Prior to my opening in 2001, I had no spiritual practice whatsoever, no routines or rituals to channel and direct my efforts, only a naked aspiration and desire honed from months in the deserts of western North America 15 years earlier. In the months and first years after the opening experience, the force and extent of that event carried me far down the path of transformation. Like the resulting cataclysmic wave born when a dam is breached or collapses, the liberated and reorganizing energy of that event took control of my being and bore me along like flotsam in its current, with no effort necessary on my part. As alluded to in the latter part of my account, I enjoyed the fruits of that once the extreme tumult of the new dawn settled down. In its aftermath, I read widely attempting to understand what had occurred to me, specifically focusing on the works of Merrell-Wolff and Aurobindo (voluminous works, that one). At some level, I believed that reading spiritual literature constituted a spiritual practice in itself and was sufficient by itself. In the end, it proved not to be, and as the momentum of the event settled several years later, though I then inhabited a wider and more extensive state of consciousness than before, momentum stalled and I found myself becalmed and adrift. My daily life activities had again assumed primacy in my consciousness. I knew at a deep level that I had irrevocably gained and progressed, and that I was not the same person any longer, but just as obviously, it became evident that the effects of the event had gone into a hibernation state, and progress had ceased. I knew by several earmarks for myself that the journey was not complete – there had been little or no positive change for my base-line emotional state, my ego was still in force and visible in evidence, and true spiritual connection to others was still lacking. In short, I had largely squandered the momentum of the event by not finding or developing an active practice in the aftermath, one that might have seized the threads of suggested practice as they became apparent to me and used those to begin to build a sustained momentum on the spiritual path.

In recent years, as my daily life was rearranged and settled in more favorable ways, I’ve turned my attention once more to building an enduring and effective practice, wiser in my ways now. This website stands as a testimony of that effort, as it outlines reminders, not only for others, but also for myself, of what the cardinal reference points of practice consist of – physical, intellectual, emotional, spiritual – and how spiritual progress may be encouraged and fostered. As Via Perennis is a syncretic endeavor, pulling valuable and effective practices from many different traditions, it can sometimes appear that this is not a cohesive effort, that focus is scattered in too many different directions to be effective. It has been suggested to me more than once that I need to constrain the bounds of what is considered and presented, and that I need to slow down my active pursuit and engagement with the various building blocks of a practice, to restrict my view and admission of influences, to adopt a more measured and contemplative approach, even if it is at the expense of thoroughness and comprehensiveness.

In the Bible, there is the story of Jesus visiting Mary and Martha at their home. Martha is busily engaged with all manner of things while their guest speaks, while Mary sits rapt at his feet and absorbs his words. When Martha complains and asks Jesus to rebuke Mary for her idleness, Jesus responds and says: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10: 38-42)

With caveats, I agree that these are important considerations to keep in mind. It is possible to become too scattered, too-confused and ill-focused in a practice. Part of my admitted zeal in pursuit of building the edifice of a sadhana is to make up for lost time since the opening. For almost two decades afterwards, there was no meaningful forward progress. Now, even with the busy pace, there is again renewed movement. In much the same way as when a new jigsaw puzzle is emptied out on a tabletop, the fragmented individual pieces appear to make no sense on their own while each is disconnected from all the others. But the puzzler knows that all of the pieces fit together and will in the end comprise a picture of complete aesthetic pleasure and beauty. The puzzler also has a template or guide, a blueprint in the original image to guide her, and thus assurance is had beforehand that the destination is achievable and worth the effort; a comprehensive view will become available that is not ascertainable from the immediate state of the jumbled pieces resting on the tabletop. In much the same way, the mandala of Via Perennis, a clear template of what the bounds of the endeavor are and where each effort fits within those bounds, provides the organizing principle of the sadhana. And in the spirit of integral spirituality and development, all parts of the being must be engaged and uplifted so that the metamorphosis is as complete on the part of the seeker as is possible to achieve. The sacrifice to Divine Grace should be a complete one on the part of the aspirant, prepared in all its myriad facets to be taken up.

My expectation is that as one’s sadhana progresses for the aspirant, it will become more distilled, more pure by repeated invocations, and there will begin to be a blending of efforts across strict compartmental lines. As ingredients in a tasty soup all come together in an altogether unexpected and sensually delightful way at the conclusion of cooking time, so too, all of the elements of the sadhana will ultimately fuse together in one unique and fragrant spiritual expression. The soup will not achieve its full savory potential if the ingredients are arbitrarily excluded or omitted from the outset of preparation. Thus, even though sous preparation in gathering the ingredients together and apportioning each correctly is a lot of work, to achieve its full potential, the finished soup requires this labor. And so we labor, from many directions, towards one objective, guided by our sadhana template. This is my view of the proper place and scope of sadhana (spiritual practice), striking a balance between the stillness and contemplation needed to inform and energize the practice at its deepest levels, and the efforts needed to determine for oneself what practices resonate with one and aid development, while weeding out of one’s practice those elements that are not helpful in growth, those that, like my mere reading for understanding in the opening’s early days, prove to be only diversions from the real labor. Balance in all things. After all, this is not vicarious salvation we are speaking of. Neither no effort, nor extreme and unfocused effort disconnected from the action of Grace. Effort is required from the aspirant – in equal measure and proportion with contemplation and rest. This is my faith and my view of the place of sadhana on one’s journey.