"I am the basis of the impersonal Brahman, which is immortal, imperishable and eternal and is the constitutional position of ultimate happiness."
"He who meditates on Me as the Supreme Personality of Godhead, his mind constantly engaged in remembering Me, undeviated from the path, he, O Pärtha, is sure to reach Me."
"Oh my dear Arjuna, while speaking learned words, you are mourning for what is not worthy of grief. Those who are wise lament neither for the living nor the dead. Never was there a time when I did not exist, nor you, nor all these kings; nor in the future shall any of us cease to be. As the embodied soul continuously passes, in this body, from boyhood to youth to old age, the soul similarly passes into another body at death. A sober person is not bewildered by such a change. Know that which pervades the entire body is indestructible. No one is able to destroy the imperishable soul."
"Only the material body of the indestructible, immeasurable and eternal living entity is subject to destruction; therefore, fight, O descendant of Bharata. For the soul there is neither birth nor death at any time. He has not come into being, does not come into being, and will not come into being. He is unborn, eternal, ever-existing and primeval. He is not slain when the body is slain."
Reading these words my mind was highly elevated and my imagination was deeply stirred.
More and more I just wanted to make myself an open receptacle to be filled by God’s grace.
I knew that if I did offer myself like that to these teachings, God would enter my life and fill me with “Endless Bliss.”
These excerpts were all saying essentially the same thing: Perfection can be found only within the self, not in the outer world.
Few days later I went further up Fifth Avenue in New York to another bookstore: Doubleday-Doran (as it was named then). Here, I found an entire section of books on Indian philosophy—the first I had ever encountered.
I feasted hungrily my gaze on the wide variety of titles: The Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, and other books on yoga.
Then Something Amazing Happened…
As I was finishing scanning the shelves, I saw a book I hadn’t noticed at first.
The author’s photograph on the cover affected me strangely. Never had I seen any face radiate back to me so much goodness, humility, and love.
Eagerly I picked up the book and glanced again at its title: Autobiography of a Yogi, by Paramhansa Yogananda.
As I saw that beautiful face on the cover, I felt a strong inner prompting to go
buy it. I thrust the thought firmly out of my mind.
“That isn’t what I’m looking for,” I told myself.
But then a thought entered: “How can you know what the book is really like, if you won’t even read it?”
“No!” I reasoned: “I’ve got to stop reading books; I’m too intellectual as it is. Besides, if I’m ever to become a hermit, I’m going to have to save money, not continue to spend it!”
I reached the corner, and was proceeding toward the curb ahead of me, when happened something shocking I’d never thought would happen to me…
I felt that an actual force was turning me left, toward Fifth Avenue.
I’d never experienced anything like this before.
Amazed, I asked myself, “Is there something in this book that I’m meant to read?”
Without a second thought, I quickly turned to Doubleday-Doran.
On entering the store, I made straight for the shelves of Indian books and bought Autobiography of a Yogi.
Imperceptibly, my doubts about it had vanished. I felt as though Yogananda shared my destiny.
With my new book in hand, I felt suddenly as though this Indian yogi and I were
The world and I were strangers, but here was one human being—the very first!—who knew and understood me.
And I hadn’t yet even met him, physically!
I reached my room in Scarsdale as fast as I could and opened the book.
This Was Th Very Moment When Began The Most Thrilling Adventure Of My Life
Autobiography of a Yogi is the story of a young Bengali Indian’s intense search for God.