I Was A Monk For 10 Years In My Twenties — Here's What I Learned
Despite no sex, money, or individual freedom, there was plenty of love, friendship, and personal growth.
Imagine not having sex for ten years, particularly when you're in your twenties.
I did that.
And, I was pretty happy most of the time. Sounds crazy, right? Let me explain.
How it all started.
When I headed off the college in 1969, my grandfather warned me, "Be careful of commies and radicals." I didn't meet any communists, but I found plenty of radicals, and we became very good friends on our journey to higher levels of consciousness and self-discovery.
My journey of self-discovery also included reading Herman Hesse, D.H. Lawrence, Ken Kesey, and Ram Dass's Be Here Now. Getting stoned and taking psychedelics opened up new doors to my inner world and the sign carved in stone mounted on the corner of the main building on campus intrigued me — Know the Truth and the Truth Shall Set You Free.
The Truth. What the hell is that?
Finally, after three years of looking at the sign, I fell in love with a slightly unhinged girl who told me about Prem Rawat, a young Indian guru, reportedly showing people an inner Truth, an inner Knowledge. Something awoke within me. Looking back on it, I think I had the equivalent of a spiritual orgasm. The trajectory of my life was completely changed.
I learned the techniques of raj (royal) yoga (union) in the fall of 1972. After graduating in 1973, I found my way to Boston, moved into an ashram (shelter in Hindi), lived in some run-down houses with a bunch of other hippy spiritual freaks, and opened up a natural foods store with a good friend and fellow devotee.
But the end game wasn't the joys of celibacy, communal living, or vegetarianism. The end game was bringing peace to the world one person at a time through the teachings of Mr. Rawat and the experience of meditation he offered.
We were on a mission, and for those of us who wanted to work exclusively for him, we had to live in one of the dozens of ashrams throughout the U.S. That meant adopting the Bhakti yoga (devotion to a personal deity) philosophy encouraged by the young Rawat and his inner circle and taking vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.
Of the ten thousand followers of Mr. Rawat, only a few hundred lived in ashrams. Many worked regular jobs and helped support the ashram, while others, like me, held administrative positions.
I lived in Boston for about a year, and then I was off to Denver, Chicago, Atlanta, Houston, and Philadelphia, before Mr. Rawat asked me to be a meditation instructor. Then, I traveled throughout the world teaching meditation until I became the president of the North American enterprise.
I was a true believer.
Before I tell you what I learned as a blissed out monk, I want you to know there were also times of doubt, loneliness, and isolation.
The reality of what I couldn't do struck me like a punch to the gut when I was in Canada teaching meditation, traveling across the country, city by city, a week at a time. My driver stopped at a gas station. I sat in the back seat and watched as three young, leather-clad female motorcycle riders pulled in.
A cloud of envy and depression engulfed me. Like a prisoner in a cop car, I peered helplessly out of the window, every cell of my body aching for freedom and knowing I was in for a long, lonely ride to my next destination. I wanted to hop on the back of one of those bikes and just ride out of there.
After fueling up, the girls cranked out, hair blowing in the wind under their helmets. I asked myself, do I really want to be a monk for the rest of my life?
A few years later, in 1984, Mr. Rawat took care of that question when he surprisingly closed all the ashrams.
My life started over at thirty-three, with nothing to my name — no money, no car, and no job. The full story of my transition back into the mainstream is below.
Here's a quick glimpse at ashram life before telling you what I learned while there.
Life in the ashram.
Ashrams are spiritual and religious retreat places. They provide an environment where students can focus on their spiritual growth with minimal worldly distractions.
Ashrams typically have rules and a regular daily regimen to encourage contemplation and meditation.
Here are the basics of the ashram structure in which I lived.
Rules. Celibacy. No personal property except for essentials. No personal money. Obedience to what you are told to do by those in charge. Practice meditation, perform service and attend all nightly meetings.
Lifestyle. Medical and dental care. Small weekly allowance. A bed in a room with two-three roommates. Food. Clothes as needed. Friends if you wanted.
Schedule. Get up at 6 am. Put on yoga whites. Go to the group meditation room and sing a devotional song to Prem Rawat, whose picture sat on an elaborate altar. Meditate for an hour, or fall asleep, as some did.
Clean up, eat a communal vegetarian breakfast in silence. Then, go to work, come back home by 5, or work in the ashram.
Vegetarian dinner at 6, eaten in silence, prepared by what was known as the house mother or father. This person shopped, cooked all meals, and took care of running the home.
At 7:30, attend nightly discourses, known as Satsang, a Hindi word meaning the company of truth. Fellow devotees share— extemporaneous 15-minute inspirational descriptions of their experience, interspersed with live acoustic music.
At 9:30, sing a devotional song, return home and prepare for another hour of meditation before sleep.
I did this virtually every day for ten years.
Lessons learned.
Looking back, I learned the importance of seven principles:
- Purpose. I would have never lived in the ashram without believing in a compelling purpose (a more peaceful world through knowing one’s inner self). Purpose fueled my commitment to the required lifestyle and sustained my effort during times of doubt or challenges. Having a compelling purpose in life ignites motivation, effort, and enthusiasm.
- Community. There was a vibrant sense of community among the followers of Prem Rawat that fostered respect and love for each other. It made what could be a lonely journey not so lonely. The same thing exists in everyday life — when we feel a sense of community, we feel better, more connected. Conversely, the lack of community and connection breeds isolation, separation, and suffering.
- Cooperation. A smooth-functioning ashram was the result of teamwork and collaboration. The same applies to any team or organization. When there is trust, role clarity, focus, and engagement, teams perform well. The same thing happened in the ashram. Some ashrams were dysfunctional. Most weren't.
- Discipline. Discipline and structure were necessary for ten young men or women to live and work together while walking a narrow path. Those qualities also played an essential role in developing my meditation practice and adherence to the rules in the ashram. Subsequently, discipline has served me well in my post ashram life — work, raising a family, and learning new skills.
- Simplicity. I spent ten years on foam mattresses with virtually no money or possessions. But, as I've said, I was quite happy. And while I accumulated plenty of stuff post ashram, deep down inside, I knew very little was necessary to be satisfied. But, because I went with so little for so many years, I didn't hold back on living life fully once I could. Now, at seventy years old, having lots of stuff is irrelevant for me. I know I need very little to be content, much less than I thought I would.
- Inner contentment. Happiness exists independent of what you have or don't have. It's an inside game. You can have a mansion and be miserable, and you can live in a hut and be quite content. What I learned as a monk is as relevant and accurate as ever — the peace we seek through people, places, and things, is within us.
Don’t we all live in an "ashram?"
You don't have to live in an ashram to experience the importance of these principles. You can learn them by joining the military, being part of a team, a company, or if you raise a family. They're universal truths that help us achieve our goals.
And, the truth of it is, don't we all live in some kind of "ashram?"
There are "rules" to be followed by you and your partner, family, or team. The "rules" are there because of personal preference, goals to be achieved and to help the group or household function more smoothly.
For example, when there is no shared purpose amongst a couple or a team, breakdowns are more apt to occur. The same thing when there's a lack of community, cooperation, or discipline. When things get complicated instead of simple, life can be stressful. And, when we aren't content within ourselves, we project on others and act out.
As strange as it seems now, ten years as a monk was part of my life journey. The good times far outweighed the bad.
I'll take what I've learned with gratitude.
Closing story.
A few years after I left the ashram, I bought a Harley-Davidson. One afternoon, after work, I suited up in my black leather jacket and fringed gloves, chugged off, hands up on the bars, sitting low in the saddle over the best motorcycle engine ever made, a big smile on my face.
Freedom — finally.
I rode slowly down a country road, a canopy of trees overhead, enjoying the crisp fall air and the pungent smell of newly plowed farmland.
I drifted off for a moment and wondered if I should thump my way up to Canada and look for those three biker girls. But a deer in a field up ahead brought me back to reality.
The sun was setting, and while I felt like riding for another hour, I now lived in a different type of ashram.
I turned my chopper around and happily headed for home to have dinner with my wife and kids, thinking about what freedom really is.
If you enjoyed this article, you might like, How to Meditate When You Can’t Shut Your Mind Off
By joining my mailing list, you’ll get a relaxed note every few months or so and updates on my soon-to-be-published book, Be More Conscious — A Guide For Living, Learning, and Loving.
