Finding Peace in the Palisades

Reflecting on the Lake Shrine

By GABRIELLA BOCK | Reporter

Nestled cliffside on Sunset Boulevard, the ornate grounds of the Self Realization Fellowship Lake Shrine have remained a community refuge since the 1950s, yet—even with its striking Mughal architecture and public gardens—few Palisadians know what actually goes on inside the temple’s gilded walls.

“It’s a cult” or “a patchouli den for hippies” are two commonly held misconceptions.

And although the gardens are open to everyone, including Scientologists and Woodstock’s love children, those visiting need not to worry—there’s no Kool-Aid here, only tea and honey bees.

The Lake Shrine is a sanctuary for all who seek it.

Constructed in 1950, the temple’s stunning grounds were dedicated to the members and seekers of the Self-Realization Fellowship—a worldwide spiritual organization founded in 1920 by yogi and guru Paramahansa Yogananda. Since its inception, Yogananda and his fellowship have introduced millions of westerners to the teachings of Kundalini Yoga and meditation.

Although not religious by definition, SRF is a legally incorporated nondenominational religious organization that teaches the path of Kriya Yoga while including principals taught by Jesus Christ and Bhagavan Krishna as meditative guides toward achieving inner peace.

With hundreds of chapters all over the world, the Pacific Palisades Lake Shrine offers members, students and interested seekers a space of tranquility within the sprawling hustle and bustle of LA’s Westside.

You do not have to be a member to take part in a meditation service or even a weekend silent retreat—although the monks at the Lake Shrine suggest taking one of their free introductory courses before committing to three days of silence.

And, apparently, most of us really haven’t got a clue on how to keep our mouths and minds quiet.

I was one of those people when I signed up for a daylong, immersive retreat at the Lake Shrine.

Going into the experience, my mind was filled to the brim with work deadlines, past-due bills and family drama. I left nothing at the door when I entered the retreat, assuming that a sense of relaxation would automatically wash away my stress and relieve me from the troubles of the world.

I was wrong. As it turns out, meditation is hard work.

The day began early with a 45-minute ceremony held in the shrine’s main chapel.

As I sat among a dozen members and students of the fellowship—all seeming focused and attuned to the practice—I felt consumed by stirring internal inquires like: “Where do monks get their clothes?” and “Are pickles technically a fruit?” Then I dedicated five minutes toward attempting to figure out if the voice in my head sounds different than my speaking voice.

As I tried to focus on nothingness, I couldn’t help feeling like a preoccupied 8-year-old during Sunday Mass. Every few minutes I’d open my eyes to take peeks at the other retreatants before estimating how many empty chairs were behind me.

After the service let out, I exited the chapel feeling tired and defeated by the constant questioning of my conscious mind.

But when I met with Pilar, Lake Shrine’s retreat counselor, many of my anxieties melted away.

Pilar is one of those people who radiates joy from the inside out. Before bringing me to my room, she explained to me that my experience in the chapel was perfectly normal.

“Our students spend about a year studying our meditation techniques before they can even become a member,” she said. “If we could just naturally turn off our minds, then there wouldn’t be any need for a retreat.”

My quarters, which housed a twin bed and a desk with literature for study, were naturally unpretentious, with high ceilings and a balcony that gazed toward the Pacific Ocean. I later found the view to be more than just a lush accent. The ocean blue horizon seemed to be a favored focal concentration spot among the retreatants, myself included.

The fellowship offers three vegetarian meals a day, all to be consumed in silent communion with the other guests. Breakfast consisted of toast with jam and granola with rice milk and bananas. Myself and the five others who were on retreat that day sat around a large wooden table, sipping tea and honey while classical melodies played in the background. Every once in a while, a guest would make eye contact with another before offering a small smile and a tip of the teacup.

The experience can be odd, especially if you’re like me and you’re used to spending meal times discussing news and politics with your partner.

“Kubrick should have made a film here,” I thought to myself while making mental references to “A Clockwork Orange.”

Awkward at first, but by the end of the meal, I was already wondering what was for lunch.

I spent the following hours exploring the gardens, smelling roses and watching swans pluck insects from the lake’s marshy grasses.

At one point I found myself tearing up after the swans began to nuzzle their beaks together.

It was then that I finally began to feel a sense of something greater than my own frustration. Sentiments of serenity washed over me as began to relax and take in my surroundings.

Brother Ritananda, a SRF monk who has been living a monastic life for past 36 years, later told me that what I had felt was the lake’s “vibrational energy.”

“People have been coming here to reflect and pray for the past 60 years,” Ritananda explained. “All of those years of spiritual elevation will leave an imprint on a place. Plus, when we are in nature, we begin to feel all of the beauty, gentleness, tenderness and kindness of God.”

Still on cloud nine from my spiritual encounter, I decided to head back into the chapel, this time reenergized and ready to focus.

But after finding a seat among the others, the feeling soon faded.

To circumvent my ego, I spent the rest of the day communing with nature. I made friends out of birds and turtles and meditated in my own way.

Later, after I could speak again, Brother Ritananda assured me that there was no way to win or lose at meditation. Instead, one should try to make small baby steps and build upon each new experience.

“If you add mud to a jar of water and shake it up, the water will become cloudy,” Ritananda illustrated. “But if you place the jar down, eventually the dirt will settle to the bottom and you will again see the water’s clarity—this is the purpose of meditation—it doesn’t matter where you set the glass down.”

Once the sun set, I gathered my belongings and left the gardens feeling calm, centered and grateful to have spent the day unplugged from the world. As I pulled out of the Lake Shrine’s lengthy driveway, I realized that, in the 12 hours I had spent on retreat, I hadn’t once thought about politics or President Trump.

I quietly laughed to myself before a SUV barreling down Sunset nearly hit my car head on.

So, I did what any enlightened Angeleno would—I blasted my horn, gave them the finger and turned on NPR.

After all, a monk once told me, it’s all about baby steps.