A great interview with Amma-really touches something special

[Guest guest]

This is the transcript of a recent interview with AMMA, Yogacharini Meenakshi Devi Bhavanani by the world famous photographer Mr. Derek Biermann.

He is writing a book on a spiritual journey through India with wonderful photos and interviews with many Yoga masters of modern India.

“YOGA - PERSONAL JOURNEYS IN INDIA”, is scheduled for publication in 2005. The material for the book was compiled after four months traveling through 28 cities in India and the 50 yogis provisionally selected for the book comprise both Indian and Western teachers and students who answered questions relating to their personal experiences and journeys in Yoga. The proposed format of the book is a high-quality, bound, quarto-sized, hard cover publication of approximately 225 pages, and over 100 full-page colour photographs of portrait and Yoga poses.

 

Amma:

I have been interested in a spiritual life since I was a very young child. The questions of “Why am I alive?” and “What is the purpose of all this?” were important to me. Those thoughts were always with me, but I had no interest in India itself. My perception of India was stereotypically American: that it was a very poor country, and as I thought the Indian exchange students that we had at our school were quite obnoxious, I had no interest there. I grew up in Minnesota, and in those days nobody there really knew what Yoga was. The only ‘alternative’ spirituality that we had available to us there was Zen Buddhism. Zen was becoming popularized at this time, especially by Alan Watts, and I became deeply interested in it and Japan also. In 1966, I took a sabbatical when I was working on my PhD and traveled through Europe for a year with a girlfriend. We went to Greece for six or seven months, and one day I picked up a ‘teach yourself’ Yoga book that contained such

phrases as, “Yoga is the art of becoming conscious in every cell”, “Yoga is the science of conscious evolution”, “Yoga is an ancient science of the rishis”, and “Yoga has the technology to enlighten the soul”. All of a sudden I wanted to go to India. My girlfriend and I made our travel arrangements to go, but she said that she might turn back at some stage along the way. We had many adventures on our travels, but hen one day she woke up and said that she was not going any further. The further East we traveled, the happier I became, but the further East she got, the unhappier she became. I was happy in Greece, happier in Turkey, even happier in Iran and Afghanistan, and by the time I reached Pakistan, I was the happiest I had ever been in my life. When I finally set foot on Indian soil, I knew that I had come home. This has become a somewhat trite statement that people make, but for me it was very true. This was the place where I belonged; this was my country and my culture. I

had come initially to study Yoga, but I did not go to any ashrams and I did not seek out a guru. I traveled around using my instinct, and I ended up in a small village in Andre Pradesh with a friend of mine who was in the Peace Corps. My introduction to Indian culture was living in a small remote village of a hundred people for around three months. There is a phrase in Yoga that goes, ‘When the student is ready, the guru appears’ and I had faith in this. I started reading a few books and I began to practice a few asanas and some pranayama. Again I traveled here and there; I went to Nepal, and while I was there I saw a poster that said, ‘Come to mystical Pondicherry’ and again, all the names rang a bell as I had heard about the Aurobindo Ashram previously.

So I went to Pondicherry and discovered that the Aurobindo Ashram was not for me. It reminded me of existential philosophy and the thinking that I had left behind me. I didn’t want words anymore, I wanted to have experiences. One day I walked into the ashram’s dining hall, and there was a short – I say short, but he was my height – black-haired gentleman wearing bright orange robes standing there who had the most fantastic charisma, so a friend and I started talking to him. This was my first memory of meeting Swamiji (Yogamaharishi Dr Swami Gitananda Giri).

At that time, he wanted to set up a hospital at Auroville in connection with World Health Organization, but somehow he was not convinced about their plans, so he set up his own ashram instead and gave Yoga courses. He invited me and several other young people to come and join him, which we did. There is a long story behind all of that, but that is how I came to meet Swamiji and how I found my guru. Swamiji was a very intense personality, who was known as the ‘Lion of Pondicherry’. He totally captivated me from the very beginning. He was the most ‘alive’ person I had ever met; he was conscious in every sense, he loved the world, he loved to eat, he loved to swim, and he loved to laugh. He knew everything about everything. Mostly I felt comfortable in his presence, and he was the first person in my life that I felt totally at home with. I felt

totally at one, totally protected, happy, and at ease, and he was also a magnificent teacher. In those days he rented a house to teach in, and he had us all spellbound from five in the morning

till nine at night. There were many Westerners and Indians in the course and he did all the teaching himself.

He could talk in such a way that you never got tired of listening to him, because he clearly had a siddhi, and he was enlightened. I do mean enlightened, because he was able to see and tap psychically into the Akashic Record. I know this, because the way he used to write was that he would dictate and I would sit at the typewriter and type. Everything came straight from his mind, and if you read his books you will be amazed at the technicality of them - the complicated names of places and teachers from all the various scriptures. This is how he always wrote, and he never used reference books. He knew everything about Islam, about Christianity and Hinduism, about the Sufis, the Jews and the Sikhs. It was simply astounding! He could talk from six in the morning till midnight and you’d never get tired of listening to him, and he would never get tired of

talking. There is no other explanation except that it was a direct tap into the Akashic Record. How else would it have been possible for him to know so much without any reference books? When he gave lectures, I saw that he did not prepare notes for any of them; instead he would sit quietly and relax for 15 minutes before the class and his mind would become quiet. He would then come into the classroom and give the most incredibly technical medical, scientific, and esoteric information. Where was it coming from? There was no other explanation. This was a guru and there was no doubt about it. There was never any doubt after that. I accepted that this was my path and he was my guru, and I never looked for anything else after that. We were married one month after I joined his course. Swamiji was 30 years older than me. He was also a sannyasin, and as a swami he was not supposed to get married. It is a very complicated tradition which should be respected. Right

after our marriage we spent ten days in a cave in the Himalayas near the Ganges. We did not speak one word and we didn’t eat a single thing for the entire time, and that was my honeymoon. We had to face a lot of opposition, although the marriage justified and proved itself over time. I was firstly his disciple, and secondly his wife; that was always our relationship. He lost thousands of disciples after our marriage, especially in India. He was a very popular swami at that time, holding huge satsangs in Bangalore, Hyderabad and Delhi, and was a very charismatic speaker. He was also very approachable and people flocked to him, but he lost a lot of that support.

Swamji followed the classical teachings of the Bengali Tantrics, which he learned from his guru in the guru kula. Swamiji stayed with his guru, Swami Kanakananda Brighu, from the age of ten until he was 15. He often remarked that everything he knew about Yoga he learned from his guru during the intensive training he received during those five years. The Tantric tradition is concerned with energy control and with kundalini. It is energy of the universe. We all manifest kundalini - a tiny drop of kundalini gives us light in our eyes and puts a little spring in out step. This Tantric tradition is thought to intensify or to speed up our natural evolution so that kundalini arousal can take place. This implies many holistic practices; it deals with the body

in asanas, kriyas, mudras, bandhas, and many other things to strengthen and cleanse the body, to understand the body and make the body conscious, to make the body strong, to make the body light, to get energy flowing, to get blocks removed, and to stimulate blood flow. Then it deals with the mind, and there are many mental practices. We call them Jnana Yoga kriyas and Raj Yoga kriyas, and there are hundreds of them. At some stage of our evolution we may need a certain type of kriya, and at other stages we may need another type of kriya. So there are hundred of these kriyas, which could also be called mental exercises or visualizations. They deal with energy flows, the nadis, with prana, with apana, the chakras and all the elements connected to the chakras, the yantras and the mantras. Swamiji knew 120 pranayamas, of which he normally taught about 30 or 40. He taught hundreds of

mudras, he taught advanced Hatha Yoga practices, in the sense that the practices involved breath control and peculiar positions of the body to rouse the kundalini. So there is a whole technique, which is very complex and even in six months of intense teaching, we cannot teach that whole technology. So for most people, the basics are enough for their lifetime. This is the huge and vast technology of Bengali Tantric Yoga and in addition to this, Swamiji taught the basic concepts of the scriptures of the Yoga Sutra, the Upanishads and the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, the basic scriptural literature of India. In addition to that, and perhaps the most important aspect of this teaching, was that he taught us how to look at ourselves. We call this svadhyaya, or self-study. Svadhyaya, which is the fourth niyama of Patanjali’s translation of the scriptures, is more importantly a study of ourselves. Who are we? Ramana

Maharshi of Tiruvannamalai based his whole teaching on the svadhyaya “Who am I?” That is the basic question of svadhyaya; not in an abstract sense, but in a philosophical sense – and in a very practical sense.

I have met many of the major swamis and important religious leaders in the world, yet Swamiji was the only person that I have ever met in my life who I would consider to have had a kundalini experience. I say that about him because of the intense energy that radiated around him. One of my friends once wrote a poem in which he wrote ‘…knowing only the truth of the intensity’. It’s as if the intensity is truth and the average person cannot stand that truth because the intensity becomes a fire. Some people think of spirituality and the spiritual life as something soft, kind, loving and floating on clouds, where everyone lives happily ever after. That’s a fairytale, as gurus are never like that. If you read Indian history, the gurus are like Zen masters. They say in Zen Buddhism that ‘the mother lion teaches her cubs roughly; with one swat of her paw,

she shows them how to live’. The Indian gurus taught like that, and I know enough about Indian culture now to realize why. This is a very complex and controversial subject, because everyone has the idea that you should be kind and loving and sweet to be spiritual. I can only say from my own experience that if you want to evolve quickly then sometimes it’s better to get a good swat of the guru’s paw. Swamiji used to laugh and say that “a kick on your rear can take you further than a kiss on your cheek”. He only taught us only the truth, and the truth could be very unpleasant. He would make people bear the consequences of their actions and he would not accept excuses. If I came home late from town after a class because I had a flat tire on my bike, he would not accept it. He would ask what was in my mind, what thought had created the circumstance that made me late for my duties at home? He looked behind everything. Instead of allowing us to stop at the excuse, he made us go

beyond and find that phenomenon in the mind that created the situation, which did not permit us to perform our duty. So there were no excuses. I remember that many people could not accept that about Swamiji, and they misinterpreted him, but he acted with the most profound love. He had only one concern for his students, including me, and that was that he wanted our spiritual evolution. He wanted that more than anything else and if that meant giving me a scolding or really letting me have it, then he would do it. Even if he knew that I might get angry or might turn against him, it was not as important as teaching me the lesson I had to learn. This was equally true of the relationship between Swamiji and the rest of his students. The most important thing to him was that they grew spiritually. He didn’t care whether they hated him or loved him. He used to say that he taught literally thousands of useless, worthless hippies and gave them purpose and health and strength and

turned their lives around. He then would kick them out and tell them to go and live like human beings, and most of them hated him for it. He showed them the truth about themselves, forced them to face it - and after seeing their true selves, they changed and transformed themselves. Their ego would not allow them to admit it so they either had to admit that they were ‘useless hippies’ and praise the guru, or deny it and hate the guru. It proved much easier to hate the guru. So there was a rough aspect to his teaching because it was so effective. I saw its transformational value and I knew what he had done for me. Of course, I was married to him but I did run away from him three times! I realized each time, and especially the last time, that if I did not return to Swamiji, I would not be able to perform even the tiniest Yoga practice that he had taught me. If I rejected him, then I would have to reject everything he had taught me also. What he had taught me was so valuable, so

wonderful and so precious that I could not live without it. So I had to return to him, otherwise I could not honor the teaching.

As I grew in spiritual maturity, his teachings with me became less harsh because I had become more sensitive. Towards the end of his life, I felt that I had become extremely sensitive. According to an Indian tradition, when you realize that a student is dull, you have to hit them with a stick. If the student is only a little dull then you scold them; if the student is intelligent and sensitive, you correct them with one word, and if the student is very sensitive, then one look is enough. The way Swamiji dealt with people was always different. With some he used a softer manner and for others, a severe manner. Most spiritual seekers are not nearly as advanced as they think they are, and don’t even know themselves. They don’t know their faults, and it is very difficult to clear all that away in order to receive the teaching. Swamiji often used to say to

people that they didn’t need a guru, they needed a doctor or a lawyer or a psychiatrist. He said that their problems were not spiritual problems and that they should go off and clean up their material problems before seeking the spiritual life. People came seeking spirituality thinking that there was going to be some magic answer that would solve their problems, but that was their delusion.

I wake up every morning and I am very happy to be alive, to be where I am and to be doing what I’m doing. I am happy and contented, and at the same time I feel that my consciousness is unfolding as a flower unfolds; and I feel a blossoming and moving closer to where I need to be. I would say that the journey is the goal and the goal is God-realization. It’s not as if I am suffering and one day I won’t be suffering anymore. I can say that my life is one of enjoyment, and teaching my students is my sadhana. When I’m choreographing a dance drama it is also my sadhana, when I’m writing a book it’s my sadhana, so everything is sadhana. What is sadhana? Sadhana is a Sanskrit word, which comes from ‘sat’, ultimate reality and ‘dharana’, to hold fast. So for me, sadhana is to hold tight, to concentrate on the

truth. I feel that everything that I am doing is sadhana and that is my truth. Sadhana is the journey and sadhana is also the goal because at any moment I may just slip into the shining sea and that will be that. Swamiji often told us that we are never going to experience samadhi. He said that we shouldn’t even think about it because when samadhi occurs, there is no-one within the body to experience that samadhi, so you cannot actually ‘experience’ samadhi. Nobody wanted to hear that because everybody wanted to be able to experience samadhi. They imagine it to be like a LSD high, they think it’s an ecstatic orgasm that’s going to last till eternity. We cannot imagine it because there’s no one there to experience it. I read once that meditation is ‘concentrating more and more, on less and less’. I think that sadhana is the process of becoming less and less. I am at

the point where I don’t feel like I am doing anything. In one way I really don’t feel like I exist. That feeling of existence is hardly there. Certainly the feeling of accomplishment is long gone. I don’t feel like I am doing anything and I don’t feel that I am anybody. This is what Swamiji has taught me and I feel that this is a good thing. I don’t feel like I am losing my personality or losing myself. It doesn’t frighten me, in fact, it fills me with joy and happiness to feel this way. That is the path that Swamiji led us on.

Swamiji was always very intense personality, but in 1992, I noticed a distinct change in him as the lion became a lamb, even though he could still talk non-stop for ten to 15 hours. The extremes were present in him but he became quieter in a general sense, and he started to frighten me because his lion nature was what used to keep us all on our toes. He became much less interested in the world around him and more contemplative. He was not sick - his mind was perfectly lucid and aware - but he was withdrawing. It was clear to me that he was withdrawing from life and the image I had of him at that time was of a man walking up a mountain: we were standing at the bottom and we had to watch him walk up alone, knowing he would not come back. Swamiji then began to cut down on his food intake. He always liked his

food but he was not a glutton, he was a gourmet. In November he began to eat smaller amounts of simple food, and then he only took liquids. We tried to make him eat other things but he refused by saying, “Let me do what I have to do”. He left his body on December 29th 1993. In one way he had prepared us with his gradual withdrawal so there wasn’t a shock in that sense, but there was of course an immense sadness because we loved him so much. We loved his physical body, we loved his personality and everything about him, and to know that he had gone was very sad for me.

Swamiji was a rishi who was could transform those who were able to tolerate the transformation. The modern Yoga teacher does not necessarily transform. They may make you feel happier and stronger and more flexible and they teach you asanas and pranayamas but you walk in the door one person and you walk out the door that same person. You may be happier and have a better attitude to life for some time, but that total transformation of the personality can only occur in the guru kula, when you are living right at the feet of the guru.

I love this country with such a passion and sometimes I think it was a curse that I love her so much but I have no attachment to India as a nation, or to America as a nation. I have no attachment to nation states. If you ask me who I am and where I live, I would say that I am a universal being, and I live in the universe. My culture is Indian, so citizenship for me was a symbol that this beautiful country, to whom I have given my total love, has finally accepted me. It’s not rational or logical, and I have never voted, but I belong to this land and nobody can take that away from me. I received my citizenship in 1992, and that was one of the happiest days of my life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yogacharya Dr.Ananda Balayogi Bhavanani

Chairman : Yoganjali Natyalayam and ICYER

25,2nd Cross,Iyyanar Nagar, Pondicherry-605 013

Tel: 0413 - 2622902 / 0413 -2241561

Website: www.icyer.com

www.geocities.com/yognat2001/i_am_here

 

 

 

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