During his lifetime, Paramhansa Yogananda exhorted his students to create spiritual communities, places that would support their spiritual lives. As he put it, “Environment is stronger than will power.”

I moved to Ananda Village 3 years ago, and rarely leave it. I run errands in town on occasion, and visit family or go on pilgrimage a couple of times a year.

When I do travel, and see places like those I used to live in, I sometimes make new discoveries. On a recent trip away from Ananda, a few things struck me.

Looking for joy in all the wrong places

First, I was amazed at how crazy most people seemed. They seemed to seek happiness mostly in ways that can’t bring them anything more than fleeting happiness – they seem to seek it in things, in other words: money, property, relationships, and so on. This is pretty crazy! Things are unreliable. They are in constant flux; they are no one’s friend.

That I found such a way of life perfectly normal several years ago underscores the truth in Yogananda’s statement, quoted above.

Good conversations come from being interested

Dog grooming is not one of my usual interests, but something I discovered on that recent trip was how to have fascinating and even inspiring discussions with others, on diverse topics. The secret was to approach the subject from their point of view.

In fact, my cousin recently started a dog grooming business. Canine-hair care was an unknown art to me, but after making some effort to find what my cousin liked about it, it became interesting. In fact, it has a lot of spiritual lessons!

She told me, for instance, that if certain ferocious dogs sense fear in a groomer, they’ll take advantage of him or her and refuse to cooperate. So my cousin simply makes up her mind not to be afraid! With this act of will, she’s able to handle the trouble-makers even when others aren’t. Her technique is reminiscent of Sri Yukteswar’s sage words: “Look fear in the face and it will cease to trouble you.”

After talking for a while, we concluded that we are each doing that which is helping us to grow. Several years ago, I wouldn’t have been so open to her reality, or enjoyed it so much!

This openness is something I’ve experienced from others at Ananda, thanks to Swami Kriyananda’s leadership and example.

Swami Kriyananda enjoying a conversation with a member of Ananda

Universal friendship

I lived in a suburb near Seattle for most of my life. Day in and day out, I’d see lots of people that I didn’t know and never would.

Today, though, most of the people I see are friends, Ananda members that I know: people who I live with, sing with in the choir, or serve with in Ananda’s outreach ministry. Some of my closest friends are also my co-workers.

Swami Kriyananda has made “People are more important than things” one of the key principles that guide Ananda. When I first encountered it in action, it took me off guard. Two Ananda Seattle members were helping me to find a job. I had only recently met either one and felt that I was being a burden. Seeing this, one of them said to me, “This is just what we do for each other.”

I’m deeply grateful to have lived in a place that strengthens the feeling that “all the world is my friend.” It may have had a hand in the following story.

I’ve been using a specific practice on recent trips. It is, while around strangers, to single someone out, and find the place inside myself where I would truly give time, attention, and even my life, to him or her – in the same way that I would give to a brother or a life-long friend. (It’s easy, because I’m very unlikely to have to actually do anything!)

It is rewarding and freeing in its own right – I’ve felt a sincere love for others that I hadn’t experienced before – but I wasn’t expecting any outward results. Things have happened, though, which make me think that this technique has an effect on others, too.

When I practice it on trips, people I don’t know act kinder towards me – even on days when I’ve forgotten about this altogether. We all want friendship and respect, and respond positively towards people who offer it to us.

One day, at a website-related conference, I was attending a meal with hundreds of people I didn’t know. I tried to practice this technique, but was also quite timid, and didn’t introduce myself to anyone! After that, I prayed to Divine Mother to be guided to the right people. Paramhansa Yogananda has taught that we attract friends by giving friendship.

The next time I sat down, it was next to someone who meditated every day. He also lived 5 minutes from the headquarters of Self-Realization Fellowship, which was founded by Yogananda. After we discovered our shared interests, we had a wonderful conversation about meditation and other spiritual topics.

After writing all of this, I realized that Swami Kriyananda teaches a similar technique, a purer one, which relates to others not from the level of the personality but from the level of the soul.

He writes in Revelations of Christ:

“God is in every person you meet. It would be a good practice, while walking down any city street, to look at every passerby and think of him or her as God in that form. Then tell yourself, ‘He (or she), too, wants what I want: happiness.’

“He/she may visualize that fulfillment as a new job, or a raise in salary, or a wife or a husband, or children, or as any of the innumerable things people yearn for everywhere on earth, in the expectation that they’ll find happiness through them. Look at them more deeply, however, and remind yourself, ‘What their souls really want is divine bliss, which is only masquerading as human happiness. In that yearning, they are all my brothers and sisters, even if in their present intentions they are misguided.’

“Talk to God about them in your heart. Ask Him to bless them. In time, with this practice, you will come to think of all life as a great, glorious symphony, blending all creatures together in wonderful, flowing chords, rhythms, and melodies of divine aspiration.”

(This is continued on page 436 of Revelations of Christ.)

God’s free gift of love

I’ve also seen how much we all need divine teachings, and, most importantly, need to see them in practice.

In this way, trips away from spiritual community are a blessing, and even a necessity, an opportunity to share the treasures of the spiritual path. Jesus said, “To whom much is given, much is expected.”

A favorite past-time of mine in crowds (one mentioned above by Swami Kriyananda) is to pray for God to bless everyone around. I recommend it also for use in any environment with a negative magnetism – it helps protect you from that negativity, and can become a real joy in itself.

Though it didn’t happen in a crowd, there’s a small example from my own life of the effect that God’s blessings can have, through this technique.

I follow some blogs related to my work with websites. One day, one of the blog writers apologized for something and said that his week had been going very badly. I wrote and told him how his blog had helped The Expanding Light (Ananda’s meditation and yoga retreat), and tried to pray for him as described above.

My email was very short, but he wrote back and said it had “made his day.” And I felt a blessing come back to me in return.

This is all to say: wherever we live, if we experience peace or any divine quality, we can share it. It’s not necessary to be overt: a calm gaze, a kind word, or your loving presence itself can be an inspiration.

Earlier this year, I took a 17-day (Feb. 10 -27, 2008) trip to Kerala, South India, specifically to an Ayurvedic Health Resort called Somatheeram (translation “Moon-Seashore”).

This trip was sponsored by Ananda’s Expanding Light Yoga and Meditation Retreat near Nevada City, California and led by Gyandev and Diksha McCord—it was their third year to take folks on this healing retreat, and they did a great job as tour leaders. There were 28 of us on the tour. I was able to join the group as an extra staff person, an opportunity for which I will be forever grateful. It was a never-to-be-forgotten experience.

I would highly recommend this Ayurvedic Retreat for anyone, for reasons I will describe below—but most especially if you are interested in healing yourself of anything and while enjoying a vacation in a tropical paradise, experiencing the lovingly spiritual vibrations of South India, and being pampered head-to-toe with unique Ayurvedic treatments.

Because I have been teaching yoga, meditation, and all related topics for over 30 years, I was somewhat familiar with Ayurveda (translation: “knowledge of life”), the primary healing and dietary branch of the yogic sciences. I’ve had my “doshas” diagnosed and special Ayurvedic diets recommended. I’d heard of the special oil treatments and massage that Ayurveda recommends and the “Shirodhara or oil-dripping-on-your-head” treatment, but had never experienced those delights before this trip. So although I knew a bit of what to expect, I was still not sure of how I’d feel about having Ayurvedic treatments every day. Still, the friends I had talked to who had been on this retreat had raved about it, so I figured I’d like it, too. In reality, it was far beyond my expectations, to say the least.

Most of our group flew from San Francisco to Trivundrum, South India, with a stop in Singapore. It’s a long trip, but much more fun when you are with a group. We arrived at night, so it was difficult to see just exactly what the surroundings looked like. We were greeted by the friendly and efficient staff and given fresh coconut juice (in the coconut!) to drink with a straw—very refreshing after all that travel. We went to bed hearing the ocean roar and awoke to the sound of rain on the roof (the only time it rained while we were there).

Kerala is the name of the state in South India where the Somatheeram Ayurvedic Retreat is located, right on the Arabian Sea. Kerala means coconut palm, and I could see why when we got up the next morning. The palms were very tall, slender, and lovely, and they were everywhere, blowing in the warm breezes! In addition were riots of colorful flowers blooming in profusion and washed clean by the rain. The property is landscaped and maintained beautifully. Along every walk-way, there were carefully labeled pots of live herb plants, many of which were used in our healing treatments. I’ve been growing and using herbs for many years, so this was a special treat for me, though certainly many were new to me. The sounds of crows (“caw! caw!”) was omnipresent and often very loud, along with the cries of many other sorts of tropical birds. It sounded like the background sound track of a Tarzan movie. The weather was clear, warm (in the 80’s) and quite humid. It was cooler and ocean-breezy in the mornings, when we did our yoga and meditation sessions outside, under the palm trees and overlooking the ocean.

On our first morning, we came together for an orientation on what to expect from our treatments and an introduction to the staff and the doctors. We also had a blessing and puja (special fire and other offerings ceremony) performed for us by a young Brahmin priest. That afternoon we had our first personal evaluation with two Ayurvedic doctors and were given a dosha diagnosis and treatment schedule for the rest of our stay. In our tour package were included seven Ayurvedic treatments of 2 hours each. I took only my 7 as I felt I needed to have spare time to help Gyandev and Diksha as needed, or just relax if not. Most of my fellow retreatants added on more treatments. My friend, Suzanne Ilgun got the prize for the most treatments taken, one a day and doubling up for two a day on the last few days. She looked so fabulous at the end of the retreat, having lost 10 lbs and looking so rested and relaxed with a “Kerala glow” all around her. She was impressive!

What were the Ayurvedic treatments like? Ayurvedic healing treatments are ancient. Some form of Ayurveda has been practice in this area of India especially, for over a thousand years. The traditions are old indeed! The area/climate/temperature/humidity etc are said to be absolute perfect for healing to take place. The humidity is high, but that is essential to the “sweating-out-the-toxins” part of the treatments. Once you are “diagnosed” and “categorized by dosha as predominantly vatta (airy), pita (fiery), or kapha (earthy)” by the doctors, you are given some herbal remedies to take orally, daily, usually before and after meals. Some tasted OK. Some were tablets and easy to take. Some tasted like something I refuse to describe, but I took them anyway (mostly). I’m sure they were doing me good, because I felt better and better every day. And then you are turned over to a primary therapist (male for the men, female for the women) who takes care of your treatments every day. You are taken to a treatment room, which is quaintly attractive, as all the buildings are there. Primarily brick with palm-thatched roofs. Simple but very nice, clean, and comfortable.

Here you receive a 2 hour (for some slightly longer) treatment by 1, 2, 3 or 4 highly trained therapists. Now everybody was having different treatments of different types, some more strenuous than others. We really had fun each evening at dinner comparing our “treatment experiences” and laughing a lot at each person’s descriptions of them. I was having a “Rejuvenation Program” which was a lighter sort of treatment series. Others were having the “Purification Program” which was longer and more complex, as I had it described to me by others—it included dietary recommendations for every meal. Everybody I talked to seemed very happy with what was going on in their individualized treatments. I should mention that we had several men on this trip with us and they felt greatly healed and benefited by their treatments—it’s not just a “pampering girly” thing going on here, believe me! It involves deep healing techniques for men and women alike. Besides our group there were other guests also, primarily from Germany, Russia, Italy, and other European countries. I think we might have been the only Americans there!

Here is the main theme of the treatments: OIL, OIL, and more OIL! Literally gallons of herbal oil (usually sesame or coconut oil base) were being used on you. They make all this oil at a nearby facility, which we toured one day as part of our experience—very interesting to see how they do this! The oil was warmed to a comfortable temperature and slathered on in amazing quantities. Massages were quite different from the kind we are used to in the West. Lighter strokes (sometimes with more than one person working on you), not so much digging into the muscles. But very thorough and it really felt wonderful to me. They use their hands, obviously, to massage you all over, but also their feet. They treat your eyes, your ears, your nasal/sinus cavities, and other body parts I won’t mention. I drank cups of warm ghee (clarified butter) and herbs before treatments, and warm herbal water or coconut juice after treatments. So you are definitely being treated both inside and out. After two hours or more of treatment, you are give a clean cotton robe to wear to your room and told NOT to shower off the oil but rather sit out in nature in your hammock or rest somewhere shady and calm for an hour, to let the oil soak in more deeply and to reap the benefits of the treatments.

We also received Shirodara, the most commonly known treatment of Ayurveda, wherein a light stream of oil is poured slowly on your forehead for quite a while. It is blissful! You really do go into an altered state of consciousness with this one. All of it was a treat for me to experience, as well as being rejuvenating. I felt strongly that the doctors, treatment personnel, and all the healing staff members really know what they are doing and are very good at it and professional, too. Plus they are very kind, friendly, loving, caring, and always sweet as can be. Treatment sessions always began with a short blessing ceremony and lighting of incense by your primary practitioner. It’s pampering of body, mind, and soul like none other.

These treatments were the FOCUS of most of our days, but many other fun things happened too, a few of which I will describe. But first let me tell you what Somatheeram looked like. As I mentioned, it is located right on the Arabian Sea. The primary buildings and individual cabins are placed on many levels on the steep side of bluffs overlooking the ocean. Therefore, you are always feeling ocean breezes and hearing the sound of the sea. The cabins or resident rooms are new, but built to resemble the local and ancient architecture. They are made of red brick and often round in shape. They have thatched coconut palm roofs, ceiling fans, and excellent ventilation and kept spotlessly clean. Most have a hammock outside and spectacular beach views. They are set among palm forests and brick or stone walkways.

As I mentioned, everything is beautifully landscaped with tropical flowers and plants, meticulously maintained and kept tidy by a friendly grounds crew. There are many steps to climb to go from your residence to dining room to beach to sadhana area to treatment centers to swimming pool, but this is very good exercise (makes you sweat!) and very much a part of the healing process. The dining areas (there are more than one) are open and breezy, partially indoors and partially under the sky. There is entertainment almost every evening during dinner consisting or dance, music, chanting, plays, and so on.

The food is very, very good. It is served buffet style. It is fresh and delicious. It is primarily vegetarian and Indian style, but at dinner there is always one entrée which has meat or fish in it. If you don’t care for what is on the buffet, you may order whatever you like from their menu. There is room service—allowing you to have anything you want delivered right to your room.

The beach is an inspiring place to spend time and I did so every day, usually at dawn and/or dusk. The water is beautiful, though the crashing waves were a little too rough for me to venture out too far. The strongest swimmers in our group cautioned us to be very careful of the surf. On the way down to the beach closest to our resort is a Christian shrine with statues of Jesus and also St. Thomas, who brought Christianity to this area of India in about 50AD. There are always people there kneeling in prayer in worship. An inspiring sight! And there are often special processions to the shrine with music and singing. Christianity, Indian style, in a rainbow of colors.

Many of us might have been content to hang out and eat and sleep and do yoga and swim and walk on the beach and have our Ayurvedic treatments—sounds nice, doesn’t it?—it was! But there were other fun things we did—side trips and such. I mentioned our trip to the facility where all the herbal oils and medicines were made. But our first outing was to a nearby cove/beach area called Kovalam—about 30 minutes away. It was a georgous crescent shaped beach and a sort of shopping boardwalk all along the beach. This was a majorly good shopping area and people, including myself, found beautiful things to buy at really inexpensive prices. Also just outside the gates of our resort, were many nice shops also, including friendly tailors who would make you whatever clothes you wanted in just few hours—difficult to resist!

One day we went to downtown Trivundrum to a fancy department store named Parthas, where many beautiful shirts, saris, punjabis, and so on were purchased by members our group. My two favorite outings were the tropical delights of our houseboat ride on the inland waterway system of Kerala and our day-trip to the southern tip of India, Cape Comorin/Kanyakumari, and a temple on a rock island where Swami Vivekananda swam out to and meditated on for many days before coming to America in 1893—combined with a visit to a huge Hindu temple complex, Suchindrum, built in honor of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva.

We happened to be at our resort on the night of the full moon, so we had a kirtan (group chanting session) out on the beach that evening. I led it and I so much enjoyed chanting in that enchanted place with the ocean sound of AUM playing along with the harmonium.

As I mentioned above, we had a pretty location to have sadhana (Energization, yoga stretches, and meditation) outside on a lawn, under the tall coconut palms and overlooking the beach, every morning, 6:30-8am. Sadhana was optional, as was everything, but most of our group attended and enjoyed it very much. This really added to the healing dimension of the whole experience.

Diksha gave some great morning classes on the teachings of Ayurveda, which were very helpful in letting us understand more of what was going on as a part of what we were experiencing in the afternoon treatments.

When it was time for part of our group to leave for New Delhi for a week at Ananda India headquarters and part to go on back to the US or to other travel destinations, we found we had grown very close to each other and were a bit sad to be parted. We had laughed together and shared so many unique situations—making new friends or deepening already existing friendships.

Should you consider going on this retreat with us next year? Absolutely and without question! Ask anyone who went. I know that they’d recommend you do it. Being in Mother India is an experience not to be missed, no matter what part of the country you choose to visit. But Kerala and the Ayurvedic Healing experience are—well, I’m running out of good descriptive adjectives, so I’ll just stop now. Questions? E-mail me any time!

Read Part 1

Badrinath is quiet at 4:00 am, the rushing waters of the Alaknanda the only sound to break the silence. A few of my fellow pilgrims and I rose early to take a traditional morning bath at the temple hot spring. There to the right of the bridge and from a lighted pavillion by the river’s edge, steam rose in the morning chill. That must be the place, the Tapta Kund, where hot water gushes from a natural spring to fill bathing tanks for both men and women.

The men’s tank is about 4 x 5 meters and about 1.5 meters deep. Shishir and I found a spot for our clothes and dipped our feet into the water. Yeow! It was burning hot!

I tried again but couldn’t keep my foot in for more than five seconds. A dozen others were at the kund, all at the edge with cups for dipping and pouring water over themselves. I regretted my lack of a cup and squatted at water’s edge to use my hands instead. Off to my left came a splash as a sadhu jumped into the pool, rubbing himself happily in the steaming water, seemingly oblivious to the heat. “Well,” I thought, “that’s what sadhus do.” A few moments later, taking his queue perhaps from the sadhu, Shishir jumped in too.

Dang! Now what was I to do? I had come this far, so turning back was out of the question. I took the plunge. Wow, it was hot! Hotter than any bath I’ve ever taken. I dunked myself three times and quickly hauled myself out without delay, but then jumped in again for good measure.

It was hot enough to be painful, but not so hot as to cause injury. In other words, it just right for tapasya (spiritual austerity), and the temperature had the side benefit of preventing the tank from becoming overly crowded. I felt a wonderful, tingling glow afterward and a deep sense of contentment. Truly, the bath was purifying and a blessing. Thank you Shishir for leading the way.

By the time we had dressed and made our way to the temple, the others had arrived. We left our shoes with a friendly vendor and went in for the morning worship of Lord Badrinarayan. It’s only in the morning that the image can be seen uncovered. During the ceremony, the Nawal (chief priest) washes the image, spreads sandalwood paste onto it, performs an arati (devotional ceremony) and dresses it in garlands and fabric, leaving only the face visible.

The paste is said to “cool” Lord Badrinarayan from the heat generated by his yoga meditation. Offerings from the audience are collected and placed before him, later to be redistributed back as prasad (blessed food). Everyone receives something, whether a sweet or a piece of the flower garlands offered to the image, a representation of Lord Vishnu.

The morning worship was a treat, but as a Westerner brought up outside the Hindu tradition, I tended to approach the ceremony as a detached observer more than as a participant.

I couldn’t help but remark mentally upon the attentive faces in the crowd, the colorful temple decorations, the head priest’s costume, the sounds of the bells, the hard floor and the drone of the chants. All these wonderfully new impressions were mentally stored, sifted and sorted during the ceremony, with the unfortunate result that I felt little divine presence.

The Nawal, who I later found to be a sweet, joyful man, was so stern and lacking in devotion during the ceremony that I wasn’t drawn in. I could sense that those who could attune themselves inwardly, received much more. I resolved to return at a time when I could meditate and be alone with the image, but sadly our schedule didn’t allow it.

The remainder of our first day was spent in the village of Mana, 2 kilometers north of Badrinath. This is where Vyasa’s (the author of the Bhagavad Gita) and Ganesha’s (Hindu deity) caves are. The trail to them is known as the Stairway to Heaven. It is also the place of the Sarawati River and other spots associated with Indian lore. Sadhana Devi (Jaya’s wife: editor’s note) and I could feel the effects of elevation on our breathing as we trekked up the pathways. I was reminded of backpacking in my youth at high elevations in the Sierras. Go at a pace you can sustain and don’t stop—just like the spiritual path!

Each in the group explored the area on their own. Some walked the trails to higher elevations, others spent time in the caves, and some returned to Badrinath. I chose to meditate at the spot where the Saraswati and Alaknanda rivers meet, then crossed over the river to make my way to Badrinath, following a trail on the opposite side of the Alaknanda.

It was a beautiful walk through fields cultivated by Tibetan women weeding, hoeing, and carrying their great loads of grass. The air was warm and clear, and all around, mountains framed the valley floor. Badrinath and Mana are nestled in a Himalayan valley, one-half kilometer wide with steep slopes on either side. Nilkanth, a high Himalayan peak, snow-capped and well over 20,000 feet can be seen from time to time. Since I had the trail mostly to myself, with only an occasional villager passing to and from the fields, I stopped frequently to meditate on the rock walls bordering the terraced fields. Walk, meditate, walk, meditate, until I found myself once again at the temple.

Our second day was reserved for visits to Brahmarishi Swami Rishidev Ji Maharaj Hathyogi, also known as Baksawale Baba, and to other babas (holy men) in the vicinity.

Baksawale Baba lives in a small kutir (hut) up a side valley from town, far enough away to dissuade casual visitors. He is a devotee of Babaji, and is known for having a metal box into which he reportedly sequesters himself in a state of samadhi (union with God) during the snowy winter months, astrally (in a disembodied state) traveling with his guru while his body remains protected from the insects, mice and other small animals that might disturb it. Such a thing, if true, is extraordinary and sparks a good measure of curiosity. Mahavir had made prior arrangements to make sure our visit was welcomed, and so we headed up the mountainside to see him.

We had planned to hike up in 2 groups—fast walkers and slow walkers—with the latter leaving early so we would all arrive at the same time. Daya, Keshava (tour leaders from Ananda India) and I designated ourselves as “fast walkers,” and caught the others at the base of the mountain before they had even started on the steep part of the climb.

The result was that Daya, Mahavir and I made it to the kutir a half hour before most of the others. Courtesy demanded that we wait for the group, but since we were there and the door was open, we went in. Two young women from Germany were outside affixing a new tarp to the roof of the kutir, while two others were inside cutting vegetables for Baba’s lunch.

We pronamed and introduced ourselves, telling of our trip to Badrinath and of Ananda. His kutir was very small and had space only for half a dozen to sit comfortably. There, against one wall was his metal box, about four feet high. It looked to be made of stainless steel or aluminum, guessing the latter because someone had to carry it all the way up the mountainside.

I asked permission to sit, and Baba invited me inside, communicating through gestures and a small chalkboard because he observes silence. He proceeded to show Daya and I his collection of photographs and letters received from previous visitors and seemed much pleased when we recognized faces from Ananda communities and related to him a few details about this person or that. When other pilgrims began to arrive, we moved to a pandal (tent) that had been set up adjacent to the kutir. At Baba’s request, we began chanting, which he enjoyed. He then instructed us to chant Aum 11 times, and followed that with a brief period of meditation.

All this time, he communicated through short messages on his chalkboard in Hindi and English, but after meditation he began to use his voice, saying he was commanded to do so by Babaji. The German women were surprised and said it was the most he had spoken to anyone in many years.

He told us of his life, the spiritual path, his respect for Swami Kriyananda, and of many other things, most of which I cannot remember clearly. He used to be a professor at a university in Delhi for 18 years, married with 2 children. At the age of 28, his wife died and he was plunged into a period of deep grief, which ultimately lead him to renounce his worldly life and take vows of sannyas (renunciate).

Thus began a period of seclusion, meditation and tapasya (austerities) until 2003, when he was in a tent during a snowstorm on the Gangotri glacier, high above Gomukh (high Himalaya). There, he said, he “died.” It was unclear to me whether he meant “physically dead” or whether he meant he was in a superconscious state.

Whatever the case, he awoke to find his head in the lap of a radiant being, a person 7 feet tall with golden skin and golden hair. This, he said, was Babaji who had come to rescue his disciple. Baksawale spoke little of what happened next, other than to say he was directed to go to Badrinath to continue his meditation until November of this year, after which he will go, as directed by Babaji, to Tibet to continue his austerities in complete isolation for three more years. After that, he will return and travel to Germany, as instructed by Babaji.

Here are a few things I remember him saying. He can remember clearly his last 3 lives. 3 lifetimes ago, he was a very poor man but very generous. I assumed that lifetime was spent as an Indian but I am unsure. 2 lifetimes ago, he was born as an Englishman, and it was because of this past association with the West that he is being drawn back to Europe in this lifetime. There, he said, disciples await him.

The conversation veered in other directions at that point and he said nothing of his immediate past life. Babaji, he said, is 2,500 years old, and omnipresent. In Tibet, Babaji has two disciples, each over 200 years old. When Baksawale travels to Tibet later this year, he doesn’t know exactly where he is to go, but trusts he will be guided by Babaji. He emphasized more than once that we are the Atman (soul), not this body. He expressed great respect for Swami Kriyananda and commended Swamiji’s service to his guru and Babaji. I asked him if he would like to send a message back to Swamiji with our group, and he said that he wanted Swamiji to know that he would look after the other students of Swamiji planning to visit him in October from Italy.

People ask me, “What did you think of him? Is it all true?” To that I can only say, “I’m not qualified to judge.”

We understand life through the filter of our own intuition and experience, and Baksawale’s life is outside my realm. Some, out of habitual skepticism, will reject anything hinting at the supernatural, while others tend to accept all claims unquestioningly. My tendency is to neither accept nor reject, but to allow for all possibilities. As the Bible says, “The tree is known by the fruit it bears.” By that measure, I liked Baksawale Baba and felt an attraction to him because of the calm stillness in his eyes, the way he held his body, his smile, and because of the devotion he expressed when speaking of Babaji. He seemed sincere.

When visiting those with spiritual power, there is a tendency to look for personal gain in the form of blessings, uplift, or personal benefit. We want to receive to ourselves rather than give, limiting our capacity to have blessings flow through us. While listening to Baksawale Baba, I felt a strong impulse to give him whatever good wishes I could in response to an intuitive perception I felt quite clearly.

When he told of his plans to go to Germany in 2011, my thought was, “Yes! He’ll be very popular with the Europeans. They will be attracted and drawn to him, perhaps more so than Americans.” There is something about Europeans that resonates. I could feel it in the 4 women who were serving him. Following close on the heels of that thought was a remembrance of how Master prayed to Babaji before embarking to America for assurance that he would not become lost in the materialism of the West. That was my sincere prayer for Baksawale Baba. Because of my warm feelings for him, I hope he uses the next 3 years to inure himself against the tendency of Indian swamis who go to the West and become celebrities. As they say about India, “There are lots of gurus, but very few disciples.”

In the early afternoon, most made their way down the mountainside to visit 2 other holy men, both living in the same general vicinity. I gave them my pronams (traditional Hindu gesture of greeting and respect), and went down the mountain to be by myself and meditate. I met with the rest of my group later in the afternoon for an appointment with the head priest of the temple, the man I described earlier as being very cold during the morning puja.

What a surprise to find him warm and joyful that afternoon! It was like night and day. He shared stories, told of his life, the history of the temple and, toward the end, brought out a picture of Babaji (I think), drawn many years ago by a prior temple priest. No one was exactly sure of the picture’s provenance.

The next morning, it was time to say goodbye to Badrinath. We loaded up the cars and made the reverse trip down the mountain to Rishikesh, stopping overnight at Rudraprayag and then at Vashista Guha the next day to meditate in the cave where Swami Purushottamananda lived for forty years.

I had my best meditation of the whole trip there, sitting in the silence on the hard rock floor for well over an hour, absorbing the experiences of the days before. Close by is the cave Swami Kriyananda inhabited for a month when still with SRF. We stopped at Swami Shankarananda’s Kriya Yoga temple, the Shivananda ashram, and had time to wander about Rishikesh the next day and visit Anandamoyi Ma’s ashram in Hardwar before catching the evening train back to Delhi, arriving home after midnight.

Our pilgrimage to Badrinath was a wonderful experience that I’m still integrating. I mentally return, again and again, to things that happened on the journey, finding new inspiration and lessons as the days pass. Spending time on a spiritual adventure with other devotees builds lifetime bonds, and I certainly felt that to be the case for me and Sadhana Devi with our fellow pilgrims.

The dedication and commitment I saw in them, in the other pilgrims along the road, and in the sadhus we met in Badrinath all inspired me to meditate deeper and longer. Ultimately, outward pilgrimage is but a symbol of the journey each of us takes within, strengthening our resolve to tread the long and winding road to Self-realization.

Editor’s Note: Ananda sponsors yearly pilgrimages to the holy places in India, sanctified by the Yoga Masters of our path. To learn more, click here.

Notes from the pilgrimage by Ananda devotees to the Himalayan region of Badrinath, India, in September 2007.

The pilgrimage road to Badrinath is long and winding, symbolic of our own spiritual quest. Pilgrims in the old days, before the road, would walk the 300 kilometers from Himalayan foothills town of Rishikesh, but few do so now, with the exception of an occasional sadhu with water pot, blanket and staff (or its modern equivalent, an umbrella).

You still can see the old pilgrimage trail visible on the opposite hillsides, snaking from village to village, carrying the traffic of the local Garhwali people to terraced fields, the river far below. My imagination couldn’t stop thinking, “What would it be like to walk that trail, all the way, once again?”

We left Delhi on the morning train and by noon reached Hardwar, the starting point of the pilgrims’ journey. There were 32 of us, 16 Indians, 8 American residents from our ashram, 7 from Ananda communities in the USA and 1 Canadian, a nice mix of devotees from East and West who would together make the journey to Badrinath.

Traveling with Indian companions would prove to be particularly enjoyable because they are a reservoir of knowledge about customs most foreigners know little about. When in doubt about what to do, just look to the Indians and do the same.

At the train station, we were met by our guide Mahavir, who loaded us into 8 SUVs with drivers. We embarked immediately for our first day’s destination of Devprayag, a couple of hours beyond Rishikesh.

You may be wondering, “Badrinath? Why go there?” Answering this can be a bit difficult because people make pilgrimages for many reasons, some spiritual and others mundane.

Badrinath is an ancient pilgrimage site, located at about 10,300 ft in the Himalayas at the headwaters of the Alaknanda River. It was through Badrinath that the Pandava brothers passed, as recounted in the Mahabharata, on their final journey to heaven.

All along the route from Rishikesh are temples, shrines and sacred spots associated with stories from the Indian epics, each with a tale to tell. Above Badrinath is the village of Mana where Saint Vyasa is said to have lived while reciting the Mahabharata to Ganesha. In need of a writing implement, Ganesha broke off one of his tusks to use as a pen, so devoted was he to his task. His cave too is there.

Close to Vyasa’s cave flows the mystical river Saraswati, bursting in full flow from a mountainside crevice. It’s quite amazing to see because no one knows from where the river comes before appearing in full force, only slightly smaller than the Yuba River in Nevada County.

After flowing but a few hundred yards it merges with the Alaknanda. There, it is said to mystically go underground to reappear at the sangham (confluence) of the Yamuna and Ganga in Allahabad, site of the kumbha mela (large religious festival).

Yogis say the Saraswati is a symbol of the sushumna, the mystical channel in the astral spine, the Ganga and Yamuna being the ida and pingala nerve channels on either side.

During and after the reign of Ashok, Buddhism became the dominant religion in northern India, supplanting the ancient Hindu practices in Badrinath until Adi (The First) Shankara came, probably sometime during the first millennium AD.

You can see the Buddhist influence in the architecture of the Badrinath temple. Shankara’s birth date is hotly debated, but all agree that his life and influence profoundly affected the religious practices and philosophy of India. He is said to have attained enlightenment in Joshimath, a little ways downstream from Badrinath, and it was Sankara who revived and reorganized the ancient Order of Swamis into its present form.

He established four maths (centers of spiritual worship/pilgrimage), one in each corner of India, to spiritually unify the country. To Badrinath he sent priests from his native Kerala to oversee the worship of Lord Badrinarayan in the temple, and this tradition continues to this day.

Shankara was a proponent of absolute advaita (non-dualism) as is expressed in the philosophy of Vedanta. Some say he was a former incarnation of Swami Sri Yukteswar or of Paramhansa Yogananda, and indeed, there are many similarities in their lives. Yogananda said that Shankara was initiated into Kriya Yoga by Babaji in Varanasi.

Local lore says that upon the arrival of Buddhism, local devotees of Lord Badrinarayan (a form of Vishnu), hid the stone image of his form in the Alaknanda River, or in the hot-spring pool next to the temple, in order to preserve it from destruction by the Buddhist priests.

Other versions of the story say the Buddhists submerged the image into the river when they cleansed the temple of Hindu images. Shankara is said to have divined, in vision, the location of the stone image, and to have plunged into the rapids to recover it, a Herculean feat if true.

One version of the story says he promised to restore the image if the local people would worship it appropriately. Upon the villagers’ concent, he “raised” the stone from the river. In any case, the stone was installed in the temple and has been worshipped daily ever since.

The smooth, black stone stands about 30″ high and has upon it, in relief, an image of a yogi sitting in meditation pose. The image looks strikingly similar to the drawing of Mahavatar Babaji, an incarnation of Lord Krishna in our Kriya Yoga tradition, who is an incarnation of Lord Vishnu in Hinduism. It is said that the stone is not carved, and that the image on it is naturally occurring.

Many, if not most, locals consider Babaji of the Kriya Yoga tradition and Lord Badrinarayan (Sometimes called Badri Vishel or Lord Badrinath. “Badri” is a name for Lakshmi, Vishnu’s consort. “Nath” means husband), to be one and the same.

For all these reasons, Badrinath is considered to be a place to which devout Hindus should make pilgrimage if possible. Many of the Indians who participated in our pilgrimage spoke of having wanted to visit Badrinath since before they came to know of Yogananda. Once they read the Autobiography of a Yogi, their desire increased because Badrinath is said to be in the region where Mahavatar Babaji lives, and many stories associated with personal encounters with him are centered there.

Because of this tradition, pictures of Babaji from the Autobiography of a Yogi are commonly seen and it is not unusual to meet people who say they have met the great Mahavatar, or who claim to be one of his direct disciples. In fact, one man complained that a bad consequence of Yogananda’s Autobiography has been the creation of so many Babajis, each claiming authenticity!

All along the route to Badrinath are small temples and spots of spiritual significance. Merging with the Alaknanda on its journey downstream are other rivers descending from holy sites. A bath at each confluence (sangham) is said to wash away past sins and purify one for a visit to the temple in Badrinath.

It was at the first such major sangam at Devprayag that we stopped for our first night’s rest. Here is found an old temple where Lord Rama did 14 years of meditation and austerity in penance for killing the demon Ravana. Here too the rivers Alaknanda and Bhagirathi join and become the Ganga.

Traditionally, it is the Bhagirathi that one follows upstream to reach the origin of the Ganga at Gomukh, but our journey would follow the larger Alaknanda. Tradition demanded, of course, that we stop and bathe and so we all filed down to the river, crossed the footbridge and walked to the waters’ edge. An iron railing is there to prevent one from being swept away and pujaris (priests) guide devotees through the appropriate mantras if desired.

I, along with the rest of our group, made my way to the water and found myself being blessed by a friendly pujari [Hindu priest]. He prompted me in repetition of the appropriate Sanskrit slokas [verses] which I did my best to utter correctly, word for word. His concluding phrase, “Yada, yada, yada, 200 rupees” had me stumped, and I was forced to repeat it a few times.

It didn’t sound Sanskrit to me, especially the last couple of words, but I matched the pujari word for word, until it dawned on me that I owed the fellow 200 rupees! An unholy thought of whether I should bargain crossed my mind. I didn’t. I just took my dip, dunking myself three times in the cold water, and felt amazingly refreshed and clean.

The road into the Himalayas is so very, very beautiful that it’s hard to do it justice. Steep mountain flanks border each side of the river, ascending thousands of feet. At the lower elevations they rise at a 45 degree angle and support forest and terraced fields of rice, millet and vegetables, but by the time we reached Badrinath, the slopes were often sheer with trees and villagers were few and far between.

Landslides across the road were a constant sight, but because Badrinath is close to the Chinese border, this is an area of strategic importance to the Indian army. They are quick to clear the road when necessary, although it was not uncommon for us to be halted while bulldozers worked.

Locals said this year’s monsoon was the heaviest in 50 years, and the damage done to the road was evidence of its power. All along the roadside are seen men and women with hammers, breaking rock into gravel for the road. What a job! I asked Vijay, our other guide, if these were local workers, but he said, “No, they are mostly from Bihar. They come for a year’ contract to work on the roads.”

This area of India is known as Garhwal, and like most hill regions, the locals are mostly poor and engage in subsistence agriculture. The terraced fields climb many hundreds, and sometime more than a thousand, feet up and down the sides of mountains, wherever there is enough soil to support crops.

A common sight is that of women carrying enormous loads of grass to be stored as winter feed for their cows and goats. Never do you see men working in the fields, and its said that almost all work on the land is done by the women.

I asked about this and was told that young men often leave the village to seek work in cities, sending cash back to support their families, while the older Garhwali hillmen are mostly idle, spending their days drinking tea and gossiping, leaving most everything else to the women. It certainly seemed that way. I mention this unflattering characterization of the local, older hillmen only because it was repeated to me, with distinct disdain, at least 6 times by our guides and the young drivers.

In any case, seeing how hard the women work reinforced my great respect for them as the foundation of the country.

The road to Badrinath passed through Rudraprayag where Jim Corbett shot the famous man-eating tiger that killed 125 people. I remember reading that story in one of Corbett’s books years ago, and it was fun to see where it actually took place. A little further we stopped at a small shrine to the eagle Garuda, the “vehicle” of Vishnu, and there took a stone from the nearby stream. It is said that anyone who keeps such a stone in their house need never worry about snakes coming there. Mahavir told us a story of how he brought many such stones to his village home, there keeping the snakes away.

As an aside, let me tell you another story that Mahavir recounted. Besides being a guide, he also does regional social work and has been elected the sarpanch (headman) of his village.

Not too long ago, a woman in his village was bitten on her finger by a cobra, and came immediately to him for help. The headman must deal with everything! She could feel the venom moving up her arm and it was apparent that should it reach the core of her body, she would die.

Because the village is remote, carrying her to a clinic for modern medical treatment was not an option, so he called upon the village “mantra man” to come immediately. He repeated the appropriate mantras (incantations) to counteract the bite, all the while making a clawing motion on her arm from her shoulder to hand.

Amazingly, the pain and venom retreated and left her. She was told to avoid certain foods and to do certain rituals to complete the healing process. One of the things she was told not to do was to comb her hair, but after some time had passed, she couldn’t resist temptation and used a comb.

Immediately, the pain returned to her finger and the venom started its movement once again up her arm. In a panic, she called upon Mahavir who again summoned the mantra man. Naturally, he was very angry but he cured her nevertheless.

Mahavir explained that the mantra man follows an ancient tradition that prevents him from ever accepting money for his services, and he must respond to every plea for help.If he refuses to respond, or if he takes payment, the power of the mantras will leave him for someone else.

At Joshimath is the cave where Adi Shankara lived and received enlightenment. It is under the canopy of a large mulberry tree said to be 2500 years old. We stopped for an hour to meditate in the cave and visit the Shiva temple under the tree. I walked the traditional three times around and tried to feel Shankara’s presence but I wasn’t successful. Some in our group were very touched by this spot but I couldn’t get past the noise drifting up the hillside from below and all the hustle and bustle of modern India. I wonder what it was like in Shankara’s time–probably just jungle and river.

Eventually, after a long, long day of driving, we reached Badrinath in the evening, tired but satisfied with all the wonderful experiences and sights encountered along the way. We checked into our hotel and prepared for our early morning visit to the temple of Lord Badrinarayana.

……to be continued.