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Home > What is Ananda?> Spiritual Heritage > Kriyananda > Fifty Years of Discipleship |
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Swami Kriyananda Celebrates Fifty Years of Discipleship to Paramhansa Yogananda
Since that time, Kriyananda has served his Guru with unfailing energy and devotion, sharing the Master's teachings with thousands of truth seekers. Ananda members throughout the world thank him for his efforts in beginning Ananda and offering all of us the opportunity to follow in his footsteps, as disciples of Paramhansa Yogananda. Kriyananda is currently in Assisi, Italy, retiring earlier this year from all official duties with the worldwide Ananda movement. He continues to write books and music. The following is an excerpt from Kriyananda's autobiography, The Path, in which he recounts meeting his Guru for the first time. "Master will see you next." Shortly thereafter I was ushered into a small sitting room. The Master was standing there, speaking to a disciple in a white robe. As the young man was about to leave, he knelt to touch the Master's feet. This was, I knew from Yogananda's book, a traditional gesture of reverence among Indians; it is bestowed on parents and other elders as well as on one's guru. A moment later, the Master and I were alone. What large, lustrous eyes now greeted me! What a compassionate smile! Never before had I seen such divine beauty in a human face. The Master seated himself on a chair, and motioned me to a sofa beside him. "What may I do for you?" For the third time that day, these same, gentle words. But this time how fraught with meaning! "I want to be your disciple!" The reply welled up irresistibly from my heart. Never had I expected to utter such words to another human being. The Master smiled gently. There ensued a long discussion, interspersed by long silences, during which he held his eyes half open, half closed-"reading" me, as I well knew. Over and over again in my heart I prayed desperately, "You must take me! I know that you know my thoughts. I can't say it outwardly; I'd only weep. But you must accept me. You must!" Early in the conversation he told me, "I agreed to see you only because Divine Mother told me to. I want you to know that. It isn't because you've come from so far. Two weeks ago a lady flew here all the way from Sweden after reading my book, but I wouldn't see her. I do only what God tells me to do." He reiterated, "Divine Mother told me to see you." "Divine Mother," as I already knew from reading his book, was the way he often referred to God, Who, he said, embraces both the male and female principles. There followed some discussion of my past. He appeared pleased with my replies, and with my truthfulness. "I knew that already," he once remarked, indicating that he was only testing me to see if I would answer him truthfully. Again a long silence, while I prayed ardently to be accepted. "I am taking fewer people now," he said. I gulped. Was this remark intended to prepare me for a letdown? I told him I simply could see nothing for myself in marriage, or in a worldly life. "I'm sure it's fine for many people," I said, "but I don't want it for myself." He shook his head. "It isn't as fine for anybody as people like to make out. God, for everyone, is the only answer!" He went on to tell me a few stories of the disillusionments he had witnessed. Then again, silence. At one point in our discussion he asked me how I had liked his book. "Oh, it was wonderful!" "That's because it has my vibrations in it," he replied simply. Vibrations? I'd never thought of books as possessing "vibrations" before. But, clearly, I had found his book almost alive in its power to convey, not merely ideas, but new states of awareness. Incongruously, even absurdly, it now occurred to me that he might be more willing to take me if he felt I could be of some practical use to his work. And what did I know? Only writing. But that, surely, was better than nothing. Perhaps he had a need for people with writing skills. To demonstrate my ability, I said: "Sir, I found several split infinitives in your book." A twenty-two-year-old, literarily untried, but already a budding editor! I've never lived down this faux pas! But Master took it with a surprised, then a humorous, smile. The motive for my remark was transparent to him. More silence. More prayers. "All right," he said at last. "You have good karma. You may join us." "Oh, but I can wait!" I blurted out, hoping he wasn't taking me only because I hadn't yet found any other place to stay. "No," he smiled. "You have good karma, otherwise I wouldn't accept you." Gazing at me with deep love, he then said, "I give you my unconditional love." Immortal promise! I couldn't begin to fathom the depth of meaning in those marvelous words. "Will you give me your unconditional love?" "Yes!" "And will you also give me your unconditional obedience?" Desperate though my desire was to be accepted by him, I wanted to be utterly honest. "Suppose," I asked, "sometime, I think you're wrong?" "I will never ask anything of you," he replied solemnly, "that God does not tell me to ask." He continued: "When I met my master, Sri Yukteswar, he said to me, 'Allow me to discipline you.' 'Why, Sir?' I inquired. 'Because,' he answered, 'in the beginning of the spiritual path one's will is guided by whims and fancies. Mine was, too, until I met my guru, Lahiri Mahasaya. It was only when I attuned my will to his wisdom-guided will that I found true freedom.' In the same way, if you will tune your will to mine, you, too, will find freedom. To act only on the inspiration of whims and fancies is not freedom, but bondage. Only by doing God's will can you become truly free." "I see," I replied thoughtfully. Then from my heart I said, "I give you my unconditional obedience!" My Guru continued: "When I met my master, he gave me his unconditional love as I have given you mine. He then asked me to love him in the same way, unconditionally. But I replied, 'Sir, what if I should ever find you less than a Christlike master? Could I still love you in the same way?' My master looked at me sternly. 'I don't want your love,' he said. 'It stinks!'" "I understand, Sir," I assured him. He had struck at the heart of my greatest weakness: intellectual doubt. With deep feeling I said to him, "I give you my unconditional love!" He went on to give me various instructions. "Now, then, come kneel before me." I did so. He made me repeat, in the name of God, Jesus Christ, and our line of gurus, the vows of discipleship and of renunciation. Next he placed the forefinger of his right hand on my chest, over the heart. For at least two minutes his arm vibrated, almost violently. Incredibly, from that moment onward, my consciousness, in some all-penetrating manner, was transformed. I left his interview room in a daze. Norman, on hearing the news of my acceptance, embraced me lovingly. It was unusual, to say the least, for a disciple to be accepted so soon. A few moments later, Master came out from behind the open curtain on the lecture platform. Smiling at us quietly, he said: "We have a new brother."
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Saturday,
September 12, 1998, marks the fiftieth anniversary of Swami Kriyananda's
first meeting with Paramhansa Yogananda. During that encounter, Kriyananda
became a disciple of the great Master.
