I Read the "Autobiography of a Yogi" When I was Seventeen

I read the Autobiography of a Yogi when I was seventeen years old, handed to me a few months after my mother had passed away 

from excessive drug use. I was extremely depressed at the time, heavily obese, and found life to be a painful, worthless thing I was ready to give up on. When I read the Autobiography, wave after wave of chills went through me, slowly waking me up to an inner reality I had never perceived, a feeling in my heart that had been covered over with thick, stone-like apathy and pain for many years. My sadhana [spiritual journey] had begun, and a quest for a new and profound reason for being alive on planet earth with it. That was twenty years ago, and fifteen of them have been spent as a disciple of Yogananda, practicing Kriya Yoga daily and striving to serve humanity. The Kriya techniques have created a depth of stillness and peace within me that grows deeper and deeper every year I practice. Yogananda saved my life and gave meaning to it, and I’ll always be grateful to the Autobiography of a Yogi for that. – Cory M.

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