From Woodstock to Holistic Yoga Center

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In Greenwich Village, on the southeastern side of Manhattan Island, I was looking for a place called the Integral Yoga Institute.

This was once the center of the Beat Generation and the hippie movement, but now it is too expensive for ordinary people to afford. However, the ideas of progress, diversity, and freedom at that time still left a deep impression. The Christian church next door does not introduce the pope or doctrine, but focuses on radicalism and tolerance; the LGBT community center opposite was established in the 1980s when AIDS was first introduced to the United States and anti-gay sentiment was high, helping sexual minorities who were threatened.

Amid the hustle and bustle of people, the Holistic Yoga Center is located behind a red door. On the wall next to the door is a lotus flower, with symbols of religions such as Christianity, Islam, Taoism, and Shinto on each petal, and the words "TRUTH IS ONE, PATHS ARE MANY" above and below. As soon as you enter the door, you will see a small shop in red and yellow tones. The bookshelves around are filled with books, and the glass cabinets display exquisite and complex ornaments with colorful colors.

The staff behind the glass case was a thin woman who looked to be in her early sixties. I greeted her and explained that I was there for a meditation practice. She directed me to the "family room" on the fourth floor, where the midday meditation would take place.

I walked up the stairs. On the wall were portraits of the founder, Sachidananda, as well as other lively paintings such as Chinese landscape paintings. I pushed open the door on the fourth floor. On one side was a public kitchen, and on the other side was a small living room. In the living room, an entire wall was made of glass windows, and sunlight shone through the glass all over the floor. It seemed that the midday meditation would be here.

There were three people chatting in the room, and they seemed to be quite familiar with each other. They were European, Asian and African, the oldest was about 70 years old, and the youngest was about 50 years old, and they were energetic.

I took off my shoes and walked in, greeting the three people. The older one introduced me to the meditation process: chanting prayers, breathing exercises, and sitting quietly. It seemed that I was the only newcomer, and the others were teachers and regulars here. An older sister made a joke in a serious manner, and then we had to take a blood oath. I laughed, but I didn't have much blood left.

When the time was almost up, another old man who looked to be in his seventies but full of energy hurried in and told everyone that some places nearby had stopped operating due to COVID-19 cases, so the whole room started chatting. At the end, he turned around and said to me apologetically, "I'm sorry to let me hear these troubles on my first visit."

This is one of the earliest yoga studios in New York. Yoga has become a part of the lives of young people in the city, and it has blossomed in gyms and rock climbing gyms. But today, I am the only young person meditating here at noon.

Historically, "yoga" mainly refers to different forms of meditation. "Yoga" means "combination" in Sanskrit, which is extended to the unity of Brahman and Atman and liberation. There are many paths to "unity of Brahman and Atman". The "whole" that holistic yoga attempts to integrate includes six types: Hatha Yoga, Raja, Bhakti, Karma, Jnana, and Japa.

The yoga that is popular now and focuses on physical exercise is Hatha Yoga, which means "strength" in Sanskrit. As Hatha Yoga spread in the United States, it gradually broke away from its original religious and philosophical background and combined with fitness culture to become a common fitness method. Meditation has also experienced a similar process of de-religionization and become a technique for ordinary people to understand the body and mind, but it is not integrated into fitness culture like yoga and is still not that common.

The Integral Yoga Center, as one of the birthplaces of yoga in the United States, is one of the few places that has preserved the yoga tradition.

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In 1966, Peter Max, a New York-based painter who grew up in Shanghai, met the Indian yogi Sachidananda in Paris. After his wife's death, Sachidananda traveled around India in search of liberation, and studied under the saint Sri Aurobindo, the guru Ramana Maharshi, and finally became a monk under the guru Sivananda. When he met Peter, the 52-year-old Sachidananda had been practicing for more than 20 years.

A few days ago, Peter, who was still in New York, had dreamed about this tall, clear-eyed, handsome elder. After meeting him, Peter felt a strong sense of peace. In a few days, Peter learned some yoga poses from Sachidananda and was surprised again and again by his calmness and wisdom in conversation. Peter persuaded Sachidananda to go to the United States, "America really needs you."

Sachidanan came to New York and stepped into the center of the counterculture movement. Having witnessed the bloodshed of the Vietnam War and been enlightened by psychedelic drugs, young Americans pondered the meaning of existence and yearned for a spiritual world. Psychedelic drugs can make people experience a short-term self-dissolution, and Hinduism is about the dissolution of the self and the enlightenment after the dissolution. The philosophical system and yoga practice brought by Sachidanan were welcomed by young people like a long-awaited rain, and spread quickly.

Three years later, in Woodstock, a small town north of New York, a group of people began to prepare for a music festival. The organizers had some experience, having organized events with 20,000 to 30,000 people. But more and more people arrived, and eventually nearly 500,000 people arrived, making it the largest music festival in history. The organizers were panicked and didn't know how to stabilize the flood-like crowd. They found Peter Musk, and Peter said, "Then let's invite Master Sachidananda to come."

So, at the opening ceremony of the Woodstock Music Festival, Sachidananda landed on the stage by helicopter. He sat cross-legged on the stage and told people that the United States had helped the world in the material field, and now it was time to help the world in the spiritual field. "People shouted 'fight for peace', but I don't understand how they can find peace after fighting. So, let's not fight for peace, but find peace in our hearts first." Finally, he led hundreds of thousands of young Americans to chant Sanskrit prayers to praise the guardian god Vishnu.

After Woodstock, the school of "Integral Yoga" founded by Sachidananda flourished all over the United States, advocating a spiritual lifestyle. Among them was the Integral Yoga Center in New York. At first, the Integral Yoga Center opened an organic vegetarian store next door. In 2008, the store decided to close, and a sign on the door said "Mission Accomplished". Because organic food and vegetarian food are now available everywhere, there is no need to open a special store.

Now that yoga classes are everywhere, I can't help but wonder if holistic yoga centers are fulfilling their mission.

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I looked around. In the room filled with sunlight, there was a long sofa on one side and a shrine opposite, with photos of Sachidananda and Sivananda. In a box below the shrine was a pair of old sandals, which must have been worn by Sachidananda. On the wall facing the window was a row of bookshelves with books on different religions and beliefs, including Islam, Judaism, and so on.

I felt a little uncomfortable with all these offerings to the image of the guru. I couldn't help but think of the Islamic doctrine that forbids idolatry, and I felt that it made some sense. However, to enter a state of meditation, faith is required, so I let go of these judgmental and questioning thoughts and let them gradually dissipate.

When the time came, people in the room sat down facing the shrine, some on the sofa, some on the floor, and the last old man who came in sat cross-legged in the lotus position next to me. The elder sister who had been joking just now slowly chanted "Om", indicating the start of the midday meditation.

Everyone began to chant a prayer, one in Sanskrit and one in English. The chanting was calm and low, echoing in the sunny wooden house. I was not familiar with the prayer, so I could only sing along roughly. The prayer was as follows:

Om Om Om Merging into the Source The eternal abode of the Yogi The giver of desire and liberation Salutations to this great wisdom of the universe

You are my mother, you are my father, you are my family, you are my friend, you are my knowledge, you are my wealth, you are all I have, you are the light of all lights.

After the chanting, there are breathing exercises. First, Kapālabhātī, which means "Head Light Breathing" or "Flame Breathing" in Chinese, exhales quickly with the abdominal muscles and then inhales naturally; then Nadi Suddhi, which means "Alternating Breathing" or "Purifying Breathing" in Chinese, inhales through one nostril and exhales through the other nostril alternately, while being aware of and balancing the difference between the two sides of the body. These breathing exercises are derived from the concept of chakras in Hinduism and Buddhism, and are intended to activate life force and make it easier for people to enter a meditative state.

After the breathing exercise, there was 20 minutes of meditation. I slowed my breathing and sank into my heart. Maybe it was because I hadn't meditated for a long time, or maybe I was not used to being with others, but these 20 minutes seemed longer than usual. Distractions surged up, and then fell like snowflakes. My heart was like a turbulent sea, with waves constantly rising, and the waves melted away, and the sea surface slowly calmed down. Sometimes I closed my eyes and sank into my heart, and sometimes I opened my eyes to blend in with the surrounding environment, blending into the field that surged when everyone entered into meditation. My ankles hurt a little on the hardwood floor, so I had to change my posture from time to time, and kept reminding myself that I needed to get an extra mat next time. The people around me were motionless and silent.

The sound of "Om" broke the silence, reminding everyone that the time was up. Everyone stood up and clasped their hands in thanks to the shrine. The leading lady took a lamp from the shrine and blessed everyone. She put the lamp back and sang the closing prayer with everyone. The low chorus echoed in the room again:

Good fortune befalls all beings. Peace befalls all beings. Perfection befalls all beings. Prosperity befalls all beings.

Happiness will be bestowed upon all beings. Health will be bestowed upon all beings. May all beings see goodness in one another. May all beings be freed from suffering.

May the whole universe be filled with peace, joy, love and light. May the light of truth overcome all darkness. Victory belongs to this light.

I slowed down my movements, intentionally trying to maintain the calm I had gained during the past half hour until the end. I slowly put the cushion back in place and walked out with the others.

When I was putting on my shoes at the door, the elder who told me the process at the beginning introduced me to the names of the people meditating together one by one. Their names all started with Swaimi, which is a respectful title for monks in Sanskrit. I tried to remember, but I was not familiar with the pronunciation of Sanskrit and quickly forgot it. The elder welcomed me to come again, and told me that there was another early morning meditation at six o'clock every day, which was not open to the public, but I was also welcome to participate. The elder sister who had joked before continued the previous joke and said that we still have to sacrifice new people. But we don't sacrifice on Wednesdays, the elder took over the joke and said. I still have seven lives left, I also laughed. The elder continued to ask about my usual meditation methods, my experience with yoga, etc., mentioned some commonly used methods in holistic yoga, and welcomed me to come again next time.

I thanked him and walked back down the stairs, trying to be aware of every step. I tried to remember not to chase the various thoughts that began to surge up, to let the perception and sharpness that had been opened up for half an hour not be overshadowed.

I went out and plunged into the bustling crowds of Manhattan. The sun was exceptionally bright and the air was exceptionally fresh. My gaze towards the world seemed to have more kindness. And the eyes of passers-by, the sun and the air, seemed to return my gaze with more kindness.