The Power of Immersion
Learning the Language of the Heart & the Keys to Consciousness

I am surprised! But perhaps I shouldn’t be. At every graduation of the annual 27-day Foundations Immersion course here in Española, I am amazed, delighted and repeatedly surprised! How could so much learning, growth and awakening happen so quickly? Some events change everything profoundly, in the blink of an eye—like the birth of a child, realizing you love someone or taking a sacred vow. Most things are slower though. Deep change is often gradual, as profound depths move in us like the relentless rise of an inner tide.

This is how we approach teacher training in the tradition of Kundalini Yoga as taught by Yogi Bhajan®. We usually work together, study together and engage the skills of dedicated trainers over the course of 9 months to a year. There is plenty of time for learning, processing, absorption, correction and practice. This is a gold standard of teacher training. How, I wondered, can so much learning and transformation happen in a short immersion course?

Some helpful logistical factors are obvious: a well-honed tight design of activities day to day; mature trainers versed in intensive training models; a self-selection of students who are attracted to and ready for such a commitment; a location which removes everyday distractions in favor of a powerful focus; high levels of interaction with small groups, teams and trainers; post immersion follow-up and homework for six months to stabilize the skills and insights gained; and active engagement in the community of Kundalini Yoga teachers around the world.

Those are all necessary. But I see something more in the bright eyes of these Immersion graduates. As I reflect on other experiences in my life that could explain this ‘look,’ I remembered the process of learning a new language. Because we are in fact learning a language. The language of Kundalini Yoga as taught by Yogi Bhajan® uses the alphabet of experience, arranged in the words of kriyas and mantras, and written in our life story through our actions and awareness. As teachers we have to learn the elements, symbols, disciplines, tools and processes to convey this language of the heart and consciousness.
I learned a bit of classical Greek. Not to speak; just to read. I gathered a basic understanding and many phrases, enough to get a sense of Aristophanes, Socrates and others, but not enough to really use. That was fun, useful and a little like dabbling in yoga, with a kriya or two, here and there. A valid exercise, useful even, but not enough to embody it, make it alive or be able to teach it.
I learned Latin in a staid and boring class in order to understand the ancient world, the roots of language and scientific names and classifications. No one really spoke Latin except in liturgical circles. So the learning was intellectual, gradual and not very interactive. But I still benefit from it. It’s a bit like reading lots of yoga books but never really engaging with others or finding others to share with.

I learned a good deal of German in the usual way: classes, practice and German club, over a two-year period. It worked well and opened my mind to the fabulous wealth of German philosophy, science and poetry—from Nietzche to Heisenberg to Mann and Rilke. Learning was effective, gradual and done over time, more similar to our core training programs. Lots of interaction, friends, and a rich tradition that is alive. Still, when I went to Germany, it was a different thing all together. All my senses were immersed and I couldn’t do anything unless I used the language in action. I became a big proponent of year-abroad programs in schools.

Spanish exposure came much later—way past the age of facile learning (before age 11). But I learned there was through immersion; I went to Mexico and was immersed for weeks at a time, repeatedly, over a few years. Though I did do some studying, it was by conversation, listening, engaging in normal chores and day to day business, and teaching with translators. The language suddenly and quickly became understandable. Not at a scholarly level, but naturally, in how people moved, worked and expressed their feelings. This is a well-recognized way to learn quickly. Immersing yourself into an environment that uses only that language. See it, hear it and use it in action—applying it to get and do things important to you. Let the intensity push your natural cognitive systems to a new level, where you learn both implicitly as well as explicitly. A lot of the learning is unconscious. You do not know what to learn—since you are new to it—but you quickly recognize how much you learned, without even realizing it—that is the immersion process.

When we immerse our self with others in an environment that is intense, structured, active, interactive, with other students and excellent mentors, we learn quickly. A lot is explicit and a lot more is implicit. We train the subconscious as much as the conscious, which leads to an immediate ability to do things by embodying the experience in our cells. Then, after the intense experience of immersion, we go home to refine all the unconscious processing and social learning that we did through the filter of explicit knowledge and meditative awareness and apply it to our life, our real-world class.
The power of immersion comes from an alchemical combination of conscious and subconscious learning, heated by intensity, stirred by interactions, spiced by the trainers and guided by the formulas in the curriculum.

The keys to consciousness come with discipline, but the language of the heart is natural to each of us. We sometimes lose that language as other sounds and noises overtake it, sometimes muting that inner voice. Self-doubt, fears, old beliefs, cultural and familial stories override our capacity to be present, still and original in our own voice.

The language of the heart is often a whisper. It is subtle, strong and nuanced. Immersion strengthens that whisper to a full voice. It amplifies that voice so that it becomes our song. That song sets the rhythm of our life and brings us into alignment with our deepest purpose and potentials. That is the goal of training, teaching and immersion: to let each action move with our original rhythm, to excel in each moment of our life and to see and enjoy the “Dance of Shiva,” the miraculous flow of all life. With this, my surprise quickly steps into delight and appreciation for all those souls who choose to immerse themselves, transform and commit to speak the language of consciousness, the language of the heart—Kundalini Yoga—in the world. Now is the time for teachers!

Yogi Bhajan came to my college in 1969 to teach a class. Drawn naturally, and somewhat mystically by my intuition, I went. I did not know anything about him, only that Kundalini Yoga had come from secrecy and obscurity right to my front door! Throughout that energetic and challenging class I hung on every powerful word he said, regardless of my being able to understand his thick Indian accent or not. His presence, the energy and luminosity was enough. I would catch all the words later.

At the end of that class he took me aside and taught me three things that stay with me to this day. The third was the most powerful and unexpected; but it has guided my natural evolution as a kundalini practitioner, teacher and trainer ever since.

The first thing I learned was that I was a teacher! It couldn’t have been based on my experience—I had only been to the one class. Instead, I learned that being a teacher was a gift, already dwelling in the cells of my own consciousness. It was he, as my teacher, who hit me on the side of the head and reminded me, “You are a teacher, and I will take no nonsense from you. You have no right. You know better. Act real!” I was flooded with memories of other lifetimes with him as my teacher. This was a lot to take in for a 22- year-old graduate student. A teacher is not knowing, but helping another to know, through experience, what is happening now, with every breath.

The second thing I learned that day was that action is the process of learning and the midwife of wisdom. He told me to teach the next day: Act—do not hesitate. Act, and the pressures and conflicts will be off you, if you act from heart, committed, and in full surrender of your own issues. To act in service opened my heart to a flow of strength that I could only be witness to and be grateful for.

Then we sat down at the student café and talked a long time, and here he taught me the third and most important lesson. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “Now, I will tell you the rules. The first is: do not offend a woman.” This was 1969. The revolutions had already come, so this caution seemed out of place. I started to object that it was both impossible and unnecessary. Before I could utter a word he pegged me into silence with “don’t you want to master Kundalini Yoga? It is a woman, a feminine, creative power beyond anything, the Adi Shakti. How can she relate to you if you offend a woman?” Then I understood: the impersonal power embodied in the feminine is universal, and I needed to engage that with awareness. Within me and in others, the creative action of the kundalini is a constant pulse, a naad, a dance of life that is easy to hear if I remain still and innocent. A simple task, but a hard task.

So to this day I tell my students, recognize the woman in you and around you. Never offend a woman. Only put into words and projection that which you want to see created a 1,000 fold all around you and through multiple lifetimes. See in every woman a 1,000 women, a reality without limit, that exists in relationship. She clothes herself in a 1,000 fashions and moves in rhythmic dance, an entrancement. To not see that is to offend her. To not feel that is to miss the miracle of her spirit in every moment.

As you read I Am a Woman, the new collection of edited lectures by Yogi Bhajan, realize that it is ultimately about the kundalini and the secret of mastery, in the relationship between your soul and the Infinite, your desire and your devotion, your gratitude and your grace. Sat Kriya will raise your spirits but a respectful, authentic relationship to the feminine will give birth to your destiny.

 

A contemporary prophet once said, “Oh, the times they are a-changing”. And along with those changes come stress—at work, at home, in our communities, and even the environment. We’ve been blessed to have a Teacher that gave us a way through these challenging times—sadhana. Sadhana cultivates steadiness and vitality in the face of change. Sadhana allows us to know the unknown and to face the present moment with security and stability. So our task in the morning—you may think of it as your chore—is sadhana, self-discipline. “Oh! I have to discipline myself.” It sounds so forced, doesn’t it? And yet with sadhana, we have an opportunity to remove a lot of stuff from our subconscious. It can be quite joyful; and that’s why I called it sweet fulfillment.

If you’re one who considers sadhana a chore, how do you begin to hold it in a different way? How can we change our relationship to sadhana so that it becomes a delight? How can we cultivate a self-discipline that is both sweet and fulfilling? I like to think of sadhana as a beautiful dance, Shiva Nataraj, Shiva dancing; sadhana is the entire universe dancing around you and you’re simply trying to get into rhythm. Part of the rhythm is simply showing up. I think you should show up even if you don’t know why. It’s a good idea to be regular in your sadhana, even if you’re irregular as a person.

Sadhana isn’t only a discipline; it is this universal dance—a dance with certain steps. In every single sadhana, you want to complete those steps. You want to internalize them, because if you don’t, you never get into rhythm. You’re always heading in the wrong direction. Sadhana is a dance between the body, the mind, the soul and the universe; sadhana is the discipline to know when to lead and when to follow. So much has changed and yet there is a common element that remains—the Adi Shakti Mantra or Morning Call. Let’s think about this dance, this thing we do in sadhana, from the basis of the very first one—because that never changed. It acts like a thread weaving together all the changes over the years: Ek Ong Kar Sat Nam Siri Wahe Guru. What does it mean? Wake up! Awaken—it is the kundalini awakening mantra. And each syllable within the phrase can be thought of as a gesture—a step in the dance. First we say Ek; it means ‘one’. If you vibrate with the word, then you become instantly open to everything at once. If you are truly one with the gesture, you will experience no boundary—all barriers will drop away. As soon as you say Ek, you’re totally open; you’re one; you haven’t divided anything yet; you’re without thought. Does that make sense? There are other experiences available from this same word—for example, you could feel strong by chanting a long Ek, drawing it out; or, you could say to yourself, “I’ve really had it with all this stuff” and the sound becomes more like ‘Ick’. Your subconscious is funny. There are many potential experiences, but as a sadhana, Ek consolidates total openness in an instant, poof, all at once. The next word is Ong, the sound of the gong, which always expresses a sense of expansion. So first, we experience total openness, Ek, there’s no distinction; and then Ong, the universe taking birth; me giving birth to me. Does that make sense? First—Ek—I’m me without any prejudice, without any judgment, without any fragmentation; then Ong, the creative energy to express my destiny.

Ek Ong Kar: You’ve expanded and now you project out, because Kar means all those thoughts and actions in the creation. So think of it—Ek Ong, the universe has created the field of action; Kar, so you act. Ek Ong Kar—what a joyous state to start with! So we’re already in pretty sweet fulfillment and we’re only through the first third.

What’s the next word? Sat. What’s the energy of Sat? The expression of Sat? The word Sat means existence—what is—because what’s true is what is; what is, is what’s true. There is no gap. Sat is your being in existence, that sense of coming into your being, crystallization of the self. And the Self is unlimited.

Nam is an interesting one. We translate it noun, identification, identity. All of existence gains an identity. What’s the gesture of identity? What’s the dance of identity? What do you do when you have an identity? What does that mean? There are things I can do and there are things I can’t do as Gurucharan—right? If I’m a human, if that’s my identity, there are certain things I can do and not do as a human, correct. Identity has a bantar* and jantar; it has structure. So identity requires a confrontation, a qualification.

Many people enjoy Sat, that great vast being: I’m being; I’m one with existence. But then Nam comes along and—oops, identity crisis. Because Nam demands that you qualify yourself: Does this thought or action qualify as Nam in this moment? It requires discipline and surrender and courage. Yogi Bhajan asked again and again—can you qualify? So Nam is the poke, provoke, confront, and elevate. It’s not that we poke each other or confront each other, but rather our Self—in our sadhana! Nam is your greatest gift. Sometimes we get lost, we hook into self-existence, Sat, as the essence, the ‘real thing’. Yogiji would say, So what? Everything has existence. You can’t get out of it. So that’s not so interesting. But Nam, now that’s interesting, because every identity, every word we speak, creates identity and shapes our total effect in the world and our experience of ourselves.

So the fundamental gesture in sadhana is confronting the thought. If you go through your entire sadhana and never confront the thought, did you really do sadhana? I don’t think so. This took me a long time to learn, because I would sit down and all I wanted to do was just bliss out. Nothing wrong with that is there? So I’d chant Ek Ong, bliss out, and say, I could go on for 20 hours—the more bliss the better. But in the end, there’s a kind of bliss that should come from your being, your mastery of your Self. So during sadhana, Nam is not just generating a good feeling or going to a positive place or entrancing yourself in a certain thought because it feels good and you don’t want to deal with your other stuff; that’s not it. Sat–you’re in your being; Nam—this is me, my identity. So be it, be it so. Sadhana must have this aspect to it, this gesture. Otherwise you’ve gotten vast, you’ve projected, but you’ve forgotten Nam and your sadhana is incomplete.

What’s the next word, Siri. What’s it feel like? What happens to the mind? Siri brings you to shuniya, a moment of stillness. It means great; it means beyond; it means you went past whatever you had been feeling, thinking, living. Suddenly you’re a hero; you’ve gone beyond the ordinary. And if someone sees a heroic act, they say Wah! You’ve stilled your former, small self and for a moment, you’ve become zero. So Siri is a stillness, a focused shuniya, because without that you can’t manifest Wahe. Without that moment of shuniya, you’re just hoping. Wahe becomes a question not a reality, not the true merger, the vastness, the surrender, the experience that is Wahe Guru.

And what’s the final word? Guru. Guru is transformation. You have all that you’ve gone through, you’ve cleaned out the closets of the mind, you’ve gone to the temple, you’ve presented the being, you’ve totally opened, you’ve expanded, you’ve merged, you’ve bowed; now the instruction comes. Guru is the teacher; guru shows you the way. So, what are you going to correct? How are you going to do it? That’s when you’re given an experience, an insight, a transformation.

When we practice sadhana as a life-long discipline, it frees up so much energy, so much vitality and grounds us in such a vastness of reality that we can take on anything, anytime, anywhere. It gives us flexibility and resourcefulness, caliber and character. It gives us courage. Think about it, you can live drawing energy from any chakra. And when you’re young, you don’t have to worry. Everything is working—hormones are balanced, cells are regenerating, there’s lots of energy from the first three chakras. Then you get into middle age; things are still pretty good. You’ve been working out, doing okay, no problem. Except—if you’re still drawing on the same source of energy as when you were young, you’re going to eventually fall apart. You have to tap into that energy of compassion and connection, clarity in your projection, or you start messing up. It’s a different energy, different bodies, make sense? You have to have emotional relationships that make sense. You have to have a lifestyle that supports your identity. You get a little older and you have to start drawing energy from your subtlety, from your spirit.

In the old days, to be an elder meant possessing a special force. It was a time of enormous vitality. Baba Deep Singh, at the age of 80, took up a great sword and went to war. The story goes like this: the enemy cuts off his head and he just grabs it and keeps going, walking toward the Golden Temple! Freaks everybody out! As he approaches the temple, he throws his own head through the gates and onto the prakarma. And the enemy says to itself, “I’m not dealing with this guy!” and retreats. So what is that? Oh, he’s weak and old. No! You can be; but you can also switch to a source of energy that goes along with this stage of life, this subtlety, this enormous power. When you find that source of vitality that is your consciousness itself, that’s called living, that’s called sadhana. Sadhana gives you a link—through all the chakras—to that core energy that is you.

Until then, it’s not actually an experience. It’s imagination, fantasy, emotional satisfaction. It’s called all sorts of wonderful things. It’s what drives Country Music. So we’re describing this simple way of being. Take up the mantra and in the vastness of our group psyche (that’s why we do group sadhana)—somebody’s sad, somebody’s mad, somebody’s glad, somebody’s bad—you can always accept somebody else’s problems more than yours. So their stuff slips in, your stuff slips over there, the whole thing gets exchanged, and sure enough this Nam thing starts happening, and you get catalyzed, you become you. Otherwise, you can locate yourself in a nice safe corner where you can say, I did sadhana. But ask yourself: Is sadhana doing you? You have to do the dance. That’s where you get your sweet fulfillment and delight. To enter into that play and allow the confrontation, the expansion and the energy of sadhana to transform you. It’s going to be fantastic!

[Bantar and Jantar are two stages in the sequence of creative expression from inner essence to full manifestation: antar, bantar, jantar, mantar, tantar, patantar, and sotantar. Bantar is associated with structure in time and space, when the thought begins to have dimension. Jantar are the qualities associated with the form.]
 

Click Here to Download the PDF version of the The Adi Shakti Mantra & the Meaning of Sadhana.