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Part 1: The Unity of Spiritual Paths: A Gathering of Traditions We can now begin our wonderful discussion on the unity of spirituality. We find ourselves in a difficult situation in the world today—one could say this is true every ten years. We all want to know what truth is and where it lies. In my personal life, I wanted to discover truth, so I thought I would explore the spiritual world to find it for myself. Yet, despite all the places that reassure us, "We know truth, come and follow us," our world remains full of antagonism, aggression, and hatred. So, are we really finding our way to truth? The subject of unity today is very important for all our hearts. It is almost like speaking to the converted here, as I'm sure all of us feel unity is vital. Perhaps we are—I have to speak for myself—old enough to start realizing there's no point in fighting all the time. We must come to some peaceful agreement. Welcome, everybody, to this place, Yoga and Daily Life. This is a beautiful ashram that has been here a long time. We waited for Mataji, a very special guest, so welcome. It's lovely to see you again, and she has been part of this from the very beginning. Thank you for being patient. We have special guests as well. In fact, as I understand it more and more, you are all special guests. Welcome to all of you. As we'll find out in our discussion on unity, the specialness lies in all of us. We also have honored guests. We have already started with Swāmī Avatthapurījī, who is continuing Swāmījī’s legacy. We are so grateful, as the continuation of the path is so important. It gives surety and consistency for the next generations of seekers. Besides Swāmī Avatthapurījī, we have Lunda Vandenberg. She has come to talk to us a little about insight meditation, which is part of the Buddhist tradition. She is a teacher in that tradition. It is Vipassanā, which is very popular today. A lot of young people try Vipassanā; they offer free classes. She can tell us more, but Vipassanā is part of the Buddhist tradition. She will give us insight from her personal perspective. Beside her is Gabrielle Meach, a long-term yoga practitioner who teaches yoga here in town. She is a wonderful teacher, a Paramahaṁsa, a Yogananda meditator and practitioner. She will speak about her understanding of life from this meditation path. Beside her is Chris Drauffer. I knew I would get that wrong! Christopher is part of the Sufi tradition, the Islamic tradition, specifically a Sufi school of teaching. He is a senior person in the Wellington, New Zealand area and a teacher in the Sufi tradition, having practiced for a long time. Beside me is Mel Bogard. She is part of the Quaker group, a Christian derivative with Christian roots. They were originally called the Religious Society of Friends, a lovely name, and now most know them as Quakers. Each person will have a chance to talk. You will also have a chance to ask questions at the end, if time allows. I will keep an eye on the time. The format is that people will talk about their personal experience on their path to begin with. As we know, when we start to search, we look for differences. It's interesting: when we first want to find a suitable path, we want to know our path is the right one and another maybe is not. We look at differences. Once on the path for a time, we perhaps start looking at similarities. To begin, I'd like people to express what drew them to their path, what is special, so we can see their process into a deeper world of truth. Good evening to all of you present here, Gyanānandjī, Gaṅgā, Landa, Chris, Mel, and all you special guests, as Gyanānandjī just mentioned. My lovely brothers and sisters from around the world who are watching. They told me to start by telling something about myself, which arouses our beautiful enemies residing within us: kāma, krodha, moha, lobha, and ahaṅkāra. Out of these, one is ego, so talking about myself is "me, myself, and I," but okay—a little introduction. As many may or may not know, in our tradition we have four āśramas: Brahmacarya Āśram, Gṛhastha Āśram, Vānaprastha Āśram, and Sannyāsa Āśram. To simplify and shorten it, these are transitional periods in life. First is as students, brahmacarya āśram, where we gain knowledge. Second is gṛhastha āśram, where we have our household, grow our family, and work. The third stage is vānaprastha āśram, where we slowly drift towards spirituality with our partner or alone, focus more on the spiritual path, and let the next generation take over. The fourth and final stage is Sannyāsa Āśram, where you become a monk, renounce things, and go fully into that life. You might wonder how a 26-year-old jumped to a 75-plus Sannyāsa Āśram. A little context: I feel really blessed to be adopted by my Gurudev, Vishwaguru Mahārāj Maheśvara Nanda Purījī, at the age of six hours. I was basically a baby. As we always sing, tvaṁ eva mātā ca pitā tvaṁ eva, tvaṁ eva bandhuś ca sakhā tvaṁ eva—you are my father, mother, brother, friend, everything. For me, he is my entire world. That is how I came into sannyāsa āśram, skipping the other three. You might wonder, "He didn't live anything, see anything, experience the outer world. Was he forced?" No. As I grew up, I studied in a normal boarding school in Bangalore for two years, wearing normal clothes. After a few months, I felt uncomfortable and told Swāmījī. It was a period where he wanted me to see the outer world—a purely vegetarian, boys-only boarding school. It was an experience. When I turned 18, Swāmījī asked if I wanted a normal life, a family. But no. As I was brought up in this beautiful family, I feel this is what I was born for, why Swāmījī raised me, and I wish to continue. That is how I am in sannyāsa āśram from birth till now, and hopefully till the end of my life. It is a very beautiful, lovely experience. The playground was our meditation halls and ashrams. My friends were these beautiful people always sitting with us; this is my family. Many may say I did not have similar age contact when younger, which might be true, but my beautiful family didn't let me feel I was missing out. I did not have FOMO, fear of missing out. I am really blessed to be part of this beautiful paramparā. Paramparā is lineage in Sanskrit. In our families, we have grandfather, father, son. In the same way, in our traditions we have paramparā, where ancient knowledge and teachings are passed from guru to disciple and continue. We, or I, am blessed to be part of this paramparā. It was started by Śrī Ālok Purījī, whose picture is near the lamp. You may have heard of the river Alaknandā in the Himalayas, the beginning of all rivers. His disciple was named Nandā Devī. At the end of her life, she asked her guru Ālokpurījī if her name could also be remembered, so the river came: Alaknandā. After him came Śrī Devapurījī Mahārāj, who meditated a lot in the Himalayas and came down. That is the work of great saints and Mahāpuruṣas; I believe they are happier up there, but still they come down to this Māyā world, this illusion and Mṛtyuloka, to help and guide other souls, to help us attain our ultimate goal of self-realization and mokṣa, liberation. He came to Rajasthan and established his āśram in a village called Kailāś, like Lord Śiva’s mountain. After him was Mahāprabhujī, whose ashram was also in Nagar, Rajasthan. He helped thousands and brought people back from the dead. After that was our great-grandmaster, Hindu Dharm Samrāṭ Paramahaṁsa Mādhavānandapurījī, the Gurudev of our beloved Swāmījī, who continued this beautiful teaching. Then our beloved Gurudev, His Holiness Vāśvaguru Mahāmudrā Śrī Maheśvarānand Purījī, decided it should not be contained in India. He carried this message worldwide, came to the West between 1960 and 1970, started traveling, and created this beautiful system, Yoga and Daily Life. Yoga does not only mean āsanas; yoga is part of unity, for us to connect with higher consciousness. He created this beautiful family of mine. If I were in a normal household, I would have 10-15 people in my family. Now I have millions around the world. I am very grateful. This is my life in a nutshell. Lovely, thank you, Avatāpurījī. What a beautiful invitation I found in my email box a while ago. My heart was opening because I so recognize what you say, John. I felt drawn to a particular tradition, and now I'm at a stage where I start to get more curious about what brings us together—so timely. I wouldn't dare to claim to represent the Buddhist tradition, as it is vast. So, taking the doorway of my personal journey: why did I feel drawn to Buddhism, and what has it brought me? I grew up in an agnostic family in the Netherlands, focused on daily life. Holidays were the main thing my parents strived for, a moment of well-being. I didn't grow up with religious teachings or an understanding of what it means to be a good human being. I was happily going along until, as many experience, suffering arrived. I was privileged, so it came late, in my 30s. I was looking for relief. Initially, I ended up in a happy-go-lucky American New Age movement in the late '80s/early '90s, looking for happiness. Its slogan was, "You create your own happiness, you're the master of your mind." I felt drawn, practiced sincerely, but after several years concluded there is truth in that—beauty in learning the mind's power, limiting beliefs, and their impact. Yet, there is suffering beyond our control. Causes and conditions come together; no matter how much I train my mind, suffering can still be part of life. So I looked for something else. I knew Buddhism had informed this New Age movement, so I got interested. Sure enough, it did. The main reason I felt drawn to Buddhism, now over 20 years, is its profound understanding: yes, suffering, dukkha in Pāli, is part of life. It's what it is to be human. Yes, there are joys, and at times we meet suffering. When we encounter suffering, it doesn't mean we're doing something wrong. I practiced initially in the United Kingdom, then moved to New Zealand. There are many lineages in Buddhism. I am trained in insight meditation, the Pāli word vipassanā. Many know vipassanā through the Goenka tradition, but there are many flavors. I am trained more through the Western lens by people like Joseph Goldstein and Jack Kornfield—that's my foundation. Initially, it started with mindfulness, as we base ourselves on early Buddhist teachings. The Buddha taught mindfulness, which was so helpful: to recognize a thought is just a thought, an emotion just an emotion. That mindfulness leads to embodied insight. One phrase in our tradition is catchy but true: pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. It points to this: pain is part of life in a human body and world, but we can train our mind to relate to pain skillfully so we don't add extra suffering. That was the opening. After a few years of mindfulness, I got interested in wider Buddhist teachings. Some say, "Oh, Buddhists always talk about suffering"—not very joyful. But there are many teachings pointing to well-being, happiness, joy, with dedicated practices. Nowadays we speak of gratitude practice or mettā, loving-kindness practice; they come from the Buddhist tradition. I started learning about joy and well-being practices, the importance of ethical practice: what it means to be a good human being—right speech, right action, right livelihood. These have been inspiring, a call for what it means to be of service. The last thing: I got drawn to Buddhism because of beautiful wisdom practices underneath. I like the deep understanding of causes and conditions, all leading to this present moment. That makes it easier to be with difficulty: oh, causes and conditions coming together. The other part of wisdom practice is the mind's tendency around "I, me, my," and how much suffering that leads to, loosening that understanding of what it is to be human with a human mind. Lovely, thank you, Landa. Very interesting—as you talked, it brought together what Swāmījī spoke about a couple years ago in his world talks: what is it to be a human being? He brought up many points you mentioned. Unity is already beginning to arise. Thank you. Gabrielle, would you like to introduce your experiences? Thank you, Landa. There's a good example: we learn from each other with the mic, which side is the sticky side. Through our paths and coming together, we learn. My life keeps building on a wonderful array of teachers and paths. I was raised Catholic—a gift, as I could see there is more than the material world. I didn't have a good understanding then, but it was a gift to know life wasn't just about the next holiday or earnings. I discovered yoga in my early 20s and realized that when we fully relax our nervous system—which yoga really helps—and develop strength and power not egotistically, there's an opening. We start to know ourselves as not just body or mind; there's a part that sits outside that. Following Yogananda's word, there's a soul—we may have different words for this part of us. This part is part of all of us; it connects us all. For me, finding Yogananda and his teachings, which focus on meditation, was key. Meditation is when we come to be very still, come inside, settle, and as we settle into that field, we open and expand. That openness and expansion is our soul, our connection to God. That inspires me to meditate more. I'm working on this; it's not a fait accompli. But one can start to express, through voice, hands, and feet, that oneness we feel inside in deep meditation, in everyday life. I find that tremendously inspiring, and I see that in all paths. The focus on meditation helps one start living in the truth of that, which brings challenges around how we live. Yoga is very good at setting guidelines for how we communicate with ourselves and others. My experience is that understanding deepens with practice, as understanding of everything deepens. As that deepens, boundaries between us all soften more and more. As I've been sitting here mulling what to say, I'll start at the beginning: seeking something, not really knowing what. I get asked that a lot. This is a Christian-based country, so that's where I looked first. I found wonderful things in those traditions. I was always attracted to people with Christian connections, felt at peace in churches—probably due to my grandmother, who was Jewish. A friend once told me I could be on social security in Israel if I said "Cheers to do," which I would not. I looked in those areas too, and it taught me a lot. About suffering: all the mistakes we make and places we go—you look back and think, "Oh my goodness"—but they're teaching mechanisms, allowing us to move to the next phase. To write a book would be like, "I thought it was a good idea at the time," which got me into interesting places. But right now, I realize that's God pushing you. When that happens, it's often uncomfortable because it's unexpected. About 20 years ago, I realized I needed a teacher after these seeming failures that got me along the path. It took a couple years, then my wife introduced me to Rumi. That really got me—the path of peace and love. He has a way of explaining truth beautifully and gently. At some point, I found people in a Sufi meditation group. Just to interrupt: Chris, are Rumi and Sufism the same thing? There are many lineages of Sufism. They all have roots in the beginning of Islam but are different. With Rumi, he had a particular experience of realization with another Sufi, Shams, who metaphorically knocked him off his donkey and made him start writing poetry. The tradition I follow is of silent Sufi meditators; we do that sort of thing inside. Several things bring all Sufi traditions together and make them Sufism. One is the heart, which I think we'll discuss a lot. It's a receptacle of truth, the closest thing to God in our bodies. That brings a lot of Sufi traditions together. When I started meditating with the group, the truth really shone through. I liked the experiential side. There's a term, contemplative witnessing. It's like at university, you use your mind, books, learn stuff, get a certificate. With the heart, it's very different. Sometimes what you learn, you don't even know is in there until a particular time; it's different for everybody. I was attracted because of the experiences I've had. Nobody told me what to expect; it really resonated. Thank you. Mel is going to introduce us to the Quaker tradition, another interesting tradition. We probably know the name Quakers, but many may not know how it works day-to-day. Tell us, Mel, welcome. Part 2: A Journey to the Silent Meeting: Finding Unity in Stillness Tēnā tātou katoa. My name is Mel, and I live in the shadow of this lovely mountain, Mā Tairangi. This is my home. Years ago, in my childhood, I lived on a farm in Hawke’s Bay. I was then sent to an Anglican boarding school where we had chapel twice a day—a quarter of an hour each morning and night, with readings, Bible study, and hymns. On Sundays, we had the longer services of matins and evensong. While traditional and rich in its way, it felt oppressive to me. We talked a lot about the Bible, but never deeply about the divine or what it means to be human. By the end of school, I rejected it all, thinking I would leave that behind forever. At age 25, pregnant with my first child, I was overwhelmed by a profound sense of being a small part of something much larger than myself. I needed to express this feeling but wanted nothing to do with the religion of my youth. Searching for the "least offensive alternative," I remembered learning about Quakerism from a flatmate. A meeting house was just three blocks away in Mount Victoria. I decided to go. I walked into my first meeting. It was a small, plain, square building. People sat in concentric circles in complete silence, worshipping God in their own way. After sitting through that first hour of silent worship, I had an overwhelming sense of having come home. I had arrived at a place that would let me be and allow me to explore all I needed to. Occasionally, one or two people might offer a brief message, prompted by what we call the Spirit. The rest of us would then sink back into the silence—what I call "the mud"—to contemplate. If the message didn’t speak to me, I could let it go. It was powerfully simple. That was in 1980. I have stayed with the Quakers, the Religious Society of Friends, ever since. We are few in New Zealand, perhaps 700 or 800, but it is deeply meaningful. We are a peace church with testimonies to peace, integrity, simplicity, equality, and truth. We have no creed or dogma. These testimonies are dispositions for how we live: letting our yes be yes, living simply, striving for equality in all forms, and seeking truth. To find unity with my world, I go to meeting and sit in silence. First, I let go of the outside world—the news, the city. Then, I let go of the concerns of the people around me, wishing them well but releasing their burdens. I arrive at my own body and let that go too, sinking down into the heart, the core, the essence. We have a saying: "Silence is to the spirit what sleep is to the body"—it is true rest and nourishment. Arriving in that silent place, a deep unity is achieved.