All I knew about the final resting place

of the great Yogi from India,

Paramahansa Yogananda,

was that it was in Forest Lawn Cemetery.

I asked at the facility just inside the gate and was given directions to the Great Mausoleum, which is aptly named, as it turns out.


It is big.

When I got to the door I was pleased to see a caretaker passing by and I asked him where Yogananda’s body was.  He pointed out an opening ahead.  When I got there, I was amazed at the length of the hall into which it opened, and on each side of the hall was a very long row of rooms.  Dozens of rooms, and each room had tombs floor to ceiling and—what?  Ten wide on each side of every room?  It was folly to consider even trying to search out an individual name.  And now there was nobody to be found.

Whatever was going to happen would happen, so I started walking down the hall, admiring the beautiful statuary and glancing into the rooms as I went, as if Yogananda’s crypt might somehow separate itself so I could see it.

When I got part of the way down the hall I was consumed with an energy that glued my feet to the floor.  I could not go any further.  I found that I could, however, turn around and go back.  When I had turned around and walked about twenty feet my feet again became frozen to the floor.

I remember recalling at the time that Yogananda had written of a very similar event happening to him during his early years in India.

So I turned around and once more retraced my steps until I could go no further, but this time I couldn’t go back, either.  I started toward the room on one side — frozen again.  Turned around and went to the other side, and that was the room with Yogananda’s tomb.





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