A
story from the "Autobiography of a Yogi:" Chapter 1: when Yogananda
(“Mukunda”) was a little boy:
Another early recollection is
outstanding; and literally so, for I bear the scar to this day. My elder sister
Uma and I were seated in the early morning under a neem tree in our Gorakhpur compound. She was helping me with a
Bengali primer, what time I could spare my gaze from the near-by parrots eating
ripe margosa fruit. Uma complained of a boil on her leg, and fetched a jar of
ointment. I smeared a bit of the salve on my forearm.
“Why do you use
medicine on a healthy arm?”
“Well, Sis, I feel
I am going to have a boil tomorrow. I am testing your ointment on the spot
where the boil will appear.”
“You little liar!”
“Sis, don’t call me
a liar until you see what happens in the morning.” Indignation filled me.
Uma was
unimpressed, and thrice repeated her taunt. An adamant resolution sounded in my
voice as I made slow reply.
“By the power of
will in me, I say that tomorrow I shall have a fairly large boil in this exact
place on my arm; and your boil
shall swell to twice its present size!”
Morning found me
with a stalwart boil on the indicated spot; the dimensions of Uma’s boil had
doubled. With a shriek, my sister rushed to Mother. “Mukunda has become a necromancer!”
Gravely, Mother instructed me never to use the power of words for doing harm. I
have always remembered her counsel, and followed it.
My boil was
surgically treated. A noticeable scar, left by the doctor’s incision, is
present today. On my right forearm is a constant reminder of the power in man’s
sheer word.
Those simple and
apparently harmless phrases to Uma, spoken with deep concentration, had
possessed sufficient hidden force to explode like bombs and produce definite,
though injurious, effects. I understood, later, that the explosive vibratory
power in speech could be wisely directed to free one’s life from difficulties,
and thus operate without scar or rebuke.”
Swami Kriyananda, founder of Ananda worldwide and a direct
disciple of Paramhansa Yogananda, used to impress upon us the importance of
keeping one’s word. A simple example, unimportant in all other respects, took
place when we were vacationing with him in Taormina, Sicily. Swamiji had
difficulty walking due to his hips (eventually he had both hips replaced, and
then one had to be re-done). As we walked the promenade we passed a seller of
newspapers to whom Swamiji commented that he’d buy one on the way back to the
hotel.
After lunch on the way back, we all forgot about the
newspaper. Reaching the hotel at the far end of the promenade, Swamiji suddenly
remembered. Giving no explanation and against the pain and difficulty of
further walking (when he could have easily asked one of us to get it for him),
he retraced his steps to purchase the newspaper.
One of the challenges readers face with the
"Autobiography of a Yogi" is that page after page there are stories
of miracles: many of them rather outrageous by any stretch! While many
(including Swamiji when he first read it in 1948 at age 22) testify that they
simply had to hold in abeyance any judgment in regards to these miraculous
accounts, they also commented that the patent and transparent sincerity of the
author (Paramhansa Yogananda) was such that they were compelled to continue
reading and finding great inspiration from the experience.
Patanjali, author of the famous “bible of yoga,” the “Yoga
Sutras,” says that when truth telling achieves perfection, one’s words hold
sway even over objective nature. This is what we see in the story quoted above:
the power of truth over objective nature. Imagine if people were generally truthful:
we’d not need lawyers and peace would reign over the earth.
Instead we see an almost violent proliferation of lies,
half-lies, wanton speculation, conspiracy theories and, of course, opinions.
Mainline news is mostly gossip and speculation. (If this statement strikes you
as extreme, listen very carefully to any news broadcast. Count the facts; count
the speculations and opinions. See for yourself.)
Made “mad” by the agency of rapid and global communication,
we have a crisis of truth in human culture today. The only meaningful
contribution we can make against the tsunami-like tide is to make our own personal
commitment to truth telling.
But there are deeper aspects to “What is truth?” Beyond
simple things like “How many oranges are in my hand,” facts in regard to events
to which we are not personally a party are more problematical than we generally
consider. Studies of eyewitness accounts validate that what “I thought I saw”
may be the opposite of what another person, also present, recalls having seen.
Questions like “Who fired first” or “Who shot down that airplane” are
surprisingly difficult to determine with much more than an educated guess or a factor
of probabilities.
Equally surprising is how few people can distinguish between
their opinion and the truth, or even, the facts. It takes courage, clarity,
discipline to know the difference. Making a habit of calmly noting the
difference can begin to give your words power.
Another deeper aspect of truth lies in the difference
between “truth” and “fact.” A friend who is seriously ill won’t benefit by
being told “You look like heck!” But your genuine sympathy, expressed in a warm
and caring way, your encouragement and your listening ear, and your practical
and useful assistance will bring to your friend the truth that even-mindedness,
calm acceptance and quiet cheerfulness are not only possible but in fact an
essential element to happiness and yes, even recovery of health and vitality.
Even in facing death, one can be either morbid, fearful, or resistant, or, one
can be accepting, peaceful and, yes, even cheerful. The latter affirms our
innate power of transcendence, without regard to beliefs.
Thus it is that the miracles described in the
"Autobiography of a Yogi" may be beyond any possibility of
verification as to the facts, but the truth of the power of faith to “move
mountains” can benefit all truthseekers. Truth is rooted in (intuitive) faith,
nurtures hope, and bestows charity (love).
Blessings to you,
Nayaswami Hriman
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