Autobiography of a Yogi
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, {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