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“Give me a light to light my way. Truth is the light so wise men say.” These are the lyrics to one of Swami Kriyananda’s songs, “Give Me Light.” Seemingly simple, they contain deep wisdom: Truth is the light that shows us the way forward. More than ever, we need the guidance of truth to navigate today’s world and to find ways to be of help to others. Yet, given current circumstances, many ask themselves: Is there really anything I, as an individual, can do to help in these turbulent times? Paramhansa Yogananda gave a powerful answer: “Individual effort can be even more important than mass karma. One who in every way tries to uplift himself, harmonizing body, mind, and soul with the Divine, creates positive karma not only in his own life, but in his family, neighborhood, country, and world.” What do these words tell us about how we can bring the light of truth into our own lives, our families, our countries, and the world, so that we can truly make a difference? First, we need to seek truth within ourselves—in our own soul nature—through the daily practice of meditation. Yogananda said, “Understanding is the most precious possession of each soul. It is your inner vision, the intuitive faculty by which you can clearly perceive the truth—about yourself and others, and all situations that arise in your path—and correctly adjust your attitudes and actions accordingly.” Attunement with a true guru who is anchored in truth is also a great aid. Yoganandaji said that even if he was in a distracted state of mind, as soon as he entered Sri Yukteswar’s ashram he felt uplifted and centered within himself. As your attunement deepens, you will find the guru’s guidance inwardly helping you make your every decision in alignment with truth. Next, with our family and friends, Master teaches that the true purpose of family life and friendship is not merely personal enjoyment, but learning selfless, impersonal love that excludes no one. He said: “Be loyal to your friends, and feel love for everyone. God gave you a family that you might expand your consciousness by caring and doing for others. In family life we learn love and self-sacrifice for our loved ones, and thus attain some expansion of consciousness. But this is not enough. Love that becomes personal is exclusive, confined; when love becomes impersonal, it expands.” The light of truth, then, shows us how our love for family finds its true fulfillment by including everyone as part of our larger family. Our home environment should be filled with integrity, honesty, love for all, and devotion to God. In this way, our home becomes a shining beacon, sending God’s grace and blessings out to the world. What is the guiding truth in our awareness of ourselves as citizens of a nation? Politicians and policies change over time, but we must seek to express the deeper truth upon which our nation is founded. Saints have spoken of guardian spirits that guide the destiny of nations—some based on spiritual values, others on refinement and culture, and still others on compassion and care for all citizens. We can strive to live as citizens who embody the highest values of our country. Finally, we come to the truth guiding this world: We are all children of the one Father-Mother God. Master wrote: “The wisdom garnered by India, the elder brother among the nations, is a heritage of all mankind. Vedic truth, as all truth, belongs to the Lord and not to India. The great rishis, whose minds were pure receptacles to receive the divine profundities of the Vedas, were members of the human race, born on this earth, rather than on some other, to serve humanity as a whole. Distinctions by race or nation are meaningless in the realm of truth, where the only qualification is spiritual fitness to receive.” And as he said in 1951, the year before his passing, “We must learn that it can no longer be Asia for Asiatics, Europe for Europeans, America for Americans, and so on, but a United States of the World under God, in which each human being can be an ideal citizen of the globe with every opportunity for fulfillment in body, mind, and soul.” I’d like to close with a story from a member of Ananda Village that illustrates how we can live as citizens of a United States of the World. The woman who shared it manages a small boutique at the Village that sends photos and statues of the Masters around the world. She wrote: “We received an inspiring email from a man in Qatar, which is near Iran and experiencing increased security threats and regional conflict. He wrote, ‘With profound joy and gratitude, we wish to share that the Babaji statue arrived safely today. The moment we opened the box and beheld Babaji, our hearts were filled with peace and a sacred presence. It felt as though a divine blessing had entered our home. Words cannot fully express the grace and joy we experienced in that moment.’” God has given us messengers of truth to guide our way. Let us then, with faith in what “wise men say,” follow that truth, so that through us His light may shine more brightly out into this world. Your friend in God, Nayaswami Devi Listen to Devi as she first reads the blog, then expands on its meaning and messages for readers with behind-the-blog commentary. Subscribe to the podcast or download the audio recording by right-clicking here. Or listen to it here (8:59): Add a comment

“To be, or not to be—that is the question.” These words, spoken by Hamlet in Shakespeare’s play of the same name, are perhaps the most widely recognized sentence in all of English literature. In this soliloquy, Hamlet wrestles with the existential question of whether or not to continue living, or to enter “the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.” Yet for the devotee, this question takes on a deeper meaning: whether to continue living in the ego, or to brave that “undiscovered country” in search of soul consciousness. Though being in the state of the ego cannot provide us with true happiness, it is at least familiar territory—terrain we know well. We might think of the ego as a spoiled child who constantly asks, “What about me? Where’s mine?” Our soul nature, by contrast, is more like a loving mother who says, “All that I am and have, I give unconditionally to my children.” So we need to decide, not whether “to be or not to be,” but what we wish to be. Crossing the bridge from ego to soul awareness takes faith and courage. When we begin the spiritual journey, we’re not certain what we will discover at the end. We are told that we are a spark of the Divine, but how does this relate to the current state in which we find ourselves? As Hamlet said in the same speech: “Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all.” The quest for God is not for cowards, but for those who are willing to accept the challenge, and persevere with determination to the end. Yet once we begin, the journey may prove easier than we imagine. A friend once remarked, “People think that the spiritual path is long, but actually it’s only about three feet—from the base of the spine to the spiritual eye.” We can shorten it even further, for ego consciousness is centered in the medulla oblongata at the base of the brain. The true journey then becomes the movement of energy from the medulla through the brain to the spiritual eye. Swami Kriyananda wrote: “When you feel any concentration of energy there [at the medulla], make a determined effort to relax at that point. Release the energy, and let it flow forward to the forehead at the point between the eyebrows.” In Sadhu, Beware! A New Approach to Renunciation, Swamiji gives many practical tips for ego-transcendence. Here are a few: When you see something you’d like for yourself, buy it, but give it freely to someone else. When people praise you, don’t accept the praise in your heart, but give the credit to God. If you see others eager to share their opinions, let them speak. Share your thoughts only if you see that others might be interested. These are only three of the thirty-three suggestions in his book, but they illustrate the principle: Be vigilant about quieting the “spoiled child” of the ego, and choose instead to dwell in the expanded Self. Equally important in drawing us from ego to soul consciousness are the techniques of meditation—especially Kriya Yoga. The more we meditate and bring energy to the spiritual eye, the more natural and familiar our soul nature becomes. All the techniques of yoga have essentially this goal: to show us who and what we really are. Over time, as we persist in our efforts, old egoic habits and attitudes fall away like a snake shedding its skin. Gradually, we become more at home in the peace and joy of the soul than in the ceaseless turmoil of the ego. Finally—and perhaps most important in our effort to identify with the soul—is the grace of the guru. Continually guiding us with loving hands, the guru always holds up to us our highest potential, no matter how often we stumble. In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna says to Arjuna: “Absorb yourself in Me; be wholly devoted to Me; worship and bow to Me alone: So shall you undoubtedly reach Me. This I promise you faithfully, for you are dear to Me. (18:65) Let’s rise above the clouds of Hamlet’s uncertainty and mental paralysis, and stride forward as spiritual warriors in Yogananda’s army. With confidence and conviction, let us live Master’s words: “When this I shall die, then shall I know who am I.” With joy and gratitude for God’s gifts, Nayaswami Devi Listen to Devi as she first reads the blog, then expands on its meaning and messages for readers with behind-the-blog commentary. Subscribe to the podcast or download the audio recording by right-clicking here. Or listen to it here (10:37): Add a comment

The line to the gate extended far into the distance. As each one waited in line with ticket in hand, one could observe various states of mind. Some were excited and eager to get to their destination to see what would happen. Others, perhaps recalling painful memories from the past, were hesitant and unsure about taking the trip. And still others—though these were very, very few—stood with calm detachment, knowing that it was their chosen duty to help others they would meet at the destination. Jivan waited his turn with mixed feelings. Part of him was drawn to the comfortable familiarity of what awaited him, yet another part felt uncertain, with a faint recollection of having made this same, fruitless journey many times before. Finally his turn came, and he handed his ticket to the attendant at the gate. The attendant, dressed in simple white robes, looked thoughtfully at Jivan and said, “Let me check your file.” Pulling open a drawer that seemed endless, he eventually found Jivan’s file, and began flipping quickly through page after page. From what Jivan could see as he leaned forward inconspicuously, nearly every page was stamped “Completed.” At the end of the file, however, the attendant paused to read the few remaining pages carefully. He placed them into what appeared to be a copy machine, and out came a manuscript. “Here’s your script,” said the attendant, handing Jivan the bound document. “It will give your daily plot and lines, but will reveal them only one day at a time. Good luck.” The gate opened, and Jivan stepped through—only to behold a figure standing before him. He was a beautiful being, his blue skin radiant with light, a flute at his side. His twinkling eyes and gentle smile hinted at infinite wisdom and eternal love. Jivan instinctively knelt before him, and the divine being blessed him with these words: “As the ego keeps the thread of self-awareness unbroken through infancy, childhood, youth, and old age, so also the embodied soul maintains its awareness uninterruptedly, not only through the stages of earth life, but through the appearance of successive bodies.” (Gita 2:13) He concluded: “Make the Lord alone, with all eagerness of heart, your refuge. By His grace you will attain the uttermost peace, and find shelter for all eternity.” (Gita 18:62) Somewhat stunned, Jivan stepped onto the platform, script in hand, and waited to begin his journey. As he dissolved into the light of the transporter beam, past roles flashed before him. Some were lives spent seeking the pleasures of the world; some were filled with confusion as to life’s purpose; others were dedicated to seeking a happiness not found in this world. When he arrived at his destination, he found himself in the home of high-minded parents, who lovingly cared for their newborn child. At first, the daily script and his lines were simple: sleep, eat, be cuddled, try to move your limbs, and make indistinct cooing sounds. As time passed, and he entered childhood, the plot grew more complex. Just as the attendant had said, each day revealed his role: go to school; play with his friends; try to obey his parents. Moving into adolescence and young adulthood, Jivan did his best to act well the part he was given, though he encountered many tests and challenges along the way. Then, one day, something different happened. As he opened his manuscript, a faint image appeared on the page behind the words: a small face, barely visible at first. On successive days it grew larger and more distinct. It was a beautiful face with Indian features, eyes that spoke of a loving awareness of who Jivan truly was, and a silent promise of eternal guidance throughout his journey. From the moment this face appeared, both the plot and Jivan’s lines began to change. No longer were they in reaction to what others did, but seemed uniquely his own. The tests he faced became harder, and took more effort to overcome. Still, his choices were guided by a higher purpose, and one of his lines was something he had never expected to say: “I want to be your disciple.” As more time passed, Jivan—whose name means “the embodied soul”—realized that the manuscript guiding his life was nearing its end. Each page now bore a larger image of his guide, changing according to what was being imparted to him, and contained only a few words for him to speak. Finally, he came to the last page. It held no image, no plot, no words, only a calm, expansive light. Wonderingly, he asked himself, “Is this the end of the journey?” At that moment, another figure appeared before him. He, too, was a divine being, but dressed in the simple garb of a carpenter. Once again Jivan knelt instinctively before the being whose eyes overflowed with infinite compassion and forgiveness. Placing his hands on Jivan’s head, he spoke: “Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall go forth no more.” (Revelation 3:12) Then the transporter beam lifted them both into a realm of light, and all was silent. *** The line was still long as people waited to reach the gate with their tickets in hand. Most would make many more trips, but a few would follow Jivan’s journey and “go forth no more.” For whenever a soul reaches the journey’s end, he leaves behind a trail of light for others to follow. With loving thoughts, Nayaswami Devi Listen to Devi as she first reads the blog, then expands on its meaning and messages for readers with behind-the-blog commentary. Subscribe to the podcast or download the audio recording by right-clicking here. Or listen to it here (10:14): Add a comment

Each January, Ananda Ministers gather for a retreat to draw inspiration for the year ahead. During the gathering, we choose a guiding theme; for 2026 it is “Be a Channel for the Light.” It feels especially timely now, in light of global events, as well as prophecies and predictions about what lies ahead. A number of psychics, like Edgar Cayce, along with people who have had near-death experiences and communed with higher beings, describe a similar vision. They speak of 2026 as a year of upheaval and turmoil—but also as offering humanity a profound choice: unity, harmony, and forgiveness over divisiveness, discord, and condemnation. Encouragingly, the predictions agree on the ultimate outcome: After a period of struggle, humanity will in time choose the light and move forward spiritually. At the Ministers’ Retreat, we outlined four steps to help us to become channels for the light. Several people asked if we would share these steps more widely, since all of us can become beacons—illuminating not only our own life, but those of others as well. Step One: Longer, Deeper Meditations. We can’t share what we don’t have, so the first step is to strengthen the light in our own consciousness. This is done by putting more time and energy into our daily sadhana. Recently Jyotish and I took a weeklong period of seclusion, in which we separated ourselves from outward demands and tried to rest in the thought of God as much as possible. It was remarkably rejuvenating, and we saw that this is really the way forward for us. Take a period of time—even if it’s just an hour—and reset and raise your spiritual goals. Create a schedule of sadhana, commit to it, and stick to it. Every time you overcome the temptation to give in to distraction or laziness, you will find that you grow stronger, and that further progress becomes easier. Step Two: Bring Light to Current Events. It is good to be aware of what’s going on in the world. This doesn’t mean doomscrolling or obsessively following the news, but rather maintaining a clear, general idea of what’s happening. Then, without judging, or responding with anger or fear, respond with light. Pray for those making decisions. Forgive those who are causing harm to others. Feel God’s love and compassion for the world. Follow Christ’s example when he said on the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Step Three: Be a Secret Service Agent. Share your light with everyone around you. Be proactive: Don’t wait for people to reach out to you. If you see a friend, or even a stranger, who seems to be in need of help, then without being obvious, quietly help them or send them peace and love. Remember, too, that the light is conscious: If you are a willing channel, it will use you in ways of which you’re not even aware. We heard a beautiful story from a devotee friend in India. After a long, busy day, he was just getting into bed when he heard an inner voice telling him to drive to a particular freeway overpass. Since it was already late at night, and reaching the spot would take at least ninety minutes, our friend tried to ignore the inner voice, but it persisted. He got up, dressed, and drove to the spot—to find a young man standing there on the overpass. They began talking, and after more than an hour the young man admitted that he had been planning to commit suicide. When he heard how and why our friend had come, it renewed his faith in God, and he became a follower of Yogananda. Step Four: Pray Daily for World Peace. At the end of your meditations spend five, ten, or fifteen minutes sending light into the world. Start by feeling God’s light within you, then expand it outward to your community, your country, across nations, and throughout the world. Consciously join your beacon of light with others, until you feel a sense of global unity with all those who are praying. The power of souls united in seeking and sharing God’s light is invincible. May these four steps to the light offer you a roadmap toward God—and toward bringing His transforming light to a world that sorely needs it now. With joy and blessings in God and Guru, Nayaswami Devi Listen to Devi as she first reads the blog, then expands on its meaning and messages for readers with behind-the-blog commentary. Subscribe to the podcast or download the audio recording by right-clicking here. Or listen to it here (9:00): Add a comment

It was the evening of January 5th—Yoganandaji’s birthday. We were driving home after a beautiful celebration in which many devotees had renewed their discipleship vows. Afterwards, a number of people said that they’d felt Master’s presence and blessings filling the temple. From time to time after an evening program, Jyotish and I have had the joy of momentarily spotting a little fox running into the woods—usually we catch only a brief glimpse of it. That evening as we drove through the darkness, I thought to myself, “We haven’t seen a fox in a long time. Maybe Master will bless us and show us one tonight.” “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we spot a fox?” I said to Jyotish. He replied, “I was just thinking the same thing!” Filled with anticipation, we drove home, but, sadly, no fox appeared. Then, just as we were turning into our driveway—there he was. A magnificent silver-gray fox sat calmly by the side of the road, fixing his beautiful eyes on us. After a few moments, he stood up in a relaxed manner and trotted into the woods. We sat quietly in the car for a while, feeling Master’s loving answer to our little request. First Day of Spring, by Nayaswami Jyotish. Later the thought came: Remember that moment! Not that the fox was important in itself, but the feeling that God knows our least thoughts is very important. How often have we all felt a divine response in subtle ways: some guiding words from a friend, or even a stranger, when wee needed them; a beautiful rainbow appearing when a loved one passes; or simply seeing the light of His presence in a radiant flower. God is talking to us all the time, but we need to learn His language. Sometimes He speaks to us through words we perceive within, but often it’s in beautiful moments when time seems to stop. All too often we forget these moments, feeling only His absence in our life, but nevertheless His presence is there. Master gives us a wonderful example of this in his chapter “Two Penniless Boys in Brindaban” in Autobiography of a Yogi. Yogananda’s skeptical older brother, Ananta, challenges him and his friend, Jitendra, to a test of their faith in God: They must go to Brindaban with no money; without begging, they must have their meals, see the sights of the city, and return to his house by midnight. They are miraculously fed a sumptuous lunch. And yet, scarcely a moment later, Jitendra has already forgotten God’s hand in it, and says, “A fine mess you have got me into! Our luncheon was only accidental good fortune!” Yogananda replies: “You forget God quickly, now that your stomach is filled.” Then he goes on to write: “How short is human memory for divine favors! No man lives who has not seen certain of his prayers granted.” Through God’s grace, Mukunda and Jitendra are able to fulfill every aspect of Ananta’s challenge. So, friends, let’s cling to the memories of God’s loving intervention in our life, until memories transform into moment-by-moment realization of His Presence everywhere. Some years ago, I wrote a simple poem, which I’ve shared with some of you before. It seems appropriate now to close with it: The Prize I can’t promise that I’ll finish, But You know that I’ll begin, To take each step before me With the thought that I will win— The prize above all others, My heart’s most fervent prayer: To cast aside the ego, And to see You everywhere. Build on each moment of grace, for as Patanjali says, divine awakening comes by a process of smriti, or memory. With joy and blessings in God and Guru, Nayaswami Devi Listen to Devi as she first reads the blog, then expands on its meaning and messages for readers with behind-the-blog commentary. Subscribe to the podcast or download the audio recording by right-clicking here. Or listen to it here (9:36): Add a comment

I’m going out on a limb here, sharing something quite personal: a letter I wrote to Master. Ordinarily, it’s best to keep such communications private, between oneself and one’s guru. Yet I wanted to offer you an example of something you could—and perhaps should—do for yourself. Take some time at the end of the year for a spiritual review. Reflect on what stood out, what challenged you, and what uplifted or transformed you. Then share these reflections with God or with your guru. Such a review can become the beginning of an ongoing inner dialogue—one that may continue, quietly and faithfully, for the rest of your life. So, with a little trepidation, here is what I wrote: ________________________________________________________________________________________ Dear Master, As the end of the year approaches, along with my birthday, I would like to sit with you for a few moments and share some reflections on things that have been especially meaningful to me in 2025. This year has stood apart from all others—both for its intensity and for my heightened awareness of your presence. Perhaps the two go hand in hand. In many ways, Jyotish and I both feel that we have worked harder this year than at any other time in our lives. The first part of the year was an all-out effort to complete the books we have been writing—Jyotish’s The Heart of Service, and mine, Divine Awakening: The Mission of Paramhansa Yogananda and His Disciple, Swami Kriyananda. Our goal was to finish the first drafts before leaving for Ananda Assisi in late July, so that the editor, Prakash, could begin his work. For me, working on this book required the most concentrated effort I’ve ever made. Yet throughout that time, I felt you and Swami constantly guiding my thoughts. I would search for a quote, and my eyes would be drawn to a particular book; opening it at random, there the quote would be. When my thoughts felt unclear, or I wasn’t sure how to proceed, I would pause—and clarity would come. It was a deeply uplifting period, and often I felt your presence guiding me from within. When we arrived in Italy in late July, we had to shift abruptly from a highly interiorized, focused rhythm to a full schedule of classes, gatherings, and joyful time with friends from around the world. It felt a little like waking up in a different incarnation, as if you were giving us several lives all packed into a few months. In early September, we participated in a weekend Kriyaban retreat and a pilgrimage in Spain. It was both fun and inspiring to travel with a group of eighty people from twenty different countries. Yet the greatest gifts were the deep and unexpected blessings we received while visiting holy places associated with St. Teresa of Ávila, St. John of the Cross, and King Ferdinand III and his son Alfonso—who were you and Swami. We felt uplifted in ways we had not anticipated, and also sensed a deep connection with past lives of seeking God—lives that have led us, at last, to your feet. Then, in late September, came India. For us, it is always indescribable to serve you in the land of your birth. We have so many deep friendships there, and can see how your teachings are spreading throughout the country. You filled our days with the joy and blessings of seeing hundreds of new devotees serving your work, and thousands more are being trained on your path. By the time we returned home in mid-October, we were both ready for a rest. Yet somehow, even amid jet lag and fatigue, we decided to lengthen our meditations each morning and evening in order to spend more time with you. Gradually, something began to change. There were moments when the restless mind withdrew, and the calm inner Self made itself known. I felt peace, joy, and a quiet certainty that this is what I have been searching for all my life. One beautiful fruit of these deeper meditations has been a new way of meeting challenges, whether with people or with situations. Suddenly, it felt natural not to criticize or reject anyone or anything. Instead of judging, I found myself praying and sending love to whatever seemed problematic. Due to your grace, I began seeing everything in a different light, and I felt inwardly free and joyful. Like you and Swamiji, we’ve also been immersed in the final editing of our books. When I reread mine after not looking at it for four months, I saw that while the ideas were sound, the writing needed more magnetism and more beautiful imagery. With our deadline at the end of the year, I’ve been working steadily to bring that about. And so, all that remains is gratitude. Thank you—for guiding our thoughts as we share your teachings with others; for opening inner doors in meditation; for changing our consciousness so that we feel your presence more and more throughout the day; and for revealing the long inner journey that has led us to be your disciples. I have one final prayer to offer: Please let me feel your loving presence more deeply as the years of my life unfold, until all that remains is the thought of you. As you say in “Samadhi,” may “knowing, knower, and known” become one. With humble love and gratitude, Devi Listen to Devi as she first reads the blog, then expands on its meaning and messages for readers with behind-the-blog commentary. Subscribe to the podcast or download the audio recording by right-clicking here. Or listen to it here (10:02): Add a comment

The message that Yogananda brought to the world was one of unity: the unity of all religions; the unity of science and religion; the unity of East and West; and the unity of all people: “world brotherhood.” His message is especially relevant today, as we see divisiveness—the spirit of “us against them”—dominating global politics and economics. Yet the light of Yogananda and this line of masters is not dimmed by human ignorance. In fact, it can shine even more brightly for those who try to live by it. Last Sunday morning we had an inspiring online satsang with Ananda centers and members from Eastern Europe. It was organized by two devoted disciples who lead the work in Belgrade, Serbia. Nearly eighty people attended from ten different countries: Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, Bulgaria, Latvia, Lithuania, Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, and the Czech Republic. Not everyone from the Ukrainian group was able to join due to power blackouts—some were planned to conserve energy—but a few were still able to participate. They asked us to speak on the topic of living in joy, a quality that is understandably difficult for many of them to attain right now. We shared that in today’s world it is not enough to seek joy only for ourselves. We need to strive to be channels of joy for everyone we meet: for our families, our countries, and the world. Mukti, one of the Serbian center leaders, wrote us afterwards: “I think the vibration of joy was palpable, and there was a change in people’s faces as the satsang progressed. What a blessing!” Then, in God’s wonderful orchestration of events, later that same day we celebrated our annual World Brotherhood Day at Ananda Village. This event, held each year in early December, highlights how Ananda’s outreach is helping people around the world. We then invite everyone to come forward to receive a blessing and to make their first gift of the Christmas season, helping to spread Master’s ray. During the ceremony last Sunday, we read the letter we had received just hours earlier from Mukti in Belgrade. Many present had tears in their eyes, and everyone was deeply touched. Some years ago, Jyotish and I were blessed to visit the Italian town of San Giovanni Rotondo, where the great saint Padre Pio had lived. While there, we met a beautiful soul—an elderly widow—who had been one of Padre Pio’s “children,” or, in our terms, his disciples. She told us that once Padre Pio, who regularly received thousands of prayer requests, gathered his children together and said, “I’m carrying as much of a load as I can right now. Would any of you be willing to volunteer to share some of this burden? It may mean that you catch a cold or the flu, but you can join me in helping others.” A great wave of hands immediately went up. Now is the time for all of us to raise our hands—to help spread Yogananda’s message of world unity and brotherhood. This can be done inwardly, in the solitude of prayer, or outwardly, as we offer love and support to everyone we meet. But we should act consciously, as Master’s “children,” carrying forward his mission of unity. Some of you may know that in 2017 Jyotish and I received, on behalf of Ananda, the Global Ambassador Peace Award in the chapel at the United Nations. During the ceremony, we read Master’s “Prayer for a United World.” As you can imagine, it was one of the most memorable moments of our lives. I’ll end by quoting a portion of that prayer: “Let us pray in our hearts for a League of Souls and a United World. Though we may seem divided by race, creed, color, class, and political prejudices, still, as children of the one God, we are able in our souls to feel brotherhood and world unity. May we work for the creation of a United World in which every nation will be a useful part, guided by God through man’s enlightened conscience. “In our hearts we can all learn to be free from hate and selfishness. Let us pray for harmony among nations, that they march hand in hand through the gate of a fair new civilization.” Joined with you in Spirit, Nayaswami Devi Listen to Devi as she first reads the blog, then expands on its meaning and messages for readers with behind-the-blog commentary. Subscribe to the podcast or download the audio recording by right-clicking here. Or listen to it here (9:59): Add a comment

First, I want to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. Of all the things for which we can be grateful, the most important is having a true guru who can lead us to God. Once we’ve reached the safe harbor of His presence, everything that happens in life—both the joyful moments and the difficult challenges—can be seen as part of a greater plan for our soul’s final freedom. And this brings us to the subject of reincarnation. We spoke recently on this theme at a Sunday service, and many people told us how helpful it was for them. So I thought to share with you some of the ideas from that talk. When considering reincarnation, people often make the mistake of focusing on who they might have been in a past life, or who they may be in future. This is a limiting approach, because it keeps our attention on the individual ego, reappearing in varying roles at different points in time. It reminds me of a joke about a rich old man who consulted a psychic to find out who he would be in his next life. Then he proceeded to draw up his will, so he could leave all his wealth to himself in his next incarnation. To focus on individual roles in past or future incarnations distracts us from the true lesson of reincarnation: that our soul is on a journey to dissolve all limiting self-definitions and to remember our oneness with God. Swami Kriyananda used a good image in describing reincarnation: a spiral stairway. This is drawn from Yogananda’s poem, “God! God! God!”: From the depths of slumber, As I ascend the spiral stairway of wakefulness, I will whisper: God! God! God! Image by NASA.gov. Each of us must ascend our own stairway, which we ourselves have shaped by past thoughts and actions. Rather than wondering who we were in the past, it is far better to look at what challenges lie before us due to old karmic patterns. On every step of the stairway, we should ask: “What are the lessons I need to learn now in this lifetime?” Perhaps it’s softening a judgmental nature, or quieting reactive tendencies, or overcoming anger when things don’t go our way. When people share with us problems that they’re facing, we sometimes ask them, “What do you think you’re supposed to learn from this situation?” It’s surprising how often they stare back at us as though the question had never occurred to them. Yet this simple question is necessary if we are to ascend the next step of the spiral stairway. But remember, don’t expect the process to be an easy one. This stairway isn’t a conveyor belt that automatically carries us upward. Each step forward requires focus, commitment, and energy. Once we understand this, we discover an important key to overcoming karmic limitations from the past. Master said, “The lesson of reincarnation is to neutralize the waves of likes and dislikes, of desire and aversion, by the expression of kindness, forgiveness, and compassion to all, and by steadfast contentment in the Self.” Transcending limiting habit patterns; living with acceptance of all; remaining aware of God’s presence within: These are the keys to inner freedom. Yogananda’s most advanced woman disciple, Sister Gyanamata, wrote about this journey to soul freedom in a beautiful letter to him: “You teach that it is folly to dwell upon the past or the future. The day that I am earnestly looking forward to, if I may look forward to that much, is the day on which I shall know myself free from all incarnations. . . . “Whatever, whoever I have been in the past, in this—the most important incarnation of all—I am Gyanamata, the work of your hands. Please pray for me that I may stand firm and unshaken to the end.” And this she did, achieving final liberation in God at the end of her life. So, I give you (and myself) this challenge: Whatever is happening in our life right now, let’s ask, “What is the lesson I need to learn, and what can I do about it?” Answering this question sincerely—and acting on the answer—is the secret to stepping out of the revolving door of incarnations into true freedom and lasting happiness. With joy and blessings in God, Nayaswami Devi Listen to Devi as she first reads the blog, then expands on its meaning and messages for readers with behind-the-blog commentary. Subscribe to the podcast or download the audio recording by right-clicking here. Or listen to it here (9:34): Add a comment

One of the most beautiful and poignant moments of my life took place a few years ago during a conversation with a young woman who lives at Ananda Village. She has a loving, selfless nature, and as a teenager, had to bear the sorrow of losing her mother to cancer. We were traveling together in India with a small group. Her sweetness and quiet support throughout the journey touched me deeply, and one day I said spontaneously: “Thank you for being my daughter. I never had one.” She instantly replied: “Thank you for being my mother. I lost mine.” As though time had stopped, we stood looking at each other, filled with the poignancy of what our words meant. Those to whom we are close in this life are likely souls with whom we have shared love before. All of us have played many roles in many lifetimes, and are drawn together again and again by bonds of love. This young woman and I might have been mother and daughter before, perhaps with the roles reversed. In that moment we also understood that there is no need for feelings of longing, regret, or grief. God’s love for us is eternal, and can reach us in unforeseen ways. If we experience the loss of a loved one—mother, father, child, friend, or spouse—the true, divine source of love can always express itself through a different form. I once read an inspiring thought: that there is a God-shaped hole in the heart of each of us. Until it is filled, this emptiness is the true source of all longing. Though we try to fill it with human love, eventually we learn that everything in this life is ephemeral. Everyone we know and love will pass. God’s love alone is eternal and unchanging. In Autobiography of a Yogi, Yoganandaji describes the death of his beloved mother when he was still a young boy. She had been in Calcutta making arrangements for the marriage of his elder brother, Ananta, when he and his father received word that she was gravely ill. Filled with foreboding, they anxiously traveled from Bareilly by train to reach her. “When we reached our Calcutta home,” he wrote, “it was only to confront the stunning mystery of death. I collapsed into an almost lifeless state. Years passed before any reconciliation entered my heart. Storming the very gates of heaven, my cries at last summoned the Divine Mother. Her words brought final healing to my suppurating wounds: “‘It is I who have watched over thee, life after life, in the tenderness of many mothers! See in My gaze the two black eyes, the lost beautiful eyes, thou seekest!’” This experience helped form who he was to become and the mission he would fulfill. For Yogananda was a premavatar—an incarnation of Divine Love. What he brought to the world was a glimpse of his own experience of the Divine Mother’s presence, and the gift of eternal, changeless love. On another occasion, She appeared to Yogananda and said, “Always have I loved thee! Ever shall I love thee!” In today’s turbulent world, filled with divisiveness and fear, we can strive to discover that same wellspring of God’s love within ourselves. As we begin to touch it, we, too, can become sources of comfort, hope, and reassurance to others. When my friend and I had the exchange I described above, we realized that the Mother’s love can be found not only in one form, but in many. In truth, we can ultimately find it everywhere, for it is omnipresent. In Metaphysical Meditations, Yoganandaji offered this prayer: “O Fountain of Love! Make me feel that my heart is flooded by Thine omnipresent love.” Once we experience even a taste of this divine love, we begin to realize what we can truly become: channels for the love that is at the heart of all creation. What better goal could we have in life than to find our own highest potential—to become beacons of light and love to all! In divine love and friendship, Nayaswami Devi Listen to Devi as she first reads the blog, then expands on its meaning and messages for readers with behind-the-blog commentary. Subscribe to the podcast or download the audio recording by right-clicking here. Or listen to it here (9:59): Add a comment

“Out of time.” What an interesting expression, rich with so many meanings! As you may know, Jyotish and I have just returned from three months of sharing Yogananda’s teachings in different countries around the world. During our journey, we traveled through many time zones, constantly adjusting our internal clocks to the local time wherever we were. Now that we’re back at Ananda Village, we’re once again adapting to the rhythm here. As we recover from jet lag and our minds remain a little foggy, I often feel “out of time” altogether. I found myself wondering, “Why do different time zones exist, and why do they affect us so much?” As perhaps you’ll recall, these variations are caused by the earth’s rotation. When the part of the earth we inhabit faces the sun, we experience day; when it turns away, night. Our biorhythms become tied to this rhythm. We adapt to outward conditions rather than living within ourselves in the present moment. In essence, what we call “time” is dependent on the movement of material objects through space. The teachings of India tell us that time and space are both part of maya, or delusion, and have no ultimate reality. The seemingly objective thing we call “time” is, in truth, subjective, a mirage. True reality transcends time—it is eternal. Throughout history, there have been profound moments that stepped “out of time” and transformed the consciousness of humanity. When Christ was crucified, a wave of compassion and forgiveness spread outward, uplifting and guiding mankind to this very day. When Buddha attained enlightenment, a wave of higher awareness swept over the earth, drawing countless souls toward God and noble purpose. When Babaji initiated Lahiri Mahasaya into Kriya Yoga in Ranikhet, a divine blessing began to flow that enables ordinary people to know God through this sacred technique. And when Paramhansa Yogananda stepped off the ship and set foot in Boston, a new dispensation of world brotherhood and unity was set into motion. It’s as though such moments exist in an altogether different “time zone”—one that transcends the seeming reality of this world. It’s important to remember those moments in our own lives also when we seemed to step “out of time” and glimpse our deeper destiny. Perhaps it was when you first saw Yogananda’s photo, or that of a spiritual figure who has guided you. Perhaps it was when you first read Autobiography of a Yogi, or realized that you wanted to dedicate your life to the spiritual path. These timeless moments define our lives far more than we realize. They often bring with them a heightened sense of reality: Colors grow brighter, silence deepens, and all movement seems to pause. I remember once, when a group from Ananda went to hear a saint from India speak at a conference, and I saw him across a courtyard surrounded by his disciples. To my surprise, he appeared to be in technicolor, while everyone around him seemed in black and white. That memory remains vivid to this day. Hold onto the moments when you have stepped “out of time,” and let them help you realize your eternal soul nature. In Yogananda’s poem “Samadhi,” he wrote: Past, present, future, no more for me, But ever-present, all-flowing I, I, everywhere. But, friends, “out of time” also has another meaning: that we’ve run out of time and haven’t yet accomplished our goals. Each incarnation is a small step in our soul’s long journey back to God, and we must make the best use of the time given to us. Set your goals, as we spoke about last week with The Future Saints Club, and hold fast to them with determination. By stepping “out of time” in deep meditation, we ensure that we don’t run “out of time” in fulfilling our soul’s true purpose: finding the bliss of God within. Yogananda concludes “Samadhi” with these immortal lines: Eternity and I, one united ray. A tiny bubble of laughter, I Am become the Sea of Mirth Itself. May we always listen for his Whispers from Eternity. With joy and blessings, Nayaswami Devi Listen to Devi as she first reads the blog, then expands on its meaning and messages for readers with behind-the-blog commentary. Subscribe to the podcast or download the audio recording by right-clicking here. Or listen to it here (10:18): Add a comment