I read something about Steve Jobs – he always carried a copy of this book, Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramhansa Yogananda.  When he died, it was said Jobs left copies of this book to all of his mourners.  Most multimillionaires attribute their success to The Science of Getting Rich by Wallace D. Wattles or Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill.

My television media guided me to a bio-pic about Steve Jobs – he did amazing things in the world, as you know, changing the way we all interact with technology via the personal computer, cell phones and other devices. He utilized concepts from Swami Yogananda, for sure, like a strong belief that you can create your own reality through meditation, and a unified love with and for God.

However, Jobs also had a temper that, as depicted via Ashton Kutcher’s portrayal, made him a liability – and then he got cancer and died.  So to quote lyrics from a sit-com, “you take the good/you take the bad/you take it all and there you have/the facts of life….”

Still, I am a sucker for a self-help read.  I am building my own narrative based on a belief system that I truly resonate with in a way that can allow me to navigate society without reacting negatively when someone else contradicts my world view.  Allowing people to be who they are, not trying to force my opinions on them while reminding myself that everything is a sort of reflection of my own energy.  And all of that is hard sometimes.  Like Jobs, I succumb to the frustration of communicating in a world that lately seems so divided by religion and politics.  And I don’t want to end up miserably dead.

And with that said,  I admit I was intrigued by this book.  Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramhansa Yogananda is a man’s journey from India to California.  A boy blessed by a spiritual guru to become one himself.  There are recollections here that contain mystical spiritual experiences.  For example, encounters with long dead gurus who have the ability to apparate (a JK Rowling term) producing flesh and bone bodies before a person who had witnessed their cremation.  These are mystics who have transcended earthly bodies and recognized themselves as spirits who could jump timelines and realms at will.

There is a segment on a woman who, after much prayer, succeeded to find an entity who granted her a means of living without food or drink, using only the energy of the universe to keep her alive and healthy.  Another bit about a woman who bled the stigmata daily.  This suffering, she confided, was meant to convince skeptics and pilgrims alike that biblical Christ was legit and not just a story people made up to clump into a unified religion.

The stories of these yogis sacrificing earthly pleasures – like delicious food, comedies, and sex, for example – I mean, is the life of a yogi inherently better than what the rest of us do?

The fashion alone was enough to make me go – that’s gross.  I hated how superiorly spiritual Yogananda was compared to me, you know?  Is jealous a more fitting word here?  I don’t know.  There were parts of this book that made me feel like I am too selfish a person, too materialistic in my dreams and such, and that sucks for me.  But then, other parts made me think – can this stuff be real?  I wanted to believe that I could just have every experience in my life be loving and all that.

You know???

The bottom line is to put God first.  Love the God in your life, meaning the higher power that powers your personal legend – your belief system, which means you need to have a belief system that is more than whatever reality is in front of you at any moment in time.  Pray for guidance.  Pray for peace, etc., etc., etc.

Read.  Digest.  Evaluate.  Repeat.

I got my copy of Autobiography of a Yogi from the library.  You can pick one up here.  I’m wondering if I should buy a copy to carry around and be like Jobs – maybe it will get my “job” done if I reread this material.  There were times when I found it a bit dense.  The author’s vocabulary is quite extensive for a man who barely squeaked by in college because his preference was to spend time kissing the feet of his then guru and waiting for a chance to sleep beside this “saint”.  The assumption was it wasn’t about sex – please!  Get your head out of the gutter.  These are gurus for crying out loud.