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What Happened at the Time and After - An Essay
For more than half of my life now, I’ve lived with memories of the ashram and the
questions others ask me about the experience. Inspiring, perplexing, confrontational,
life-changing - it was all of these, as well as being from another era. Just what
happened in our daily practice there?
These were issues I attempted to address in my novel, Ashram: Adventures on a Yoga Farm.
There I sought to walk a middle path between those works that breathlessly adore the guru,
on one hand, and those that revel in blame, on the other. I wanted what emerged to be instead
a series of encounters demonstrating ways monastic life is intensely down-to-earth, mindful
to little things, and a celebration of community, rather than an escape from reality.
By holding the focus to a single day (albeit one laced with individual histories and
the evolution of the Swami Kalika’s institution to this point), I allow the story to
unfold at that point when the movement itself was most filled with promise and approaching
a point of crucial decisions. As the characters themselves realize, the question loomed:
Just what direction would their enterprise take?
They were not alone, of course. As the story suggests, similar pockets of activity
existed across the continent (with the glaring exception of the Bible Belt, where
Stephen Gaskin and The Farm, the Koinonia Foundation, the Hare Krishnas, and Twin Oaks
stand out as rarities). There were, as the story also suggests, many differences. Some
centers were highly orthodox and rigidly structured, while others were freeform and chaotic.
Some were large; others, tiny. Some attracted wealthy patrons and celebrity teachers; others,
like the one my story follows, struggled financially. Many were near the downtown of large
cities or at the edge of college campuses, while others, like Swami Kalika’s, bordered on
forest or desert. Of course, the pathways themselves differed -- Zen (Rinzai or Soto),
Tibetan, Sufi, or Gurdjieff-Ouspensky, as well as a wide range of yoga and yoga teachers,
some emphasizing Hindu or Jain or Singh religious traditions far more than others.
While some of these pockets allowed the aspirants to work with their teachers daily,
others were limited to visitations several times a year. And I haven’t even touched
on the largely psychological-based movements that proliferated in the period.
So what caused this eruption to stall and then, for the most part, to collapse?
The answers, naturally, would be as numerous as the pockets themselves -- or maybe even,
as the number of practitioners and their excuses for falling away. Nevertheless, several
large trends can be considered.
The first looks at the larger American society itself. The coming of age of what has
become known as the baby boomer generation also accompanied a surge of university of
growth and social unrest. For that matter, it’s not unreasonable to link the universities
and their questioning with the social unrest itself. While we can look to rock ’n’ roll,
antiwar protests, and widespread drug use, on the one hand, there was also (initially,
at least) an employment outlook where jobs were plentiful and the sky was the limit --
one could step out of the so-called nine-to-five world and not have to worry about
stepping back in. Within a few years, however, conditions changed: jobs were harder
to come by (many newly minted Ph.D.s were driving taxis for a living), new graduates
were saddled by debt from college loans that needed to be paid off, and the pool of
young adults was shrinking. Put another way, the hippie movement was becoming an artifact
of the past -- or at least aging.
Second, and perhaps more deadly, was a wave of disillusionment. The new spiritual practices
were difficult enough for a generation geared to instant gratification. Once the novelty wore off,
many were prone to wander in search of another twist or gimmick in the quest of enlightenment.
For that matter, enlightenment itself may have soon been deemed yesterday’s hot item. Still,
a sizeable core base might have stabilized and continued if sexual or financial scandals hadn’t
afflicted many -- perhaps we can say most -- of the emerging organizations.
The secret reality is that religious experience arouses passions -- there are good
reasons the various traditions have sexual restrictions in place! Religion also invokes
and addresses the highest aspirations of humanity, which in turn brings an expectation
of human fulfillment. It’s a potent mix that can easily become highly erotic, no matter how it’s veiled.
Ordinarily, cultural norms and institutional structures hold these in check. But in coming
to America, many of the "new religions," as they were sometimes called, were on foreign grounding.
Arriving in the midst of a sexual revolution, the teachers faced unprecedented temptation --
and many succumbed. The expectations of free love were never as uncomplicated or guileless
as the philosophy proposed, anyway, and emotional entanglements soon became evident --
even without adultery or betrayal involved. In addition, the American practitioners of
the imported movements were leaving behind existing religious strictures of Christianity
or Judaism, in the anticipation of finding a higher reality. Complicating the picture was
the Asian view of the teacher as an embodiment of God, rather than a servant of God.
If the teacher fails, the teaching itself becomes suspect -- or even counterfeit.
Money issues, pointedly, can be more emotionally potent than sexual ones. In the end,
people got hurt.
Third was a recognition that the longer individuals lived within the ashram, the more they
were deferring other opportunities and responsibilities. Routine dental and medical care,
for instance, were not part of the package, and nobody was contributing to Social Security.
"What will you do about retirement?" was a valid question, especially since there were no
promises the ashram -- unlike the typical Christian monastery or convent -- would still be there.
Dreams of marriage and children eventually pointed away from the ashram and toward a regular home
and job -- that, in what was rapidly becoming a nation of two-income households. The failure of
economical, multifamily arrangements to evolve out of this experience is rather telling.
And fourth were some of the Judeo-Christian responses. Even in churches where "cults" and
"pagan teachings" were being denounced from the pulpit, a new form of praise song was being
embraced by the congregation -- simple pieces that were repeated over and over, curiously
akin to the chanting -- kirtan and bhajan -- of Hindu practice; sometimes these were even
accompanied by guitars and drumming, rather than the traditional pipe organ. There was also
a renewed awareness and welcoming of the Spirit -- or more properly, Holy Spirit -- during
worship, and services for healing and blessing became more acceptable. Traditional periods
of silent or open worship within some traditions gained new depth as individuals, trained
in meditative disciplines, overcame the typical restlessness of that part of the service.
Some monasteries and convents began welcoming sojourners for retreats of a week or more,
with the invitation going out to many denominations, not just those of liturgical ritual.
The appearance of spiritual directors, drawing on monastic tradition, was one of the emerging
opportunities for ongoing, one-on-one nurture, a parallel to the guru-student interaction of
the ashram. Put simply, many who left what had been Judeo-Christian confines could now return
to their roots with new understanding, empowerment, and encouragement.
That’s not to say that the new practices -- yoga, Buddhism, Sufism, and so forth --
vanished entirely from North America. For a remnant who continued in the varied disciplines,
a maturing took place. One can see in the range of glossy periodicals now available in large
bookstores a kind of dialogue and dialectic occurring that was largely absent in the initial flowering
of these teachings during the hippie era. Unless I am seriously misreading the state of these
teachings today, I would say that they appeal largely to the professional and upper classes,
are comprised mostly of white females, and flourish largely in retreats and seminars, as well
as the local exercise centers. (Perhaps a parallel could be drawn between the proliferation of
weight control and workout centers and local yoga centers emphasizing physical exercise.)
To my eyes, what I see also seems sanitized from the down-to-earth, ego-shattering dimensions
that were so much of the work I remember. More pointedly, I keep asking if anyplace on this
continent is doing what we did then.
* * *
Today, friends speak to me, cautiously, of their own memories and experiences.
(So much is so personal, one’s afraid of being misunderstood. So much is so intense,
one takes care not to proselytize.)
I like the story one tells of going to the tenement where her Tibetan guru lived, the
neighborhood so dangerous he’d toss the keys down from the third floor window so his
followers could let themselves in. Of course, there was the time he missed and the keys
went through the sewer grating.
The practice of mystical religion continues and deepens. Central to these traditions
is the emphasis on individual experience -- first-hand knowledge -- over doctrine or
theory. Here, too, is a concentration upon the unseen Presence, rather than upon pedestrian
"common knowledge." These enhance a sense of intuition and playfulness, and encourage an
experimental outlook in living -- a kind of evolution, not far from subterranean tunnels
or hitchhiking.
I can point to its influence in my subsequent religious growth and evolving practice.
Or to others. Talk of fathomless "surrender" and "yielding" -- without drugs. The fact
is, those values remain. Along with a surprising number of those from my parents and
ancestors, transformed or renewed. This, too, is part of the legacy.
As for drugs, as swami would say, Don’t be so lazy. They’ll only give you a headache.
Now that you’re here.
* * *
Ashram: Adventures on a Yoga Farm, is available as an ebook at PulpBits.com.
Jnana Hodson was born in Dayton, Ohio, and is a graduate of Indiana University,
he continues in the tradition of spiritual renaming,
which may be seen in both Biblical and Native-American examples. In his case,
the name Jnana (commonly pronounced Ja-NAN-a, Sanskrit
for the path of intellect or discernment) was bestowed when he dwelled in a Yoga
ashram in eastern Pennsylvania.
As a professional journalist, he has also resided in Upstate New York, in two
additional quarters of Ohio, in desert-expanse orchards
of Washington State, in the Mississippi River ribbon of eastern Iowa, in the harbor city of Baltimore,
and finally in former
textile-mill towns of New Hampshire.
All along, his writing has grown out of spiritual exploration, often, seeking the unique cadence
of each place that he has
dwelled, and at other times, delving headlong into confrontations and paradoxes that entangle
present-day romance, sexual
attraction, and intimacy, not infrequently, as mythology has long demonstrated, landscapes and
loving overlap.
Experimentation - a desire to discover, by trial and error, structures and language to synthesize
the details he employs
- is a central concern in much of his poetry.
Email: Jnana Hodson
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