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SWVVKA

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Vivekananda drew on a rich mix of influences: the rational spirituality and commitment to social reform of the Brahmo Samaj; the fervent devotion, passion, and reverence for tradition of Sri Ramakrishna; and the language skills and modern knowledge gained from his British-style education. With the blessing of Sarada Devi, Ramakrishna’s spiritual consort and revered “Holy Mother” to his followers, and supported by a maharaja and devotees in Madras, he departed from Bombay on May 31, 1893.

Roughly two months later, after visiting China and Japan and traveling by train from Vancouver, he reached Chicago—only to discover that the Parliament of Religions would not start for another six weeks. Delegates also needed credentials, which were no longer available, and the Columbian Exposition had driven up the cost of food and lodging. Learning that Boston was cheaper, he boarded a train there, where fate intervened: a former Smith College literature professor, Katherine Sanborn, happened to be on the same train. Likely impressed by the learned swami, she invited him to stay at her home near Boston. Thanks to her, Vivekananda’s first public appearances in America took place in circles shaped by Transcendentalists and New Thought enthusiasts. As Diana Eck notes, “Despite more than fifty years of interest in Indian thought, few New Englanders had met a Hindu,” and that summer Vivekananda “attracted a great deal of attention.” He delivered about a dozen talks in churches, lecture halls, and private salons, traveling as far as Saratoga Springs, New York.

On the opening day of the Parliament, Vivekananda was one of twenty-four speakers and began his address with the now-famous words, “Sisters and Brothers of America.” Newspapers reported that the audience erupted in applause lasting two to four minutes. Some credited the extraordinary reception to the warmth of his greeting, while others pointed to his dignified presence. He expressed pride in belonging to a religion that promotes tolerance and universal acceptance, stating, “We believe not only in universal tolerance but we accept all religions to be true.” He also recited a traditional hymn: “As the different streams, having their sources in different places, all mingle their water in the sea; so, O Lord, the different paths which men take…all lead to Thee.” Denouncing sectarianism, bigotry, and fanaticism, he added, “I fervently believe that the bell that tolled this morning in honor of this convention may be the death-knell to all fanaticism…to all uncharitable feelings between persons winding their way to the same goal.”

Harriet Monroe, editor of a prominent poetry journal, described him as a “handsome monk in the orange robe” who delivered a flawless speech in English. She praised his magnetic personality, rich, resonant voice, controlled passion, and the profound beauty of his message, calling it “human eloquence at its highest pitch.” Other reporters shared similar impressions, though in a more restrained style.

Over the next sixteen days, the Parliament held sessions morning, afternoon, and evening, often attracting crowds so large that some lectures had to be repeated in nearby halls. Vivekananda spoke multiple times, with each audience growing larger than the last. His core messages during these appearances shaped his later work and largely set the tone for the Vedic teachers who followed, presenting a modernized understanding of his religious heritage while correcting common misconceptions.

JK

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The enigmatic Krishnamurti (1895–1986) was a slender, striking thirteen-year-old with penetrating eyes when Theosophists found him on a beach in South India and proclaimed him an avatar. “The Divine Spirit has descended once more on a man,” declared Annie Besant. They educated him in England and prepared him to lead their Order of the Star of the East. In his early twenties, following World War I, he was sent out as the World Teacher. In 1922, seeking a warm, dry climate for his younger brother, who had tuberculosis, he moved to Ojai, California. Although his brother died three years later, the scenic town near Santa Barbara became Krishnamurti’s home in the U.S., where he lived until his death at age ninety.

EMERSON

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In Emerson and the Light of India, Robert Gordon notes that by the time Emerson finished his studies at Harvard, he had already explored many writings on India’s history, spiritual traditions, and religious practices. From these readings, Emerson absorbed four central ideas, according to Gordon: first, a recognition of India as a land rich in spiritual depth; second, the belief that the physical world flows from a divine source and that the aim of human existence is for the soul to recognize its fundamental unity with that source; third, the notion of maya, which views the diversity of material forms as an illusion that conceals an underlying oneness; and fourth, the belief in the soul’s passage from one body to another across multiple lifetimes.

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References to Indian literature appear throughout his work. His 1846 poem “Hamatreya” draws directly from a passage in the Vishnu Purana, while the essay “Immortality” ends with a close retelling of the story of Yama, the god of death, taken from the Katha Upanishad. Most notably, the opening verse of his poem “Brahma” (“If the red slayer think he slays…”) echoes nearly word-for-word passages from both the Katha Upanishad and the Bhagavad Gita. These influences were far more than decorative literary touches—they formed a core foundation of Emerson’s philosophical outlook.

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AV X PG

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I considered myself sensible and fairly even-tempered. One afternoon, while sitting in my quirky New York kitchen near the Fillmore East—then a hub of sex, drugs, and rock music—I was reading a book on Eastern mysticism. I remember asking a friend, “Why is this called mystical?” It all struck me as practical and logical. As someone with a modern, skeptical outlook who viewed religion as the “opium of the people,” I was astonished to encounter ancient spiritual teachings that simply said: this is what we believe—try it for yourself and see if it works. There was no demand for blind faith, no reliance on elaborate myths, and no promise of rewards in the afterlife.

I raced through Manhattan searching for a copy of the Bhagavad Gita (surprisingly difficult to find), tracked down a yoga studio (also rare at the time), and learned Transcendental Meditation as the Beatles had—though independently of them. I went on to teach the practice for several years. These experiences transformed my life in deeply positive ways, and ever since, I have made a sustained effort to balance my spiritual values with the responsibilities and enjoyments of everyday life.