(Heather McIlvaine/Neon Tommy)

Technically, it was not yet monsoon season, but as the sudden downpour pounded the tin roof on the ashram’s makeshift temple, I silently thanked God and the Divine Mother and even the guru himself, Paramhansa Yogananda, for this brief respite from the 90-degree heat we had been having.

In that moment, with a cooling mist penetrating the temple’s mosquito netting, and every breath drawing in a sweet, earthy smell, I felt completely present for the first time since arriving at the ashram.

My brain stopped whirring with worries about work, my ego no longer cared about the weird chanting and singing before meals, and my mosquito bites miraculously ceased to itch.

This, I had gathered from leaders at the ashram, was what was supposed to happen during Ananda yoga, a spiritual form of Hatha yoga practiced by followers of the global religious movement. Founded in 1968 as an offshoot of Self-Realization Fellowship, Ananda promotes yoga and meditation techniques as ways to realize the presence of God within oneself. 

When I asked believers at the ashram what this felt like, they referred to it as an “overwhelming sense of inner peace” or a “transcendence of worldly pains and problems.” But until that rainy afternoon, I doubted that I would ever experience it myself. 

I had practiced yoga on and off for many years and had never seen it as anything other than a stress-relieving physical activity. I didn’t believe that a downward dog pose would feel any more sacred to me, simply because I was at an ashram in India.

Even now, I can’t fully explain what happened under Ananda’s tin-roof temple. Did I achieve a moment of true inner peace? Of divine connection? I know I felt closer to something – even if it was only Mother Nature.

Reach Heather McIlvaine here. Follow her on Twitter @hmcilvaine.