In the late ’80s I was driving home one night after giving a program in Sacramento, when Paramhansa Yogananda saved my life.

“Celebrate!” those were Bella’s last words to her husband and sister before she passed away.

The Living Wisdom School at Ananda Village had been in existence for about a year when something occurred that many people considered a miracle.

Many newspapers called Burbank an “atheist,” considering him to be one more scientist without faith in God.

The situation was getting more desperate every day. The entire neighborhood crawled out of bed every morning more tired than the day before.

My eye flew open. I was immediately aware of the cracked windshield and the unnatural angle of the front end of my car. All thought disappeared as the need for air became my only reality.

I still remember the day my surgeon called. He said, “It’s breast cancer, the lumpectomy didn’t remove all of the cancer.”

Nicholas was born between 255 and 270 AD, in Patara, Lycia; a city in what is now Turkey. He inherited enough wealth to make his life comfortable and secure, but chose to give away his fortune and courageously follow Christ’s teachings by serving others.

Yogananda once told us, “I see all of you as images of light. Everything—these trees, bushes, the grass you are standing on—all are made of that light. You have no idea how beautiful everything is!”

I was amazed that I had been keeping a journal as early as age eleven, and that, in my very first year of playing the flute, I was already aware of the power of music to uplift and transform one’s soul.

When the chieftain learned that the valuable gift was met with only two unknown words and not the praise he expected, he was furious.

Through this experience I learned about the enormous spiritual power of receptivity. To be receptive, one needs an open heart as well as an open mind.

A crowd, having gathered in the distance saw, much to their amazement, that as Francis spoke, the ravenous beast lowered its head and seemed suddenly tame and docile.

To see the unspoken love and joy shining from the eyes of old friends of Swamiji’s was like getting a glimpse into a realm of eternal friendship.

Everything went well until the Roquefort cheese was served. I viewed the little green specks of mold with great suspicion. My soul rebelled against it, and my brain cells warned me to have nothing to do with it.