Vyas describes this album as “an offering—a sacred call to awaken the heart through sound.” Every track on Vedic Invocations is infused with meticulous authenticity, guided by Brahmin priests who have trained in the revered Gurukul system, ensuring the pronunciation and intonation remain pure, just as they have been for millennia.

A Sacred Compilation of Transformative Prayers

At the heart of this album is a selection of powerful hymns and invocations from the Vedas and Upanishads, carefully chosen to invoke divine energy, purify the mind, and elevate spiritual practice. These include:

• Ganapati Atharvasheersham – A sacred Sanskrit text from the Upanishads, describing the nature and worship of Lord Ganesha as the remover of obstacles and the source of wisdom.
• Durga Dwatrinshna Nama Mala – A hymn listing 32 names of Goddess Durga, a divine warrior who safeguards devotees from suffering and evil forces.
• Amogh Shiva Kavacham – A powerful shield of mantras from the Skanda Purana, invoking Lord Shiva’s protection and bestowing a halo of divine energy.
• Shree Devi Atharvasheersham – A Vedic hymn dedicated to Goddess Durga in her supreme cosmic form, emphasizing strength, wisdom, and spiritual fortitude.
• Narayana Atharvasheersham – An invocation of Lord Narayana, the sustainer of the universe, offering deep insight into divine consciousness and the path to liberation.

Each of these invocations has been carefully arranged with reverence, allowing listeners to be transported into the sanctity of an ancient temple, where these prayers have echoed for thousands of years.

The Power of Vedic Sound

The magic of Vedic Invocations lies not just in its lyrical content, but in the profound impact of Sanskrit’s vibratory force. Vyas notes,

“These prayers are not only invocations to these magnificent, powerful, gracious deities, but also a tool to cleanse and purify the energy fields in and around you. They can remove obstacles, create a shield of protection, and invite abundance, peace, and truthfulness into your daily life.”

Unlike conventional music, these chants are designed to shift energy, aligning the listener’s awareness with the higher chakras. This quality makes Vedic Invocations an invaluable companion for Integral Yoga practitioners seeking to deepen their meditation, strengthen their devotion, and cultivate inner stillness.

A Devotional Offering to the Seeker

The purity of this album is a gift for all lovers of sacred sound, from dedicated yogis to those new to the transformative power of Vedic mantras. As Vyas so beautifully expresses,

“If we’re sensitive enough, Vedic knowledge systems give us the inner knowledge of the profound energies of life that govern the universe, allowing us to access them in our daily lives.”

With its celestial chants, precise recitations, and soul-stirring instrumentation, Vedic Invocations is an invitation to step into the river of ancient wisdom, to bathe in the sound current of the eternal, and to awaken the divine presence within.

For those who seek to enrich their spiritual practice with the power of sacred vibration, Vedic Invocations is a portal into the divine, a sacred echo of the timeless wisdom that continues to guide seekers toward enlightenment.

The post Manish Vyas’s “Vedic Invocations”: A Gateway to Sacred Sound appeared first on Integral Yoga® Magazine.

The great Indian sage and proponent of Advaita Vedanta, Adi Shankara, realized his true nature and wrote the

The post Shivoham! appeared first on Integral Yoga® Magazine.

The inspiring affirmation contained in Adi Shankara’s Nirvana Shatakam

The profound Nirvana Shatakam stotra (hymn of praise) was composed by Adi Shankaracharya, the great 8th-century philosopher and sage, who stands as one of the most profound spiritual figures in India’s history. His teachings revitalized the understanding of Advaita Vedanta, the philosophy of nonduality, which proclaims the oneness of the individual soul (jivatman) and the Supreme (paramatman).

Shankara’s life was devoted to dispelling ignorance and reaffirming the timeless truth that beyond all worldly distinctions, the essence of existence is pure, unchanging Consciousness—Brahman.

As a young seeker, he journeyed across India, engaging in deep philosophical debates, composing commentaries on the scriptures, and establishing monastic centers (mathas) that continue to preserve his teachings. Integral Yoga sannyasis (swamis) are part of the monastic order and spiritual tradition (parampara) established by Adi Shankaracharya. Among his many devotional hymns and philosophical compositions, Nirvana Shatakam shines as a jewel of self-inquiry and spiritual realization.

The Inspiration Behind Nirvana Shatakam

According to tradition, young Shankara, wandering as a renunciate, encountered a great sage who became his Guru, Sri Govindapada. When asked, “Who are you?” Shankara did not respond with his name, lineage, or background. Instead, he expressed his realization in six verses, revealing his identity not as the body, mind, or emotions, but as the infinite, blissful Consciousness—Shivoham (I am Shiva). These six verses became known as the Nirvana Shatakam, the “Six Verses on Liberation.”

Each verse peels away false identifications—of body, mind, emotions, and individual identity—to reveal the undivided Self that is beyond all attributes. It is a hymn of direct insight, an echo of the Upanishadic declaration, Tat Tvam Asi—“Thou Art That.”

Painting: Depiction of Sri Shankara meeting his Guru, Sri Govindapada.

Meaning and Essence of Nirvana Shatakam

The six verses systematically negate all limiting identities. Let’s explore the essence of the hymn and you can chant along with Gaiea.

1. manobuddhyahaṅkāra cittāni nāhaṃ
   na ca śrotrajihve na ca ghrāṇanetre
   na ca vyoma bhūmirna tejo na vāyuḥ
   cidānandarūpaḥ śivo’ham śivo’ham ||1||

   Not the Mind, Not the Body
   I am not the mind, the intellect, the ego, or memory. I am not the ears, the tongue, the nose, or the eyes…
   Shankara begins by rejecting all physical and mental faculties as his true Self. We often define ourselves by our thoughts, emotions, or bodily experiences, but these are ever-changing. The unchanging reality is beyond them. At the end of each verse, the repetition of “Shivoham” anchors us in this truth, dissolving worldly identities in the vastness of Divine Consciousness.

2. na ca prāṇasaṃjño na vai pañcavāyuḥ
   na vā saptadhātuḥ na vā pañcakośaḥ
   na vākpāṇipādaṃ na copasthapāyu
   cidānandarūpaḥ śivo’ham śivo’ham ||2||

   Not the Senses, Not the Elements
   I am not space, nor the earth, nor fire, nor wind…
   Even the fundamental elements that compose the universe are not the Self. By negating one’s identity as those, the seeker is led inward, beyond the gross and subtle layers of existence.

3. na me dveṣarāgau na me lobhamohau
   mado naiva me naiva mātsaryabhāvaḥ
   na dharmo na cārtho na kāmo na mokṣaḥ
   cidānandarūpaḥ śivo’ham śivo’ham ||3||

   Beyond Attachments and Desires
   I have no hatred or attachment, no greed or delusion…
   Identifications with emotions, likes and dislikes, and worldly desires also dissolve. The nature of the true Self is freedom, for in fact, we were never bound.

4. na puṇyaṃ na pāpaṃ na saukhyaṃ na duḥkhaṃ
   na mantro na tīrthaṃ na vedā na yajñāḥ
   ahaṃ bhojanaṃ naiva bhojyaṃ na bhoktā
   cidānandarūpaḥ śivo’ham śivo’ham ||4||

   Beyond Birth and Death
   I have neither virtue nor vice, neither pleasure nor pain. I have no father, no mother, no birth…
   The Self is beyond all social and biological constructs. Death and rebirth do not belong to the real Self, which is eternal.

5. na mṛtyurna śaṅkā na me jātibhedaḥ
   pitā naiva me naiva mātā na janmaḥ
   na bandhurna mitraṃ gururnaiva śiṣyaṃ
   cidānandarūpaḥ śivo’ham śivo’ham ||5||

   The Ever-Free Witness
   I need no offerings, no rituals, no scriptures. I am not bound by sacred words or pilgrimages…
   True liberation is not dependent on external acts. The Self is already free—pure and unchanging Consciousness.

6. ahaṃ nirvikalpo nirākārarūpo
   vibhutvācca sarvatra sarvendriyāṇām
   na cāsaṅgataṃ naiva muktirna meyaḥ
   cidānandarūpaḥ śivo’ham śivo’ham ||6||

   The Supreme Truth: Shivoham
   I am Consciousness, Bliss, and Ever-Present Divinity—Shiva, Shiva, I am That!
   The final verse affirms the supreme realization: Shivoham—I am Shiva, pure, formless, boundless Consciousness.

The Benefits of Chanting Nirvana Shatakam

Chanting or meditating on Nirvana Shatakam has profound effects:

• Freedom from Fear and Suffering – By realizing that we are beyond birth, death, and worldly experiences, we loosen the grip of fear and suffering.
• Inner Stillness and Clarity – As we contemplate these truths, mental noise subsides, and a deep stillness arises.
• Overcoming Ego and Illusions – The hymn leads us beyond the illusion of separateness, dissolving the ego’s grip.
• A Direct Path to Liberation – Rather than complex rituals, Nirvana Shatakam offers a clear, direct path to Self-realization.
• Divine Recognition – Regular chanting of this stotra elevates one’s mind and leads to the recognition of one’s true nature, pure Consciousness, the infinite Reality.

Nirvana Shatakam is more than a chant—it is a call to awaken to our boundless nature. As Adi Shankaracharya reminds us, we are not limited by mind, body, or worldly identifications. We are that which is eternal, ever-free, and full of bliss—Shivoham, Shivoham.

By integrating this profound wisdom into our Yoga practice and daily contemplation, we inch closer to the realization that we were never bound, only dreaming of limitations. May the verses of Nirvana Shatakam guide all seekers toward the recognition of the true, infinite Self.

The post “Nirvana Shatakam” : A Gateway to the Infinite appeared first on Integral Yoga® Magazine.

This program also featured a screening of the world premiere of the new documentary, “Divine Harmony: Alice Coltrane Turiyasangitananda’s Spiritual Journey with Swami Satchidananda.” This documentary was produced in honor of “The Year of Alice,” the 2024-2025 initiative that celebrates the life work of Alice Coltrane sponsored by The John & Alice Coltrane Home and the Coltrane Family, in partnership with Impulse!

In the 1970’s, Alice Aparna Coltrane became a student of Swami Satchidananda. It proved to be a life altering educational experience and Alice became immersed in devotion and elevation for the rest of her years on earth. Her music and teaching, which we will hear in this special service celebrating her birthday, reflect her lifelong study, and incorporate the many threads of her musical and devotional life which began with her playing in the Baptist church in Detroit as a young girl. Together we will honor the legacy of musicianship and devotion to god consciousness in these times when our world so needs to hear and be inspired by her dedication to humanity.

Watch the documentary here. More information about Swamini here, the Alice & John Coltrane Home here.

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The author in Yoga pose as she conquers her fears!

The small commuter airplane swayed as it began its descent toward rural Virginia. I gripped the armrest. The seatbelt chime dinged and the engines droned. I closed my eyes and felt the twenty-thousand feet below me open like a chasm. I put my earbuds in and raised the volume. Guitar chords and drums pulsed. A filigree of cymbals wove around the melody as David (Durga Das) Newman’s earthy tenor sang “Love Peace and Freedom for Us All” in a call and response kirtan; a lullaby which kept me from tipping into a full-blown panic attack.

After the nausea-inducing flight I drove my rental car to Satchidananda Ashram-Yogaville. Hours later but still rattled from the flight, I made my way to a kirtan event lead by Newman. The hot summer air clung to my skin as I took a seat in the crowded hall. It should have been a happy coincidence to attend a live event by one of my favorite artists. I was at the ashram to serve as program coordinator for a different training program and surprised by the serendipity; but I could barely muster enthusiasm to tap my fingers. The relentless cymbal clanging and mantra repetitions seared my raw nerves. I resisted the guitars, the drums, and even more so I resisted the pull of the mantra. Only Midwestern-born politeness kept me in my seat. Sweat trickled down my face until eventually the chanting trailed its vibrations into a final Om that melded into silence.

I had so much resistance back then, and used it like some kind of backwards protective system: if I resist opening up during kirtan it means I’m safe from heart-break; if I fear dying on an airplane it means I’m alive.

A week later I returned home to Boston and wore myself out during the nauseating and panicked flights. But this time I got fed-up. It was time to face my fear of flying. Figuring that learning about aviation might help, I booked a Discovery Flight; a forty-five minute ground lesson followed by a thirty minute flight in a small four-seat airplane. On the way to Mansfield Airport I almost backed out and had to coax myself by bargaining the drive from stoplight to stoplight. And despite grumbling my way through his kirtan concert, Newman was my go-to artist when dealing with my fear, so it seemed inevitable that I’d chant along with Love Peace Chant as I willed the car forward.

After numbly enduring the ground instruction the time came to strap myself into the four-seat Cessna. I was a breath away from backing out but somehow held my nerve. And when the enthusiastic but patient flight instructor started the engine I almost ripped off my headset and bolted. Once airborne it took endless coaxing by the instructor but I finally put my trembling hands on the controls. The radio crackled and the wind hummed around us. It was late spring and the thick green canopy of trees rolled over the Earth. Just beyond the spinning propeller sat the rugged Boston cityscape and the cool blue Atlantic ocean.

Soon one lesson turned into another. Before my mind could catch up to my heart I had enrolled in flight school to become a certificated private pilot. To my surprise I had fallen in love with flying. Fear, however, had worn canyons in my mind. Each new sensation or flight maneuver triggered years of well-practiced fear. My brain was clogged and learning felt like a Sisyphean effort. My resistance wanted me to stay stuck; “It would be easier this way wouldn’t it? Give up now and go back to teaching Yoga,” it whispered. Each departure climb sent my pulse racing. My body was as taut as a guitar string and to keep my mind from giving into panic, part of it would repeat a mantra.

The seasons ticked by: we checked for bugs in the intake tubes that summer, then cleared leaves from the hanger in autumn, and in winter scraped frost off the wings.Then spring arrived and on social media David Newman’s wife Mira announced that he had brain cancer and would soon pass away. Even though I did not know him personally it felt like the blow of losing a good friend. It seemed impossible that someone so much younger than me could measure the time from first symptoms to final breath the span of weeks. Once again, I queued up Love, Peace, Chant and drove to the airport.

A few lessons later I was ready to fly solo; a rite of passage for every aviator. Three takeoffs and three landings around my home airport with just the plane and me. Flying in the pattern is busy; climbing, turning, radio calls to make, all the piloting jazz. But for a few moments on each downwind I exhaled slowly and gazed at Boston as it peeked at me from behind the Blue Hills and mentally waved at the Atlantic ocean. I no longer needed to repeat a mantra to keep my heart from racing; for I was now in duet with the sound of flight.

During my final approach to landing I pulled the power to idle and the engine purred. I slowed to my final approach speed and smiled when I heard the soprano whistle of wind over the fuselage, the sign of the speed dialed in just right; this was the song of flight. The wind and plane worked together and soon we made a smooth touchdown.

A few days later Newman’s wife posted to social media that he had “recently quoted one of his favorite musical artists, Nick Cave…‘I’m transforming, I’m vibrating… I’m flying, look at me now…’ ” I like to think that Newman was with me on that solo flight; that he saw the power of mantra embodied in a budding aviator stepping away from fear and into her power. A few weeks later he passed away.

In classical music, composers sometimes guide the decrease of volume—a decrescendo— by specifying with the notation al niente: to nothing. Fading into nothing reminds me of the quiet hush after the final Om of Newman’s kirtan or the smooth whisper of air over a wing. I used to resist giving up my fears; because without it to define me if felt like dropping into nothingness; my life disappearing al niente and with no meaning. The mantras and flying are slowly dissolving my illusions of separateness and as my vision expands, my fear has no barrier to push against. I no longer fear the void beneath me, for now I see that I am part of it, and it is a part of me. I was born from silence and shall eventually return to silence. In between, I sing with the sky.

(Author’s Note: the timeline of events in this essay have been compressed for clarity.)

About the Author:

Gita Brown is a wellness activist, musician, and writer. She is a certified Advanced Integral Yoga®  teacher and licensed Yoga for the Special Child® practitioner. Through her “Yoga with Gita courses” and podcast, “The Gita Brown Show,” her mission is to teach her students how to adapt the traditional practices of Yoga to bring more ease, wellness, and joy into everyday life. Gita started Yoga as a teenager, when her love of Yoga grew in tandem with her career as a classical clarinetist and music therapist. For three decades, she has taught Yoga, wellness, and music courses at colleges, schools of music, community schools, private studios, public schools, and hospitals. She offers Yoga to students of all ages and abilities through online programs and in person at her home studio at Three Dog Farm in Kingston, Massachusetts. Learn more about her services by visiting:  https://www.gitabrown.com

The post Overcoming a Fear of Flying: How Mantras Carry Me on Their Wings appeared first on Integral Yoga® Magazine.

Durga Das (making a peace sign; Mira holding Tulsi) with participants of his Kirtan College at Yogaville, late-2010s.

With heavy hearts and profound sorrow, we bid farewell to a luminary of spiritual music, David Newman, known fondly as Durga Das, who transitioned from this world into the eternal realm on April 18, 2024. He was diagnosed five weeks prior with Glioblastoma (brain cancer). His departure leaves a palpable void in the hearts of countless devotees, friends, and admirers worldwide.

David Newman was much more than a musician, song-writer, author and spiritual teacher; he was a beacon of light, spreading the message of love, peace, and devotion through the powerful medium of kirtan. Born with a natural gift for music, his journey as Durga Das began with a deep spiritual awakening that transformed his life and inspired countless others. Through his soul-stirring chants and melodies, he transported listeners to realms beyond the mundane, invoking a sense of transcendence and unity with the divine.

His devotion to the practice of kirtan was unparalleled, reflecting his unwavering commitment to the path of Bhakti Yoga. With each strum of his guitar and each note of his soulful voice, he effortlessly led his audiences into a state of blissful meditation, where hearts opened and spirits soared. His kirtan sessions were not mere performances; they were sacred ceremonies, inviting all to join in a collective celebration of love and devotion.

Beyond his musical prowess, Durga Das was a humble and compassionate soul, always ready to extend a helping hand to those in need. His presence radiated warmth and kindness, touching the lives of all who had the privilege of knowing him. Whether through his music or his actions, he embodied the timeless teachings of compassion, service, and selflessness.

Durga Das’s legacy will continue to resonate in the hearts of those who were fortunate enough to experience the transformative power of his kirtan or the Kirtan College that he conducted for more than 10 years at Satchidananda Ashram–Yogaville. He was supposed to conduct a Kirtan College this August (2024)—his first in Yogaville post-pandemic. Whether he was teaching, sharing his wisdom and music, he was always brought inspiration from his generous heart. His melodies will linger in the air, his words will echo in our minds, and his legacy will remain a guiding light.

As we mourn the loss of a beloved friend, mentor, and inspiration, let us also celebrate the profound impact he had on the world. Let us honor his memory by embracing the principles of love, unity, and devotion that he so passionately embodied. Though he may no longer walk among us, his spirit will forever live on in the sacred vibrations of his music and the countless lives he touched.

In the words of the Sri Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita, “Na jayate mriyate va kadacin nayam bhutva bhavita va na bhuyah” – “For the soul there is never birth nor death. Nor, having once been, does the Self ever cease to be.” The one we have known as Durga Das has transcended the boundaries of time and space, merging with the eternal melody of the cosmos. In this moment of profound loss, let us take solace in the knowledge that his spirit now soars freely, enveloped in the divine embrace of the universe.

Beloved Mira (wife of Durga Das) and Tulsi (their daughter) we are with you, holding you up in love and support as you go through this most challenging of times. Dear spiritual brother Durga Das, your music will continue to resonate in the hearts of all who cherish the gift of kirtan. Thank you for sharing your light with the world. Your physical presence will be deeply missed, but your legacy will endure.

The post In Loving Memory of David Newman (Durga Das), the Soulful Kirtan Maestro appeared first on Integral Yoga® Magazine.

Integral Yoga Media is please to offer the newly mastered audio recording “Swami Satchidananda Teaches the Meditation Ślokas.” These ślokas are part of the daily meditation sessions at Satchidananda Ashram Yogaville and Integral Yoga centers around the world.

The post NEW! Swami Satchidananda Teaches the Meditation Ślokas appeared first on Integral Yoga® Magazine.

New Alice Coltrane album from the 1971 Carnegie Hall benefit concert.

In March 2024, Impulse! Records (whose parent company is Universal Music Group), released the live recording of Alice Coltrane (Swamini A.C. Turiyasangitananda) that was part a benefit concert held in 1971 for the Integral Yoga Institute of New York. This new album release is part of the 2024 “Year of Alice,” conceived of by The John & Alice Coltrane Home and the Coltrane Family—in partnership with Impulse! Records, Detroit Jazz Festival, Hammer Museum, Alonzo King LINES Ballet, The New York Historical Society, and many more— celebrating the extensive life work of Coltrane. 

Amid the ebb and flow of grief following the passing of her beloved husband, jazz luminary John Coltrane in 1967, Alice Coltrane embarked on a transformative journey that transcended the realms of both geography and spirituality. This odyssey of the soul, chronicled in the annals of her life’s narrative, Monument Eternal, found its crescendo in a singular night in 1971 at New York’s venerable Carnegie Hall—a night that would stand as a testament to the indomitable spirit of artistic expression and the transformative power of music imbued with spiritual essence.

December 1970 marked a pivotal moment in Alice’s life as she embarked on a pilgrimage to the fabled lands of the Indian subcontinent, accompanying her Guru and spiritual mentor, Swami Satchidananda, along with several other students. “Having made the journey to the East, a most important part of my sadhana (spiritual practice) has been completed,” Alice later reflected. From the sacred banks of the Ganges to the serene ashram sanctuaries nestled amidst the Himalayan peaks, to a Yoga retreat in Sri Lanka (then Ceylon) Alice immersed herself in the timeless wisdom of the East, seeking enlightenment amid the tapestry of ancient traditions and sacred rituals. Her sojourn, spanning five weeks of spiritual exploration and introspection, became a crucible of transformation—a journey that would irrevocably alter the course of her life and music.

Photo: Alice Coltrane next to Swami Satchidananda, Himalayas, India, 1970.

Upon her return from the mystical lands of the East, Alice found herself standing at the threshold of Carnegie Hall, a bastion of artistic expression and cultural resonance. “The trip to the East gave me the spiritual motivation to come out more—to do more with my music. I also listened to a lot of beautiful sitar and vina music…and I’m going to use some of the chants I heard…some of the essence of the East,” she told Essence magazine in an interview. The 1971 concert was a benefit for the Integral Yoga Institute (IYI) of New York, which was founded by Swami Satchidananda in 1966. The IYI was in the process of expanding from an apartment on West End Avenue in New York City to a building it was to purchase on 13th Street in the West Village, which it still operates today. Alice had been a generous benefactor, when, in 1970, she quietly wrote a check toward the down payment for that building.

As writer Lauren Du Graf noted in the liner notes accompanying the new album release, “Alice was drawn to the universality of Satchidananda’s teachings, which promoted the idea of divine unity beyond the particularities of religious difference—sentiments which echoed her late husband’s values. But the swami’s most useful and enduring lesson, according to Alice, was pragmatic advice on how to approach work. Her anguish in the wake of her husband’s death had been amplified by the responsibility of dealing with the enormity of the work he left behind.” Du Graf further notes, “It was Satchidananda who Alice would credit with helping her cope with crippling pressure of her workload, while still enabling her to be productive. His advice to her was to practice non-attachment in her working life. ‘Say, if you want to build a ship, build it in a detached manner,” she later recounted in a 2002 interview published in The Wire. ‘Don’t build it subjectively, don’t build it by putting your full faith into a technical, temporary, mundane, or materialistic thing. Go about it in a detached way. Detached doesn’t mean disliked, it just means that I don’t want this project to consume me. It will if I allow it. If I subject myself it ends up binding and controlling me. I can’t sleep at night because that’s all I’m concerned about. So I will go and do my work objectively. That’s one of the best lessons I’ve learned that he taught us.’”

In January of 1969, months before the Woodstock Festival and Swami Satchidananda’s key role in opening it, the IYI organized a “concert” at Carnegie Hall. It featured a Hatha Yoga demonstration by several of Sri Swamiji’s students, sitar music, and then a talk by him. Tickets sold out instantly. Two years later, Sid Bernstein organized and produced the 1971 Carnegie Hall benefit. Bernstein  had brought the Beatles to Carnegie Hall in 1964 and later to Shea Stadium. He also managed the Rascals (then called “The Young Rascals) and two of the band’s members (Felix Cavaliere and Eddie Brigati) were students of Swami Satchidananda. Along with the usual mix of cigarette and liquor ads one finds in such printed programs back in the day, the February 21, 1971 program distributed that evening described the Concert as a benefit for the Integral Yoga Institute, “a non-profit, non-sectarian organization dedicated to the study, practice and promotion of Integral Yoga. Integral Yoga is a synthesis of specific methods which bring the harmonious development of the individual and the peaceful evolution of the community.”

The concert may have seemed an unusual mix of musicians with its inclusion of Laura Nyro, the Rascals, Alice Coltrane, and Pharoah Sanders. All but Sanders were disciples of Swami Satchidananda. Coltrane and Cavaliere had recently traveled to India and Sri Lanka with Sri Swamiji, and Nyro spent time with him in New York and Connecticut—later purchasing the home where he had lived prior to opening his Connecticut ashram. Unfortunately, Sri Swamiji was unable to attend the benefit concert as he was still on his World Peace Tour where Alice had joined him in India and Sri Lanka.

Photo: Laura Nyro and Felix Cavaliere , next to Swami Satchidananda, along with IYI students in Connecticut, early 1970s.

Two other musicians who were also students, Kumar Kramer and Tulsi Reynolds, joined Coltrane onstage playing tamboura and harmonium. Reynolds recently noted, “He was easily the most beautiful human being that ever walked the earth. If you were to imagine what God looked like—he looked like Swami Satchidananda.” Nyro opened the evening, playing piano and singing for a 20-minute set. Her biographer, Michele Kort, noted that Nyro also gave a “surprisingly long rap about the Guru,” in which she recounted some personal advice he gave her when she consulted him about romantic challenges in her love life.

The Carnegie Hall stage, bathed in the soft glow of anticipation, awaited Alice’s presence—a presence that would infuse the hallowed halls with the ethereal strains of spiritual jazz and transcendental melodies. In the corridors of Carnegie Hall, Alice found not merely a venue for artistic performance, but a sacred space—a sanctum where music became a conduit for spiritual revelation and communion with the divine.

Alice took to the stage, her fingers poised delicately over the strings of her harp—a vessel for the celestial harmonies that resided within her soul. She played both harp and piano string weaving a tapestry of sound—a celestial symphony that transcended the boundaries of time and space. “Music is a celestial sound and it is the sound that controls the whole universe,” Swami Satchidananda proclaimed when he opened the Woodstock Festival in 1969. The audience, a mosaic of seekers and enthusiasts, bore witness to a musical odyssey—an exploration of the inner landscape of the soul, inspired by the luminous beacon of Swami Satchidananda’s teachings.

In the ethereal realm of music, Alice found solace and sanctuary—a refuge from the tumultuous currents of earthly existence. Her compositions, infused with the essence of divine love and spiritual devotion, became hymns of praise—a testament to the transformative power of music as a vehicle for spiritual awakening. Through the medium of sound, she embarked on a quest for enlightenment that found its culmination in the harmonies of the soul.

The concert program, meticulously curated with reverence, reflected Alice’s unwavering commitment to her Guru’s teachings. Each composition, a reflection of her spiritual journey, resonated with the timeless wisdom of the East—a wisdom that transcended the boundaries of language and culture, speaking directly to the heart of all who listened. From the sacred chants of ancient Vedic hymns to the improvisational flights of jazz, Alice’s music became a testament to the universal language of the soul—a language that spoke of unity, harmony, and divine love.

As the final notes of her performance echoed through the hallowed halls of Carnegie Hall, a profound sense of peace descended upon the audience—a peace born of spiritual communion and transcendental revelation. The concert was not merely a performance—it was a sacred rite, a communion of souls bound together by a shared quest for higher consciousness. Through the transformative power of music, Alice Coltrane had created a portal to the divine—a portal through which the eternal melodies of the universe flowed, carrying with them the promise of spiritual renewal and transcendence.

After the 1971 Carnegie performance, Alice embarked on a journey alongside Swami Satchidananda, venturing to Chicago where they made appearances on a televised talk show and she graced another benefit for the Institute. The summer breeze carried with it the echoes of her melodies as she continued to spread the message of spiritual harmony across the nation. By 1976, a new chapter unfolded in Alice’s spiritual unfoldment as she received a mystical transmission—a revelation that it was time for her to embrace the life of a swamini (female Hindu monk) and become “Turiyasangitananda,” Sanskrit for: “the True Self’s highest song of bliss.” This metamorphosis marked her complete withdrawal from secular pursuits, symbolizing a profound commitment to her spiritual life.

Photo: Swamini A.C. Turiyasangitananda with Swami Satchidananda, New York, 1996.

In 1982, Alice planted the seeds of spiritual awakening in the fertile soil of Agoura Hills, California, where she founded the Sai Anantam Ashram. Nestled amidst the majestic Santa Monica mountains, this sanctuary became a haven for seekers of truth and disciples of divine love and where kirtan music she composed flowed. Her music, with its fusion of jazz and spiritual elements, became a beacon of hope and inspiration for countless souls around the world. Reflecting on her journey, Alice once said, “My music isn’t jazz, not really. It is closer to spiritual music. It’s universal and it’s freedom.” Indeed, her music transcended genres and boundaries, touching the hearts of listeners from all walks of life. It was a testament to the power of music to unite, uplift, and inspire—a power that Alice wielded with grace and humility.

Now known as Swamini A.C. Turiyasangitananda, she shed the role of a mere student and ascended to the stature of Guru in her own right, while remaining in close relationship to Swami Satchidananda who was so instrumental in guiding her on her spiritual journey. In 2003 she spoke about him noting, “He was a great person and a great yogi. He gave the best lectures, and he was very universally minded. I didn’t seek any spiritual guidance from anyone else after him.”

In the years that followed, Swamini A.C. Turiyasangitananda continued to explore the intersection of music and spirituality as a timeless reminder of the boundless potential of the human spirit to transcend earthly limitations and soar to the heights of spiritual enlightenment. May her legacy, and this “Year of Alice,” continue to inspire and uplift generations to come, guiding them on their own quest for truth, beauty, divine love, and spiritual awakening.

About the Author:

Swami Premananda is a senior disciple of Sri Gurudev Swami Satchidananda and served as his personal and traveling assistant for 24 years. In this capacity, she had numerous opportunities of spending time with Swamini A. C. Turiyasangitananda, as well as interviewing her for Integral Yoga Magazine. In 2006, again, humbly and generously donated to the making of Living Yoga: The Life and Teachings of Swami Satchidananda, for which Swami Premananda served as executive producer. She dedicated the film to Swamini, who passed just prior to the film’s completion. In addition to serving as editor of Integral Yoga Magazine, Swami Premananda serves as editor of Integral Yoga Publications, senior archivist for Integral Yoga Archives, and director of the Office of Sri Gurudev and His Legacy.

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Photo: Swami Nada Brahmananda sharing his musical mastery with Swami Satchidananda at an Integral Yoga Center, 1970s.

In 1971, Michael Grosso had an extraordinary experience in Greenwich Village, New York, that led him to realize he needed to balance his overly intellectual life with music. Michael had just spent the last several years obtaining a Ph.D. in philosophy from Columbia University when he met Swami Nada Brahmananda, a former court musician for the King of Mysore, famous throughout India for being a master of Taan music and Nada Yoga (the Yoga of Sound), as well as for his supernatural control of his body.

Sri Swamiji was a disciple of Sri Swami Sivanandaji, founder of the Divine Life Society in Rishikesh, India. Swami Nada Brahmananda was also a brother monk of Swami Satchidananda, who he often hosted to give classes in Nada Yoga and table at Integral Yoga Institutes and Ashrams in the 1970s.

Grosso began studying with Swami Nada Brahmananda and found his life profoundly changed. Sharing the lessons of Sri Swamiji, as well as painting a vivid portrait of New York City in the 1970s—and its vibrant and chaotic underground arts and music scene—Grosso explores Sri Swamiji’s approach to Nada Yoga in depth in his new book Yoga of Sound: The Life and Teachings of the Celestial Songman, Swami Nada Brahmananda. He reveals how the tradition centers on the sound or vibration that created the universe, its personal cultivation, and its power to heal, enlighten, and offer insight about how to live in the Kali Yuga.

Grosso also examines the siddhis, or extraordinary powers, that can arise from this work, detailing the otherworldly abilities of his Yoga and music master. The lessons that Grosso shares center on three life-enhancing themes: controlling the mind, which provides the very essence of a happy life; diet and practices conducive to healing and perfect health—Swami Nada Brahmananda himself never knew a day of sickness in all of his 97 years; and how music in all its forms can be used to transform consciousness and enrich our spiritual life. Revealing Swami Nada Brahmananda as the very embodiment of a Celestial Songman, Grosso shows how, by practicing the Yoga of sound, we can embody Swami Nada’s greatest lesson of all: that we can all learn to make music from the discordant notes of our lives and sing our way out of the Kali Yuga. Here is an exclusive excerpt from his new book:

According to the Indian guru, life is a journey in the school of self-transformation. My feelings toward the metaphor were mixed: I liked it because it hinted at great vistas of experiment and experience; at the same time, I had misgivings. I’ve never been a very good student. I man­age but always blunder along in my own eccentric way.

“Not use correct,” my new teacher announced. “What you getting? Punishment, eighty-four million lives going again. Pass examination, you get degree. Fail, very bad! Very bad!”
“Really?” I said, starting to squirm a little. Did I really have to go back to school? Could it really take eighty-four million lives before I graduate? I thought I had escaped school once and for all.

At my desk in grade school, I excelled in gazing at clouds adrift in the sky. I felt a secret kinship with their aimless movements. I tried to explain to Nada that I was a rebellious student, and never showed up at any of my gradu­ation ceremonies, high school or college. Music to me was the sound of the bell shouting that class was over. Nada smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. “Practice music, Michael,” he said earnestly, “this is not entertain­ment, not for others—this is for your Self.” When he actually said, “Practice music, Michael,” I instantly remembered what Socrates was told in his recurrent dream: “Make music, and practice hard!”

Nada described all the advantages that would accrue if I followed the path he said was true and best. To begin with, health and happiness would be mine. The main thing was to obey the rules in the art of liv­ing and to secure a right understanding of the fundamental principles. The rest was just practice—again, I recalled Socrates who said that phi­losophy was a form of “practice” (melete, in Greek). In the end, I’d be able to smile in the face of life and death, like a real master, comfortably one with my higher Self.

Nada explained that unenlightened death was like going through a revolving door that let you back in the same Big Department Store with countless rooms and myriads of distracting commodities to suck you in. He made a comical gesture of trying to get out through the door but always being pushed back in. He gaped at me with mock astonish­ment. Through all this rap the drone of the harmonium was continu­ous, as if to underline the constancy of the all-witnessing Self through the endless comings and goings, appearings and disappearings, of our time-tossed existence.

He sang a little more, then broke in on himself, fingers still dancing over the keys of the harmonium. Musing on the words of the song, he said: “Flowers, very beautiful; face, very beautiful—what you getting? Cemetery!” and resumed singing a tempo. Gee, I thought, that wasn’t exactly an upbeat intermezzo.

An elderly lady who spoke with a French accent entered without knocking. “Come in mother,” Nada said, whose custom, I would learn, was to address all women as “mother.” My time was finished. I got up and the French lady sat down beside Nada, praising him effusively, pawing him as if he were a teddy bear. “Isn’t he marvelous?” she said, peering up at me with unabashed awe. “You are marvelous,” she said again, turning to Nada, clutching him wantonly, “you just know you are.”

I detected pique in his eyes, but he allowed the good-natured matron to envelop him with her affection. “You do keep yourself well—come here,” she said to me, “look at his teeth—what amazing teeth!”

The affable monk opened his mouth, smiled primly, and displayed his teeth. Dazed, and feeling a bit giddy, I stumbled out the door, thanking Swami Nada for the rigorous, enlightening lesson. Half-way down the stairs it occurred to me I forgot to leave the ten dollars for my lesson. Alida mentioned that four of the ten went to Nada and Parvati [his disciple and assistant]—not  much—and the other six to the True World Order, or, as devotees called it, the Organization. I went back and placed a ten dollar bill on top of the bureau. Nada’s face brightened when I stepped in, apparently unaware of the reason, and said as I left the second time: “From now on you going up! . . . up!  . . .up!”

About Michael Grosso:
Michael Grosso earned his doctorate in philosophy from Columbia University. He has taught at City University of New York, Kennedy University in California, and City University of New Jersey. The author of several books, including most recently Smile of the Universe, he lives in Charlottesville, Virginia.

(Excerpt from Yoga of Sound: The Life and Teachings of the Celestial Songman, Swami Nada Brahmananda, by permission of the publisher, InnerTraditions.)

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Photo: Bhagavan Das chanting in front of portrait of Neem Karoli Baba.

Bhagavan Das is an American yogi who lived for six years in India, Nepal, and Sri Lanka in the 1960s and became a trailblazer in the early kirtan movement in America. He introduced Richard Alpert (who later became Ram Dass) to his Guru, Neem Karoli Baba and the rest is history. In this long lost interview from 2003, Bhagavan Das answers questions about his spiritual practice and what is important to him on the spiritual path.

Integral Yoga Magazine (IYM): Please tell us about your daily practice.

Bhagavan Das (BD): I think getting up a 4 a.m. is the key. I really do. For me, 4 – 6 a.m. is just the golden time. I do a little Hatha Yoga, chant, and drink some tea.  But, you have to make up your own thing that works for you. Maybe it’s taking a walk for an hour.

IYM: How do you conceive of God or the Divine?

BD: I worship God in form. God is both formless and with form, as Sri Ramakrishna said, but it can be hard to worship God in no-form. Imagine that you decided that you want to worship Mother Nature. So, you stand in front of the sky and then offer worship to the sky. I think it’s easier to be in front of a tree to make devotional offerings. So, I encourage those wishing to have a devotional practice to find a form of the Divine that appeals to them. Then, make an altar, put some flowers, a candle, some incense and either a statue of a deity, a Shivalinga, or a photograph of inspiration to you. Anything will work because it’s really not about the form.

IYM: Or some may wish to offer devotion to their Guru?

Photo: Reuniting after 20 years, Bhagavan Das and Swami Satchidananda, 1996.

BD: Right. But remember, first of all, the Guru isn’t a person. The Guru is God.  God just comes through a person and that has nothing to do with the personality of a person. You know what I mean?  There have been many Mother Theresas, many Dalai Lamas, many Divine Mothers, and many Gurudevs—and there always will be. India is full of saints that are unrecognized and that don’t need to be. But if you can have someone you connected with, then you have an emotional charge with that person or image. That way you can wake up in the morning and you can cry and you can go: “Please help me God, I love you! Thank you God!” Take the name of God and don’t get caught in your mind.

IYM: How to not get caught in the mind?

BD: Whatever you can do to connect. I make suggestions to people. I say, if you’re feeling depressed and freaked out and anxious take a “Ram walk.” If you repeat “Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram” for one hour on a strenuous walk, your consciousness will be deeply shifted. Just do it; try it out. People do it, and it works, and they come back to me with glowing reports. I’m just saying you’ve got to engage the will. You must get out of bed. You’ve got to stop slacking. Get on the God trip and out of the mind trip. Put God first, everything else will follow. Everything else: the money will come, the partner will come, everything will come if you put God first. And what that means to you, you have to find out. No one can tell you.

IYM: What does it mean to you?

BD: I like to read a little Sri Ramakrishna, do some pranayama. I do the thousand names of Ganesh and maybe another morning I do the thousand names of the Divine Mother. In other words, it’s all about getting on the God train; just staying in the Divine Light. Just let your day begin this way. I think it’s very, very powerful. And then take breaks throughout the day and do japa. I recommend getting a mala, getting it blessed, and using it. Then, watch your life transform.  And it will. It just will because we’re all hungry for God yet we try to find it in other things and other people and nobody can give it to you. So go hang out with trees, take walks, look at the river and just get on the God train! That train is going and you can get on!

IYM: Yes, Swami Satchidananda used to say that it doesn’t matter where you sit on the train either—you could hang from the rafters, you could sleep the whole train ride, you could be in the first class or  you could be in the last—as long as you’re on the train. To be on that train is the connection, is the remembrance of God, of the Divine, of the True Self.

BD: Exactly. And to keep that as your priority. Life is short and, to me, the great kick in the butt is death. I think of death all the time. Most people who know me know I worship Kali Ma, the Fierce Goddess. And she’ll steer you into reality.  Because once this lifetime is gone, it’s gone, until the next round. And we never know when Yama [the Lord of Death] will arrive. I went to Tampa and I did a big kirtan fest there. The lady who I was staying with in Tampa had a 15 year-old daughter whose 18 year-old best friend was killed the day before I got to Tampa.  Someone ran through a red light, hit her car and two hours later she was dead.  18! beautiful girl.  So again, I’m shocked into like wow, I gotta make every moment count. So I’m here to just sing and give and wow.

IYM: Nothing like these kind of tragedies to re-shift one’s whole sense of priorities.

Photo: Bhagavan Das & Ram Dass in India, late 1960s.

BD: Yeah, so if we knew our last day was going to be today, what would we do? We wouldn’t be gossiping, we wouldn’t be talking stupid talk, we wouldn’t be future planning, and head tripping. We just wouldn’t. You know what we’d be doing? We would just love. And so that’s the “what” to do.

My Guru used to say “What to do?” all the time. Because people were always telling him their problems. And then he would say: “What to do?” as he repeated the name of God. He never said: “Repeat the name of God.” He just sat there going: “Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram…” and knowing that in his presence, the moment he did that, everything was done.

The moment he touched my head with Ram, that Ram permeated my whole soul. He put everything on that Ram. It’s just so God! you know? It’s so powerful. The level of pure devotion and faith just flowed and transformed us all. He knew that the moment we saw him, it was done for us.  It was over.

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