When people enter the spiritual path, they tend to take one of two approaches to their health.
Some arrive at a comfortable accommodation with Paramhansa Yogananda’s common-sense advice: “Find a diet that agrees with you and forget about it.”
Others search endlessly.
At the Village, it seemed that a new health craze would sweep the community every few years. We had wheat grass, magnets, color therapy, Reiki, acupressure, spirulina, and DHEA. Oh – and high colonic irrigations, offered by a healer who lived in nearby North San Juan. (“I’m going over to my friend’s house for an enema.”)
These systems had their merits, but it was strange how the fads never lasted. Some made promises they couldn’t keep. Others ended up creating unpleasant imbalances in the body and mind. None of them were cure-alls.
The latest itinerant teacher would become the savior of the moment. There was a year when so many at Ananda became swept up by the latest teacher’s utterances that Swami Kriyananda had to intervene.
He pointed out that if we really want to call ourselves disciples of Paramhansa Yogananda, we should understand that the path he gave us is a complete one, and that it covers our every need, including the minutiae of the body’s well-being.
For most of my years at Ananda, I was an enthusiastic though decidedly untalented runner. I ran marathons and ultramarathons, and like all athletes, I faced an endless series of injuries and other crises for which there were often no obvious solutions.
You might think that sports training would be the last thing on God’s mind and beneath His notice. Yet I discovered that whenever I asked for Master’s help, he gave it willingly.
I knew that when Swamiji encouraged us to give Yogananda’s teachings a fair shake, he didn’t mean that we should search his books for “sprained ankle” or “diverticulosis.” He expected us to use our common sense, our creativity, and our intelligence, while inviting a higher guidance.
An example:
A summer afternoon found me driving on the freeway between Nevada City and Grass Valley. I was training hard and was tired all the time. I was irritable and had constant diarrhea. My enthusiasm had slumped. What was wrong?
As I drove through downtown Grass Valley I prayed urgently to Master and Swamiji for their help. And then I heard Swamiji’s voice. It said, “Go see Jim Walker.”
Jim was an accomplished marathoner who worked at a local sporting goods store. I had often sought his advice, but I had to be careful, because his boss didn’t like it when I took up Jim’s time.
When I heard Swamiji’s voice, I said, “But Jim’s boss stares daggers at me when I waste his time yakking.”
The voice said, more insistently: “Go see Jim Walker.”
I drove to the store and found that Jim’s boss was away.
I said, “I’m doing a run of 20 to 24 miles every weekend and I’m not making any progress. I’m tired all the time and I don’t know what to do.”
Leaning on a clothes rack as if he had all the time in the world, Jim proceeded to lecture me about training. Jim had run 112 marathons with a respectable best time of 2:37, and I valued his advice.
He said, “First of all, are you taking walking breaks?”
“Yes, I run 25 minutes and walk 5 minutes on my long runs. I’ve heard it’s what most ultrarunners do.”
“Well, that’s wrong. You should run 5 minutes and walk 1. It’s much more sparing of the body’s resources. You’ll enjoy it more and you’ll recover faster.”
He told me several colorful stories of how the top ultramarathoners trained – always with respect for their bodies’ individual limitations.
Several weeks later, I ran a 52.4-mile trail race, a double marathon. At one point I found myself climbing a steep hill in the company of a well-known female runner. At the time, she had run more ultramarathons than any other woman. I was intrigued to learn how she trained.
“I don’t train,” she said. “I run an ultra every weekend, or every other week. It gives me plenty of time to recover, and I enjoy those long runs in good company.”
It was excellent advice. I had been running “only” a marathon a month, but I had run them straight through, without adjusting my training. Every Saturday I ran at least 20 miles without fail, in addition to the marathons, and it was killing me.
It was too much. Thanks to two old spinal surgeries, my left leg has lingering spasticity and my right leg is mildly paralyzed. It makes running harder than it might be, and I don’t recover quickly. When I eased back, I felt better and began to improve. The easier schedule was clearly in tune with Master’s teachings about moderation.
My years as a runner and fitness nut taught me that God is deeply interested in the minutiae of our lives, including our health. If we can find the wisdom and humility to request His help, He is eager to give it, and His counsel is without equal.
The path of yoga tells us that there are five instruments by which we can interact with the world: body, feelings, will, mind, and soul. They are the tools we can use to expand our awareness and find increasing happiness.
They correspond to the five branches of yoga: Hatha, Bhakti, Karma, Gyana, and Raja. And, note well, the body is fully twenty percent of the equation.
God is concerned that we get each part right, because a healthy body provides energy for all our endeavors. When the body is unfit or unwell, it’s more difficult to meditate and to expand our awareness.
At a time when I wanted to lose weight, I prayed to Master for his help. I told him that I didn’t want to slim-down for selfish reasons – to look good – but so that I would have more energy for service.
The next day, while browsing the shelves at East West Bookshop, I found a book called Eat to Live. It offered a wealth of information about weight loss that was in fairly close alignment with Master’s teachings. I went on the diet and lost a ton of weight.
Several years later, I again decided that I needed to shed a few pounds. I had been following Master’s weight-loss recommendations, but rather haphazardly, and owing to my sloppy application I wasn’t getting results.
Knowing that I was taking a risk, I prayed, “Well, I guess the Paramhansa Yogananda diet doesn’t work.”
The next morning, I fell ill with a particularly severe bronchitis that put me on my back for the better part of a month. During that time, I was on a diet that was consistent with Master’s teachings. At the end of the month, I found that I had lost ten pounds, even though I had done no exercise. Well – that showed me!
The bronchitis cleared up in time for the annual Festival of the Joyful Arts at Ananda Village. Swamiji was in attendance, and the weekend was heavenly.
When we arrived, I wondered how I could keep up the diet. Should I buy special foods at the Village market and prepare them in our guest room? It would be inconvenient, and it would distract from the spiritual focus of the weekend.
When I prayed and asked what to do, I heard Swamiji’s voice, “Let’s eat a normal diet starting now.”
Ishani and I ate at the Expanding Light, where the food was delicious and nourishing. I felt healthier than ever.
More times than I can remember, I’ve heard people in the Ananda communities become defensive about their pet health systems.
I’ve heard them say, “I’m on such-and-such diet, and I’m not giving it up, no matter what anybody at Ananda says!”
Never mind that no one was begging them to stop what they were doing. It was their fear of being contradicted that made them defensive. I suspect they were uncomfortable, too, because they sensed that they should be asking for Master’s help, and their conscience was silently jostling them.