The word “meditation” once struck me as synonymous with out-of-touch 1960s hippie ideals. Sitting cross-legged, eyes closed and chanting a series of “oms” seemed a process reserved for our parents’ generation of long-haired, skinny Birkenstock-clad hyper-liberals determined to eat only granola and subscribe to anything they perceived as outside of mainstream thought.
Plus, the idea of them sitting in a room with their eyes shut while unlocking “unconscious thoughts” and all of that just sounded plain loopy.
So, when one of my UCLA instructors told me about visiting the Self-Realization Fellowship Lake Shrine Center, I couldn’t help but wonder about the kinds of people I would find working and worshipping there. He told me it was a beautiful, secluded garden sanctuary, so I knew I had to go and visit it.
The Self-Realization Fellowship is a religious group that spreads the philosophies of a yogi named Paramahansa Yogananda.
Yogananda founded the Self-Realization Fellowship in 1920 to educate others about the practice of Kriya Yoga, a technique that aims to cultivate a connection to a spiritual power and bring inner peace.
Located off Sunset Boulevard, the Self-Realization Fellowship Lake Shrine Center in the Pacific Palisades is unique because it was built as a 10-acre shrine to honor not only Yogananda and Kriya Yoga students but also Mahatma Gandhi and ““ well ““ every world religion.
The Lake Shrine is a breathtaking escape, even for those not seeking spiritual enlightenment. A clear man-made lake with swans skimming the surface and koi swimming underneath, all surrounded by oversized birds of paradise and other lush tropical foliage, the Lake Shrine is a haven of natural beauty.
Among the vegetation, visitors can read placards with quotes from texts of a variety of world religions, including the Bible and the Koran. A meditation temple designed to look like a Dutch windmill is one of the center’s main attractions for the spiritually inclined.
A step inside is an escape to a completely tranquil, quiet spiritual world. Immediately, the temperature seemed to drop 10 degrees, even though the door to the shrine was open to the outside and bright, airy windows brought in streams of sunshine. Rows of chairs faced a simple altar decorated with only two modest bouquets of flowers and the portraits of six religious figures: Jesus, Krishna and a line of four influential Kriya Yoga disciples.
The religious leaders’ soft oil-painted faces seemed to look over those of us seated. A soft smile graced Krishna, as if it to say, “Relax, man. Just take it easy for a second.”
A few other tourists, with cameras slung around their necks, sat a little uncomfortably and shyly swiveled their heads around the temple, while a group of worshippers clustered at the front of the temple.
I decided to close my eyes. I remembered sitting in on a meditation class with my parents, uncomfortable with remaining in a room so full of quiet for an entire 20 minutes.
One move and I feared breaking the tranquility of those around me, who seemed completely focused and undisturbed.
There was something even physically painful about preventing my mind from wandering to mental to-do lists or anxieties. By the end of the 20 minutes, I wanted to dart out of the class, run around and scream.
But when I closed my eyes inside the temple, I actually felt calm. Thoughts streamed through my head, one after another, but I didn’t stay focused on just one idea or one worry. The paper I had to write, what my ex-boyfriend might be doing with other girls, and whether I’d find an apartment to live in next year all seemed like they were concerns too miniscule to spend time with.
How air filled my lungs and then left, how my fingers folded when I placed them in my lap, how my eyes shifted inside my sockets, how my throat constricted as I swallowed, and how my feet shifted inside my shoes seemed thoughts worthy of greater concentration.
My brain wandered in all different directions and what felt most amazing was that I didn’t try to control those thoughts.
My neurotic “why-aren’t-you-doing-your-homework” self didn’t take the steering wheel to bring this far calmer “let-it-be” self to shore. Instead, my head was replaced with a giant worry-blocking balloon so I could simply float.
Upon leaving the temple, I noticed a giant wooden box with two slats, one labeled “Questions for Satsunga” and the other, simply labeled “Prayers.” I took a piece of paper, wrote my own question, and slipped it inside the box. I wasn’t sure who Satsunga was or whether only the windmill shrine janitor would read my question, but somehow it didn’t matter; that question was now gone and I didn’t have to let it plague me any longer.
I may not be a full-blown meditator, but a trip to the Self-Realization Center made me realize that something as simple as sitting, relaxing and reflecting is not reserved for any one type of person or any one philosophy.
If you still think meditation is a little bit loopy, contact Cohn at jcohn@media.ucla.edu.