NEVER TO RETURN:
A MODERN QUEST FOR ETERNAL TRUTH
A Multimedia Spiritual Adventure Memoir
by Sharon Janis
We are not human beings having a spiritual experience.
We are spiritual beings having a human experience.
– TEILHARD DE CHARDIN
Chapter Seventeen
STOKING THE INNER FIRE
EVERY MORNING, WE WOULD have an hour-and-a-half chanting program. Most of the words were in ancient Sanskrit. I began to fall in love with the pronunciation of these syllables.
Sanskrit syllables are said to have a unique potency, as do most root languages. According to the yoga scriptures, every sound has its own vibrational resonance. The spiritual science of energy centers gives intricate details about exactly where in the physical and subtle bodies each sound lies. It's like the analogy of two violins. If a particular string is plucked on one violin, the corresponding string on a nearby violin will begin to vibrate. Our energy bodies seem to have similar tendencies.
Now, I was going to learn how to tune my instrument, and the ashram schedule was devoted to this task. We chanted for hours every day, singing repetitive mantras, long-form scriptures, and devotional poetry. I took time to study the proper lengths and expressions of each sound. Working in the video department, I had access to video and audio tapes of the singing and speaking of these syllables by many singers and scholars. I listened carefully to the subtle nuances of pronunciation on the various tapes, and began to experiment with them during the morning chants.
After all, we were chanting for an hour and a half every morning – I had to find ways to entertain myself. Since I was already chanting, this seemed to be a good time to explore the subtleties of mantra recitation. While focusing intently on the intonation of each syllable, I would fall into a space that surely explains why some Brahman priests from India spend their entire lives memorizing and reciting Sanskrit passages. While chanting the rhythmic verses, I would enter into an eternal realm, far beyond the superficial level of my personality and external surroundings.
The text would be recited, line by line, alternating between men and women. While the men sang their line, I’d have a chance to read the translation and take a slow, deep breath in. Then we women would sing our line, and I would shift my attention to the sounds, the syllables, and the regulation of my breath. I didn't want to have to stop midline to take another gasp of air, so I'd ration the sound escaping through my lips. When I sang the syllables properly, they would burst forth, increasing the energy inside me. It was as though these syllables and my breath were sticks being rubbed together, creating friction, heat and energy.
One of the first things to arise was a sensation of hot fire, blazing from just above my groin area to the middle of my stomach. It was real, tangible heat. It was not like I was visualizing some flames and interpreting them as energy. It was hot. It was fire. Sometimes the sensation would last for as long as five minutes. I would just close my eyes and bask in this inner glow. It was intense but not quite uncomfortable. In a way, the heat was also pleasurable. I had this experience mainly during my first two years of chanting.
Then, for many years afterward, I had a different experience of the energy. While chanting away, all of a sudden I would get an inner signal that “the pot” was full. I didn't know quite what this container was or where it existed. There was just a sense that the energy had built up somewhere in my midsection, in a subtle energy co-body. Sitting crosslegged, I would put the chanting book down, hold on to both of my knees, and pull up, hunching my back slightly. My head would be facing downward, as the explosion took place. The energy would shoot up into my head, and out to my fingers and toes. My entire body would be ablaze. As it lit up my head, I would be consumed by a deep, throbbing vibration, and move into nothing nowhere-ness. My mind would become intoxicated with bliss, and I would disappear.
This experience would last anywhere from twenty seconds to several minutes. I could tell how long it had been by how many pages I had to turn to catch up after I returned. I would come back so refreshed and clean. It was as though a big bath of healing energy had flushed through my entire being, clearing away all this internal debris with it. Perhaps this force somehow moved into the physical structures of my body and cleared out all the chemical and hormonal residues from present and past stresses.
This went on for years and years. Every morning, I would be treated to at least one of these baths. Sometimes the flow was subtle, other times dramatic. Sometimes it was sweet and loving, other times it was like a firehose blasting through my body and into my head. Sometimes I would sit very still, other times my body would be moved, vibrating and shaking with the powerful force. I tried to maintain some composure so as not to draw attention to myself during the chanting sessions. But there was a point when my self-conscious mind had to let go into this delicious rush of energy. A few times, I even fell forward, surprising the unsuspecting chanter in front of me.
During this time, I discovered another intriguing concept, urdhvaretas. This was a practice of celibacy, in which the subtle, potentially sexual life essence is transformed into higher energies of creativity or spirituality. I wondered if this was related to my daily energy surges.
It might seem surprising that I wouldn't have jumped into sexual activity during my teens, especially considering the wild lifestyle of my family and friends. Maybe their lack of fulfillment was a lesson to me that sex did not necessarily bring happiness. Also, I had made the decision to wait when one of my friends confided to me the regret she felt about having broken her virginity with a fellow who worked in a traveling carnival. Within two days, the show had moved on, and he with it. I decided not to make the same mistake. I would wait until I fell in love. Who knew I would be spending my twenties in an ashram!
Even so, it wasn't an issue. Just as my maternal instincts hadn't kicked in at age seven when I opted for a chemistry set over dolls, so my internal energy was not manifesting as a desire to be sexual with another human being. Instead, it was bursting forth through my drum-playing and flowing through each creative moment in this rich environment. And early every morning, as the sun was just beginning to rise outside, this energy would shoot up my body with a thrill that was as ecstatic as any sensual pleasure I'd ever known.
I didn't miss a morning chant for ten years. Every day, I would wake up at four or five a.m. to shower, have a cup of freshly made Indian chai tea, and go to the temple or meditation hall for this hour-and-a-half chant. This was how I began every day for ten years. For the most part, my dedication was based on a desire to be disciplined and on my enjoyment of the spiritual experiences that were coming to me through this practice. But after a few years, there was also an element of ego involved – I had a record going! So I became somewhat fanatical about attending this chanting session. Even after working late into the night, I would pull myself out of bed while the world still lay in dark silence, ready to sing God's name.
Journal notes:
The Sweet
The Sweet ,
Its presence more real than my own
Under, under everything
and always there - here - right here
Inside of me
I Am
Inside the Sweet.
The precious
Love beyond love
Experience beyond experience
Memory beyond memory.
How can I forget it
again and again?
Is it only for the bliss of rediscovery?
The longing and its fulfillment
Returning to the Eternal real
that exists within itself
Alone, containing nothing
and perfectly full
as it always has been.
To taste this state is so important
beyond importance.
To taste the Sweet.
There is nothing else to do
but taste the Sweet.
On to
Chapter
Eighteen
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