Many Blessings

Copyright © 2012 Swami Chitinanda

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-0798-9 (sc)

978-1-4525-0799-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012920846

Balboa Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

1-(877) 407-4847

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Created in the United States of America

Balboa Press rev. date: 12/04/2012

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

Chapter 1

Early Awareness—Bike incident on the Huon Road

Looking out of my windows

Watching Clouds

Huonville to Hobart

Chapter 2

Physical Education Teacher training

Yoga Teachers’ Training Course 1975

Chapter 3

Journey to Somerset

You are meant to be here

Dr. Kamala Mata Aranya and Marta Ji

Chapter 4

The Ashram at Somerset

Swami’s earthly Tibetan Master Sri Jnanananda Ji ( Transition in 1963)

Chapter 5

Swami and the kerosene lamp on the beach

Asking for Fly Spray

Are you an Authentic Reflection of yourself?

–The red kaftan

–The Beaver coat

Chapter 6

Tratakam

Mantras

Affirmations, Utterances and the Gayatri Mantra

Power of the Mantra

Meditation in church

Trataka

Yoga Nidra

Poems from meditation

Chapter 7

The Aranya Order

Teacher Training Lessons

Paths of Yoga

First Things First

Chapter 8

Initiation as Swami 7th May 1995

Postgraduate Course Assignments 1-25; essays and meditations

Chapter 9

Advanced Postgraduate Course Assignments 1-10; essays and meditations

Completed in 2001

Dedication

Many Blessings is my acknowledgement of Swami Kamala Mata Aranya. With all my heart I thank her for guiding me so very far along the Path with her disciplined approach and nurturing Love.

Kamala Mata was my Lotus Mother and my mentor. My curiosity was always rewarded with the intensive study courses which she kept offering to me when she felt I was ready. I did not just learn about the Yogic Path with this exalted swami of the ancient Aranya Order, she taught me to explore ideas and the depths of my own heart for the answers.

I dedicate this small book also to my father Max and my mother Barbara Rush, who thought I had joined a hippie cult when I first began my Yoga training at the ashram, but they accepted my curious nature and my thirst for the spiritual.

Deep thanks ,gratitude and love to my Satguru Swamiji Shankarananda , for imparting the blessing of Shaktipat when it was my time.

The Grace of the Shakti flowered, enabling me to complete the writing of this book.

Acknowledgement

Many thanks to Warren Boyles who provided additional photography including the cover image and patiently assisted in the selection of photographs and illustrations.

1

My spiritual journey had already begun in childhood. Within me was an awareness of being looked after by something I could not fathom. All things magical filled me with excitement and awe.

I lived in Huonville that was, in those early days, a sleepy little town about one hour south of Hobart. It was famous for its apple growing and hop fields. In the spring the apple blossoms grew thickly along the Huon Road and, later in the season, apple trucks groaned under the weight of a rich harvest laden with boxes of fruit on their way to the Hobart waterfront.

We wore gumboots to school and galoshes over our school shoes when the weather was muddy, for in those days the roads were unsealed. Our mother waved us goodbye as we walked into the thick fog of winter on our way to school.

My sister and I received two bikes for Christmas. My father had painted and reconditioned them. I was forever knocking the ends off my toes because despite being told to wear covered shoes, I rode in rubber thongs.

Our bread was delivered each day and placed in a box at our front gate; I can still remember the smell of the newly baked loaf with its thick luscious crust. The milk was delivered by the milkman who ladled out fresh milk and poured it in a billy can with a lid.

We were country kids unfettered by the restraints placed on city children. We rode our bikes in the silk pyjamas our grandmother had made for us and the thongs which were the newest fashion back then.

One afternoon I was on my bike riding along the Huon Road to visit my friend. I was 6 years old and a confident rider. A large truck thundered past me and for some reason I fell off my bike on the busy highway. As I lay there wondering what had made me fall, one of the truck’s large rear tyres flew off and bounced high into the air. The driver must have glanced back in his rear vision mirror and seen me lying on the road. Brakes squealed and smoke streamed from the remaining tyres as the truck shuddered to a halt. I was shocked but unhurt. The driver leapt out of the cab

God what have I done to you… poor little girl! he yelled out.

I assured him that I was fine as he pulled the bike off me and grabbed my arms to check they were still attached to the rest of me. All I had was a grazed knee and elbow. I was surprised as it all seemed to happen so quickly, yet the tyre had seemed to fall in slow motion. The driver scratched his head and looked very relieved.

That was my first recollection of being looked after by something unseen and extraordinary – the first of many blessings.

I often used to lie on my back on sunny days on our spare block next door to the house. The grass was lush and I would gaze up at the sky and experience the vastness of the blue. I watched the cloud shapes floating and had a clear understanding of being on a planet, in space, spinning in a vast universe. I clearly recall looking out at the world and thinking,

This is the earth and out there is the wide universe, I’m gazing into the dome of the world.

I experienced the feeling of looking out from behind my eyes with the awareness that I was the only one in this body , experiencing being me, looking out at the world.

I’m the only one in here. This is my awareness.

Why do you ask such strange questions? What is it you need to know? said my mother.

What a child I have!

We played outside in the streets, sometimes early in the morning and often in the summer until later in the evening, when our mother would call us for a bath and dinner.

Television had been invented but we didn’t have one When our new television arrived in a huge box, my sister Sally and I watched the test pattern, waiting for something to appear on the screen. Each evening we listened to radio stories and sat around the fire to keep warm.

Huonville was freezing in the winter so we had hot porridge for breakfast and wore thick woolen singlets.

I was an inquisitive child. One day I innocently poked my head into a beehive to have a look, when staying at my grandparents’ orchard at Southport. I was stung on the forehead by many angry bees as they became tangled in my fringe. My whole head became so swollen I was effectively blinded for a week after the allergic reaction. I had to have a long course of injections to make my body immune to further bee stings.

I ran everywhere, I hardly ever walked as a child. When I wasn’t running or roller skating, I was at the pool and spent hours swimming and diving.

We moved to town (Hobart) when I was in primary school and my sister started her first year of high school. It was a big move for us we became city kids.

2

In 1972 I began a Bachelor of Education degree at the University of Tasmania, intending to major in Physical Education and become a phys ed teacher.[1]

We were tutored in many sports because we had to be able to teach each one of them with some understanding. I chose a yoga class for something new and different to try. I was an energetic and enthusiastic student in all areas of sport.

I attended my first Hatha Yoga session at the old Sandy Bay sailing pavilion. It was cold and droughty with an uneven, wooden floor that creaked with the sound of the waves lapping gently on the beach below. It was an uncomfortable lesson and was the first of many classes I attended. Another student and I laughed our way through the lesson.We thought it was funny as everyone else was so serious. The postures were very disciplined and performed with silent concentration. They challenged my fitness and flexibility.

We were frowned at by the teacher who stood on a platform leading the group.

He asked us to concentrate on the pose and ask the body to stretch. My balance was pretty good but the toned muscles were very tight.

As the session ended we were asked to lie down on the mats provided for a progressive relaxation, focusing on the breath and relaxing the muscles. I almost went to sleep but someone was snoring loudly beside me so I just enjoyed the experience and listened to the music.

I knew then that I wanted to teach Yoga in my own classes but I needed to find an instructor, someone to teach me all they knew about Yoga.

My story is written to tell others about my Yoga journey.It is written from my diary entries over many years of study with the highly esteemed and dedicated English woman, Swami (Doctor) Kamala Mata Aranya, whom I met in 1975. My wish is that others will be able to relate to this story of spiritual growth and that there will be some who were fortunate to meet Swami Kamala Mata. I came to affectionately call her Swami K and she in turn always signed her letters to me with that abbreviated name.

It was a very disciplined training with a no-nonsense approach.

Many aspects of Yoga, eastern philosophy, comparative religions and meditation have been part of my personal sadhana. I was 22 years old in 1975.

I am the product of regular meditation and many blessings of Divine Grace. The results of regular Yoga practice are resilience, calmness, healing and a flowering of the Real Self, not the ego. My Yoga studies and meditation have been my anchor. They have taken me within to a place where I have found my true Self which, of course, has always been patiently waiting for me to wake up. Someone wise once said that flowers open slowly in the spring.

My lecture notes and the assignments with Swami (Doctor) Kamala Mata Aranya (Transition( her death) 2006) may be yellowed with age but are still intact.

There is an intuitive awareness within me – a gnosis. It is the knowledge that my Yoga studies and meditation nurtured and grew a peaceful space within me, so that during the many life-changing events in my life I was, and will always remain, resilient and strong.

It is my hope that when another interested spiritual seeker reads of my experiences and the results of the assignments within this book and perhaps tries some of the lessons in which I was instructed, they may experience some of the radiance of the lamp of the Self.

When one enters the sacred space in meditation, the breathing slows down, the body relaxes and a stillness cradles the heart. I believe we rock babies gently to create a comfort such as this.

The peace created in meditation is carried into our daily activities and through this we receive many blessings.

"Deep in Silence let there be

A quiet resting place for me."

Swami Chitinanda

3

Burnie in northern Tasmania was a cold, windy place in the winter with the smell of the pulp mill in the air. The ashram, in the outer suburb of Somerset, sat on the corner of Falmouth Street with the railway line at the back. It had probably once been a station master’s house. The trains did not run during the weekends we stayed there. One entered via the back gate, as the front veranda was blocked off. The building was neatly painted moss-green and white and faced the sea and the eastern sunrise.

The building consisted of a large lounge which served as the lecture hall, a small communal dining room, a tiny kitchenette and one small bathroom. There was an ancient caravan out the back which had four bunks beds. Marta Ji’s vegetable garden was at the rear of the block behind the caravan.

Swami Kamala Mata and Marta Ji had their private rooms at the front of the house. Their large boxer dog, by the name of Snoddy ( his full name was Snodgrass) guarded the property.

The ashram was equipped with one little kerosene heater which Marta Ji lit before lectures in the main hall. I shall always remember the smell of that kerosene heater and though it was extinguished at the start of every lecture, the after-fumes floated into the nostrils.

In the beginning we stayed there once a month for the whole weekend and travelled back late on a Sunday evening because we all had work and family commitments and I had university lectures.

My friend Moira Ottaway , who was later initiated as Swami Amala Mata and I used to drive up to Burnie in the back seat of an old Humber. It was an enormous car whose eccentric driver insisted on stopping to drool over panoramic views, sunsets and spare car parts at the various towns on the way up and back. We never thought we would get