The Intensity with which Yogananda did his Sadhana

"More than anything else, what characterized Mukunda (Paramhansa Yogananda) as a boy was his constant yearning for God, his practical determination to find Him. While other, much older devotees contented themselves with a little meditation and a great deal of talk, Mukunda went silently to sunscorched places to meditate. On the hot sands of Puri, where most people won’t even walk at midday, Mukunda would sit for hours at a time in lotus posture, wrapped in divine peace. Or, to overcome the sensation of cold, he would stand in cold water up to his neck, chanting, oblivious of the passing time. At night he often visited a crematory ground. (What better reminder of life’s impermanence?) Sitting there until morning, he would lose himself in unfathomable bliss.

In Benares he used to go to a certain temple, where he had found an opening in the floor just wide enough for him to squeeze through sideways. It must have been a small opening indeed, considering that he was only a boy, and thin for his age. The opening led to a series of steps: Three flights down he would go. The daylight was soon lost in all-absorbing darkness, but lack of fresh air permitting him to take not even a candle. Groping his way, he had discovered a little niche, just big enough for sit in. Beyond the earthly silence, the supernal sound of Aum boomed loudly in his inner ear. He would practice the Kriya Yoga technique once or trice, and pass quickly into a state of divine ecstasy.

Another favorite place of meditation was a little attic room in his family home at 4 Gurpar Road, in Calcutta. Many a sacred hour he spent in that room, mantled in shining peace.

Wherever he meditated, he fervently reminded the Divine Mother of his love for Her, and called to Her with longing to reveal Herself. Many times She appeared to him, too, and touched him with Her wand of love.

One evening he came home weary. He had worked very hard that day, cooking for and serving many hundreds of poor people. His body couldn’t have felt less inclined to sit even for a few minutes in meditation. Exhausted, he fell into bed.

“This is one night,” he told himself, “when I won’t meditate before sleeping. I’ve worked hard for God all day. Surely there’s merit enough in that.”

But the habit of meditation was strong in him. It now scolded him: “You’ve never slipped like this before!”

“Leave me alone – don’t bother me!” exclaimed the boy. Really, this conscience of his could be a problem! Wasn’t sleep his just due this night? What more fitting reward for a day in service to Divine Mother? “Ask Her,” he instructed his domineering conscience. “She’ll tell you I’m right.”

But his conscience proved stubborn. “Your aches and pains are a fitting gift for Divine Mother! What about Her? Doesn’t your heart ache after Her any more?”

Here was strong argument! Satan evidently thought so too, and was worried, for suddenly a voice, sweet with sympathy, spoke in the room:

“Poor boy! He will catch his death of cold! Poor boy! He has worked so hard and is so tired. Let him sleep!”

To Mukunda it became all at once quite clear that he hadn’t been entirely on the side of the angels. Disdainfully he flung the blankets to the floor, sat upright, and locked his body in the lotus posture. Fixing his mind firmly on God, he began to meditate.

Five, fifteen, thirty minutes passed. His weary body cried that surely by now he had done his duty.

“I will not sleep,” Mukunda vowed with adamant determination, “until I have felt the presence of the Divine Mother.”

Suddenly Her ineffable joy overwhelmed him. Bathed in a sea of light, he spent the remainder of the night awake in God. At dawn he felt far more refreshed than he would have from a night’s long sleep. Divine Mother had renewed his strength. Gone were his aches and pains.

Filled with gratitude, he went forth to serve her yet another day."

--from "Stories of Mukunda", by Swami Kriyananda