"In this spiritual memoir, Janis records
her own encounter with Swami Muktananda and his teachings. her
narrative describes the altered states of consciousness she experienced
in close proximity to her teacher. According to Janis, these
states are constant reminders that the spiritual life is filled with
surprises and unexpected moments of enlightenment. In a larger
sense, this memoir is a dialogue between Indian spirituality and Western
psychology. The question that Janis answers in her memoir is:
'Can a westerner come to know Indian spirituality and flourish in
its depths, even when it is alien to western ways of knowing?' She
answers with a resounding 'yes.'
—Publishers Weekly
Never to Return is a beautiful and poignant spiritual
odyssey that is equally provocative and touching, informative and
enlightening, humorous and heartbreaking. Sharon Janis writes with
an admirable clarity, and her lightness of spirit in the face of adversity
is exemplary for us all."
—Joseph Chilton Pearce,
author Crack in the Cosmic Egg, The Magical Child,
and Evolution's End
"Sharon Janis was one of those terrible
kids that could do anything she wanted, starting at age two. She began
talking practically hot from the womb, did a course in hypnotherapy
at age seven, was painting — and selling her paintings —
at sixteen. Her IQ was off the chart — then she decided to throw
it all up and run off and become a student of Muktananada, in upstate
New York. Once there, she became an expert video producer, musician,
cook, toilet cleaner, and milker of cows (you are expected to be a
Renaissance Man — or Woman — in the ashram.) This is her
story — and it's a dilly. It's a good story, and for those of
us who are interested in what exactly goes on in those ashrams, it's
hard to put down. And — if we believe her, and there's little
reason not to — it is just what you'd think it is, only better:
moments of total ecstasy, followed by petty battles with other ashramites,
alternating encouragement, love, paradox, and caustic insult from
the masters. Few writers so far have told the tale of what it is like
to live and study, heart and soul, with the likes of Muktananda. "
—RALPH: Review
of the Arts, Literature, Philosophy and the Humanities, (Formerly
the Fessenden Review)
"A friend sent me Never to Return,
and as I briefly glanced through it before placing it in the stack
of books waiting to be read and reviewed, it immediately engaged me
and I spent the next few days devouring it. Sharon Janis writes of
growing up as a very independent child, tells delightful stories of
the 10 years she spent in a monastery setting at the Indian ashram
of Swami Muktananda, and how she later went to work in the Hollywood
film industry. She had me alternately laughing out loud and somberly
reflecting on her innocent wisdom. It's like sitting with your best
friend, who suddenly has all the answers to the Universe! Never to
Return is a great handbook for how to sail through many of life's
challenges, with grace, understanding and ease. "
—Andrea de Michaelis,
Horizons Magazine
"This memoir is a poignant statement on
the search for truth in a culture fixated on image and material wealth.
Janis begins her story with her first memories from infancy, then
takes readers through the full course of her life, sharing her experiences
and how they shaped her inner and outer existence. She writes
with kindness and compassion for all those involved, placing neither
blame nor guilt, and takes pleasure in and responsibility for her
life's entirety. Janis' humanity comes shining through, allowing
us to see her fears, her stumbling, and, in all humility, her ego.
Inspired by deep guidance and inner listening, this book aims to bring
readers to 'a sense of wonder and respect for their own journey' and
a greater regard for others on their paths."
—NAPRA ReVIEW
It started as a low rumbling. I had barely sunk into the arms of
exhaustion after a hundred-hour work week when the world went mad.
The earth itself, metaphor for all that is stable and dependable,
was dancing. But this was not a gentle dance; it was the dance of
destruction. This was a display of force unlike any I had witnessed.
Instinctively, I jumped up and ran to the alcove I had designated
as the "earthquake spot" just days earlier, when two small
shocks rumbled through town. During my five years in L.A., we'd had
a few temblors. I'd always enjoyed and joked about them, impressing
co-workers and friends with my bravado. Those small tremors were nothing
like this. I had just spent a year editing the "Mighty Morphin'
Power Rangers" television show. With my apartment shaking violently
from side to side, I visualized one of the big monsters from the program
picking up our building, shaking it, as all the contents spilled out.
Holding tightly to the door frame to keep from being tossed around,
I wondered for a moment if I was dreaming.
A glass shower door upstairs shattered, and my neighbor's 35"
TV smashed against the wall. What devastation must be occurring all
around me? In my mind's eye, I envisioned a jagged line running up
the coast. This might only be the edge of something huge. I imagined
the entire west coast crumbling at its seams, perhaps swallowing thousands
of lives with each quaking gulp.I truly believed this was the big
one. I was about to die. The ceiling could crash down any moment,
squashing my body like a bug. These were my final moments as me. From
within an expanded sense of time, the twenty-to-forty second earthquake
seemed to take hours.
"Now what am I supposed to do? I should know this!"
I thought I had made peace with the idea of death many years earlier.
Yet now, as the walls closed in on my life, my pounding heart cried
out with anguish at the large gap between me and where I'd hoped to
be during my last moments of life. Once upon a time, I had anticipated
that my death would come as a great merging into the Grand Source
of all, as promised in one of my favorite Indian texts:
Whatever state of being a soul remembers
at the moment of death,
he goes to that very state of being.
Therefore, at all times meditate on Me
(the Supreme Soul),
keep your mind and intelligence fixed on Me.
In this way, thou shalt surely come to Me.
— The Bhagavad Gita
Now it was too late. I had fallen off the path of spiritual evolution
and wasted my precious time. I had been meditating on TV shows and
worldly success. Why couldn't my death have come when I was beyond
personal identification, living a life completely devoted to God?
Why did it have to come when I was just like everyone else, afraid
of losing things that never truly existed?
Even greater than the fear of death was my embarrassment at having
discarded the precious gifts given to me through the years. I cowered
before my God and couldn't recognize Him. First I tried to paste a
face on him, invoking the images of my spiritual masters. Then I repeated
my mantra, in hopes that it could magically lift me up. I wanted to
leave this world from a mountaintop of elevated awareness, instead
of from the valley in which I had been dwelling. How could I make
the leap? Was it even possible to break through untold layers of illusion
in these last few moments of personal existence? Could I become immortal
at the threshold of death itself?
The rumbling stopped.
The cacophony of smashing, crashing and creaking also stopped. There
was dead silence and blacker-than-black darkness.
A voice pierced the stillness. "Holy shit!"
I had to chuckle. It was one of the guys who lived on the second
floor.
I was in my body, on the floor, still on earth —
and in shock. I had been given another chance. Next time, I had to
be ready.
Having pursued several avenues for growth in the past, it was clear
I now had to find a more personal way to relate to this unnamable,
perhaps unknowable Truth. But first, I had to remember what had already
been learned and forgotten.
There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again;
and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious.
But perhaps neither gain nor loss
For us, there is only the trying.
The rest is not our business.
— T.S. Eliot
Table of Contents
- Prologue
- Awakening
- Never to Return
- I Chose This?
- Through the Years Exploring the Unconscious
- Faith-Healer
- Hidden Persuaders
- The Threshold of Life
- When the Student is rEady
- Magical meeting Toward the One
- Who Is Shiva?
- Destiny Calls
- Winter Wonderland
- The Happy Pauper
- This Karmic Dance
- Stoking the Inner Fire
- The Fruits of Surrender
- That Gracious Glance
- How Could He Be Gone?
- From Heart to Heart
- Get a Job
- Smash the Idol
- Clothed in Devotion
- Nemesis
- Who Are You Calling Jad?
- A Perfect Mistake
- She Still Thinks She Did It!
- Taming the Beast
- Undo What You Have Done
- The Great Guiding Force
- The Wish-Fulfilling Tree
- Where Is the Key?
- Epilogue
