Austerity, Devotion and Ritual: Exploring the Construction of Spiritual Identity in Southern Indian Ashrams

(Original Project Proposal Title: Exploring Consciousness and the Construction of Self: From an Indian Ashram to a Maximum Security Prison)

A Spring 2012 Type A Sabbatical ReportReport Submission Date: October 15, 2012

By

Georgine HodgkinsonProfessor of Communication Studies

Cosumnes River College

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Project Report Abstract

Last semester I was given the chance to fulfill a long-time professional dream: I

completed a Type A Sabbatical Project. I obtained recording equipment, learned how to

FaceTime with my kids, packed my suitcase, and headed to the other side of the globe

to conduct ethnographic research. For an entire semester I played the role of

researcher—a participant-observer--and learned about a culture quite different from my

own.

My original Sabbatical Project Proposal explained criteria that guided my project

planning process. In it, I wrote:

First, I want a project that will take me out of my comfort zone. I believe that when we are faced with challenge, growth is more likely and transformation often possible. Second, I want a project that explores identify construction; that of others and my own. If this is to be an opportunity for self-reflection, I want to participate in, and study, a culture whose focus is increased consciousness. And third, I want a project that supports the practice of being courageous. As Brene Brown explains, being courageous requires a willingness to be vulnerable; to connect with others in true and authentic ways; to tell stories from one’s heart (2010)1.

The result was a research project that took me to Southern India where I lived in

three different Ashrams over a six week period. At each ashram I participated in daily

practices, listened to spiritual teachings, interviewed fellow ashramites, and took

copious fieldnotes in an effort to explore self-identity and spiritual consciousness. When

I returned to California, I transformed fieldnotes into a research paper titled Austerity,

Devotion and Ritual: Exploring the Construction of Spiritual Identity in Southern Indian

Ashrams (See Attachment A). This paper is currently under consideration for

presentation at the 2013 Western States Communication Association Conference.

1 Brown, Brene, (2010). The Power of Vulnerability. Available at www.ted.com.

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Project Objectives

In my original proposal I explained that the objectives of this project were two-

fold: conducting scholarly research on spiritual consciousness and teaching about

conscious living.

The first objective took me to three different ashrams in Southern India:

Amritapuri Ashram in Kerala; Satyachetana Ashram in Tiruvannamalai in Tamil Nadu;

and Sri Aurobindo Ashram (The Mother’s Ashram) in Pondecherry. The second

objective, which was linked to teaching a class at Folsom Lake Prison, was modified

during the leave (with committee approval) and is discussed further in the next section,

“Professional Leave Activities and Project Critique.”

Professional Leave Activities and Project Critique

The activities associated with the first half of this Sabbatical Project involved

travel to India, gathering data, participation in spiritual community, and conducting

interviews. The second phase of this project began when I returned home. Back in

California, I transcribed fieldnotes and taped interviews, gathered additional support

documentation and engaged the writing process. As explained in Attachment A, the

results of my study focus on the role of austerity, devotion and ritual in the construction

of spiritual identity for ashram residents.

There were many challenges associated with traveling and living in India. Some

of these challenges were simply a result of my naiveté (who knew riding in a rickshaw

would be so harrowing?!) and overcome with experience (close eyes, pray hard). Other

challenges, however, required flexibility. One such challenge was the result of Cyclone

Thane which hit Pondicherry during my stay in Southern India. The result of this

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cyclone was devastating to the small coastal town, Pondecherry, which is home to Sri

Aurobindo’s Ashram (AKA the Mother’s Ashram). While I still made it to this ashram as

planned, damage to the facility made it impossible to stay directly on site. Moreover,

threat from a cholera outbreak that resulted from the unsanitary conditions that followed

the storm’s destruction resulted in a few less days at the Mother’s Ashram and an

extended visit at Satyachetana Ashram. While dealing with impacts from Cyclone

Thane did require some travel flexibility, I do not believe that it jeopardized the integrity

of my research project.

The second challenge to this project resulted from internal problems at Folsom

Lake Prison.  I had planned to teach a class and work with inmates upon my return from

India. However, I received multiple notifications that due to “lock downs” and “budgetary

constraints,” the Prison was forced to “push back” the class start date making it

impossible to finish this aspect of the project before the semester’s end. This challenge

was handled in the form, of a “Project Modification Request” which was approved by the

Professional Standards Committee in May, 2012.

Sharing Project Results

I have, and plan to, share the research conducted during this sabbatical project

in multiple ways. First, I hope to share this research with colleagues at the 2013

Western States Communication Association Conference. On September 1, 2012, I

submitted the attached research paper for conference presentation consideration to the

Interpersonal Communication Interest Group.

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Second, I have shared insights garnered during my time in India with students.

Research from this project contributed new information and contemporary examples to

the “Self Identity” lecture I gave to Comm 321 students early in the semester.

Third, as promised in my original project proposal, I have provided a copy of this

report to full-time faculty in my department and to the CVPA Dean.

Finally, I offered to create a flex workshop related to my sabbatical experience.

On June 7, 2012, I sent an email to this effect to Carol Bernardo. She responded to let

me know she that forwarded my offer and interest to Kathy McClain. I have not yet

heard from the Professional Development Committee, but hope they will consider my

flex workshop offer in the future.

Conclusion

Overall, I believe that this sabbatical project was a success. While unforeseen

challenges required flexibility and a project modification, I believe that the results of this

project will serve students in my classes and support my academic discipline though the

contribution of original research. If my flex workshop offer is accepted by the

Professional Development Committee, I will also have the opportunity to share the

results of this project with my campus community.

In closing, I’d like to thank the Professional Standards Committee for their

support. The opportunity to conduct ethnographic research in India last semester was

truly life-changing. I feel refreshed, enthusiastic about teaching and more committed to

my students than ever before. This experience was personally and professionally

transformative. I am deeply grateful to work at an opportunity-filled institution like

Cosumnes River College.

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Attachment A

Austerity, Devotion and Ritual: Exploring the Construction of

Spiritual Identity in Southern Indian Ashrams

By

Georgine Hodgkinson, Professor of Communication Studies

Cosumnes River College

8401 Center Parkway

Sacramento, CA 95823

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Austerity, Devotion and Ritual: Exploring the Construction of

Spiritual Identity in Southern Indian Ashrams

As communication “goes global” so do many aspects of self-perception. Increased

access to diverse communities, ideas, and other ways of knowing continue to expand awareness

and impact the impressions we ultimately form about ourselves and our identity. However,

while modern technological advancements have inspired sweeping change, the human desire for

greater personal consciousness and spiritual exploration is ancient and steadfast. In this essay,

the construction of spiritual identity is investigated. Set in three separate ashrams in Southern

India over the course of six weeks, this ethnographic research considers spiritual performances

salient to ashram life including austerity, devotion and ritual.

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Austerity, Devotion and Ritual: Exploring the Construction of

Spiritual Identity in Southern Indian Ashrams

In India, the pull is inward. In America, the pull is to run and jump, always outward, always moving.

-Interview with MT, Satyachetana Ashram, Tiruvaanamalai, India

Our impressions of ourselves have a significant impact on our ability to communicate

effectively and appropriately. Self-perception, the result of unique interpretations about

ourselves, contributes to one’s self-concept and is developed through our experiences and from

other’s reactions to us (Verderber, Verderber and Berryman-Fink, 2007). The construction of a

spiritual identity, for many people, is a critical component to the development and evolution of

self-concept (Wood, pp. 43-71). It can also be the impetus for a fascinating journey, one that

explores foreign spaces and practices, as it has with this paper.

The lure of Indian mysticism is strong and ancient; Western curiosity with this country’s

exotic traditions has pulled at imaginations for millennia. One reason for this is due to the

principles of tolerance promoted in the fundamental practices of Hinduism. Its religious tenants

have welcomed a diversity of spiritual seekers. Sen suggests that this is the result of an

“overarching liberality as being part and parcel of the basic Hindu approach … [in Hinduism]

The important thing about a man is his dharma [roughly the personal basis of his behavior], not

necessarily his religion” (p. 46). I am no exception to the pull of Eastern spirituality. The

intrigue of India as local for spiritual exploration has always intrigued me. And so, in December

of 2011, I left for Bangalore, India. I spent six weeks at three different ashrams, all of which

were located in the south of India: Amritapuri Ashram in Kerala; Satyachetana Ashram in

Tiruvannamalai; and Sri Aurobindo’s Ashram in Pondicherry. At each location I functioned as a

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participant-observer. I collected observational fieldnotes, interview data and personal reflections

while involving myself in ashram life. This ethnographic essay resulted from my journey.

In the July/October 2004 issue of Text and Performance Quarterly, guest editors Fredrick

Corey and Thomas Nakayama explain that “religion is, in intricate and complex ways, a grand

performance, a call to embody, believe, and enact a preconceived text for the sake of an

audience” (p. 209). In this paper I explore the way spiritual performances of ashramites

complement this idea and contribute to ashramites’ self-perceptions. Through personal and

public discourse, multiple elements of spiritual engagement are explored.

There are thousands of Ashrams in India. Many support schools, homeless shelters for

women and children, holistic health centers, kitchens that feed the poor, and other philanthropic

endeavors. They are also home to spiritual seekers from around the world. An ashram is a

spiritual community designed to support one’s sadhana (a number of spiritual practices and

austerities which lead to “correct living”). In recent years, Ashrams have become a site of

increased interest to Westerners.

Perhaps this is not a surprise given the shifting attitudes regarding organized religion in

the United States. While church attendance is down, and many Americans no longer consider

themselves “religious,” a majority do recognize a need to develop their inner life (MacDonald,

2008). ABC’s World News Tonight stated, “as many as 60% of Americans have turned to some

form of mind-body-spirit work, such as yoga, meditation or tai-chi, in search of well-being”

(Winston, 2006, p.9). Sullivan explores reasons for this shift in his article The Forgotten Jesus.

(2012). He explains that while the American “thirst for God is still there,” the “need for new

questioning—of Christian institutions as well as ideas and priorities—is as real as the crisis is

deep” (p. 29). He suggests that the growing rejection of Christianity in particular and organized

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religion in general, is the result of a severe lack in moral authority from church leaders coupled

with US politicization of Christian faith.

Although limited, there is some academic research published on Ashrams (see, for

example, Halligan, F, 2004; Skaria, 2002; Wilson, 1985). However, these studies printed in

psychology or religious studies journals focus primarily on therapeutic impacts and specific

teachings. Research more closely related to the interests of this proposed study include

ethnographies of spiritual spaces other than Ashrams (Ganiel & Mitchell, 2006; Pratt, 2000;

Wichroski; 1996), the connection between biography and ethnography in the context of Eastern

spiritual transformation (Raj, 2009), and ethnographies that explore religious identity from the

perspective of Catholics in India (Schmalz, 2001; Wilks, 2006).

Austerity

What is it about ashram life that lures the westerner from the comfort and safety of

home? Preparing for my journey to India I felt mixed: enthusiastic and reticent. I knew that life

at an ashram, while full of compelling spiritual practice and ritual, is also austere. My

imaginings about ashram existence were intellectually attractive, but would I have the ability to

engage this life earnestly? What would happen when forced to look inside and explore the depths

of existential angst that churn beyond the safety of my thinking? Russell explores these

contradictions in his autoethnography which chronicles a pilgrimage to a shrine of healing in

northern New Mexico. He writes, “Ritual healing was a fascinating possibility, but it was a

resistant subject of inquiry…The trouble was neither in the topic nor in the density of the

material. It was in me. I was reticent to engage the question of healing in my own experience”

(p. 235).

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The question of austerity is central to ashram life. At each of the ashrams I visited,

accommodations were sparse. A typical room at an ashram includes little to no furniture. It is a

small tiled space with a bathroom/shower attached or down a communal hall. At Amritapuri

Ashram in Kerala, for example, there are no beds, mirrors or furniture of any kind in the rooms.

I rented a mat and a sheet to make sleeping on the tile floor bearable.

Fieldnotes, 12/28/12, Observation, Check-in at Amritapuri Ashram

At the registration counter, I hand over my passport and receive a room key. I must look nervous during this exchange because the man behind the counter assures me in a German accent that they take guests’ passports for safekeeping; they can be “locked up” in the registration office. “You should first go to the Bedding Closet,” the registration person directs. “Down the stairs and to the left. You will be able to rent sleeping things.”

For a few rupees I am loaned bedding. This consists of worn sheets, a small pillow made from rubbery foam and a vinyl matt. All items are built to last—materials that might inspire copy for pick-up truck commercials but that would never be associated with comfort. Since the Bedding Closet person doesn’t appear to speak English, I show her my room key and perform my best “where do I go?” shoulder shrug. She points and I head in the direction of my assigned dorm building, carefully pulling my suitcase with one arm and squeezing tightly rolled bedding under the other. Awkwardly, my sleeping matt trails in the dirt as I walk.

Modest clothing is also promoted. At Amitapuri I ditched my t-shirts and jeans for white cotton

pajama-like kirtas that hide female body shapes and make sitting in meditation for long periods

more comfortable. Likewise, the simplicity of ashram food reinforces the ideal of austere living.

There is no spice or bold flavors in the food since this might distract one from focusing on her

spiritual path. Talking to others during meal time is discouraged. At the ashram, delight is

found in divine and divine is found in simplicity and silence. Creature comforts, fashion and

culinary pleasure—hallmarks of daily living in the West—are minimized or stripped away

altogether.

Swami Sri Atmanada, the Guru at Satyachetana Ashram in Tiruvannamalai, discussed the

issue of austerity and spiritual practice at one of our Morning Interactions. He suggests that

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austerity is central to greater awareness, a daily goal for the spiritual seeker. If one’s aspiration

is a focus on God, austerity is vital.

Fieldnotes, 1/12/12, Interaction with Swami Sri Atmananda, Satyachetana Ashram

The yogi is one who has reached a state where he sees the benefit of practicing austerity. This requires denying himself some of the enjoyments of life, some of the physical pleasure that happens on the experiential plane. Purposefully moderating the time you wake, the type of food you eat, the amount of food you eat, the work that you do…all this brings greater awareness. That is why there is no TV in the ashram, no tea, no food with spice, and why the work we do here happens in a satvic2 environment. In this ashram, the bell rings at 4:30 to wake us up. Those who rise at this time feel joy. They are pulled. They go in for morning meditation. Once the soul knows awareness, it wants to experience awareness. However, a soul that wants to continue to sleep, you let them sleep. To knock on the door of this soul, and say “wake, up, wake up” is imposition and would be asruic.3 We ring the bell and those who are called, come. We do not pull people out of bed. Oder them to awake. No. We are seeking yogis who are sincere on their path. Austerity is practicing moderate self denial and it must come from the individual. We do not want to torture the indweller, torture the soul, as discussed in the 17th chapter of the Gita [The Bhagavad Gita]: “Austerity that is practiced with a deluded notion and is aimed at harming others and is performed with self-torture, is tamasic4 austerity.” In the ashram, we light the lamp so that the other fires can join. If you light try to light a lamp that does not have oil, does not have a wick, it will never light. This is why Gita says never to share this knowledge with some who do not practice some form of austerity. That is the proof of whether or not their lamp has oil and wick.

The austerities associated with ashram life did take some adjustment. At first, I believed

the adjustment to be one of simplification. I would “detox” from luxury and revise my

expectations regarding daily comforts—in no time this would be my new normal. The

elimination of “stuff” and distraction, I imagined, would soon turn preference given its inherent

link to spiritual practice and personal sadhana. Ironically, the austerity of ashram life felt

anything but simple. All day long for six weeks I was constantly with myself. In my experience,

2 This comes from the term “sattwa” which relates to a divine nature.3 The asuric are demons who have great powers, but they do their austerities with attachment for the purpose of gaining power. They don’t do them with any sincerity, for the purpose of spiritual awareness. There are stories in the Upanishads that the demons had all the power because they did all the tapas (spiritual practices). They performed them out of their lower nature, for the sole purpose of increasing their power. The gods, in contrast, had so much sattwa in their system that they did not have the rajas (movement energy) to perform the austerities. Ultimately, they had less power than the asuras. This theme exists in contemporary movies today: a few goodhearted fighters against the overmatched more powerful dark forces.4 This comes from the term “tamas” which relates to a deluded nature.

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the endless distractions that comprise my daily “Western” life make for a far simpler existence

when compared to the stark silence of austerity. Turner writes about this phenomenon as it

relates to ritual when he states, “In matters of religion, as of art, there are no ‘simpler’ peoples

with simpler technologies than our own. Man’s ‘imaginative’ and ‘emotional’ life is always and

everywhere rich and complex…It is not a matter of different cognitive structures, but of an

identical cognitive structure articulating wide diversities of cultural experience” (p. 3).

Adjusting to the austere nature of ashram life was sobering, but far from easy. I did

adjust and found through the process a deep respect for those who have more easily and deeply

integrated austerity into their sadhana. I also think the adjustment to austerity in an ashram

signals transition through a rite of passage. At Amritapuri Ashram, for example, hundreds of

spiritual seekers would arrive (and leave) by taxi each day. Wearing distinctly western garb

upon arrival, they would check in and change into (mostly) white kirtas and saris, clothing that

symbolizes spiritual purity and respect for the Guru. As Turner explains, “luminal entities…may

be represented as possessing nothing…It is as though they are being reduced or ground down to

a uniform condition to be fashioned anew and endowed with additional powers to enable them to

cope with their new station in life” (p. 95). Embracing austerity is an early a rite of passage for

ashram neophytes; it denotes movement from secular life into sacred life and supports

membership in Turner’s notion of communitas (p. 96).

Devotion

Shared devotion to the guru and spiritual practices are important to the sense of ashram

community, an ashramite’s construction of a spiritual identity and to one’s sadhana. However,

the ashramites I interviewed varied in their descriptions of devotion to the guru, as well as in the

way they described their devotion to spiritual progress and practice.

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Some of the ashramites I interviewed spoke enthusiastically about their deep love for

their guru. They also shared an intention to continue as, or someday become, a permanent

ashram resident. For example, one man I spoke to who had recently arrived at the Amritapuri

Ashram expressed the personal connection he felt for Amma, and his intention to stay at

Amritapuri permanently. His story of devotion seemed synonymous with falling in love:

Fieldnotes, 1/1/12, Interview with Seva Manager, Amritapuri Ashram

“How long have you been here?” I ask. “Two weeks and I’m not leaving,” the twenty-something Canadian tells me with a smile. “I met her [Amma] for the first time five months ago and I knew. I just fell,” he explains. His co-worker, whose French accent and deep set brown eyes make me flash to the Seine in Paris adds, “Yes he came to Amma fast. But sometimes she just pulls you in like that.” The Seva Manager continues, “She’s the perfect master. She’s so big. So powerful. But thankfully, also so loving. It’s sort of like being an ant on an elephant.”

The experience of being “swept away by…,” “deeply devoted to…,” and “having a

profound connection with…” the guru, were common in the interviews I had with ashramites

who were permanent residents, or expressed desire to be a permanent resident, of the ashram.

Linguistically, the relationship between seeker and guru is grounded in devotion; a seeker who is

pledged to a particular guru is referred to as a “devotee.”

At Satyachetana Ashram, VP, a married woman in her thirties who lives half the year at

the ashram and the other half in Napa, California, shared with me that her spiritual journey

started when she was in high school. While she felt some spiritual awakening as a teenager, it

wasn’t until she met her guru years later that she understood the role of the guru in her spiritual

journey. Not only did VP share deep devotional feelings, she also explained that her life’s

purpose, and significant life experiences (such as meeting her husband), are all connected to her

relationship with Swami Sri Atmananda (aka Swamiji).

Fieldnotes 1/21/12, Interview with VP, Satyachetana Ashram“When I was sixteen I took an English course with an amazing teacher. She had us read Siddartha by Herman Hess and another text by Joseph Campbell. She also got fired for being

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such a radical, but that’s another story. I was completely inspired by her. And, that was the beginning of my spiritual awakening. That year my best friend and I started working to find out everything we could about God. We felt like something important was out there for us to figure out. We talked to priests and spiritual people and atheists; anyone who would talk to us about the topic and then we wrote a paper called Love and Truth. We were only seventeen but this carried me for the next few years. I really felt like I was put on this earth to manifest divine. Even at this young age….

I was most myself in nature. I road mountain bikes and I became a ski bum. I skied hard. Crazy. When I was skiing I could feel it. This force. And when I didn’t feel it, I knew something was off. I had to be more careful. That’s how I met ZD [her husband]. We were ski buddies. Friends for two years before we got romantically involved.

Well, one night after a little too much wine, we found ourselves holding hands. A few nights later we were at a concert. And then I had this unbelievable experience. I looked into the crowd and instead of people or any one person, I just saw a beam of light. Everything else around it faded into grey. All I knew was that I had to connect with this light. And I also thought, oh no, what am I going to tell Tom [AKA ZD] when I leave to find out who or what this is. And then I realized, it was Tom. I told him that night, I’m going to be your wife. And he said, ‘I know. I’ve known since the first night I met you.’” [She smiles at the memory]

“So when did you meet Swamiji?” I ask.

“First, I should tell you that I continued to have this strong pull towards something spiritual I did not understand. I saw a lot of spiritual teachers talk. I even went to San Ramon to get a hug from Amma. But it all seemed silly to me. I knew in my core that I wanted to meet my fullest potential on Earth, and so far I wasn’t convinced there was anyone out there to help me on this journey.

I also struggled after ZD and I first got married. Before this we had traveled. Lived in France. Skied in these amazing places and now we had come back to my home town, Napa, because ZD started working with my Father. I had a house. A dog. I was a housewife. And I cried a lot. At this time I was having these experiences where Mother Earth was crying out. No, screaming through me. But still, I hadn’t met anyone who I thought could teach me how to manifest God, manifest divine, serve Mother divine. This was all language that I was using before meeting Swamiji.

Then I got in a car accident. I was rear-ended, and I was referred to DS. Maybe you’ve heard of him? We would talk about how I was feeling during my appointments and eventually I shared I was struggling with some of the things I have just shared. He said, I have someone I think you should meet. I said no way. I am not interested in some Indian Guru. This went on for six months and finally he gave the materials for the Introductory Course (A class Swamiji has taught multiple times over the years). This was in 2003. As soon as I started reading his words, I knew. I told ZD I’m going to LA next week to attend the advance course. Nothing would have stopped me.”

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“How did ZD respond?” I ask.

“As soon as he read what I did, he was amazed. He came with me to LA. And that was it. We knew. This was the teacher we needed to help us manifest divine here on earth. We became devotees and we took a vow of celibacy. It was what I had been searching for my whole life.

I knew that I didn’t want children. I wasn’t born with that thing inside of most women that makes them want to have kids. And even before we were married, we knew our marriage wouldn’t look like other people’s. Even then we would say we wanted our lives and our marriage to exist for a divine purpose.”

Not all of the ashramites I interviewed during this ethnography expressed the kind of

deep devotion to the guru, or commitment to spiritual progress, that is illustrated in the fieldnotes

offered above. This was especially true at Amritapuri Ashram, which housed thousands of

visitors. The variation in devotion is connected to the multiplicity of reasons that visitors gave

me when I asked them about the reason(s) for their visit. For example, some of the explanations

that non-permanent ashramites gave when I asked, “What brought you to Amritapuri Ashram”

included, “a friend recommended this ashram,” “I have always been curious about Amma and

since I was traveling in India…” and “my spiritual teacher thought I would benefit from time

here…”

One of the ashramites I interviewed at Amritapuri even expressed some confusion over

ashram life and didn’t seem to know much about the guru or her teachings. RW, who I met in

the darshan5 line at on New Year’s Eve, told me that he had just arrived earlier that day. He is a

45 year old music producer from Vancouver and made the trip to Amritapuri after a friend

“suggested he visit Amma’s Ashram.”

Fieldnotes, 12/31/11, Interview with RW from Vancouver, Amritapuri Ashram

I ask RW, “What brought you to Amritapuri Ashram?”

“This is my first time in an ashram. I started in Goa. I came to India to attend a friend’s wedding. Then I met some friends and we rented a house because we wanted to attend this

5 To receive darshan is to receive a hug from Amma.

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really amazing music festival. I’ve been in India about a month but this is my first day at the Ashram.”

I follow-up by asking, “What brought you to Amma’s, to this spiritual place?”

“I am spiritual but I do not have a particular practice or religion that I follow. A friend told me that while I was in the South of India, I had to come and stay at Amma’s Ashram. So far the only thing I’ve really done is sign-up for seva. I’ve been traveling for a month and can’t wait to do something that makes me feel [he pauses, thoughtfully]…useful. At 7:30am tomorrow morning I’m signed up to help in the organic garden.”

I ask, “How do you like the first day of your Ashram experience?”

“I’m still trying to figure all this out. Some things I like. Some things I’m not so sure of. I have experienced some definite cultural differences too—the line cutting and overall sense of chaos seems endemic to India, though. I was talking to a friend about how hard it is to get clear information from people. She says the rule of thumb is to ask three different Indians, if you get three different answers, you have to ask a fourth.”

As we waited in line together, he asked me questions about yoga classes offered at the ashram,

chanting and meditation times, and about Amma’s teachings. I shared some of the things I knew

about Amma’s history and suggested that he attend one of the daily orientations. The next day as

I was walking back to the ashram after a trip into the nearby village, I ran into RW. He was

alone and seemed happy to see me. He was also eager to discuss his darshan experience:

Fieldnotes, 1/1/12, follow-up with RW from Vancouver, Amritapuri Ashram

“How are you?” I ask.

“Fine,” he responds, “but I didn’t really have any big reaction to darshan last night. And I’ve been thinking about that. [He seems slightly disappointed]. Maybe there’s a little bit of Amma in all of us already? Yeah, I think I’m going to move on soon. I’m more interested in experiencing the outdoors of this area—I really want to do a backwater trip.”

Likewise, another ashramite I interviewed told me that the inexpensive lodging was what

motivated him to “check out Amma’s.” For these ashramites, travel in India, either to explore

India following attendance of a friend’s wedding or as a backpacker, took precedence over some

other spiritual motivation to visit Amritapuri. The result of this motivation was, comparatively

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speaking, a lack of expressed devotional or spiritual intention. As Lozanski and Beres explain in

their ethnographic discussion of seasonal workers and backpackers, the character of the traveler

is “decentered.” Since Amritapuri Ashram is open to all seekers, it attracts a diverse foreign

audience. One result is that some guests are more interested in taking advantage of the low-

budget accommodations than the spiritual practices. Given that ashramites often share a “foreign

identity,” in addition to a spiritual identity, and that “participation in independent travel,…is

open to anyone with appropriate dress, behavior, or associates” (p. 111) it is easy for an

independent traveler to stay at a large ashram6 such as Amritapuri in the name of low-cost

refuge.

At an ashram, devotion also takes the shape of expected practices. In my experience,

meditation, chanting and seva (service) are common at an ashram and ashramites are expected to

participate in these devotional practices daily. At Satyachetana Ashram, we were even given

“karma free” money at the end of the month based on the number of times we attended morning

meditation, chanting, interactions with Swami Sri Atmananda, and other regular ashram

activities.

Fieldnotes, 1/26/12, Conversation with TR, Satyachetana AshramThis morning TR handed out envelopes to all of the ashramites. Mine had my name on it and inside was 100 rupees. Confused, I asked her to explain why she was giving me this money. She said, “Swamiji gives us money every month. It is our allowance. I keep track of everybody’s attendance at morning meditation, chanting—everything. At the end of the month, he gives you rupees to reward your spiritual work.”

The best thing about this money is that it has no karma since it comes from Swamiji. It is intended for you to spend on yourself. “Can I use it to pay you for those electronic interaction files I was asking you about?” I inquire. “Yes!” she answers approvingly. “That is perfect. When you use this money to buy something for yourself that is of a spiritual nature that is the best choice of all.”

6 This was not the case at Satyachetana, a much smaller ashram. At this site ashramites all knew each other by name. It would be more difficult for an independent traveler, who was not particularly interested in spiritual practice, to gain access or be anonymous at a small ashram.

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In addition to participating in the spiritual activities associated with life in an ashram,

every ashramite is expected to perform seva. Ashramites volunteer as cook, or sweeper of floors,

or compost sorter, or bed sheet washer—any job you can think of--since much of the work at an

Ashram is performed by volunteers as seva.

At Satyachetana Ashram and The Mother’s Ashram seva-related tasks varied and

volunteer requests were made somewhat informally by the permanent ashramites. For example,

at Satyachetana Ashram, SK, who manages the Satyachetana newsletter and other administrative

tasks, asked me if I would contribute an article about my experiences at the ashram. At

Amritupuri Ashram, however, seva assignment is more formal; there is a “seva assignment

office” guests are directed to upon arrival. At this ashram, my seva took the form of “line

monitor” at an eatery called The Western Canteen.

Field notes, 1/2/11, Seva Experience, Amritapuri Ashram

This morning I performed my assigned seva: queue (line) director at the Western Canteen. Unlike all the other eatery locations which serve food cafeteria style, The Western Canteen takes individual orders for a variety of dishes and is the busiest eatery at the Ashram. As directed, I arrive five minutes early for my seva “training.” It includes the following direction: “your job is to keep the queue organized and this section clear.” My trainer, a western women who is finishing the 7am-9am queue director shift, points to a pathway from the kitchen area, past the counter, and in front of the queue. “Sometimes, people in the line get distracted and can’t clearly see when the order-takers are ready, so you just tell them ‘Om Namo Shivaya’ (a phrase that substitutes for “hi,” “bye,” “thank you,” “excuse me” and other simple acknowledgments) and point them to the person at the counter (which included four women, standing elbow to elbow) that is free. If the queue starts to get really long, start asking people to get their money out before the go to place their order—that speeds things up.”

“How has your morning gone?” I ask, in an attempt to prepare for the next two hours.

“Fine,” she answers. “But some people are really grumpy. I just smile at them and that seems to help. Oh, also, your job is to make sure the Indians don’t cut in front of the line. The only people we let cut in front are mothers with small children and people who are mentally ill.” I look at her, a little uncertain about this last demographic group. “Oh don’t worry,” she says, “you’ll be able to tell.” “Really?” I think to myself.

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I start out with what I consider a low-key, Amma-loving approach to queue direction. Smiles, sweet “Om Namo Shivaya’s,” and the endearing Indian head wiggle are my initial strategies. This lasts for approximately ten minutes, at which point the women working the counter start to glare at me. The chaos is building. The queue is turning into a mass. People are starting to complain about the others who are cutting in front of them. I realize this is not the time for my previously imagined performance of angelic kindness, and start to take control. My new persona? Spiritual bouncer. I direct the relentless line-cutters—Indians and Westerners--to the end of the queue with a firm point of my finger and a look that says, “I mean business.” I position my body, squarely, at the threshold which leads to the counter and only allow respecters of the queue to pass my imagined sumo-wrestler mass. At last, a sense of orderliness pervades. The line cutters know I mean business and resign themselves to the back of the line or leave for another food venue altogether. The counter women smile at me with approval. I breathe in sweet success and hope that all my spiritual challenges will be so easily mastered. Doubtful.

Participation in chanting and meditation, important aspects of one’s sadhana, can also be

understood within a devotional framework. In this case, devotion is demonstrated by showing

up consistently and participating earnestly. If an ashramite commits to this facet of devotion, it

is believed that this seeker will reap spiritual benefit. For example, “greater awareness,

equanimity and God-consciousness” were linked to these devotional practices in interactions

given by Swami Sri Atmananda at Satyachetana Ashram.

The word “chant” comes from the Latin word “cantare” which means “to sing.” At the

ashrams I visited, specific chants accompanied different times and activates throughout the day.

For example, at Stayachetana Ashram, different verses from the Bhagavad Gita were chanted

before each meal: Chapter 15 before breakfast; Chapter 12 before lunch; and Chapter 17 before

dinner. After the 4:30am morning bell ashramites were expected to shower and be in the

Meditation Hall by 5am where chanting “1,000 Names of Vishnu” started each day. Dutifully, I

participated in the hour-long exercise, doing my best to sing the difficult Sanskrit words in the

chanting book given to me upon arrival at Satyachetana. But I wondered, “Would chant make a

difference for me?” I’m not a “devotee.” I’m not a follower of Lord Vishnu. I’m not even able

to pronounce all the names listed in my chanting book.

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One day after morning practice, I shared my concerns with a fellow ashramite. He

encouraged me not to worry. “Regardless of experience or guru relationship,” he assured me

“the benefits of chanting are attainable by all who practice.”

Fieldnotes, 1/18/12, Conversation with SR

“We chant every day,” I say, “and most often, I feel clearer afterwards. But I’m not sure I understand all the reasons, and potential spiritual benefits, associated with the practice of chanting, especially for someone like me who is not a devotee.”

He answers, “Chanting the 1,000 names of Vishnu doesn’t require one to be a devotee of Vishnu, or even know much about Vishnu. The names themselves have been chanted for a millennia and the mere mention of the names, even absent any cognitive devotional belief, calls down the force which purifies the psychic and allows for spiritual progression. Presumably, for those who are a Vishnu devotee, this morning chant is more powerful. But it can have impact on your system too; you still get the benefit of the psychic energy the chant evokes.”

Chanting is an integral part of many religious practices and cultural histories. People chant in

churches, mosques and temples as well as in ashrams. Something magical can happen when we

come together and chant melodies and words that have been honored for centuries. Gass and

Brehony (1999) explain that,

Chants serve many purposes: telling stories such as the mythic tale of Lord Rama

and Sita in the great Indian Epic the Ramayana, casting out disease in the

healing chants of the Siberian shaman, [and] instructing young family

members in the proper patterns for fine Kashmiri carpets…Chant is used to

quiet the mind, open the heart, uplift the spirit, and mourn the dead…Chant is

signing our prayers. Chant is vocal meditation. Chant is breath made audible in

tone. Chant is ‘discovering spirit in sound.’ In many traditions,

chant is also a devotional practice—a form of heartfelt prayer. We call out to

God, we honor God, we thank, we beseech, we invoke, we bow, we bless,

we celebrate. (pp. 11-17).

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While my personal experience chanting each day varied—some days it made me feel tired,

others energized--it did seem to clear my “monkey mind.” This result was especially helpful in

preparing me for another daily devotional practice: meditation.

There are many forms of meditation, just as there are many paths up the mountain. From

the Sufi whirling dervishes to the silent Quaker prayer circle, a multitude of religious and

spiritual traditions have encouraged training the human system to access the inner-awareness that

exits at the core of all beings. However, depending upon the spiritual tradition from which the

type of mediation has originated, additional principles apply. While the many practices of

meditation share, at their core, more similarities than differences, they are flavored with cultural

nuance. For example, Vedantic meditation focuses on Self-inquiry since, “the same

consciousness that resides at the core of our being pervades the entire universe…to know

ourselves is to know God and become one with all” (Frawley, 2000, p 4; also see: Ramana

Maharishi, 2005). In contrast, many forms of Buddhist meditation focus on “nothingness” and

“impermanence.” In this tradition, “mindfulness” helps the seeker reach “intense clarity and

unwavering stability” (Dalai Lama, 2006, p. 103). Transcendentalism, yet another tradition,

focuses on linking with the guru and thus, provides the seeker the opportunity to transcend one’s

personal attributes so that he may become established in God consciousness. (Adi Da Samraj,

2007).

In the same conversation I had about chanting, the topic of meditation was discussed.

Fieldnotes, 1/18/12, Conversation with SR, Satyachetana Ashram

“The problem with our understanding of meditation presently in the West,” he says, “and honestly in most of India, is that it is enormously over-simplified. Meditation is used as a catch-all phrase which can apply equally to someone in traffic taking a ‘deep calm meditative breath’ as it could to the highest yogi sitting alone for a month in the Himalayas transcending all of his human system and merging with divine.

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To make this clearer, think of the different gunas on a spectrum from tamas (unconsciousness) to rajas (active, but fully identified) to sattwa (wise, but still somewhat identified) to the ultimate state of acting beyond the gunas (wise but acting without attachment to outcome, identification with process, or identification to doership).

Starting with tamasic meditation, it wouldn’t be much because anything tamasic is essentially unconscious. At most, tamasic meditation might be the human system mumbling the words, but essentially unconscious to what they’re doing or anything approaching wisdom, or beyond.

Rajasic meditation is meditation that is active and where the human system identifies with what they are doing. It is progress beyond tamas because now there is consciousness around what is being done, but it is not the highest state as it still contains total identification with the human system as the doer. This meditator is also attached to the outcome. He would leave the meditation hall and say something like, ‘I was great today! I meditated 40 minutes! What a great being am I!

A satvic meditator is meditating from a higher place which involves more wisdom around both the technique of meditation (‘how to’ meditate) but more significantly, an understanding at least at the level of the mental, that the meditation is happening through them. The satvic meditator knows that they are the state of awareness which is both present in the activity and beyond the activity. The beauty of satvic meditation is that the system has now gone beyond the unconsciousness of tamas, the total identification of rajas, to a place of more wisdom and discrimination--their ultimate nature. The great danger here is that the satvic wisdom feeds the shadow ego and it looks back at how many other systems it has passed and gets identified with the understanding of ultimate reality as though it was the author-discoverer of the ultimate reality. These satvic egos you will know because they become unbearable quickly [He laughs out loud].

At the end of the day, what do I think about meditation? The same thing I think about all of these spiritual practices we do [at Stayachetana]: That the people who get it tend almost always to be the most humble. You can’t really know it and not be completely humbled by it.”

At Satyachetana Ashram we practiced two primary types of meditation daily: “silent” and

“World Peace Meditation.” Both are vedantic in nature and similar to other types of meditations

I encountered at other ashrams. They are also seemed geared for the “satvic” meditator since

they are designed to take a seeker deeper into the psychic. As VJ, a full-time resident at

Satyachetana Ashram, explained about her meditation experiences, “on the physical, mental, and

emotional planes you can know divine, but in the psychic you can have the experience of being

divine.”

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Meditation, like chanting, supports practices of devotion and personal sadhana; a critical

component of life in an ashram. Taken together, devotional practices are sure to increase

awareness of one’s human system. I found these devotional aspects of ashram life to be mixed:

rewarding and challenging; enlightening and confusing; enjoyable and frustrating…given the

state of my own human system at any given time or on any particular day. In the end, I believe

they were valuable in deepening understanding of the spiritual performance and of my own

human system. The topic of “greater system awareness” was common in my informal

conversations with ashramites, in my interview and fieldnotes, and in “interactions” given by

teachers and gurus at the ashrams I visited.

Fieldnotes, 1/14/12, Interaction with Swami Sri Atmanada, “Sattwa, Rajas, and Tamas: The Play of the Gunas” (followed v. 528-533 in Gita).

Understanding the play of the gunas, the function of sattwa, rajas and tamas, are critical to achieving greater consciousness. These gunas control the outer life. They are the laws of nature. They result from the innate tendencies of our human systems. The outer life is affected by desire and stored karmas7, also, they are a reflection of our inner state. However, the inner life is affected primarily by the individual. It is even possible to finish these karmas in one lifetime so that the jiva8 can complete his destiny and then march on his upward journey. That is why the true yogi is someone who constantly aspires to a higher state of awareness. And, the higher state of awareness is intrinsically linked to a higher state of experience. This is automatic: higher awareness results in expanded experience.

To achieve this higher state, Chapter 14 of the Gita explains to us the function of the gunas: sattwa, rajas, and tamas. Sattwa overpowers rajas and tamas. It should be the nucleus, the root of every human being. If a person is sattwic in nature, this means that he has sattwa and rajas in the vital and in mental. Likewise, if a person has a rajasic nature there is restlessness, constant movement, in his mental and vital. The same goes for tamas, only the human system is filled with delusion and tends toward lethargy. So sattwa is the nature to which we aspire. It is the universal love nature. It inspires expansion and growth.

The awareness we have attained affects the expansion of experience. How much wealth you acquire, the success you achieve, depends on many factors including some over which you have no control. Prikriti’s force, destiny, and karma are powerful. The only thing we can do to affect

7 Karma in this excerpt is simplified. There are actually three kinds of karmas: drud, or fixed karma; drud-adrud, or fixed and unfixed karma; and adrud karma, or karma that is not fixed. (source?)8 Jiva represents the individual soul in contrast to para mata, which represents the collective soul. (source?)

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experiential outcomes is to expand awareness; as awareness expands, experience automatically expands.

Since sattwa expands awareness, and awareness leads to more experience, it is really sattwa that leads to greater control over matter. Sattwa sustains. It is stable. It is all-pervading. It holds the universe together. And so, it is always challenged by rajas and tamas.

Let me tell you a story of my family. I grew up in a large family. We were seven children; I had six sisters. When I was a young boy, my father appeared very powerful to me. He controlled people with his money. He was always moving. When he got angry, he smashed things. But my mother, who had no access to his money or any material things had the courage to defy my father’s will. After he would have a rage, she would look at him in a way that made him quiet, that made him leave the house. Always, she was peaceful. One day I asked her, “Why are you not afraid of him?” She said to me, “He is a child. That is why he angers so easily. Your father is a rajasic person and rajasic people are restless. I am sattwic. Sattwic people are calm.”

In our individual life, these three gunatic forces manifest daily. In a 24 hour period, we experience a rajas, sattwa, and tamas phase. Our challenge is to bring our individual cycle into harmony with the universal cycle. 96 minutes prior to sunrise, the universal sattwa cycle begins. This is the Brahma Muhurta, “The time when the gods awake.” Life starts again; the night flowers bloom. When we do yoga, we must try to align with the rising sattwa. Regulating life in this way naturally brings joy and reduces struggle.

When a person consciously engages sadhana, they should begin by evaluating their own system. What time do you typically wake up? How far are you from this natural cycle? Effort to align with the start of universal sattwa will help drive away tamas and rajas.

How do you feel when they first wake up? Do you easily fall back to sleep? Is it difficult to pull yourself from bed? Or, do you instantly think of work? Are you eager to get on with your professional obligations? The first question indicates a tamasic system; the later, a rajastic system. If however, you awake approximately an hour and a half before sunrise and your system is calm and you have clarity, that is sattwa. Also, since we all shift from one guna to another throughout the day, one should note the amount of time spent in each cycle. Ask: which state is my predominate state?

…This knowledge I am giving you is power. Once you understand and begin to regulate your system, you will be able to manifest divine in prakriti. This knowledge brings us back to our natural state.

Even though I am the guru, I have a human system that must be tracked. That is why each day I come into the meditation hall first thing and I write in my diary the state of my system [Swamiji reaches for a bright blue notebook, it’s cover decorated with a picture of Lord Krishna and lets it fall open before him]. I wrote on January 9, “System is in state of high Ascension.” [He flips a few pages] “Ah, but on January 11 I wrote, “O, Lord, there is a tremendous infusion of tamas. Four times I try to get up this morning. Had to take a cold shower to shake the tamas from my system.” [shuts book and looks, once again at us who sit around him in the circular hall]. It

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comes to me in my sleep. Someone was doing something very tamasic. And when it happens in the Asrhram, especially with a devotee that it is close to me, that energy comes directly to me. Tamas or rajas tends to go to the most expanded vessel. If a person in your family has a very bad day, and they are filled with delusion or misery when they come home, it is most likely to be directed at the family member with the most expansion; the person with the most room in their cup.

Therefore, the yogi must understand their system and have mind control and sense control for their own attainment. In addition, they need transmission from a true seer. In order for this to occur, they need solitude. That is why some people come to the ashram. If you do all of these things I have described every day for 100 days, it will be like a lightening strike! That is why it is called enlightenment.

If you are a true yogi, this will happen to you. And so to all of you here, who I know are yogis, I advise you to save your money. [He laughs]. Because once that happens, once you transcend the gunas, you will not be able to do your individualistic work; operate in the material world like you do now. Sattwa is not good for getting things done.

All of these devotional practices—wearing the mantel of “devotee,” seva, meditation,

chanting—are ideally performed in a state of open-hearted sacrifice. The satvic orientation, “I

perform these devotional practices from the ‘universal love nature,’ aligns the performance

experience with the opportunity for expanded awareness.” For the most advanced spiritual

seekers (yogis), it is believed that the prompting, “I perform…” eventually falls away, and all

experience flows naturally from the universal. Even though this seeker will simultaneously

manage their human system (how can one not?), they are no longer identified with the gunatic

implications of their individuality. Essentially, they move beyond the gunas and their

experience, and subsequent awareness, exists in the service of universal love. This is why

Swami Sri Atmananda says, “sattwa is not good for getting things done.” It is not that a spiritual

seeker becomes in some way disabled; on the contrary, they will engage life with sincere

dedication. Whatever “life” means however, it will not be their/my ego-driven life but rather,

life destined to manifest divine for the purposes of serving the universal. Living a satvic life is

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not likely to produce individual productivity, instead it directs towards universal sacrifice and

service—the potential of existence beyond the play of the gunas.

Ritual

Turner (2011) speaks of two primary types of liminal ritual. The first type is

characterized as a “ritual of status elevation,” in which the ritual subject is in some way elevated

“from a lower to higher position.” The second type, which relates to the type of ritual described

in this paper, is, “frequently found in cyclical and calendrical ritual [and] usually of a collective

kind…” (p. 167). Turner further explains that these collective, calendrical rituals “almost always

refer to large groups and quite often embrace whole societies…[and regularly] are performed at

well delineated points in the annual productive cycle, and attest to the passage from scarcity to

plenty (as at the fruits of harvest festivals)” (p. 169).

Symbolic action reinforces a world view. Ritual, one type of symbolic action, conveys

“bundles of meanings that represent public displays of culture. They are dramatic renderings…”

(Robbins, 2009, p. 134). The rituals performed in ashrams are colorful and diverse. Sometimes

the rituals in which I participated were specific to an individual ashram and its culture--an

expression of spiritual life. Other ritual performances I experienced blended community life

with ashram life and signified cyclical movement within the village or community that

surrounded the ashram. I was often captivated by the rituals in which I participated, they added

dimension to my mostly austere ashram life. Here, I will briefly describe two rituals in which I

participated: Walking Mount Arunachala and Founder’s Day at Satyachetana Ashram.

Mount Arunachala is renowned in Tiruvannamalai, India and is an important location for

many spiritual seekers. Skandananda (1995) elaborates, “The glory of the Holy Hill of

Arunachala is beyond all expression. It is a divine secret. Has not Lord Siva Himself said that

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this Hill is a very sacred place and that it would grant liberation to anyone who thinks of it?” (p.

xv). Mount Arunachala is considered to be the primal form of Lord Siva Himself, “the lingam of

light and joy.” (p. xvi) For years, teachings have been given on this mountain from the great

contemporary sages.

Every month when the moon is full an estimated 400,000 circle the base of this mountain.

Many believe that Arunachala is loaded with shakti (energy). It is referred to as the “Holy Hill”

believed to be the embodiment of Shiva9. Most walk barefoot around the nine-mile road called

“Girivalam” which encircles the mountain. The route is home to many beautiful temples and

ashrams, including the well-known Ramana Maharishi Ashram and Satyachetana Ashram, where

I stay.

Fieldnotes, 1/8/12, Observation, A Walk Around Mount Arunachala

We start our adventure at 5:30pm, about an hour before the sun sets, in our kirtis, loose pants and (for me), sneakers (the sign of a tender-footed westerner). It is winter time in Tiruvannamalai, but still very hot. One of the Ashramites says Tiruvannamalai has three temperatures, “hot, hotter, hottest.” If this is winter, that analysis hits the mark.

Every inch of the street is lined on both sides. Carts selling dates or coconuts or fried vegetable dumplings bubbling away in pots of grease or tomatoes or potatoes or things-you-eat-for-which-I-have-no-name weave between pre-existing cement-walled shops and merchants who have spread their wares on a big plastic tarp. (If Shiva likes tchotchkes he must be ecstatic when the moon is full).

As the sun sets, the crowd increases. The walkers are beautiful in their colorful saris and dotis. Fathers carry small children on their shoulders. Teenage boys lope along, their arms happily resting on the frame of their friends. Old women are supported by their lovely adult daughters. Smiles, bright eyes, and genuine delight appear on the faces of all involved.

As we walk past temples and ashrams, we hear the sounds of chanting. Chanting rhythms are connected to specific swamis so the ancient, pedantic sounds vary along the way. The crowds thicken in front of each shrine, a place that has some representation of divine and holds the power created by the many who have worshipped there before. One of my companions remarks that the shines, with all their adornments and ecstatic worshipers, look like karmic slot machines. And he is right. The chanting and ringing bells are somehow reminiscent of casino sounds: a

9 Lord of destruction; destroyer of, amongst other things, the ego.

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cacophony of garbled voices and bells. The worshipers, too, resemble the dedicated gambler, so certain that just one more offering will change their luck. And so they plunk, plunk, plunk their rupees into divine offering slots, and pray with all their might for some relief from their burdens.

As we near the heart of Tiruvannamalai the streets narrow. I feel the heat of fellow walkers as we move, our bodies squeezing tightly together, a conjoined mass. In the center of the city sits an ancient Vishnu temple. Arunachalehvara Temple dates back to the 11th century and covers 25 acres. It has nine imposing towers and is one of the largest temple complexes in India. The line of people to enter the temple, which borders the street we walk, is endless.

In addition to the commerce, shrines, and bodies, we also witnessed some fabulous oddities. A few highlights: First, the snake charmer--two cobras dance to her flute. Second, the Guinea Pig fortune teller. At the urging of a self-proclaimed psychic, the guinea pig selects a tarot card to be used in predicting his customer’s future. A third favorite is a cow with five legs. No kidding: a fifth leg, adorned with two hooves, protrudes from the beast’s shoulder blade. My walk around Mount Arunachala? Memorable, to say the least.

Another ritualized event in which I participated was Founder’s Day. At Satyachetana,

Founder’s Day 2012 commemorated 16 years since the “birth” of the ashram.   To honor the

ashram, and its guru, a Guru Puja10 was held. I was told that the Guru Puja is a very “traditional

ritual.” On this Founder’s Day, a Hindu priest officiates the Guru Puja which takes place around

a raging fire. Long beautiful flower strands and bouquets decorate the ashram grounds while

elaborate, multi-colored powder designs called kolam11 decorate the ashram walk ways. The

mood, at least in the beginning, is festive and ashramites and guests wear their best “Indian party

clothes.” After many prayers and tributes, the chanting is underway.

Fieldnotes, 1/21/12, Founder’s Day Observation, Satyachetana Ashram

Preparations for Founder’s Day started last week. Benches, planter boxes, and the outside fire pit were painted bright white. Floors were scrubbed, kitchen accessories brought outside for scouring, and trash was picked up from around the ashram perimeter. Local laborers worked from sun up to sundown (and beyond). Founder’s day is part festival, part spring cleaning.

Yesterday, the decorations arrived. Ten foot tall, crape paper wrapped, wooden poles were tied together with rope erecting large frames. On top of the frames, workers strapped colorful canvas’s creating tents to shade the invitees. Banana trees were cut down and then strapped to the polls giving the tents a Jungle-Book look. Kolam are everywhere.

10 A puja is an act of showing reverence.11 In southern Indian states, such as Tamil Nadu, this art is called kolam but in the north it is referred to as rangoli.

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After regularly scheduled morning chanting and mediation, the ashram gates are opened; a sign that villagers are invited to come inside. By 9am, The Founder’s Day Puja begins. We are seated under the tents around the fire pit. A Hindu priest, and what appears to be a professional puju chanter, have been hired in to lead the event. We say prayers. We bless flowers, fruit, milk. The priest ties red and gold string around my wrist. VP whispers that, “this will protect you today.” “Protect me from what?” I wonder. “Evil spirits? The puja fire? Unstable tents?”

Microphones are used the carry the voices of the hired men and the chanting chorus so the first thing I notice is that this event is loud. Each verse of the Bhagavad Gita is chanted (which happens every day at Invocation) but now, between each verse we sing the refrain: Om Namo Bhagavate vasudevaya swahaa (the “swahaa is exaggerated to sound like “swaaaahaaaa-aaaaa”). This slows our Gita chanting progress significantly.

It is also incredibly hot. Wood burns in the fire pit—called a yajna fire--to which I have a front row seat as an honored ashramite. It is stoked by the priest with ladles of ghee and endless additions of wood. I can’t stop myself from looking at the tent ceiling above the fire. I am amazed that given the heat of the fire and the heat of the day it doesn’t ignite.

At first, we chant with energy and enthusiasm, almost frenzied in our task. But, as the hours pass, the chanting takes on an ebb and flow. Quiet and loud. Quiet and loud. The chanters tire so the puja expert exaggerates the refrain, trying to keep us motivated. I imagine I am at Raley Field, my local AAA baseball stadium when the “wave” just keeps going long after the audience has tired of the ritual.

Finally, verse 700 brings our chanting to an end. There was no time for breakfast this morning so we are hungry. Awkwardly we stand, our legs sore and tingling from too many hours of sitting cross legged, to join the villagers for a Founder’s Day community meal.

After the prayers and chanting of the Founder’s Day Guru Puja comes to a close,

villagers are invited inside of the ashram to share in a meal. This happens every year; the

celebration extends to the community and food is given away throughout the afternoon and into

the early evening. MT tells me the following day that the ashram served over 300 meals.

Fieldnotes, 1/23/12, Interview with MT, Satyachetana Ashram

I ask, “What is the significance of Founder’s Day?”

MT, who was once a Professor of Literature at an Indian University but left her teaching post to help grow Satyachetana Ashram says, “Most people think that Founder’s Day is the time to honor the guru. And it is. Just like with a birthday in India, the first thing the person does is to bathe and dress nicely so that they can show respect to their parents. Then they go to temple and

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worship so that they may have longevity. But it also has a hidden purpose—we honor the guru but it is a remembrance of our purpose on Earth.”

“How has the Founder’s Day celebration changed over the years?” I ask.

“On the first night, it was just three of us: Swamiji, a boy from the village and me. There was not even a real structure, just some walls that were falling down. No roof. No door. No windows. We slept inside on the ground. The boy pulled out weeds. Swamiji blessed milk and we drank. I slept in front of the door to keep the animals out. That was the first Founder’s Day.”

The full-moon walk around Mount Arunachala and Founder’s Day at Stayachetana

exemplify Turner’s notion of liminal ritual that is collective and of a cyclical nature. Ashramites

are encouraged to participate in calendrical rituals, even though such participation may take them

beyond the walls of the ashram.

Conclusion

One topic encountered during my stay at ashrams in Southern India relates to

methodological considerations regarding foreignness. At the ashrams I visited, there were often

more foreign, than native, temporary and permanent residents. Certainly, the more transient

ashramites I met were foreigners. The majority of people I interviewed for this research were

originally from the United States, Canada or Europe. All of the interviews were conducted in

English. While the fact that ashrams in India attract English-speaking westerners meant I could

easily communicate with many of my fellow ashramites, it also raised issues related to

foreignness I hadn’t anticipated.

This research project considered spiritual perceptions of ashramites as they relate to

salient aspects of ashram life and related spiritual practice. Exploration was supported through

shared experience with my fellow ashramites. We lived together--eating, meditating, chanting

and praying—as a group each day. However, I was also linked to many of my research subjects

because of the foreignness we shared. The western ashramites I spoke to seemed comfortable

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criticizing India and Indians because of the way foreignness united us. At times I was surprised

by the disparaging comments ashramites made about India and Indians. Fieldnotes presented

earlier in this paper include ashramite references to “Indians who refuse to wait their turn in line”

and suggest that “Indians can’t give clear information.” Interview transcripts captured numerous

derogatory comments by multiple research subjects. To some extent, my experience interviewing

foreigners in India adds legitimacy to concerns raised by Lozanski and Beres that foreign

travelers in India perpetuate colonial legacy and structural global inequality (2007).

This realization is also interesting when juxtaposed with the “yogi’s goal” of dedicating

life to open-hearted sacrifice; surrender in the service of the universal. While these comments

potentially serve to support Lozanski and Beres’ justifiable concerns regarding inequality, they

also serve to support earlier discussions in this easy on the “play of the gunas within the human

system.” Living in a spiritual community does not necessitate that every deed and word is of a

spiritual nature. On the contrary, even practiced devotees must attend to the “tamas” in their

system; a state of delusion that tends towards criticism and a disparaging nature. This

exploration on the construction of spiritual identity and ashram life reminds us that human

systems are inherently flawed, even the ones that live in ashrams.

A second issue that arose during this ethnography relates to “permission” versus

“access.” At Sri Arubindo and the Mother’s Ashram, as well as at Amritapuri Ashram, I had

“access” to the community by virtue of my “fellow ashramite” status. For research purposes this

status sufficed. Both of these ashrams were large and I was able to secure interviews, participate

in ashram activities and observe teachings with relative ease. However, at Stayachetana Ashram,

which was small in comparison, I had “permission” to conduct research.

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Upon my arrival, Swami Sri Atmanada and I spent over an hour talking about my reasons

for coming to Satyachetana Ashram. He asked multiple questions about my background and my

research interests. Subsequently, he introduced me to his guests and devotees. He also

encouraged his devotees to answer my questions, and take time to be interviewed by me, should

they feel so inclined. This endorsement from the ashram’s guru was a tremendous benefit. The

amount of data collected while at Stayachetana, especially in the form of interview and

“interaction” transcripts, exceeds that of the other two ashrams I visited.

Lozanski and Beres also note the difference between access and permission. They refer

to Dewalt and Dewalt (2002), suggesting that permission generally equates with increased rights

and cultural event admission. Since permission is most often granted through “formal

gatekeepers,” my endorsement from Swami Sri Atmananda helped pave the way to many hours

of conversation with almost all of the Stayachetana Ashram residents.

While I consider the time I spent at Satyachetana especially significant to this

ethnography, time spent at all three ashrams shed critical light on spiritual performance, a topic

important for interpersonal scholars interested in self-perception and identify construction. Each

location reinforced the elements of austerity, devotion and ritual—essential elements to life in an

ashram and the construction of a seeker’s spiritual identity.

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