BONUS – The Waning and the Waxing: On Spiritual Lineages in Transition
Every lineage is a river—fed by ancient springs, yet always finding its way to new oceans.
Author’s Note
The reflections that follow are written in a spirit of reverence and renewal. In any living tradition, moments arise when continuity and change must meet in honest conversation. My intention is not to critique individuals or institutions, but to honour the natural rhythm through which consciousness evolves—from preservation to transformation, from silence to new expression.
Difficult truths, spoken gently, are not acts of disloyalty but of love. They are part of the work of keeping a lineage alive, responsive, and awake to the needs of the time.
In every age, the light of knowledge takes form through human vessels. It speaks through the voice of a teacher, radiates through the structure of a movement, and echoes through the lives of those touched by the transmission. But as with all forms, the current must one day move on. The lamp remains, but the flame shifts to a new wick—each time responding to the need of the age.
I have been reflecting on this sentiment as expressed by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, founder of the organization responsible for propagating the technology of consciousness known as Transcendental Meditation®. In response to a question about why he left the Himalayas, Maharishi simply said that he was “responding to the need of the time.”
As I attended Consciousness: Science, Spirituality & Global Impact—an annual gathering of scholars and seekers held under the auspices of the Sadhguru Center for a Conscious Planet at Harvard Medical School, organized by Dr. Bala Subramaniam and his team—the many lessons I gleaned during my study of Vedic Science, that is, Consciousness and Human Potential, continually resurfaced.
Namely, that timely ideas will always seek a willing vessel through which to enter the world for broader consideration and action. Our responsibility, in service to this call, is to listen—and, in the tradition of Maharishi and those before him, to respond to the need of the time.
Though my own abstract was not accepted, the kindness of Dr. Matcheri Keshavan allowed me to attend virtually, and to observe something that, though subtle, felt thoroughly revealing.
The Arc of the Yogic Emissaries
As I sat during sessions, my mind began examining the various teachers through whom knowledge of Pure Consciousness made its way into the world for both experience and action. From Vivekananda’s fiery proclamation at the 1893 Parliament of Religions in Chicago, Illinois to Yogananda’s luminous Autobiography of a Yogi (1946), from Krishnamurti’s crystalline independence to Maharishi Mahesh Yogi’s modern systematization of transcendence, and now to Sadhguru’s techno-savvy charisma, there runs a discernible pattern—a rhythm in how consciousness expresses itself through culture.
Each of these figures has represented a moment when East and West met anew:
Vivekananda brought Vedanta to a colonial West searching for moral courage.
Yogananda infused devotion with psychology.
Krishnamurti dissolved dogma and insisted upon self-inquiry.
Maharishi presented transcendence to the teeming masses via an ancient technique—measurable, repeatable, and compatible with science.
And now, Sadhguru speaks in the idiom of algorithms, sustainability, and global policy—spirituality articulated through media and metrics.
From my observations, it seems every lineage follows a natural life cycle: revelation, organization, preservation, and transmutation. In its beginning, a teaching blazes with vitality; over time, the light must learn to inhabit new forms or risk being eclipsed by fresher expressions of the eternal truth—or as Huxley referred to it, perennial philosophy.
At a Crossroads
Those of us who teach Transcendental Meditation stand upon sacred ground. We inhabit a tradition and carry an ancient technique that, for millions across the globe, has opened the gateway to silence—allowing that silence to be made manifest in all they think, say, do, and produce. And yet, within the institution built to safeguard this Technology of Consciousness, a quiet unease is palpable. Such unease is not unique; it arises wherever enduring devotion meets the inevitability of change.
In many longstanding organizations, a deeper tension gradually emerges—the struggle between preservation and adaptation. Those entrusted with maintaining a founder’s legacy can grow weary from decades of devotion. Their commitment is unquestionable, yet their willingness—or ability—to release the reins becomes increasingly fragile.
Perhaps, at some unspoken level, there is recognition that the world has changed faster than the organization has evolved. In an age where seekers access wisdom through podcasts and neuroimaging studies, an overly centralized model begins to feel anachronistic. Relevance, once bestowed by proximity to the Master, must now be earned through cultural fluency and creative integration.
This pattern is not merely anecdotal. A growing body of organizational research shows that as leaders age, their institutions often become less innovative—producing fewer breakthroughs and demonstrating reduced strategic agility. Incumbents, moreover, frequently delay succession even when cultural momentum or necessity calls for change—a dynamic sometimes labelled Founder’s Syndrome.
Across religious, nonprofit, and corporate domains, scholars have documented how leadership transitions and structural renewal are often resisted—not out of malice, but from deep loyalty to what has been built. Such findings suggest that institutional fatigue is not only spiritual or energetic in nature; it has measurable consequences in the realms of creativity, adaptability, and growth.
This dynamic has been analyzed not only in academic contexts but also in contemporary nonprofit leadership literature. Writing for The Philanthropist Journal, researcher Susanna Kislenko (2022) describes Founder’s Syndrome as “a phenomenon widely whispered about in the non-profit sector but rarely analyzed or dismantled.”
She highlights how charismatic founders, whose identities become inseparable from their organisations, often resist relinquishing control—even curating information to sustain a carefully crafted image. Such leaders, she observes, may unintentionally stall the very missions they helped birth by privileging legacy over evolution.
This contemporary framing mirrors what scholars have found across sectors: when devotion to preservation outweighs openness to transition, innovation and adaptability decline. The pattern is not moral but structural—arising from an instinct to protect what has been achieved, even as the current of time demands a new vessel.
The same pattern, however, often extends beyond the lifetime of the founder. When leadership succession passes to the immediate generation nurtured directly under their guidance, the outward transition may suggest renewal—but in truth, the structure remains bound to the consciousness of the era in which it first flourished.
Those chosen to lead are frequently selected for their fidelity to the founder’s vision rather than for their capacity to reinterpret that vision in light of new realities. As a result, the organization may appear revitalized while inwardly constrained, echoing an ancient warning about placing “new wine into old wineskins.”
Such transitions, though well-intentioned, can perpetuate the same patterns of preservation and resistance to necessary and rapid change that once may have emanated from the founder themselves. The light continues to burn, but the vessel through which it shines has not yet been remade.
The Sadhguru Phenomenon
Sadhguru’s ascendancy offers a case study in this shift. Through the Isha Foundation’s sophisticated digital ecosystem, he has transformed yogic science into a global movement aligned with contemporary attention economies. His partnership with universities, corporations, and governments mirrors what Maharishi once accomplished in the mid-20th century—but within a new media landscape.
Allow me to state, unequivocally, this is not a contest of gurus, but a mirror of generational evolution. While Maharishi spoke to a world enthralled by physics and the promise of science validating spirit, Sadhguru speaks to a world entrained by data, visuals, and policy. Each is an expression of the same impulse of consciousness meeting the needs of its time.
The Fear of Dilution
Among those entrusted with Maharishi’s legacy, the reluctance to empower new interpreters appears to stem from fear—fear that modernization equals dilution, that innovation will erode sanctity. Yet history offers a gentler truth: wisdom that refuses to evolve becomes its own museum.
To preserve knowledge is noble; to ensure its living continuity is divine. The former builds monuments; the latter grows gardens.
The Living Continuum
As Certified Teachers of Transcendental Meditation for going on thirteen years, my wife Mina and I have dedicated our lives to carrying Maharishi’s light into the modern world—not merely repeating his words, but expanding upon his insight through new frameworks of understanding: the Model for Perpetual Growth and Progress and the Seven Layers of Manifestation.
These frameworks are not departures; they are extensions. They speak to the neuroscientist and the mystic alike. They offer a language that allows ancient silence to converse with contemporary science. And in this dialogue, I believe, lies the future of the movement—not in territorial definitions, but in intellectual and spiritual renewal.
If we view the teaching through the Seven Layers of Manifestation, we can see the present moment as an interplay between:
Layer IV: Human Consciousness—awakening to its own creative capacity,
Layer VI: Constructs—institutions, organizations, and dogmas that once served a purpose but now require revision, and
Layer VII: Outcomes / Non-Local Influence—the invisible field through which these ideas ripple outward to shape collective destiny.
In this light, what appears as institutional fatigue may in truth be a karmic release—the shedding of an old skin so that a truer expression can emerge.
The Present Expression
While these thoughts have been roaming around in the background of my mind for some time now, especially over the last two years, that truth revealed itself again to me during this past weekend’s conference.
Over two extraordinary days, I listened to some of the world’s most luminous minds—Prof. Michael Silver, Dr. Anita Goel, Prof. Georg Northoff, Dr. Dean Radin, Dr. Steven Laureys, Prof. Ranjay Gulati, Swami Sarvapriyananda, Dr. Matcheri Keshavan, Dr. Vikram Patel, Dr. Shirley Yen, Dr. Kavya Manyapu, astronaut Sunita Williams, and Sadhguru himself—explore the mystery and mechanics of consciousness.
Each presentation was a complete meal, rich with insight, humility, and purpose. Together they affirmed that consciousness research is not a relic of mysticism but the vanguard of human evolution.
As I listened closely and deeply contemplated that to which I was serving as witness, an idea surfaced that the torch of knowledge is never extinguished—it only changes hands. The energy that once animated earlier lineages now finds new expression in collaborative inquiry, cross-disciplinary dialogue, and a willingness to revisit timeless truths through fresh lenses.
For me, the experience was both humbling and affirming. It confirmed that the field of consciousness is expanding beyond any single movement or charismatic teacher and that my own work—bridging neuroscience, mysticism, and lived spiritual practice—belongs to this broader unfolding. What some may call “waning” may instead be metamorphosis: the silent re-distribution of light across many vessels, all serving the same wholeness.
What Comes After
No lineage ends. It only migrates. The essence of transcendence is self-renewal—the ability to dissolve into silence and re-emerge in new form. Here, I am reminded of the passage from the Bhagavad Gita, Ch. IX, ver. VIII. “prakṛtim svām avastabhya visrjami punaḥ punaḥ.” Curving back on myself, I create again and again.
And in that vein, perhaps the waning of one movement is simply the waxing of another: consciousness repositioning itself for the next turn of the spiral.
If so, then those of us who remain faithful to the source must not cling to the structure but to the silence from which it was born.
This past weekend reaffirmed something I learned via my early study of U.S. Andersen’s work titled Three Magic Words (1954) and later augmented by my study of both Consciousness and Human Potential and Vedic Science at Maharishi International University as it relates to Pure Consciousness: Life is not lived in fragments; it is one wholeness moving within itself.
That wholeness now moves again—through new voices, new vessels, and new visions.
And our task, as ever, is to listen. And given my lengthy tenure with the unstruck sound, I am compelled to listen. Will you?
Suggested Reflection
In what ways am I being called to carry forward the essence of a teaching rather than its form? How can reverence become renewal?
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About the Author
Dr. Baruti KMT-Sisouvong is a consciousness scholar, executive coach, and Certified Teacher of Transcendental Meditation® based in Cambridge, Massachusetts. His work—spanning the Model for Perpetual Growth and Progress and the Seven Layers of Manifestation—explores how Pure Consciousness, neuroscience, and social-systems transformation intersect in the evolution of both the individual and society. Alongside his wife, Mina, he co-directs the Cambridge and Metropolitan Boston TM Program. He is the Host/Founder of International Meditation Hour (IMH), a quarterly gathering dedicated to experiencing the unifying power of silence. He writes from the conviction that the most important race is not between nations or machines, but between the conditioned mind and the awakening soul. They are the proud parents of four children. To learn more about him, visit: https://www.barutikmtsisouvong.com/.