

{FN47-1} The chief disciple of the Christlike master Sri Ramakrishna.



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 ashram-sixteen 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, sky-a 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!"

[Illustration: Encinitas, California, overlooking the Pacific.
Main building and part of the grounds of the Self-Realization
Fellowship--see encinitas.jpg]

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, {FN48-1}
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." {FN48-2}

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. Blase' 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!"

[Illustration: Speakers at a 1945 Interracial Meeting in San Francisco
during the convening of the Peace Conference. (Left to right) Dr.
Maneck Anklesaria, John Cohee, myself, Hugh E. MacBeth, Vince M.
Townsend, Jr., Richard B. Moore--see sanfr.jpg]

[Illustration: The Self-Realization Church of All Religions in
Washington, D.C., whose leader, Swami Premananda, is here pictured
with me--see premananda.jpg]

[Illustration: My venerable father, seated in the tranquil lotus
posture, Calcutta, 1936--see father2.jpg]

Far into the night my dear friend-the first KRIYA YOGI
in America--discussed 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!"

{FN48-1} A small town on Coast Highway 101, Encinitas is 100 miles
south of Los Angeles, and 25 miles north of San Diego.

{FN48-2} 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!

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.