The Abode of Yoga

Jeevan didn't come to New York that April (1986), but he was planning on August and I was looking forward to showing him around. By then I was fully settled in as a local. After months of couch surfing at Databir's and then at Ketan's , I finally sublet my own room from a very nice disciple named Mangal, who worked as a professional artist. (He has long since left the Center and you can see his magnificent work here .) I not only had my own place, but also had a number of new duties that further secured my presence in Jamaica. Aside from working as a ball boy when Guru played tennis, singing in the New York boys' singing group, washing dishes at Annam Brahma on Wednesday nights, and late night postering with Databir, I had also become a Center guard. Being a guard meant spending one day a month guarding the tennis court from vandalism (during the day), and one night a month guarding the disciple stores (from about 7 p.m. to about 6 a.m. or so -- brutal). By the time A...

In March 1986 -- around the same time I was participating in the 200-Mile Race -- Guru accepted my younger brother Andy as a disciple. A few years later, Guru would give him the name Jeevan, and that's the only name I truly know him by. Jeevan means "profusely dynamic life energy." He is that and more. I did not recruit Jeevan. He came to the Center on his own. The last time that I had seen him was the previous June (1985), to watch him graduate from high school. By his account, he -- like me -- was lucky to graduate. By 1986, I was aware, peripherally, that Jeevan had been frequenting the cafe and juice bar that Giribar had recently opened back in California. But I don't remember ever hearing that Jeevan had sent his picture to Guru (though I certainly might have and no longer remember). The primary reason for my aloofness was that I didn't believe that disciples should be recruited. I hadn't been. Either you had an innate desire to find your guru or you d...

Public School 86 is located right across the street from the Smile of the Beyond and the other disciple-run stores that comprise "the block" on Parsons Boulevard in Jamaica. Every Wednesday night, Guru held a public meditation there. On most such nights, Guru would call the local disciples up to the stage to sit facing him and meditate. When I think of my spiritual heroes from India, P.S. 86 seemed a strange place for spiritual discipline. But when I meditated in front of Guru for much of that year (1986), the inner force that was growing inside me overcame almost all of my mental activity. Almost. It’s hard for me to write about my spiritual experiences. First off, there’s the challenge of conceptualizing and then articulating in simple prose an experience that is by its nature subjective and abstract. That’s hard for me to do. Second, there’s the danger of miscommunication – that you, the reader, will understand the words I write in a way I have not intended or anticipated....

Not long ago, I commented to a friend of mine who is still in the Center how odd I find it that during all my New York years, I have no memory of ever having a spiritual conversation with another disciple. Perhaps when you're living the spiritual life at the pace and intensity we were, there's no time or interest. We were so active each day for so many years that in the little spare time we were afforded, talking about metaphysical things was, perhaps, the last thing on our collective mind. But I don't want this blog to suffer the same fate. All I thought about for much of those years was how to become consciously one with the Divine or how close I was to that goal. As challenging as it is to write about metaphysical experience, my inner life is central to the story. While there's great narrative utility in writing about the big signposts and milestones along the journey, such utility comes at the price of some incompleteness, some lack of depth. I've purposefully ...

Today, at 43 -- with a seemingly ever growing waistline -- running 200 miles seems inconceivable to me. In mid-March 1986, however, I approached the 200 mile race as another work week. My plan was simple. With a four day cut-off, I’d try to run 60 miles for each of the first three days, and then finish up with an easy 20 miles on day four. One thing I wanted to avoid was the temptation to stay on the one-mile course at Flushing Meadows Park all night the first night. After completing 60 miles -- which I figured would take me into the late evening that first day -- I knew it would be difficult to leave the course, but if I succumbed to the temptation to run to exhaustion that first day, then my chances of actually completing the race would be diminished. Better, I thought, to run a little less, have a massage and good meal, shower, and get five or six hours of sleep. With the notable exception of my daily mileage goals, the plan worked well. As I expected, though, it was emotionally di...

In early 1986, I was still sleeping in Databir's living room right next to a one hundred pound dumbbell on the floor. One day the previous fall, Databir had excitedly told me that Guru had lifted a one hundred pound dumbbell over his head. Inspired, I picked up the dumbbell on the floor. It was heavy, but back in my school days I had lifted free weights regularly. With some strain, I hoisted the dumbbell overhead with one arm. Databir was genuinely excited. "Wow," Databir exclaimed, "that's great Yogaloy!" Within a day, however, Databir's mood was more subdued. "Yogaloy," Databir said, "I told Guru about your lift. He said that he doesn't want you to lift more than 60 pounds because it might damage your subtle nerves." I was a bit taken aback. In retrospect, I don't think Guru meant it as a rebuke, but that's how I took it at the time. I had no intention of going back to lifting weights -- since becoming a disciple, throu...

Thanks to some last minute financial aid from my grandparents, I began 1986 with a two week trip to Japan with Guru and many other disciples. It would be a year of seeming paradox for me. On the one hand, I would achieve a state of exaltation in my meditation that I'd never reach again. On the other hand, Guru -- like a good mother bird -- would instinctively begin pecking me out of the nest. All systems were go, though, as we returned to New York in the dead of winter. In early February -- just a few weeks after getting back from Japan -- I was invited to Ranjana's birthday party, which was celebrated at Guru's house each year. While I'm sure that there were disciples excluded from the event, it wasn't readily apparent to me who was missing upon my arrival at the house -- it was packed. While the boy disciples were relegated to the "porch" (the enclosed entryway to Guru's house), Guru and the girls occupied the living room. I don't remember the s...

One Friday night that November (1985), I found myself in the meditation hall at Progress-Promise sitting next to Ashrita. The night’s function was almost over when a disciple named Trishul approached the microphone on stage to make an announcement. Trishul was a Canadian-born disciple living in New York who had a particular talent for ultra-distance running. He held -- and may still hold --numerous Canadian long distance running records (like, for example, running 221 miles in 48 hours). As it turned out, Trishul needed some volunteers to run a 50-mile race with him that weekend. Apparently, the race -- which was to be held in Central Park -- had been designated as the National TAC 50 Mile Championship. The last time this had happened (1983), Trishul, Arpan ( Giribar’s brother), and another disciple named Sammukh had run and won the team championship for the Sri Chinmoy Marathon Team . Standing at the microphone in front of all the disciples gathered that night at Progress-Promise,...

I spent the interval between April and August Celebrations (1985) back in California. It would be my last as a disciple. I returned to New York in August fully intending to ensconce myself at the Smile of the Beyond and hope that my dream of moving to New York permanently would become a fait accompli. During Celebrations that August, I spent my mornings as a ball boy at the tennis court and then would head straight over to the Smile to work the post-function rush. By Celebrations' end, my plan to move to New York was given a fortuitous boost by a change in the restaurant's leadership. For reasons unknown to me, Shushoban left the Smile and Guru tapped Sahishnu to take over its management. The turnover wasn't limited to Shushoban -- the entire day crew was disbanded. Sahishnu promptly closed the Smile for a few weeks for extensive renovations. When the Smile re-opened, Sahishnu was the new grill man, while I shared salad bar and waiting duties with another California trans...

The Smile was never terribly busy that winter and spring (1985). The one exception was every Saturday after the morning function let out. The Smile was a natural place for the out-of-town disciples visiting Guru to congregate for lunch. On top of that, Guru's long-standing rule had been that visitors only paid half-price at the Smile on weekends. A pretty sweet deal that guaranteed a crowd of mostly ravenous Canadians. So, when Guru left the tennis court on Saturday, the Smile became a zoo. It would become so busy that there was little reason for me, as a waiter, to panic. Instead, in a workmanlike way, I had to take orders and chip away at the crowd as best I could. Patience and poise were the watchwords. Only one thing could make such a situation worse: a visit by Guru. That's exactly what happened one morning that March. Though Guru had a dedicated table at the Smile, it seemed to be more of a shrine than an actual place for him to eat. I'm not sure anyone -- except, pe...