Painting: The Vision of Saint Teresa of Avila
It was just another typical average day in the spiritual life.
On the way to the laundry room, I ran into a friend I seldom see. After exchanging howdies, he said, “I enjoy the photographs you take.”
Fresh from a difficult video-editing session, I gave rein to my frustration and chuckled: “I can’t take a picture to save my life!!”
My friend deserved a clarification. I said, “Whenever I take pictures, I feel absolutely clueless. It’s why I always try to get God involved.”
I continued, “Just last night I had a heck of a time trying to edit a video that I had shot in an unusual format. Finally, I threw up my hands mentally and said, ‘Divine Mother, should I sell all my video equipment and go back to doing only photography? If you want this project done, you’ll have to show me how. It’s not my project, it’s yours. I want to help, but I need your help.’ Mentally exhausted and seeing no way forward, I set the project aside. Then this morning, without much hope, I did yet another in a long series of Google searches which turned up a seven-year-old YouTube video that explained the process. It was simple, and the client loved the results.”
I entered the spiritual life sixty years ago. At the time, I decided that I would be scientific. I would accept nothing on blind faith. I would test the teachings of the saints with scientific rigor.
The saints tell us that if we pray to God, He will answer. I began to pray to Him with fierce attention, humbly demanding answers to the many questions I had as a beginner in the spiritual life. And, of course, He answered every prayer.
Back to the present. For months I had felt that Swami Kriyananda would be pleased if I would purchase a certain camera. But it was expensive, and I had made mistakes in the past, buying photo gear that my reason and logic seemed to support, but failing to invite God’s guidance. On one occasion I fell victim to a scam and lost $1100. I am convinced that God clouded my mind, to teach me to be more careful about seeking His help in all things, since I would never have been so clueless otherwise.
After months of feeling a rightness in my heart whenever I contemplated the expensive camera, I went ahead and bought it. I was careful to purchase it from a company with a 15-day return policy, in case I had misunderstood the guidance. So far, it has been a step up, opening options for better service to Ananda.
The learning curve has been steep, with obstacles that have forced me to pray for help. And I suspect that is the point. God often presses us to seek our help from Him. He will use money, relationships, work, technology — anything — to bring us to the point of gasping exasperation, not to torture us but to help us loosen our grip on the delusion that we are alone, and enter a relationship with Him.
Swami Kriyananda said that he never started a creative project without first asking God to guide him. “Before I sit down to write, I ask God to inspire me – and I never fail to do so.”
There was a sense, around Swamiji, that he didn’t actually live in this world, but that his consciousness was merged with something far greater that was living through him. He was long past the stage of having to remind himself to talk to God. He lived in God. But he modeled the attitudes of a disciple for us, as an expression of divine compassion.
In her wonderful book, Swami Kriyananda: Lightbearer, Asha Nayaswami writes:
The Christmas (1975) issue of The Banyan Tree (a magazine sent from Ananda Village in the early days) included a family photo, signed by Swamiji and all the residents.
In his Dear Friends letter, he wrote, “Offering of one’s will to God’s guidance should be made daily. It should become a mental attitude that is carried with one constantly, an inner gift from the soul unceasingly given until not the slightest decision is made without first asking the Lord at least for comment.”
After reading those words I thought of Teresa of Avila (1515-1582) and wondered what the great Spanish saint might have said about practicing God’s presence in daily life. Here’s what I found, with help from Google:
St. Teresa of Avila taught that keeping God’s presence is achieved through “determined determination” to maintain a loving, conversational friendship with Christ, recognizing he is always with us. She emphasized finding God in everyday life — ”among the pots and pans” — by treating prayer as an intimate sharing with a friend, rather than a formal performance.
Key aspects of her teaching on God’s presence include:
Interior Companionship: She encouraged keeping Christ present with us in our hearts, allowing us to speak with him, complain of labors, and rejoice in moments of delight, which strengthens the soul.
Constant Awareness: She noted that all sins arise because we forget God is actually present, imagining Him far off. She taught that realizing He is present fosters humility and security in our spiritual journey.
“The Inner Cell”: Even in busy times, we can retreat into our inner “castle” to converse with God, ensuring our hearts are not consumed by the world.
Service as Presence: She reminded us that Christ has no body now but ours, meaning our actions and service to others are expressions of his presence on earth.
Teresa emphasized that this practice is not dependent on profound feelings, but on a “determined determination” never to stop seeking God.
In her most recent incarnation, St. Teresa was reborn as Sister Gyanamata, foremost woman disciple of Paramhansa Yogananda. In a letter to her Guru, Gyanamata wrote:
“You teach that it is folly to dwell upon the past or the future. The day that I am earnestly looking forward to, if I may look forward to that much, is the day on which I shall know myself free from all incarnations. . . .
“Whatever, whoever I have been in the past, in this — the most important incarnation of all — I am Gyanamata, the work of your hands. Please pray for me that I may stand firm and unshaken to the end.”
And this she did, achieving final liberation in God at the end of her life. When Gyanamata questioned her spiritual state at the time of her passing, Yogananda told her, “You are with Mother Divine, Sister mine; I am holding you there. The path is not needed – you are already there.” After her passing, Yogananda said that he had watched her soul merge into “the watchful state beyond creation.” She had achieved moksha, final freedom in God.
Two separate, ancient books of divine prophecy in India foretold that at the end of his life Swami Kriyananda would achieve the same state of moksha. As a young monk, Yogananda told Kriyananda that he was free, a jivanmukta, one who has achieved freedom in God, but who still had, as Yogananda told him, just a few threads of karma to untangle.
Swamiji said that his inner state of freedom was not being revealed to him in this life, which the Master told him would be one of intense outward service to God. Yogananda told him that death would be, as it was for Gyanamata, the final sacrifice he would have to make. And so it proved. Swamiji gave every ounce of his energy in service to his guru, to the very end. On the morning of his passing, he checked his computer to see if there were requests for his spiritual help. Then, in the company of a few close friends, he quietly left his body.
Many have testified to the intense aura of holiness that pervades the small temple, known as the Moksha Mandir, where his body rests at Ananda Village. Before his body was interred, I was one of many who visited his home at Crystal Hermitage to pray and meditate near his casket. When I entered the room, I was physically and mentally exhausted, but the moment I began to offer my thanks to Swamiji, I felt him energizing the words, not through me, but as me. I realized from this that he was one with the seamless fabric of God of which we are all made, and by which we are constantly sustained.
Swamiji is here. Toward the end of his life he remarked quietly to a friend in India, “Master is everywhere, and my consciousness is almost as vast.” Countless times since his passing, I have felt him guiding me, especially when I open my heart in kindness, and when I serve the Master’s cause that he held so dear.
— Rambhakta