During his talks in the final years of his life, Swamiji often warned of severe economic hard times ahead.
How will we live, if the material foundations of our lives should be shaken or removed?
I don’t have a fixed answer, but I pray that the following stories will inspire the reader to consider that our most reliable “resource,” in good times and bad, is God.
When I arrived at Ananda Village in 1976, the community’s photographer had departed three weeks earlier. A major celebration was in the planning stages, a “Village Fun Faire,” and photographs would be needed.
It promised to be a colorful event, with costumed performers, and even an elephant. I wanted to take good pictures, but I didn’t feel that my old camera was up to the job.
In the early years, as I’ve mentioned, we lived very simple lives. Where would I find the money for a camera? Standing outside Master’s Market one day, wondering how I could raise the funds, I reached into my jeans pocket and found thirty-four cents – the total extent of my net worth.
But I sensed that if a camera was needed, the money would come. I told God that I would do my part happily, if He would provide a way to earn the money.
The next day, a friend called to say that he had written a book for bicyclists, and he needed photos. Could I take them? The amount he offered was exactly enough to buy a camera that would serve Ananda well.
Fifteen years later, I was training for my first ultramarathon, a race of 50 kilometers (31.1 miles) in the High Sierra with 7,000’ of climbing, when a foot injury threatened to end my running career altogether.
I tried all manner of remedies – anti-inflammatory drugs, massage, icing, cheap shoe inserts, and special exercises. But nothing worked. I even tried stuffing leaves in my shoes!
Feeling desperate, I prayed for help. And then I heard an inner voice that I recognized as Swamiji’s. It said, “Go see the podiatrist.”
I prayed, “But I don’t have any money, and the podiatrist will prescribe orthotics (shoe inserts) that cost $400, and he’ll charge $40 for the office visit.”
Again the voice said, “Go see the podiatrist.”
Seizing my faith in both hands, I made the appointment. Sure enough, the doctor wanted $40 for the visit and $400 for inserts. I asked him to place the order and send me the bill.
The next day, I received a call from the same friend who had come through, fifteen years earlier.
“I’ve written another book,” he said. “Can you do the photos? I need them quickly, and I’ll pay $500.”
This story has repeated itself with countless variations over the years – not always as dramatically, but often enough that I believe certain definite principles are in play. I’ve seen, for example, that when the need is real and we pray humbly for God’s help, He is eager to give it.
Still, it seems that I had much to learn about the interplay of money and grace, and, in due time, God saw fit to teach me a difficult lesson.
In the late 1990s, I was able to make a comfortable living as a writer and editor in Silicon Valley. But when the high-tech industry took a nosedive in 2001 and my clients reduced their spending, I found myself essentially unemployed.
I prayed for help, and the next day a friend in the Ananda Community told me about a part-time job in the department where she worked at Stanford University. I gratefully took the job helping the department manager.
My boss was a wonderful person. I would end my morning meditations with a prayer to be able to make her day easier, to be supportive and cheerful, and to offer her God’s friendship and joy. I loved the work and stayed for two years, whereupon the department trimmed its budget and my job was eliminated.
I prayed for guidance, and a woman called to offer me a job at a new research facility in the Stanford Medical Center. But I had become attached to my happy life in the mechanical engineering department, and when a half-time job opened there I decided to take it instead.
It was a terrible mistake that I would bitterly regret. The woman at the Medical Center called again, pleading with me to take the job. Later I realized that it had been Divine Mother Herself, trying to save me from a painful spiritual misstep. To this day I am deeply saddened when I remember how I rejected Her loving offer! Madness!
The half-time job in the mechanical engineering department proved the opposite of the previous one. The boss was an avowed atheist and completely unsympathetic to spiritual ideals. We had nothing in common, and I felt that God expressly did not want me to pray for her. The job involved finances – balancing credit card statements and tracking faculty expenses – work for which I was thoroughly unqualified. I’ve always been a word person, not a number-cruncher. I had a constant sense of not belonging. It was an unhappy time.
As I walked across the campus one day on an errand, I prayed for guidance. “I hate this job,” I said. “I’m uncomfortable with the kind of work I’m doing, and the boss and I don’t get along.” I heard Swami Kriyananda’s voice. “Yes, get away from that financial stuff!” I gave notice and left.
For the next six years, I had a terrible time making a living. Why? I can think of any number of reasons, all related to mistakes I had made in the past, including the most glaring one of rejecting the job that Divine Mother had lovingly offered.
However, dwelling on our mistakes never helps anyone. What matters is what we are able to learn from them.
When I was new on the path, I made a mistake that I thought, at the time, was a real humdinger. When I sat to meditate that evening, it was with a feeling of deep sadness that I had let God down.
I prayed, “Divine Mother, I guess You’ll just have to accept me as I am.”
Immediately I heard a womanly voice, as of a bustling, efficient mother. It said, “I am not concerned about your faults. I am concerned only with your continual improvement!”
In the years after I left that unhappy job at Stanford, I applied for hundreds of jobs, each of which I was qualified for. I went to dozens of job interviews that seemed to go well, but nothing ensued. I had countless responses to my ads, but wasn’t hired. I began to pile up debts.
I had a reading with a Vedic astrologer at Ananda Village. Drupada’s counsel had proved helpful in the past. He told me that I was in a deeply inward period – “on pilgrimage” as he put it – and that I was “invisible to employers.”
It was at once a wonderfully happy and a deeply troubling time. I was writing The Joyful Athlete, a book on exercise and sports training based on spiritual principles. My work on the book brought me joy, but the satisfactions were balanced by a growing unease over my inability to make a living.
Over the years, I had developed an impressive resume, with outstanding testimonials from respected companies, and I had two degrees from Stanford University. Yet – nothing! I had a handful of clients who gave me barely enough work to keep food on the table, but little more.
After five years, I had another reading with Drupada. He said that I would shortly enter a period when it would be possible to make a good living. Yet months passed after the “money period” had begun, with no change in my situation. I realized that my Guru was capable of holding up my astrological chart and, with a sweet smile, ripping it to shreds, if it would help me learn a needed lesson.
One day, feeling that I was truly at the end of my rope, I had a vision in my morning meditation.
I saw a young man who had brown skin and long black hair. He stood before a crude rock hut, high in the Himalayas. He was dressed in a rough reddish-brown robe, and it was obvious that he had nothing, just a primitive shelter and enough food, but the smile on his face was radiant – it stretched from ear to ear. I realized from the vision that it was possible to be blissfully happy with very little.
The vision reminded me of how I had lived at Ananda Village thirty years earlier. One Christmas, Swami Kriyananda drew my name in our annual gift exchange. One of the nuns told him that I owned just two shirts and two pairs of pants. Swamiji gave me a pale-blue long-sleeved cotton turtleneck shirt. I loved that shirt – it felt wonderful to wear it, and I was sad when I finally wore it out. (The givers in the exchange were supposed to be anonyous, but Kalyani couldn’t resist letting me know that Swami had drawn my name, and I am deeply grateful that she did.)
I knew that I wouldn’t be able to pass my money test until the lesson had been driven deep into my soul. I wanted to learn the lesson with every cell of my being, so that I wouldn’t have to return to it again.
I wrote an email to Swamiji and said, “I am glad that my spiritual teacher is uncompromising.” Swamiji’s secretary, Nayaswami Lakshman, replied that Swami had read my note, and that he had said, “I understand.”
Several weeks later, I had another realization, and I again wrote to Swamiji. This time, I said, “I have come to understand that I am in this world for only three reasons: to love God, to serve His work, and to live simply.”
I sent the email and forgot about it. I would have been content to receive no reply. Even if I became homeless, I felt that I had learned an enduring lesson.
A week passed with no change in my financial situation. Then I received an email from Lakshman. He reported that Swamiji had read my note, and that he had said, “Very good.”
I cannot tell you how much those words meant to me. It was the most precious message of my life.
The sequel is that, bright and early the next morning, the phone began to ring off the hook. The same online advertisement for my services that had failed to produce a single job in six years was suddenly unleashing a torrent of offers. People were calling every fifteen minutes to ask me to come and talk about their projects. It was a little unnerving how many employers were calling and asking me to work for them!
Since then, I’ve had a flow of work that has allowed me to live simply.
Of course, the lesson didn’t end there. It wasn’t as if Divine Mother said, “Congratulations, Rambhakta! You’ve learned your lesson! You’ve passed your test, and now you’ll be able to find work easily.”
I found that the flow of work continued to the extent that I took time to remember the purpose of my life: to love God, to serve His work, and to live simply.
I began to tithe, for no reason other than from a grateful heart. Reflecting on the help that Swamiji and Ananda had given me, I wanted to express my gratitude.
I began to participate more fully in the work, by singing in the choir and in two ensembles, by writing about Ananda as Swamiji had suggested, and by volunteering occasionally in our community garden. To the extent that I offered my service gratefully, I found that my life was blessed.
Looking back, at age seventy-seven, I see that one of the most difficult and rewarding lessons I’ve had to learn is to go along happily with Divine Mother’s way of doing things. “‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord.” (Isaiah 55:8)
In America, we like to imagine that we can plan our lives rationally, especially when it comes to money. “I’ll invest so much energy and receive so much money in return.” We hope to find security by gaining control over the material details of our lives.
How lovely it would be, if we could arrange our circumstances neatly and logically, and if we were rewarded in direct proportion to our efforts. Yet it would be the best possible recipe for forgetting God. Why bother God, if all that’s required for a pleasant life is to learn to pull the right levers and “game the system”?
My experiences showed me that every penny in the universe is wholly and entirely contained in Divine Mother’s purse.
When I serve God’s work, the sense of abundance grows, but when I’m distracted by desires, the flow mysteriously wanes. Abundance, I’ve realized, comes by opening ourselves to its source, which is always God, by offering our love and creative service to Him.
The story has a sequel.
I wrote an article about my experiences with money for Clarity magazine. When it appeared, I thought, “The lesson hasn’t ended. Something’s missing…”
Sure enough, when the article appeared my income plummeted. For five months I once again had a hard time making ends meet. Debts piled up, and it was a challenge to pay the rent.
It reached a point where I was dumbfounded. Was something wrong with my attitude? Was I displeasing God?
Desperate for an answer, I prayed with urgency, “What am I doing wrong? I want to learn the lesson, no matter how difficult it might be. I simply can’t go on this way. Help me understand!”
I heard Divine Mother’s voice say, in kindly tones that were tinged with exasperation: “We are partners!”
I understood. I had affirmed the reasons I was in this world, but they had lost their freshness – they had become a stale formula. “I’m facing another crisis – let’s see if I can remember the right words. Lord I want to love You, to serve Your work, and to live simply.”
The words had become a blur. I was unable to pray with inspiration.
But – “We are partners!” With these surprising words, Divine Mother helped me understand the right path. Henceforth, whenever I needed work, I would no longer repeat empty formulas. I would talk with Divine Mother as a partner. “Divine Mother, we need to find work so that we can continue to serve. But You must show me how to talk with this client.”
If I felt moody, downcast or drained, I did my best to share my feelings honestly. “I’m feeling lousy, Divine Mother, but I want to do a good job. Please help me get out of this mood and expand my heart.”
I realized that being partners meant sharing every moment with God, not just the easy ones.
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If you want to spiritualize your relationship with money, I can recommend the following books and courses by Swami Kriyananda and Paramhansa Yogananda.
“Success and Happiness Through Yoga Principles“ by Swami Kriyananda
How to Be a Success: The Wisdom of Paramhansa Yogananda, Volume 4
The Art of Supportive Leadership: A Practical Guide for People in Positions of Responsibility by Swami Kriyananda (published under his American name, J. Donald Walters).
Money Magnetism: How to Attract What You Need When You Need It, by Swami Kriyananda (published as J. Donald Walters).