Material Success and Happiness Through Yoga Principles

by Swami Kriyananda
(J. Donald Walters)

Copyright © 2005 Hansa Trust
All rights reserved.
Lesson Ten
How to Be a Good Leader
The Principles
If you follow faithfully the principles outlined in the last lesson on human values, you will very likely find people coming to you for guidance even if you hold no leadership position.
In Autobiography of a Yogi, Paramhansa Yogananda tells of an episode in his guru’s ashram when he was a young disciple there. Kumar, “a young villager from east Bengal,” was accepted for training. After some time, Sri Yukteswar instructed Mukunda (later, Yogananda), his chief disciple, “Let Kumar assume your duties. Employ your own time in sweeping and cooking.”
The account continues, “Exalted to leadership, Kumar exercised a petty household tyranny. In silent mutiny, the other disciples continued to seek me out for daily counsel.” When Kumar complained of this fact to their guru, Sri Yukteswar replied, “That’s why I assigned Mukunda to the kitchen and you to the parlor. . . . A worthy leader has the desire to serve, and not to dominate. . . . Return now to your earlier work as cook’s assistant.”
In every group enterprise, people will naturally seek advice from those who are competent, in preference to those even who hold leadership positions. Thus, this lesson on leadership is meant to help everyone, and not only people in positions of actual authority. Any competent person is, in a sense, already in that position. His ability, based on experience, confers on him a certain duty to share his knowledge with others. All can benefit from these principles. If they aren’t managers in the workplace, they may have responsibilities in the home as parents, or at school as teachers, or even in buses as drivers. In simple daily contacts with people, there may be something they can give. Everyone has at least something to share with others.
This lesson will help all, therefore, to know how to share with others effectively and in the right spirit of humility, dignity, and kindness.
For the typical employer it would be unusual, to say the least, to impose ashram disciplines on his workers. His function is not to give them spiritual training, but simply to get the best work out of them. Even in that role, of course, he must train, supervise, and discipline. Though he is not their guru, his job is to guide them. In a sense, then, it is only the aims that differ.
One of the tasks that leaders in an organization face is to appoint others to act on their behalf. Thus, the delegation of authority becomes an important facet of good leadership. Selecting others for vital posts is important. In that selection, look for people to whom others turn instinctively for guidance, rather than persons who are primarily efficient, or who “talk big.” An employer will save himself much grief, later on, if he considers as candidates those who respect human values and show consideration for the feelings of others.
I founded the first Ananda Sangha community in 1968. That was the peak of the hippie movement in America. The epicenter of that social eruption was San Francisco, California, where I myself happened to be living.
Few of the people who came to join Ananda Village during our beginnings had any interest in what I, as the founder, wanted to accomplish. Communes were the “in thing” in those days; young people were flocking to the countryside, hoping to create an alternative life style to the crass materialism of which they, with some justification, accused America. In those days, a saying popular among the young was, “Never trust anyone over thirty.” I myself was a doddering forty-two. I had dreamed, however, of creating idealistic communities since the age of fifteen. My residence in San Francisco coincided, as I said, with the beginnings of the hippie movement. So also did the beginnings of Ananda Village. Perhaps both coincidences were significant, but that possibility, though interesting, has no immediate bearing on my subject.
My Guru, whose disciple I became in 1948 at the age of twenty-two, urged his audiences fervently and frequently to band together and build spiritual communities. He believed that communities created for such purposes were the solution for people who wanted to live a spiritual life in this busy age, and he pleaded with people to see the advantages of simple living in the country, surrounded by high-minded friends.
At a garden party in Beverly Hills, in the summer of 1949, he gave one of the most stirring speeches I have ever heard, urging his audience to embrace this idea. Speaking to nearly a thousand guests, he urged those especially who were young to go “north, south, east, and west” and spread his communitarian ideal. So inspiring was the address that I vowed to do everything in my power to make his dream a reality.
To return, then, to Ananda’s beginnings in 1968: Yes, I had clear ideas as to what I wanted our community to become. I’d been pondering the subject since the age of fifteen: twenty-seven years. During all that time I had sought, in various ways, for methods of materializing an ideal community.
Few of the young people who were rushing to join the communitarian movement in the late sixties had more than a vague notion of what to do about it. Their one clear thought was to “get away.” Few of them knew or even cared, moreover, about my Guru’s vision. They didn’t realize that the wave of energy which they were surfing was something he himself had launched that day in Beverly Hills, when he’d said, “I am sowing my thoughts in the ether, in the Spirit of God!” What they wanted was only to fulfill a personal fantasy of theirs. Many of them accepted in principle the concept of a spiritual life, but what that meant to them was a pleasant life of irresponsibility amid natural beauty. Responsibility of any kind held no appeal for them, and played no part in their dreams.
I wanted the members of Ananda to be students and followers of Paramhansa Yogananda. Indeed, the challenge of forming a new community was already formidable enough, without a medley of spiritual beliefs defining how we would live.
I soon realized that most of those coming were quite unfamiliar with my Guru’s teachings, and had to be won over to them. It displeased them particularly that central elements in his teachings included the concepts of self-control and self-discipline. These concepts raised the specter of personal responsibility, and were an offense to them. What they believed in was absolute egoic freedom, which, to them, meant complete freedom of the ego to do as it pleased. From the start, therefore, I met indignant resistance. Most of those who came were unrealistic dreamers who, in fuzzy rejection of responsibility, needed simply to be weeded out from our garden before they succeeded in choking its development.
Yet it wasn’t in me to drive people out. I had to get people to see for themselves that we were on diverging tracks. The “hippie way” would simply not define how Ananda was to grow; I was determined to win, but had to proceed in the right way, and that meant, dharmically. I had to be patient with them, therefore, and even to respect their freedom to believe as they chose.
The difficulties I faced were in some respects greater than those faced by the average employer in the business world, whose guidelines were established long ago by society. What our young “pioneers” wanted, however, was a new kind of society altogether, one that had no discipline of any kind. Though the circumstances were different from those facing an average employer, however, the solutions I found may be helpful for students of these lessons, for despite different circumstances human beings everywhere have much in common. Scientists, bankers, poets: These seem to exist almost on different planes of existence from one another, and to be incompatible in their interests. Yet, beneath the surface, the similarities are striking. One bond unites all humanity. Someone described that bond to Paramhansa Yogananda when he was a boy as, “the stalwart kinship of selfish motive.”
In the hippie era, new “communes” began springing up all over the country like mushrooms after a heavy rain. Few such “utopias” lasted more than a year. Most of them disbanded after less than a month, and virtually none lasted as long, even, as a decade. Thousands were started, but mostly on entirely unrealistic grounds. Ananda, thirty-six years later, has been almost uniquely successful.
The greatest mistake made by the founders of intentional communities over the centuries has been to imagine that human perfection can be achieved through the “perfect system.” Such perfection cannot be achieved by imperfect human beings, and must be achieved inwardly, by free will; it cannot be imposed on them from without. The universe itself was not created to make men perfect, but to give them an opportunity to achieve perfection, themselves. Earth is a school, merely, and those who are born here come to learn certain lessons: particularly, how to relate their natural ego-motivation to a much broader reality.
I countered people’s abstract belief in human perfectibility with another, simple precept: “Do what works.” This precept can be practiced and proved here on earth. It is as valid for scientists, businessmen, and housewives as for communities seeking better ways of life There is one thing that can never work anywhere: the creation of perfect conditions outside of Supreme Consciousness.
There was a second rule on which I insisted, one which is equally important for businessmen and for people everywhere as for intentional communities: “Do what is right.”
Many people find both these precepts difficult to follow. As for the first one, what they want is to follow the call of personal desires. Those desires fly in the face of reality. Butting their heads repeatedly against a stone wall and refusing to make the necessary adjustments, they insist that what they want “has to work!”
One smiles. Why should it work? Facts are facts. Success is easier to accept, surely, than failure, once one accepts what is, simply, instead of chasing the will-o’-the-wisp of what one thinks ought to be. My father, a wholly practical man, mocked at what he called “the wonderful world of might-have-been.”
It is often possible to bring the two together, however. Subjective ideals and objective reality are not necessarily hostile to one another. The very universe was produced by consciousness. To discover how to harmonize such apparent opposites, keep yourself open to what is, while remaining centered in high aspirations. Such is the simple difference between naiveté and common sense. Happy the person who can cling to his ideals while bringing them in line with reality. That is the secret of most great inventions.
The difficulty in working with people is that they have their own priorities, which must be treated as facts even if they are, in fact, mere delusions. Politically free people cannot be driven: they must be led. They must be inspired to do what is right. Sri Sathya Sai Baba expressed this fact to me in a letter he wrote me many years ago, in his own handwriting. He was encouraging me in my early attempts at building Ananda.
The second rule is even more important than the first: “Do what is right.” Success that is attained by relinquishing high principles will end in failure, eventually. Yata dharma, tata jaya—“Where there is adherence to right principle, there is victory.” This ancient dictum is important for success in anything. To do what is right, ethically and spiritually as well as pragmatically, wins the support of universal law.
In June of 1976, a forest fire destroyed most of Ananda Village: 450 out of our 650 acres, and twenty-one of the twenty-two homes we had in that area. None of the homes was insured. Many people, especially those far from us, expected us to fail after this devastating blow.
Shortly after that event, neighbors of ours who had also lost their homes telephoned us enthusiastically. The cause of the fire, they had learned, was a faulty spark arrester on a county vehicle. “We can sue them,” they announced excitedly, “and get back the money to pay for everything we lost. We can rebuild!”
Our neighbors needed only to threaten a lawsuit. In a settlement, they collected. Ananda Village had been the biggest loser. Common sense dictated that we must sue also.
I don’t want you to agree, necessarily, with what I did. Perhaps you won’t even sympathize with it. Nevertheless, it may give you food for thought. I wrote to the county supervisors and assured them that we would not be suing. The officials themselves may have considered my decision an act of madness. To me, however, it would have been morally wrong to impose our hardship on others. Essentially, suing would have meant demanding that our fellow county residents bear our misfortune. I couldn’t see us blaming anyone for our bad luck. It was, I thought, one thing to accept free-will donations from people who believed in us, but quite another thing to force “donations” out of people who had no desire to help us in our difficulty. A lawsuit was unacceptable to me.
Fortunately, many people across the country came to our rescue. Thus, we survived: moreover, from the beginning we did so in a joyful and uplifted spirit. Our neighbors got the money they wanted from the county. Yet, strange to relate, ten years later they were still grieving over what they had lost.
Am I suggesting that it is never right to sue? I won’t go that far. Every situation must be judged on its own merits. Sometimes, dharma itself demands aggressive action. Consider the war of Kurukshetra, described in the Mahabharata as a righteous fight. Perhaps our neighbors were right to sue. I have no wish to pose as the voice of conscience. All I will say is, Before you act, consider the rightness, from a standpoint of dharma, of what you contemplate.
Karmic law works unobtrusively, but infallibly. Don’t be drawn into anything for the hope of gain, merely. If you abide by true principles to the best of your ability, you will be always protected, and will be most likely to succeed in everything. Even if you fail, success must come to you at last. This is not a fairy story. I have seen this truth verified many times.
What I did from the beginning at Ananda Village—long before the ravages of that forest fire—was concentrate on possibilities, not impossibilities. (“Do what works.”) Most of the people who were coming to us at that time looked on my Guru’s ideals without great favor. My solution was to concentrate on those few who believed in him.
There remained the problem of how to bring those who resisted onto this path voluntarily. Most of them wanted, as I said, a life of bucolic ease. When I urged them to help support the community financially, they gazed at me, outraged. “Where is your faith in God?” they demanded. I stood revealed in their eyes as a gross “materialist.” As for them—noble souls!—they had not come to Ananda to concern themselves with money: They had come for a spiritual life. This meant to them, as nearly as I could tell, going to the nearby Yuba River every day, and swimming.
It was particularly galling to me that they considered their faith justified by my very willingness to live outside the community to earn the money for our monthly mortgage fees. My sacrifice was proof, to them, that God did indeed intend to take care of them!
People kept coming: What was I to do? One afternoon there were seven cars parked in our driveway, filled with youngsters eager to join Ananda. Many of these, offended by my strict ban on hallucinogenic drugs, moved on. As for the others, I tried to be selective, but had also to admit enough people to justify, if only minimally, the large piece of property I had purchased with an eye to the future. A few of those who joined did express a willingness to do a little work in our vegetable garden. I’d been fortunate in attracting an elderly man as a gardener who’d had experience with organic farming. He described those “willing” workers in these words: “They make a few graceful gestures over the plants, and then take off to go swimming in the Yuba.”
The swelling numbers of “members” insisted on “rule by consensus,” a concept that had been popularized in literature of the day, touting it as the best way for small communities to function. Although the concept had its points, I at once realized that it was unworkable, for it would paralyze decision-making and hinder practical action. What was I to do? Consensus was a dogma among the “free-thinking” young of those days. To win them over, I realized I had to be flexible. It would have been pointless to oppose them on everything.
A fisherman, after hooking a fish, will “play” his line in order to tire it, lest it snap the line. I saw no reasonable alternative to employing a similar tactic. I allowed our members to hold regular meetings. Experience had taught me, in fact, that if meetings were completely free of direction, they would get nowhere. Discussions at Ananda meandered endlessly as every side of an issue was aired. Solid decisions were a rarity.
It took the community five years of its weekly meetings to agree, finally, that a dog named Blue must be taken far away and abandoned. Blue had wandered onto the land originally as a stray. No one had ever claimed him: he’d simply been given “squatters’ rights.” He chased the deer and barked at visitors, frightening many of them. With numerous points in his disfavor, and none to support him, it still took the community five years, by a process of consensus, to agree to his removal.
I was actually grateful for those meetings. I seldom attended them, but they helped by siphoning off the negative energy and leaving me free to concentrate on what was our true need: developing a right spirit among those who showed promise. I therefore let the all-community meetings go on and gave them as much free rein as seemed to me acceptable.
I also had no choice but to make concessions, some of which I didn’t consider inconsequential, in order to protect my basic program. My greatest regret was having to relinquish an aspect of my dream that I’d always held dear, though it was not central to my Guru’s teachings.
In Europe, where I’d grown up, I had been struck by the harmonious appearance of towns and villages. Their style of architecture was basically uniform, though pleasingly diverse also in the size and shape of the houses. Our members had grown up with the diversity of styles in the typical American suburb, and could only imagine a dreary sameness in the vision I presented to them. I decided it would cost me points unnecessarily to insist on this aspect of my dream, though I was sorry to have to make the sacrifice.
Later, as Ananda members began visiting Europe, they began telling me, “I see what you meant, now. What a pity that we didn’t try to make a special contribution of that kind at Ananda to the concept of visual harmony!”
I had intuited, however, that leadership, if it is to be effective, must be played like a game in which points need to be conceded, sometimes, for the sake of long-term advantages. To win always is not possible, and may not even be good, for it means that people have probably been bullied into agreement. It must suffice for one’s victories to be those which are the most meaningful.
Years later, a private inheritance made it possible for me to construct the present buildings and gardens of my residence, Crystal Hermitage, which I turned into a spiritual center for the community. Crystal Hermitage has achieved widespread fame for its beauty, based on the triple concept: space, light, harmony. This place of beauty has actually been instrumental in drawing people from far and near to live at Ananda.
Much of what I’ve been able to accomplish in my life, so far, may bear fruit long after I am gone. Leadership must be thought of in terms of the benefits it brings primarily to others, not to oneself. The rewards for oneself must ever be the satisfaction of having done something needed and useful.
As for those weekly community meetings, I answered their challenge to my authority by not letting them be a challenge. I simply let people talk. If they wanted to voice complaints, or to bring up problems, I insisted only that they suggest solutions, also. Otherwise, I said, “problem-consciousness” would paralyze everything. Meanwhile what I did was, as I’ve said, devote myself to uniting those who actually wanted positive answers, and especially those who wanted to follow my Guru’s “solution-conscious” teachings.
Word reached me one day that certain “big mouths” in the community were proclaiming a resolve to “call me on the carpet” for things which, they claimed, I wasn’t doing for the community. They themselves were the sort of people who talk endlessly but seldom act. (Such people are always the first to complain!) As soon as news of their intention reached me, I myself called an all-community meeting, which I began by announcing, “There are certain matters requiring our attention as a community.” I went on to enumerate the complaints, which had reached me. I then asked everyone, “What shall we do about them?” Thus, I succeeded in deflecting what had been intended as a challenge to my authority. In fact, those problems belonged on the shoulders of everyone. I asked people then to propose workable solutions. The meeting ended harmoniously, despite a little grumbling from the “big mouths” who had failed to “call me on the carpet.” These, of course, muttered that it had not been fair of me to snatch the carpet out from under them.
I was by now tired of the constant bickering. Feeling that this meeting had put the dissension “to bed” for a while, I went off for two months of spiritual recharging to India.
No useful end would be served by relating here in exhaustive detail all the difficulties I faced in those early years. For the purposes of this lesson, let it suffice to add this comment: If a leader hopes to win out over controversy, he must combine patience with astuteness.
The problem I faced from the beginning was how to win people. It would work against that effort to try to coerce them. Fortunately for myself, I never got angry—though in my dreams at night I did occasionally experience intense anger for reasons that I always forgot on awaking. Many leaders in my situation would have spluttered in helpless rage. To have done that, however, would have been worse than futile, and would have cost me many points in people’s respect and support.
My first rule, as I’ve stated already, has always been, “Do what works.” In those years, my solution to people’s opposition was to concentrate on cementing the support of those members who showed willingness. I gave no more energy than I had to, to those who resented what I was doing. Their resentment was because my will conflicted with their desires. As for the few who placed themselves in open rebellion against me, I ignored them as much as possible. Fortunately, as generally happens in such cases, although the negative ones resisted all positive action, they had no solution to propose. They found their satisfaction simply in complaining.
Gradually the opposition came to a head. I myself was the one who forced the showdown. I was already, of course, confident that the majority were on my side. To have acted prematurely would have revealed incompetence. I hadn’t devoted so many years to this communitarian dream to toss it lightly aside just because a few people had different ideas. I was more than willing to give in on minor issues, but I certainly wouldn’t throw up my hands in surrender on major ones. A leader must be strong in himself. He cannot afford to be ruled by people’s emotions.
In choosing subordinate leaders in the community, I always sought those who wanted to serve, not to dominate. “Big shots” provide the worst kind of leadership. I’ve marveled at newspaper headlines in India that describe the “plums” of power as going to this politician or that one, as if high position were a reward instead of a serious responsibility. Power should be reserved for those who hold their country’s, and not their own, interests at heart. Leadership is not important in itself. Service is the key word. Anyone who desires high political position in order to achieve self-importance is not fit to lead.
When I was twenty-three, my Guru placed me in charge of the other monks. This wasn’t the first time anyone had been given this post. Others in that position before me, however—judging by the conditions that prevailed when I came—had not succeed in creating a cohesive spirit among the monks.
Our Guru had stated, for example, that he wanted the monks to keep silence at meals. He himself never took his meals in our dining room, for his duties necessitated that he keep himself apart from our daily activities. Chaos, consequently, reigned supreme during meal times. I decided to ensure that the Master’s wishes were obeyed.
Mere remonstrance, I found, had no effect. My admonitions could scarcely be heard over the hubbub. I decided to find a system that would work. First, I got those who were willing to cooperate to attend morning group meditations. (We’d been meditating in our rooms, on our own.) After meditation, it was relatively easy to get them to keep silence at breakfast. The monks who didn’t come to these group meditations talked as merrily as ever at breakfast, but were embarrassed when others simply refused to answer them.
A few months passed. Then I proposed we hold group meditations in the evenings before supper. After meditation it was, again, relatively easy for people to eat in silence; they were accustomed already to keeping silence at breakfast.
I never needed to extend the rule of silence to lunchtime. By now, the monks were accustomed to keeping silence at the table, and liked it. Those who were uncooperative finally acquiesced, more or less.
Many of the monks were older than I in years, and also in the teachings. To some of them I seemed a mere upstart, despite the fact that our Guru had placed me in charge. My efforts, consequently, met a certain degree of hostility. This opposition was good training for me, many years later, in building Ananda.
I’ve always found, when dealing with negative energy, that it has little cohesion. Positive energy, on the other hand, even if expressed by only a minority, creates a vortex of energy and power.
It wasn’t that I had to persuade everyone in the monastery to accept what I was trying to accomplish. Quite a number of the monks were on my side from the start. For the others, I decided to make only minimal efforts to enlist their support. The best that would have been accomplished, I could see, would be to bring a few of them from minus to zero. Once my energies were directed elsewhere, however, their own would slip to minus again. I therefore focused on the positive ones, with whom I sought positive solutions. I urged those of them who were worried about the nay-sayers not to pay too much attention to their negativity. Life had already taught me, and has often corroborated the lesson, that man needs to be “solution conscious,” not “problem conscious.”
The proof of my system was simply that it worked. Gradually, those of the monks who had been holding themselves aloof from my organizing efforts were obliged to recognize that a change was in the air. They either fell in with that change, or departed. My success was twofold. First, fewer monks left the monastery. Second, and much more important to me, our Guru expressed himself pleased with my efforts.
Interestingly, however, he hinted to me, later, that my position as head monk was not the role he saw as my destiny in serving him. He made it clear to me that I was to bring his message out to the world, through lectures and classes. In addition, he hinted that I was to spread his message in India.
I found, in time, that the principles of leadership that I’d learned in practice were also helpful in lecturing and giving public classes. Only the application is different.
Leadership means, among other things, persuading people to want what you want of them. Lecturing and teaching require a similar persuasion. It isn’t enough, when lecturing, to talk at people merely, as if trying to air your own ideas. It isn’t enough even to talk to them, to express your thoughts clearly. What is needed is to talk with them. One’s words must, in other words, be directed at what people want and need to hear. A speaker must listen sensitively to unspoken thoughts and questions.
This method of inward listening works far more effectively than letting an audience ask questions openly, a process which often takes up too much time with secondary matters. When a speaker does reply to open questions, he should make it a point to generalize his replies so as to include the whole audience.
These leadership principles, as I’ve learned and applied them, will be helpful to business people everywhere, even in their dealings with the public.
In selling merchandise, for example, one must try to get people interested in what one has to sell. Think of your work as a service to them, and try sincerely to see if an item that you are selling meets their needs. If you can’t see a way, suggest to them graciously some other place where they might get what they want. People will remember you for your helpfulness, and will be the more likely to return to you when they want something else. A satisfied customer will bring others to your shop. Concentrate above all, therefore, on giving satisfaction. It is an aspect of true leadership to focus on others’ needs, not to concentrate only on what you want.
People in leadership positions often worry about “losing face,” blustering in an attempt to prove themselves right. The worst thing a leader can do, when a mistake has been made, is to blame others. When he himself is actually at fault, any attempt to shift the blame onto others will be strategically weakening. People are seldom fooled by bluster. You will command their respect far more if you take the blame frankly, and without embarrassment, onto your own shoulders. This is true even if you are blameless.
People appreciate truthfulness, and, unless they are carpers, will not expect you to be infallible. Generally speaking it costs nothing to admit, simply, that you were wrong. People will have more confidence in you, and especially so if you then try to correct your mistake. Leaders who try to impress people with their inscrutable wisdom soon find that no one takes them seriously.
People will be more willing to follow you, in short, if you are sincere with them, and if you do only what works best. They will be even more impressed if they see that you want only what is right and true.
Should they ever realize, however, that what you care about most is being considered infallible, they will gradually withdraw their support from you, and will do so the more rapidly if they see you less concerned with being honest and truthful than with forcing people’s acceptance.
If you don’t realize this next point already, you will certainly do so in time. I suggest meanwhile, therefore, that you accept it on faith:
Those who work under you will enjoy working with you, if they respect and like you, and if you treat them well. If you make no effort to win their support, they will find ways of subtly undermining anything you attempt. Sometimes it may be better to give in to people’s wishes and opinions, even if you consider your own ideas to be better than theirs. Most decisions are not crucial, after all, to the success of an enterprise. More important to its long-range goals is everyone’s cooperation and harmony.
It is particularly important to show your support. I recall a time, during our school’s first year at Ananda Village, when a student became upset with a particular teacher. This woman, though good at her job and loyal to our way of life, had a testing nature. She was opinionated and tactless. The headmaster, wanting to curry favor with the student, scolded the teacher severely in front of the other students. Later I told him, “The children will graduate and move on, but the teachers will still be with you. Be loyal to them first. Stand by them, even if they err. If they need to be corrected, administer the correction as tactfully as possible, in private. If all your efforts fail, replace the teacher, but never embarrass her in front of children who must learn from her.”
I’ve tried to go along with others’ wishes, when I felt I could do so without compromising my essential goals. I admit happily, moreover, that circumstances have sometimes vindicated their wishes. In no way do I want to claim infallibility. People learn faster with greater clarity when one encourages them not to fear making mistakes. They also learn better if the leader does not impose his will on them. Do your best, then, to win, but don’t coerce others to your position. To draw the best out of them, support them as often as you can.
It will help leaders to think of themselves as skiers, in a sense. Though a skier’s goal is to reach the bottom of the slope, he may have to veer left or right occasionally to avoid sudden bumps (moguls, they are called), or so as not to hit other skiers. To reach his destination, a skier must change directions as necessary.
Another good rule for a leader is, Be willing to take the blame, even if you don’t deserve it. Our responsibility is to shoulder burdens, if others are not strong enough to carry them. This means, sometimes, shouldering responsibility for their mistakes. Always remember, it is you, the leader, who are answerable for what goes on under you. If others err, try not to blame them. Blame usually rests with the leader in any case, so be prepared to accept it even if you know you aren’t to blame, personally. People will generally respect you, and will be all the more loyal to you.
Obviously, I am not saying that one should take the blame in matters of moral turpitude. If someone under you were to commit a serious fault, or even a crime, he himself, generally speaking, should shoulder the responsibility. I don’t mean illegalities, therefore, or even immoral conduct. I’m referring to ordinary mistakes that people make during the course of their work.
To offer a specific example, let me describe a situation in which I myself was not in any way in charge, but was acting only to keep a deteriorating situation from becoming a disaster. It was in Charleston, South Carolina, several months before I met my Guru. I was studying stagecraft at the Dock Street Theater, intending to become a playwright. I was asked, for one of the plays we put on, to be part of a male quartet.
We were all amateurs, though I at least had had some musical training. The others quite naturally made mistakes. What surprised me was how consistently they blamed one another. Realizing that the only thing that mattered was “getting the show on the road,” I took the blame each time onto my own shoulders. “It’s my fault,” I said, again and again. “It’s okay. Let’s forget it, and keep on going.” The group finally managed to perform fairly well, though not brilliantly.
Later, a professional actor among us made a comment to the effect that so much time had been wasted by all of us in casting blame on one another. I said nothing to defend myself. To do so, I realized, would be to place the others in a bad light. I’d taken the blame on myself; now I must accept that it was mine.
This experience taught me how important it is, in getting a job done, not to cast blame. If people want to protect themselves, why not be tolerant of this very normal human weakness?
This principle is especially important for people in positions of authority. Much energy is often wasted in attempting to deflect blame from oneself. This is especially damaging in a leader.
Fortunately, as well as unfortunately, the human ego is a universal reality. Don’t let self-interest blind you to the self-interest of others. Their wishes may easily be different from yours—and what a dull world it would be if everyone agreed on everything! To criticize others for being ego-centered is almost like criticizing them for breathing! What one’s criticism implies, usually, is a desire to defend his own ego. Egoism is simply a symptom of immaturity. Almost every human being is, spiritually speaking, immature.
Be kind to others. Don’t try to suppress them, but give them a chance, when feasible, to score their points. In ceding minor victories to others, you will win their long-term support in return. Like a skier, keep your destination—the bottom of the hill—firmly in mind. So long as high principles are not at stake, it won’t hurt you to yield a few minor points. Be ready to swerve right or left, as necessary, with life’s “slope.”
Another good rule—though one all too often ignored—is this: Give credit wholeheartedly, where credit is due. Avoid, when possible, claiming credit for yourself even if the idea was your own, and especially if another person has done the actual work. Remember to give credit openly, in front of others. Don’t be like a certain man in France about whom my father spoke with a chuckle. The man wrote the introduction to a book by somebody else, in which he stated, “We highly recommend this book, based as it was on our research, and written under our constant supervision.”
A friend of mine founded a well-known community in Scotland. He was obliged to leave it, eventually, for he had made the mistake of thinking that he must always be in control—even to the point of deciding what flowers should be in the dining room, and exactly where they should be placed. He was a good man, and in many ways a good leader. One thing that impressed me about him was his willingness to learn from experience. He tended to express himself a bit forcefully, however. When others finally decided they could oppose him, they did so. In the end, he moved away to America.
He shared with me one interesting story, which has been helpful to me in my own work. He and several others had been pouring a cement walkway. The job had nearly reached completion when his wife came out of the house and invited them in for a cup of tea. They agreed to honor this ancient English custom of a “cuppa” at four o’clock. Afterward, just as they were ready to resume work, some other problem came up, causing them to delay the job temporarily.
“Do you know,” he said, “it was several years before we were able to finish that job! Once the energy shifted, a great deal of time passed before we were able to get it back again. It would have been easy to complete the project at the time when we were working on it.”
His story taught me something important: When one starts a project, he should finish it while the energy is still flowing. Of course, I can imagine this example being used to justify inflexibility. I’ve frequently found, in fact, that it takes an extra surge of will power to keep a project going, at least in my mind, in spite of interruptions. I suggest that you take his advice with a little “grain of salt,” therefore, for I can’t really imagine anyone—except a hermit, perhaps—being able to drive through to the end of very many projects without interruptions. Sometimes I’ve managed to do so, but never, I think, in my capacity of leader.
The English have left a legacy which it might be well to consider in light of its negative impact. Owing, possibly, to the fact that they live in partial isolation on an island, they’ve often had to live by their wits, rather than by force, and thus have developed a maxim that has stood them to some extent in good stead: “Divide, and conquer.” This practice served them when dealing with larger countries on the European continent, and also in India. I believe, however, that leadership in the present age of energy will take a new direction. My hope is that people will depend more on sharing, and less on conquest and dominion. For what wins people is an all-accepting attitude.
Learn to take a back seat, when it seems right to you. I remember that many years ago I did exactly that—though, as it happened, there was no seat in the back anyway. Several monks were preparing to go by van from Encinitas to Los Angeles. I chose to sit in back, on the floor. Being young, it was in no way uncomfortable for me. Dr. Lewis, however, an older man who was in charge of the Encinitas colony, said to me, “You shouldn’t be there. Your place is up front.”
“Why?” I asked him, though I knew perfectly well what he meant.
“Because,” he answered, “you’re in charge.”
“For that very reason,” I replied, “my place is behind.”
A leader who insists on always having a prominent position lowers his stature in the eyes of others. Leadership in the modern age, I hope and believe, will come increasingly to be seen as supporting others, not as lording it over them.
I don’t say that such behavior would work in every situation. It would be inappropriate, for instance, in the army. Try always to be appropriate in your behavior. In many cases, however, the less you thrust yourself forward, the more others will boost you.
An important rule for leaders is never, with anyone under them, to put him at an unfair disadvantage. When starting Ananda, for instance, I might have claimed justifiably to possess inside and even unique knowledge of our Guru’s will for the work. I was the only person at Ananda who had actually known him personally. (Today, thirty-six years later, only a handful of us are still living.) Certainly, my experience with him gave me an advantage over others—one that I might have claimed, had I wished to. If I’d done so, however, it would have shown a mean spirit. Why put others at a disadvantage? Instead, I’ve refrained, when possible, from alluding to this advantage when others have confronted me with ideas of their own. I’ve tried simply to let clear reason do the persuading. When that hasn’t worked, I’ve let matters rest for a time so as to give others a chance to learn by their experience. Sometimes, indeed, I’ve been the one in the wrong. In such cases, I’ve readily ceded the point. After all, it would be foolish to claim I was right when I obviously wasn’t! There are only two things that matter, moreover: what works, and what is right. It is perfectly possible that I’ve misunderstood my guru’s meaning, sometimes.
Naturally, I do have inside knowledge in many matters. I am also willing to share my knowledge, when people want me to. I’ve never used that knowledge unfairly, by telling people, “You didn’t know the Master personally. I did. Don’t you think you should do as I say?” I’ve always tried to let reason prevail.
A leader should not concern himself excessively with his own comfort and convenience. Many people think that a leaders can do just as he pleases. The good leader, however, thinks first in terms of giving to others, not of receiving from them. Leadership, for those who accept that role sincerely, is a self-limiting position, not a self-indulgent one. A good leader must sacrifice his personal convenience for the sake of the work being done. On the other hand, he must include in his reality the wishes of others, among things to be considered. Moreover, he cannot expect others to be impersonal in such matters; therefore he must make up for any such deficiency in them.
Years ago in the monastery, lack of available space made it necessary for new monks to be housed in one, large room. In time, fifteen men were crowded into it. As newcomers, they had no experience of the monastic life, and were, besides, young and exuberant. They often stayed up late into the night, chatting instead of meditating. One evening, in a spirit of fun, they had a boisterous pillow fight—nothing wrong, of course; energetic youngsters need an outlet for their energies. Still, it wasn’t for this purpose that they’d come. Their discussions, moreover, judging from what I heard, did not always soar to the heights of philosophy.
I lived in another building. My quarters were far from elegant, but at least they gave me privacy. Steps led down from my bedroom to a small basement, which I fondly called my meditation “cave.” Here I spent several hours a day meditating.
Aware of the growing difficulty faced by those new monks, however, and anxious for their spiritual well-being, I hit on a solution: I must live in the same room with them. I remained there for a year and a half.
A good leader must surrender his own convenience, if he wants to be effective in his job. What some other leader does in similar situations is, of course, his own decision. No guiding rules can be written. I myself had no precedent to guide me to “sit in the back,” for example. A leader must develop his own intuition in these things. Indeed, his duty will vary with circumstances. Sometimes it will be right and may even be important to be perceived clearly as the one in charge. Know your strengths, therefore; remember, you cannot afford to be perceived as weak under any circumstance.
It is important, on the other hand, not to be perceived as a bully. A good leader must lead, and cannot let himself be pushed about except in fun. If he is losing on any issue, however, it may be wise simply to give in gracefully, before others perceive him as the loser. Sometimes, on the other hand, he may have to insist even in trivial matters, calmly but firmly. This decision is one he must make. There can be no fixed rules in such matters.
I remember Dr. Lewis, to whom I referred above, telling me of a time when he and Mrs. Lewis were traveling by car with the Master. The Master opened the window by his side. Mrs. Lewis, saying nothing, reached over and closed it. The Master simply opened it again, without a word. A moment later she reached over and closed it firmly. Again without a word, he calmly opened it again. He knew it would not help her discipleship to be victorious in this silent struggle, petty though it was. (He might easily have gone breathless, had he so chosen! It was something he often did while traveling.) At last, Mrs. Lewis gave in. The Master could not, in his position of guru, permit her to win; it would have strengthened her ego. (The Master once told Dr. Lewis that Mrs. Lewis, in a former life, had been Queen Elizabeth I, of England!)
A leader cannot afford to let anyone seize the reins from him. I myself have sometimes found it necessary to tell people firmly, “I won’t allow you to tell me what to do!” I don’t like to speak that way, but if I must do so it would be shirking my responsibility for me to remain silent. The Master himself once told me, “I prefer to discipline people with love. I just wilt inside when I have to speak firmly.”
After Ananda’s first year, a young man of rather thrustful disposition announced, “A tradition exists in Japan that when the young people grow up, the old ones step aside and hand the reins of power over to them.” His words were a blatant bid for power. He was twenty-four years old; I myself was forty-two—hardly an age for anyone to become dodderingly senile! I realized that I must be firm. “Dick,” I said, “I did not start this community to turn it over to you!” He left soon afterward in search of a freer world. I wished him luck, mentally.
A leader must be firm in himself, even when he yields to necessity, or out of kindness. Never allow yourself, on the other hand, to feel threatened by actual ability in others. Don’t belittle them, but do your best to harness their ability for the overall good. A weak leader resents creativity in others. If he has no talent, himself, his resentment may be humanly understandable, but it will not make him a good leader, and will be tantamount to a confession of ineptitude.
It is incumbent upon leaders to be in some way creative. To be jealous or resentful of ability in others shows one to be undeserving of a leadership position. Any competent person knows that he cannot be outstanding at everything. He should therefore be grateful for genuine ability in others, and should try to find ways of putting that ability to best use. The worst thing he can do is scheme for such people’s removal, or convenient sequestration in obscurity.
Andrew Carnegie attributed his business success to his willingness to gather people around him who—as he put it—knew more than he did. He kept the controlling reins in his hands, but he never insisted on being the horse!
Another successful businessman attributed his success to a willingness to let his subordinates make mistakes. As he pointed out, that is the only way to learn. Organizations that insist on everything being done right the first time condemn themselves to mediocrity. You cannot allow people to keep on making the same mistakes, of course! Nevertheless, give them a chance, if possible, to improve.
Another principle of good leadership is to avoid basing too many decisions on precedent. The fact that a solution worked well in the past does not mean necessarily that it will work this time. Consider each situation unique. It is a thing in itself, and unrelated to anything else. It is of course wise to consider different options before making certain decisions, but remember, Habit is anathema to creativity. No two snowflakes are exactly alike. Every atom, as my Guru stated, is “dowered with individuality.” Every ego is, in a vital sense, different from every other. Even when the ego merges into the Infinite, so my Guru said, its memory of individuality is retained eternally, and can be remanifested at will.
Another rule is: Don’t “type” people. I was corrected the other day for saying that. Someone said, “If you type others positively, however, they may feel encouraged.” She was right, and I’d been wrong to overlook that aspect of the matter. Usually, however, it limits people to type them. It also demeans them, making it difficult for them to rise to their highest potential. Everyone deserves respect as a child of God.
Think of the simple words uttered by lovers since the beginning of time: “I love you.” Somehow, whenever those words are spoken with deep feeling, they seem as though uttered for the first time. What makes them so special is the depth of feeling they contain; it makes an “old formula” fresh and alive.
What matters, therefore, is not so much what you do or say as your deep sincerity. That is, indeed, the true meaning of originality: something which issues from its point of origin in one’s self.
Don’t be like those weary people who, traveling to work every day on the subway or the metro, stare dully into space until they arrive at their destination, upon which they go marching like robots to work. Be “awake and ready” at every moment of your life!
Is yours a management position? In that case, you should feel to some extent responsible for the happiness and well-being of those under you. Keep in mind the importance, to your own success, of human values. Feel for others; nurture their growth, as you are able. Encourage them as their friend, and not as an office diplomat. Take the time to listen sympathetically to their problems. It will be worth your while to do so, for you could not succeed without their help.
Never become so involved in problems of the moment that you lose sight of your long-range goals. Keep those goals, rather, ever clearly before you. Many leaders allow themselves to be deflected by side issues. “Keep your eye on the road,” as new drivers are told when they are learning to drive.
Keep a sense of humor, too, if only to help you to see things in a broad perspective. Nothing is worth holding a grim attitude for. It can destroy your happiness and have a negative impact on the happiness of others.
During the fire in 1976, which nearly destroyed Ananda, one of our founding couples lost their home and all that was in it. The wife had given birth ten days earlier to their first child. Understandably, the test was almost more than she could bear. Her husband remarked to her with a wry smile, in the hope of comforting her, “Well, at least we won’t have to worry anymore about those leaks in the roof!”
Remember, your reality is you, not the passing scene before you. If you can keep that simple fact in mind, you will be able to smile under all circumstances. One who can come up smiling, after being beaten repeatedly to the ground, cannot fail to win in the end.
This is a thought I’ve touched on before, but it is worth repeating here: Don’t try to be perceived as an authority on every subject! You’ll only show yourself up as an ignoramus, and others will laugh at you behind your back.
Above all, be joyful inside. You can live in joy by deliberate choice. Nothing is so important to you as your own happiness. Isn’t that the real reason you work at all? Be happy this very moment! Don’t wait for an uncertain future to give you the happiness you crave.
The Application
In this lesson, as in the one before, I haven’t found it possible to separate principle from practical application. In discussing specifically, here, how to apply my thoughts on leadership, I find I have little to add. The following are a few remaining suggestions:
Put first things first. Leadership itself is not a “first thing.” After you die, God, or whatever angel or deva meets you “up there” won’t ask you, “Were you a good leader?” You will be asked, if anything, “Do you love deeply?” What else really matters?
Never give supreme importance to passing issues. Things will change, but why change with them? In your true Self, indeed, you can never change. You will remain You for all eternity, a spark of the Infinite. There will never be a duplicate copy.
Keep in mind the transitory nature of success itself. If you always remember that fact, it will help you to move the sails on your boat left or right with every shifting wind. Flexibility will help you, in fact, not only to achieve success, but to retain that success through all of life’s ups and downs.
Many years ago, the heads of several prominent corporations in America met for an important discussion. All of them were wealthy, respected, and powerful. What is especially interesting about that occasion is that every single one of them, not many years later, lost everything he valued: his position, his wealth, his power. He became, if not poor, then at least not wealthy and no longer socially prominent.
This sort of thing is happening constantly in life. It could happen to you. Never depend for your sense of self-worth on anything outside yourself. All you can ever be, forever, is your own self. At present you seem so finite, in your ego, but someday you will perceive yourself to be infinite. Live in the thought of your essential oneness with Brahman, the Supreme Spirit. Live in that thought through the many vagaries of life. Be happy in yourself. And bear in mind that, ultimately speaking, you yourself are, as I said, your only reality!
Meditation
Visualize a shining light radiating outward from the heart of infinity. Now, visualize that you are that light. Mentally send out light rays from your center to sustain the whole universe.
See leadership as a training ground for infinite consciousness. See yourself as giving light, not as receiving it. See all things—all creation—as needing what you have to give. Nourish all creatures in your light. Give to all of them your love.
See to it that your feeling for others remains impersonal, in the sense of asking nothing for yourself. Be concerned for the individual well-being of everyone.
You are free in yourself! You are the Lord of everything that exists. For all eternity, you are in complete possession of your own being!
Affirmation
“I am self-contained. I need nothing. 
I live to serve all so that together we may 
grow into the highest success of all: God’s joy!”

Points to Remember
1. Two important rules: “Do what works” and “Do what is right.” Happy is the person who can cling to his ideals while bringing them in line with reality.
2. People cannot be driven: they must be inspired to do what is right.
3. To do what is right, ethically and spiritually as well as pragmatically, wins the support of universal law. If you abide by true principles to the best of your ability, you will be always protected, and will be most likely to succeed in everything.
4. Leadership, if it is to be effective, must be played like a game in which points must be conceded, sometimes, for the sake of long-term advantages. To win always is not possible, and may not even be good, for it means that people have probably been bullied into agreement.
5. Cement the support of those members who show willingness, who want positive answers, and especially those who share your fundamental goals. Give no more energy than you have to to those who resent what you’re doing. Even a minority, if expressing positive energy, creates a vortex of energy and power.
6. A leader must be strong in himself. He cannot afford to be ruled by people’s emotions.
7. In choosing subordinate leaders, look for those who want to serve, not to dominate. Look for people to act on your behalf to whom others turn instinctively for guidance, people who respect human values and show consideration for the feelings of others.
8. It is an aspect of true leadership to focus on others’ needs, not to concentrate only on what you want.
9. People will be more willing to follow you if you are sincere with them, and if you do only what works best and what is right and true.
10. Those who work under you will enjoy working with you, if they respect and like you, and if you treat them well. Show your support for them as often as you can.
11. Try to go along with others’ wishes, when you can do so without compromising your essential goals. People learn faster with greater clarity when one encourages them not to fear making mistakes.
12. Be willing to take the blame, even if you don’t deserve it. It is you, the leader, who are answerable for what goes on under you. People will respect you, and will be all the more loyal to you.
13. Give credit wholeheartedly, where credit is due, openly, in front of others.
14. Never, with anyone under you, put him at an unfair disadvantage. Try to let clear reason do the persuading.
15. The good leader thinks first in terms of giving to others, not of receiving from them. A good leader must sacrifice his personal convenience for the sake of the work being done.
16. Never allow yourself to feel threatened by actual ability in others. Be grateful for genuine ability in others, and try to find ways of putting that ability to best use.
17. Avoid basing too many decisions on precedent. Consider each situation unique.
18. Don’t “type” people. Everyone deserves respect as a child of God.
19. If you are in a management position, you should feel to some extent responsible for the happiness and well-being of those under you. Nurture their growth. Take the time to listen sympathetically to their problems. You could not succeed without their help.
20. Never become so involved in problems of the moment that you lose sight of your long-range goals. Keep those goals, rather, ever clearly before you.
21. Keep a sense of humor, if only to help you see things in a broad perspective. A grim attitude can destroy your happiness and have a negative impact on the happiness of others.
22. Above all, be joyful inside. Be happy this very moment! Don’t wait for an uncertain future to give you the happiness you crave.
23. Flexibility will help you, not only to achieve success, but to retain that success through all of life’s ups and downs.
24. See leadership as a training ground for infinite consciousness. See yourself as giving light, not as receiving it. See all things—all creation—as needing what you have to give. Give to all of them your love.

Workbook Ideas
by Joseph Bharat Cornell
During World War II, an American infantry unit was hunkered down in foxholes as German shells fell. Their commander, a second lieutenant, was seen moving among his men to ensure their safety. When someone asked the officer where his foxhole was, he replied, “If I had one, I’d be in it.” 

Like all good leaders, the lieutenant understood the importance of staying aware of the larger picture. By sacrificing his personal safety, he also won his men’s loyalty. People are intelligent. If they see their leader selflessly serving them and their cause, they are more willing to follow.   

Even the universe supports us when we act nobly. In the early 1900s, after his ship was trapped and sunk by pack ice in the Antarctic, Sir Ernest Shackleton and five of his companions took a small boat on an 800 mile journey across the Southern Atlantic, one of the roughest seas in the world, to summon help for his stranded crew. 

After landing on the island of South Georgia, Shackleton and two others traversed 17 rugged miles across sheer glaciers and mountains to reach a whaling station for aid. During their epic journey, the three weary travelers tangibly felt a benevolent presence guiding them. They lovingly referred to this presence as the “unseen One” and their “Fourth Companion.” 

Expand Yourself through Many

Practicing good leadership affirms your infinite consciousness. Bringing out the best in others, and channeling goodness into the world, expands your self-identity toward infinity.   

Action Items:

It is part of human nature to want to influence others, but we should always be respectful. An enlightened leader allows people the freedom to come to his position in their own time.

1.	Before offering a suggestion, ask yourself if the person can understand your idea enough to generate his own enthusiasm for it.  Honor as a sacred trust his native enthusiasm, for it is his greatest asset and what moves him forward. 

2.	Observe how your words affect others. Are they energizing and empowering?  

Be Aware of Your Magnetism

The dictionary defines magnetism as it manifests in human relations as “the power to attract, fascinate, or influence.” We can listen to some people talk forever, while with others, we may want to leave the room!

Action Items:

1.	Observe how people respond to you and your ideas. Observe also how others react to your colleagues. Are there co-workers that everyone listens to? If the answer is yes, ask yourself, “What is it that makes them so appealing?” 

2.	To increase your magnetism and ability to work with others, practice the following suggestions by Swami Kriyananda:  

a.	Harmonize your emotions by deep meditation. Emotions, especially, weaken your magnetism. 
b.	Say “Yes to Life.” Unwillingness diminishes your energy-flow, while willingness increases it. 
c.	Eliminate inner conflicts within yourself. This greatly increases your flow of energy.  
d.	Infuse everything you do with positive thoughts and energy. The more joyful and loving your consciousness, the more uplifting will be your magnetism.