{"id":1751,"date":"2025-01-25T16:37:57","date_gmt":"2025-01-25T16:37:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.yoganandafortheworld.com\/story\/?p=1751"},"modified":"2025-01-25T16:37:57","modified_gmt":"2025-01-25T16:37:57","slug":"swami-kriyananda-stories-ch-23-interlude-a-faceplant-hall-of-fame","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.yoganandafortheworld.com\/story\/swami-kriyananda-stories-ch-23-interlude-a-faceplant-hall-of-fame\/","title":{"rendered":"Swami Kriyananda Stories — Ch. 23: Interlude — A Faceplant Hall of Fame"},"content":{"rendered":"

In 1967, I joined Self-realization Fellowship and began studying the SRF lessons,<\/strong> which required that we submit regular reports on our progress.<\/p>\n

At the time, Brother Bhaktananda was the men\u2019s course examiner. In response to one of my reports, he wrote: \u201cYour practice seems good, but the thought occurs that you might not be getting enough exercise.\u201d<\/p>\n

What did he mean? In the mid-1960s, hardly anyone ran or bicycled for fitness.<\/p>\n

Should I join the young people playing volleyball on the beach, accompanied by beer and loud music? It wasn\u2019t an attractive option. I asked Master what I should do.<\/p>\n

At work the next day, my supervisor, a retired Air Force colonel, walked up with a smile and pressed a book in my hands. \u201cGeorge, you\u2019ve got to read this book! I\u2019ve been on this program for six months, and it\u2019s done wonders for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was the first edition of Dr. Kenneth Cooper\u2019s book, Aerobics<\/em>. I started the program, but waited until I had achieved basic fitness before telling Bhaktananda what I was doing. Then I wrote to him and asked if running was a good choice.<\/p>\n

He replied, \u201cMaster recommended running as an ideal exercise. The monks are encouraged to run daily.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was good enough for me!<\/p>\n

For forty years, running played a prominent role in my life. From 1972 to 1976 I worked at Runner\u2019s World <\/em>magazine. Forty years later, in April 2015, Crystal Clarity published my book, The Joyful Athlete: The Wisdom of the Heart in Exercise & Sports Training<\/em><\/a>.<\/p>\n

There were many miles of old logging roads in the hills near Ananda Village. I had favorite routes that I ran regularly. One followed a single-track trail through several miles of beautiful oak forest where bright-green kitkidizze plants brushed my ankles.<\/p>\n

I remember jogging into the Village after a long run one day, feeling pleasantly tired. I prayed, \u201cI\u2019ve spent twenty years trying to understand how people can find fitness and happiness by spiritual principles. And now I\u2019m wondering if it\u2019s all just crap.\u201d<\/p>\n

I heard Swami Kriyananda\u2019s voice: \u201cTake it seriously.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Hm, it seems yogis don\u2019t waste words.<\/p>\n

A Brief Digression:<\/em><\/p>\n

When I was a young boy, my mother spoke with respect of the Himalayan yogis. Even in my cynical college years, I refrained from making light of the yogis. \u201cThis far I will go,\u201d I remember thinking. \u201cBut I will not think or speak disrespectfully of the yogis.\u201d<\/p>\n

My mother had some interesting ideas about the yogic masters. I remember her telling me in tones of awe, when I was seven or eight years old, that they were able to communicate by using their intuition.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen they want to send a message, they make a sound in the other person\u2019s inner ear, like a little bell,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

In my mind\u2019s eye, I envision a scene.<\/p>\n

(Tinkling sound, audible to the spiritually initiated.)<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cAllo, allo! Are you there?\u201d<\/p>\n

And the occult response:<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, hello, who is this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSri Yukteswar here. Are you available? Is this a good time? Should I call back?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, please go ahead…\u201d<\/p>\n

To return to my theme, there were days when God seemed intent on making <\/em>me take exercise seriously. The lessons could be painful, as when the Divinity would employ a \u201cfaceplant\u201d to make sure the lesson would stick.<\/p>\n

Recalling my headlong tumbles over the years, I perceive the hand of God in every one. I will never believe that they were administered randomly. To judge by their timeliness, they were skillfully designed for the purpose of reducing my burden of ego. Consider some examples.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s the early 1990s. I\u2019m running on the sidewalk by a busy street in Sacramento during the morning commute, with streams of cars speeding by. I\u2019ve lost weight and I\u2019m in great shape, with a nut-brown tan. This prompts my Inner Idiot to gloat: \u201cI guess I\u2019m showing the world what it looks like to be an awesomely fit old runner\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Bam splat. My bent little finger is a reminder of the perils of swelling vanity.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a lovely morning in the early 2000s. I\u2019m running on the campus of Stanford University, and I\u2019m feeling bedeviled by my inability to resolve an issue with my training. I don\u2019t remember the problem, only that I perilously decide to unload my frustrations on God.<\/p>\n

I pray, none too humbly: \u201cI can\u2019t figure out why the hell I\u2019m having such trouble with this godda\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bam splat.<\/p>\n

Him the Almighty Power<\/em><\/p>\n

Hurled headlong flaming from th\u2019 ethereal sky,<\/em><\/p>\n

With hideous ruin and combustion, down<\/em><\/p>\n

To bottomless perdition, there to dwell<\/em><\/p>\n

In adamantine chains and penal fire,<\/em><\/p>\n

Who durst defy th\u2019 Omnipotent to arms. <\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2013 John Milton, Paradise Lost<\/em><\/p>\n

Scraping my ancient body off the pavement, I think, \u201cWell, this isn\u2019t a very dignified thing for a sixty-year-old gentleman to be doing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Minutes later, the trail turns a corner in the Stanford community gardens and my frustrations again take hold. I get no further than, \u201cGoddamn it\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Bam splat.<\/p>\n

I pick myself up, now with two bleeding knees instead of one, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.<\/p>\n

I think, \u201cI may share my frustrations with God in future, but I doubt I\u2019ll risk swearing at Him!\u201d<\/p>\n

I relax and become absorbed in the beautiful summer day.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s now the early 1990s. I\u2019m running in the Gold Country Marathon, jogging down a beautiful trail by the banks of the Yuba River. The trail winds through pine and oak groves with fleeting views of the stream. I\u2019m fit, trim, and feeling mighty pleased at having passed a runner who, I\u2019m aware, feels competitive with me.<\/p>\n

In short, I\u2019m feeling complacently self-satisfied and oh-so happy to be me.<\/p>\n

Bam splat.<\/p>\n

The scene now shifts to Mountain View, California in 1996. I\u2019ve moved to the Ananda community to help with the lawsuit that SRF has filed against us, claiming it owns the exclusive rights to Paramhansa Yogananda\u2019s books, photos, and recordings. Although it will take twelve years, we will win ninety-five percent of the issues in the case, according to the presiding federal judge. American law doesn\u2019t look kindly on religious monopolies.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s the day after my move, and I\u2019m running in the Palo Alto Baylands, thinking how fine it is to be back in the Bay Area, where I spent my college years. In my mind, I\u2019m planning how I\u2019ll increase my training mileage, enter some local races, and spend many happy hours exploring the trails of the Coastal Range\u2026<\/p>\n

Bam splat.<\/p>\n

At this point I\u2019ve sprained the same ankle five times<\/em> in the last six weeks, and this one is a doozy. The ankle swells to grapefruit size and an X-ray reveals a hairline fracture. The faceplant reminds me that I am not here to amuse myself, but to serve my Guru\u2019s work. During my two years with the legal crew, I\u2019m able to run regularly, but I\u2019m aware that exercise must take a distant second place to our fight for religious freedom.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s now April 22, 2010. I\u2019ve barely started a run in the Palo Alto Baylands, when\u2026.<\/p>\n

Bam splat. The worst faceplant ever! I slam into the hard-packed rocky road. Previously I\u2019ve been able to jump up and affirm a positive attitude after a spill, but this is on a different scale. My hands and knees are bloodied, my breath has been knocked out of me, and my nervous system and spine feel battered. I rise painfully and limp to the finish.<\/p>\n

Why?<\/em> What is the message?<\/em><\/p>\n

It will be the first of three mysterious tip-overs at random intervals during the ensuing four and a half months. The tumbles have no discernible meaning \u2013 I\u2019m not even feeling particularly prideful when I fall. What is happening? What is God trying to tell me? Am I paying off some obscure karmic debt, incurred in the distant past? The three falls, spaced roughly six weeks apart, are brutal full-out plunges onto hard rocky trails, and each is worse than the last.<\/p>\n

The last two falls happen at precisely the same spot in the Baylands trail, while I\u2019m running in opposite directions. And the last is the worst.<\/p>\n

Bam! Splat!<\/p>\n

As I lie feeling thoroughly battered, there is no question of jumping up and cheerfully smiling the pain away. I hurt bad. I slowly catch my breath, organize my parts, and lift my ancient frame. A hiker asks if I\u2019m all right. I mumble, \u201cThese things happen.\u201d I\u2019m relieved when she turns and moves on.<\/p>\n

Back on my feet at last, I take inventory of my injuries. Blood flows from both knees, and my right hand feels numb. Glancing at it, I see that the middle finger is bent in a direction that nature never intended.<\/p>\n

Inwardly, I ask Master, \u201cWhat am I going to do?<\/em> I make my living with these fingers, working at a computer keyboard all day. I\u2019ve got<\/em> to do something! I refuse to go to the emergency room at the county hospital, where I\u2019ll spend seven hours waiting to see a doctor who\u2019ll charge hundreds of dollars to fix this blasted finger.\u201d<\/p>\n

Following a calm intuition, I grasp the finger and pull it gently, whereupon it snaps into place with a satisfying crack<\/em>. But I still hurt all over, and not just physically. I feel an ominous dark mood coming on.<\/p>\n

Eager to avoid wasting energy on gloomy emotions, I reflect for a second, then feel inspired to talk to Divine Mother.<\/p>\n

\u201cDivine Mother,\u201d I tell Her, \u201cYou are wonderful! How funny you are! You are hilarious! The way you treat your devotee is a scream. It\u2019s a riot! You and your little jokes \u2013 it\u2019s marvelous how much fun you have with your children!\u201d<\/p>\n

At this point I\u2019m smiling broadly. And then a wonderful thing happens. With inner spiritual vision, but with open eyes, I see my Guru, Paramhansa Yogananda, in a golden light. He is with his close disciples, and I know with intuitive certainty that he is living in a portion of God\u2019s creation where there is no pain but only unbroken divine bliss. I know that he is living in a place that he describes in his wonderful chant: \u201cwhere no clouds come, and golden dreams dwell, in the land beyond my dreams.\u201d He is smiling lovingly, and I know that my happy response has pleased him. I realize that the series of gruesome faceplants were meant for this.<\/p>\n

I feel wonderful, even though my body is a mess. I walk to the street and climb in the car. As I set off, I say to my Guru, \u201cI\u2019m feeling fine inwardly \u2013 maybe we should go to Stanford and finish the run together. What do you think? Would that be all right?\u201d Sensing no objection, I drive to the campus and complete the run \u2013 on safe, flat pavement! \u2013 while holding my hand in the air to relieve the swelling and pain. For hours I continue to feel joyful and blessed.<\/p>\n

My permanently bent finger is a reminder that this world of solid matter is not our home. I know that Paramhansa Yogananda and Swami Kriyananda live in that other realm \u2013 the real<\/em> world where we all, in time, must learn to dwell. The pain of falling was difficult to bear, but it was as nothing compared to the experience of God\u2019s celestial joy.<\/p>\n

Later in the day, I wonder if I should seek medical help. I think, \u201cLet me go on the Internet and look up the treatment for a dislocated finger.\u201d But as I browse a few medical articles I notice that the feeling of joy has faded. I realize that Master wants me to rely on him alone \u2013 to ask him to guide me, and not seek superficial outward help by my own power.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In 1967, I joined Self-realization Fellowship and began studying the SRF lessons, which required that we submit regular reports on our progress. At the time, Brother Bhaktananda was the men\u2019s course examiner. In response to one of my reports, he wrote: \u201cYour practice seems good, but the thought occurs that you might not be getting … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1751","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\nSwami Kriyananda Stories — Ch. 23: Interlude — A Faceplant Hall of Fame - Swami Kriyananda: Lightbearer<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"A disciple of Paramhansa Yogananda recalls the Guru's fitness guidance, and a divine vision at the end of a run.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.yoganandafortheworld.com\/story\/swami-kriyananda-stories-ch-23-interlude-a-faceplant-hall-of-fame\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Swami Kriyananda Stories — Ch. 23: Interlude — A Faceplant Hall of Fame - 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