[XI]
The last Sutra that we were studying the other day was:
tasya vacakah pravavah (I. 27)
God is not some thing, some object that needs to be labelled and named, God being the omnipresent subject; the omnipresent subject is just referred to or indicated by “Om” when such indication is necessary. It is very important to remember this. It may be unnecessary for us to communicate at all or to question each other about what is infinite, what is God, in which case silence is the greatest and best communication and expression of what is; not only verbal silence, but also mental silence. Hence in the Bhagavad Gita we are told silence or mauna is a discipline more of the mind than of speech. However, in our social activities we may find it necessary to communicate with one another and during the course of this encounter, it may be necessary to verbally indicate what God may be; or what isvara may be. The word isvara is a lot more than what the English language calls God. Isvara is not just what we call God" , our father which art in heaven; Isvara is not what we might refer to as something divine. Isvara is just is-ness, the first two letters of the romanised script of the word. Isvara - “is", the essence of all existence. The yogi reminds us that this may be verbally indicated by the syllable “mm", and we also saw that this syllable "mm" is often used to stand for assent, for "yes". This "yes" is the essence - yes-sense, of what is . Shall we then say "yes " to everything that goes on? Is this "yes" the opposite of “no"? It is good to clear ourselves of this misunderstanding, who it comes to what one regards as God. It is good to realise that this being the substratum of all, it is not to be restricted to what you and I call the pairs of opposites. In it, there are no opposites, in it ‘yes’ is not the opposite of ‘no’, in it love is not the opposite of hate, in it like is not the opposite of dislike, in it peace is not the opposite of restlessness. It is not as though God exists only in love, only in peace, only in goodness, only in me, only in you. What is is the basis, the truth, the reality that underlies all, but not in the sense of the all being several things put together. Truth and falsehood both become truth. How can falsehood become truth? The mind, the consciousness that conceives of that falsehood is true. So that reality is beyond what you consider true and not true, that love is beyond what you consider love and hatred, that peace is beyond what you consider peace and restlessness, and that yes is beyond what you mean by yes and no. Therefore this yes does not mean that hereafter I will not say no at all. That is not what is meant at all.
In one's direct observation of this tremendous inner reality, one does not say no, one does not even say yes, but one persistently observes within oneself the rising of distractions. This does not mean fighting them, but by understanding them, by looking through them, without saying yes, without saying no, by being constantly aware of what is.
That is a different type of yes. That yes has a completely different quality. That ‘is’, and therefore that is yes. There is an assent, an affirmation, a recognition of what is. However, I am not going to say, “Therefore if I am angry I must say yes to the anger.” I am looking into that anger. I am looking through that anger to see, "Yes, that is nothing more than an outflow of energy against the background of awareness.” That yes is different. I am not saying yes to the anger as such, but I am saying yes to the anger inasmuch as I am not resisting it, I am not rebelling against it. I am seeing through it, observing it and discovering the ‘is’ even in that. Even so, the great commandment, “Resist not evil", does not mean co-operate with evil. We have understood only two meanings - either we resist evil - becoming evil, or we co-operate with evil - becoming evil again. If I am wicked, can you do anything about it without yourself becoming wicked?
There is a lovely saying in some of the Indian languages that “if you throw stones into filth, the first person to be splashed is yourself”. Therefore you cannot resist evil at all without being tainted by the evil. But should we jump to the opposite extreme, saying, "Since I am told not to resist evil, I must co-operate with evil?" Then again you are tainted. We have never tried this third alternative which is to look through what is called evil or good. In this we have really and truly transcended this evil without being tainted by it. We have become total good because evil is no longer evil; we have become truly good without becoming egotistic about it. That is what is called “yes”, what is called “om”. This is beautifully described in the Katha Upanishad: that which is beyond all the dualities, that in which all dualities blend - day and night into day, love and hatred into divine love, etc, and which is therefore indescribable, has to be experienced as the “is” or the reality that provides the substratum for all these; that is "om”.
taj japas tad artha bhavanah (I.28)
We are asked to repeat this “om", without resisting, without accepting, to be constantly aware of it. Japa does mean repetition and there are some great teachers who say repetition will make you dull; this is one point of view. Another point of view is that repetition is a confession of impotence. Why do you want to repeat something? Because you did not do it properly the first time. If your sword is sharp, just one cut and it is gone. So there are these points of view. If the first time I say “om”, I contemplate its meaning; there is no need to say it again. Japa or repetition becomes necessary or advisable when the first utterance was ineffectual. So then go on, repeat it, repeat it and repeat it, until one day you stumble into it. “Will it do if I go on mechanically repeating it?" I have heard this argument such a lot! Is it possible for you to repeat something mechanically? Never mind what it is. Is it possible for a living organism, a sentient organism, to do something mechanically again and again, without ever wondering what it is? I am not referring only to this mantra japa. We are indulging in a million mechanically repeated actions every day. I suggest that if you watch yourself in your own life it is not possible for you to go on doing something mechanically forever and ever and ever. One day you begin to wonder, "What am I doing?" That is enough. Until then, keep this process going. It is too easy just to condemn all this. If you observe nature very carefully, you will see that this is precisely what nature does. She goes on creating millions and billions of souls so that one bright soul might enter the body. The other day I was looking at an avocado tree bearing thousands of blossoms; nobody, not even God or whoever created that tree and those blossoms suffered under the illusion that all those blossoms were going to turn into fruits. All these blossoms are created so that some of them may be pollinated, so that some of them may survive as fruits, and so that some of them may be eaten by people, and so that among those people, one of them may be sensible. That is the beauty of nature. Even so I go on repeating this mantra mechanically, semi-mechanically, non-mechanically, so that some time or other the penny may drop and I may see what was meant. Were all the previous repetitions useless? Perhaps yes, perhaps no. If those repetitions had not been there, perhaps I would never have reached this point. Or probably they were a waste of time - never mind. I have wasted my time in a million ways, so a few more minutes does not matter. I waste six or seven hours of my time sleeping, I waste about four hours of my time eating, therefore half on hour more of “Om Namah Shivaya" is not such a dreadful waste.
Instead of getting worked up about it, let us look at it from a different angle. Suddenly I discover that the Sutra did not stop with "taj japas"; it goes on to say "artha bhavanam". The word "artha" in the Sanskrit language has a great number of meanings. When the meaning is not clear to me, I do not accept it; I twist it, turn it to suit my understanding. So in such cases, even though you have a translation of the Sutras, it is better to get hold of a dictionary and read all the meanings of the word in question. You may be shocked to discover that several meanings other than the ones that have been given to you, are possible, Which one is right? I do not know; or I do know which one is right, but it may not be the meaning that appeals to you. Why not find out for yourself; that is the only way to study all this if you want to study at all. "Arth” means - let's take a way-out meaning: "money” - so now I am studying this Sutra and I see "taj japas” that is, I must repeat "om" and then "tad artha bhovanam” - I must meditate on "money". Why not? You may think it is absurd, but you may do so, and you would still be within the teachings of the Yoga Sutras. Repeat a mantra and meditate, then probably you will be very relaxed and so you will be able to make more money!
“Artha” has quite a number of other meanings and one of them is the word "meaning". In order to find the meaning of the word "artha", you look it up in a dictionary and the meaning of the word is given there. But it is paraphrasing - paraphrasing means that where there is one word, you use a phrase to explain it. "Artha” also means a thing, an object. There are other meanings, but this is what we want to take: when the word "book" is uttered, its artha is this book I am holding; it is not a paraphrase, using many words to indicate one word, "This is a book”, that's it; now I have the artha in my hand. In that sense, what is the artha of om? Ommmm ... I refer to the dictionary and the dictionary says, “It is indicative of Brahman, it is God, it is the supreme being, it is itself the infinite, it represents creator, preserver, and destroyer.” But what is it? Not what does it mean according to the dictionary? I may give you one or two hints , but they will not be exhaustive, merely indicative, because this has to be a personal adventure, your own adventure.
I can see something simple and beautiful. Om is breath, life. Om is a sound, a beautiful, humming sound, a sound that I hear when I listen to the truck outside. That's it, om here, om there, om when the wind blows over the roof. Now I have found something marvelous, that I say "om" and even so the car engine says "om", the wind says, "om", the ocean says "om". This is a sound which is found everywhere. That is the meaning. That is the artha.
Then I am told that japa can be done aloud, or lisping or mentally. At least a minute ago when I was saying "om", I knew there was movement of energy, wind, life-breath etc, but when my mouth is closed, when my throat is silent, I hear ... I hear the sound. Where is this sound produced, by what, and who listens to it? When I say that I am doing japa mentally, what is that sound made of? The answer to that question is the artha or the meaning or the reality of om. That is the real artha and all the rest is word-meaning, one word for another word. The artha eludes my grasp, is not seen, is not experienced. When I thus repeat the om, it may be necessary to repeat this om mentally, but it does not make me dull, because I am watching, I am listening to it keenly, attentively. "'Why do I do so? In order to discover for once and maybe for all what that sound is made of, knowing that that is the artha, that that is the meaning of this om. The mind never becomes dull while repeating this om. If the mind is tired or fatigued and I want to go to sleep, I will discover long before sleep that the attention has wandered away from me.
tatah pratyak cetana 'dhigamo 'py antaraya 'bhavas ca (I.29)
What happens when I repeat “om" in this manner? "Pratyak cetana” or the attention, the consciousness, the awareness seems to flow into itself, towards itself, into itself; the attention that was distracted and externalised suddenly reverses and begins to flow into itself, so that the scattered ignorance called knowledge has begun to fade away and self-knowledge emerges, becoming clearer and clearer. And it also becomes clear that the object as such has never known the subject except as a projection of one's own self. Therefore, in a manner of speaking, prior to this we have been living in ignorance; not only in self-ignorance, but utter ignorance. We only pretended that while I do not know myself, I know what the object is, I know that this is a microphone. Now that the consciousness has begun to flow towards its own center, apparently there is a reversal of the flow of consciousness, with the result that the self seems to be more real, sharper; there is a clarity in regard to oneself. Then based upon that, there is a clarity and better understanding of what were previously regarded as objects, because the projection of ignorant ideas and notions has ceased. Truth is becoming more and more abundantly clear.
It is very difficult to translate these two words "antaraya bhava". It is usual to say that obstacles cease or obstacles are dispelled, but there is a slightly different nuance and that is that “abhava” means non-being, "the obstacles non-being". That is, the obstacles do not exist at all, the obstacles do not arise at all, there are no obstacles - that is a more correct and appropriate meaning. It is not as though the obstacles are dispelled, but they are made non-being. I do not know if it is clear; it is a beautiful sense which is impossible to put into the English language. It does not mean that the obstacles do not arise, it does not mean that the obstacles go away, it means the obstacles attain a state of non-being - “antaraya 'bhava”, which means the obstacles are no longer obstacles.
If we take an example, then this will become a bit clearer. I am sitting for my meditation, I repeat "om". Suddenly, I remember that I forgot something. This is an obstacle, an obstruction. "I wish there was a cushion, it hurts sitting on the floor," - that's an obstacle. A distracting thought is an obstacle, a feeling of pain is an obstacle, but Patanjali says that if you repeat om in this manner and contemplate the reality or the truth concerning this om, that obstacle ceases to be an obstacle. Why? Because the attention that is so vigilant and alert, turns towards that obstacle and asks, “Who are you, what are you?” The attention that was contemplating this om suddenly turns upon this obstacle which immediately becomes almost a helper. It is wrong to say that the obstacle did not arise; some distraction arose, some pain arose, but somehow the magic of this om and this contemplation converted it into an aid, and therefore it has ceased to be an obstacle - but does it cease to be an obstacle, or does it cease to be? None of these expressions make any sense at all in the face of the inner experience, That is called "antaraya 'bhava”. Then it is true to say that from there on the yogi experiences no obstacles whatsoever. What appeared to be obstacles before he took up the practice of yoga and what appear to be obstacles in the mind of others, do still arise in him, but he does not regard them as obstacles; to him they are not obstacles - that is the sense.
From there on, whatever happens, whether it is called pleasure or pain, whether it is called happiness or unhappiness, whether it is called honor or disonor, whether it is called something or not called something, all that is fuel to this beautiful and brilliant flame of self-knowledge.
vyadhi styana samsaya pramada 'lasya 'virati bhranti darsana ‘labdha bhumikatva 'navasthitatvani citta viksepas te 'ntarayay (I.30)
The next Sutra lists nine of these obstacles. Why are they obstacles? Do they prevent me from attaining self-realisation? Do they somehow make the self disappear? The self cannot disappear. No obstruction whatsoever can destroy the self, can hide the self, can veil the self; self is the one that is even aware of the veil, self is the substratum for our lust, greed, anger and so on. How can they become obstacles? They are obstacles only in the sense that they distract your attention; and whereas the self is shining all the time, you are unaware of it - “citta viksepas te 'ntarayah”. Only to the extent that they cause psychological disturbance are they considered obstacles. This is very important to remember. Anything that causes psychological distraction is an obstacle.
We will just have a brief look at the list. “Vyadhi” - disease, illness. Especially when you think of illness as an obstacle, it is good to remember that it is an obstacle only to the extent that it distracts your attention. When that is understood, we understand the nature of the illness or the disease that afflicted great masters - they did not ‘afflict’ the great masters. My guru Swami Sivananda had diabetes, had lumbago, had this, had that, in exactly the same way as you have a cadilac, or a lovely big mansion, or a million rand in your bank account - you are not unhappy about it. But even if you have all these , perhaps you still experience unhappiness sometimes. The master never experienced unhappiness, even though He had lumbago, diabetes, etc. To Him they were no different from the shirt that he had or the overcoat that He had. That is it. When that state is reached, disease or no disease is of no consequence to you. What happens to the body is of no consequence to the spirit. The body undergoes its own natural changes; let it. But these changes do not produce psychological disturbance, mental distractions. One has to understand all these in the proper spirit. By saying that the yogi is unconcerned, it does not mean that he does not take any medicine. He is unconcerned in the sense that these things do not produce mental distraction. Please remember that it does not mean that he does not pay any attention to the body. It only means that inwardly he is not distracted, no matter what is happening. We are not used to this; we always take it for granted that I must react or not react when somebody comes and insults me. According to us there are only these two things, that I must react and pay her back in her own coin or that I must say, "Hari om tat sat, God bless you, my dear.” It is possible to do either of these without being mentally distracted and keeping perfect stillness within. Without any reference to what the external behavior may be, the yogi ‘s inner being is undistracted. The body may be subjected to illness and the body may undergo treatment, that is not important. The master was an expert in that. In a certain period of His life He took as much medicine as food, but neither that nor the illness had anything whatsoever to do with His inner joy, inner peace, inner bliss.
"Styana" - dullness; samsaya" - doubt. It is important to remember that doubt is harmful as an obstacle, only to the extent that it disturbs your inner attention - citta viksepas, psychological distraction. So, as your disciple, I may question you, I may even express disagreement, in order to clarify my understanding, my inner vision. But doubt is something different; that is where it produces an inner distraction, The teaching does not seem to be right, and I go somewhere else, to listen to something else. In the same way, though we exalt what is called faith, even that can be distracting. Faith is another form of doubt. When do you have faith? You say, ”I really do not know, but still I have faith.” "Still I have faith" means that you think you really do not understand what it is all about and you have faith. So what you call faith is exactly fifty per cent doubt, just as a glass is half full or half empty. When you look at the empty part, you call it doubt , when you look at the full part, you call it faith. So faith may be distracting and therefore an obstacle; this is also important. I have faith in you, I come to your yoga classes, I come to your meditation and you say, “Sit in the lotus posture". I sit in the lotus posture. You say , "Look at your nose". I do not know if I can look at my nose completely, but I obey. I do not understand what you are talking about, but I am mechanically doing what you are mechanically saying, and I call it faith; this is a terrible distraction. It effectively prevents me from turning within and understanding the self. Why? Because the attention is still flowing out towards you. So this samsaya can also mean blind faith. Blind faith or blind rejection - which is doubt, are non-different; the common factor in both of these is blindness. There is nothing more in them than blindness. That is samsaya.
"Pramada 'lasya" - carelessness and laziness; these are very simple. The mind still likes to cling onto something outside itself and does not like to turn upon itself. "Bhranti darsana” - I am conditioned to seeing the external world as I have been taught to see, and I continue in all this. Bhranti can also mean delusion, deluded vision, perverted vision. He says, "Swami, when you meditate you should hear the anahata sound.” I do not hear any sound and I am ashamed to say so, and so I create my own sound. The sound seems to be terribly important. Whereas, if I merely look at the word anahata, anahata means a sound produced without two objects striking each other. In Zen terminology, the sound of one hand clapping is anahata sound. Or, I do not even have to do that. If I mentally repeat "om'", that sound is also anahata sound, nothing strikes anything else and yet sound is produced. “Labdha bhumikatva" - I am contemplating on this om and trying to discover the meaning. I cannot. Something is missing. Occasionally I seem to stumble upon it and then immediately the attention wanders away, distracted - “navasthitatva”. These are obstacles only because they are mental distractions, psychological distractions.
These nine can roughly be accommodated in three categories; one - dullness, two - unsteadiness, and three - ignorance, and if you study the entire yoga literature and look at all the methods that have been suggested to us in the name of yoga - asanas, pranayama, standing upside down, clapping, dancing, jumping up and down and singing, worshipping and so on, you will find that all of them have been evolved by yogis, teachers and masters, in response to these nine obstacles. How do you remove dullness? Jump up and down, and if you do not want to jump up and down, stand upside down. Practise hatha yoga. How do you remove doubt? Have faith, pray to God, and in that prayer, begin to love God. However much I try, I am not able to find a foothold in truth - probably there is an incorrect understanding. Go to a master and learn something more about all these. Then he may be able to help you find this foothold within yourself one of these days. All the yogas and their various practices have been evolved in answer to this Sutra.
Perhaps you think: "You know, I have studied this Sutra, but I do not find any of these defects in me; I am heaIthy, I have no doubts at all, I have no faith at all, I am perfectly enlightened." Then the master says, “Wait a moment, there seems to be some problem with you.” Then comes the next Sutra:
duhkha daurmanasya 'ngam ejayatva svasa prasvasa viksepa saha bhuvah (I.31)
If you find these you can be sure that the mind is not steady. What are they? “Duhkha"- unhappiness. Unhappiness is not God's wrath upon this poor little human mosquito! Unhappiness may not even be the result of your karma or whatever it is. Unhappiness may be nothing more than unsteadiness of attention. Because if the attention is steady, if there is no psychological distraction, you must be able to look at that so-called unhappiness and find that there is happiness in it. You can never write the word "unhappiness" without writing the word "happiness". Try. Therefore this is the simplest truth, this is simple English. There is no metaphysical philosophy hidden in it... Happiness is always hidden in unhappiness; it is not even hidden, it is quite obvious. So why is it I am not even able to see this obvious truth that there is happiness in unhappiness? Because the mind is distracted and you are not looking at it at all. Where there is unhappiness the mind is not steady.
"Daurmanasya” - again there is difficulty in terms of translation, but it means "bad mind". "Daur" is bad, "manas" is mind - bad mind, bad emotions, bad thoughts. All this again shows that it is something tremendously beautiful. You do not have to condemn yourself, you do not have to rationalise yourself; you merely have to realise that when the mind is in a bad mood, the attention is distracted. If the attention is not distracted, it should be immediately obvious that whether it is called a good mood or a bad mood, it is still a mood. You call it a good mood or you call it a bad mood because you are looking somewhere else. Look straight within yourself and then whether it is called a good mood or a bad mood, the mood must be removed. When the mood is removed, what remains is exactly what there has always been - the mind.
duhkha daurmanasya ‘ngam ejayatva
The mind is still distracted, and in order to remove this “'ngam ejayatva" or unnecessary shaking of the body, the yogis prescribe yoga asanas. Obviously your nerves are not in a state of rest and calm. There is tension and that tension builds up with movements and releases itself with movements; and so to steady all that they prescribe hatha yoga. The last is rather interesting - "svasa prasvasa" - inhalation and exhalation. These also indicate the distractedness of your mind. We think deep breathing is so essential, vital to our life and health and all that. Patanjali says it is not so. If God merely wanted to ensure that you have good blood, purification of your cells and elimination of all the wastes and carbon dioxide and so on, this omniscient God could have done a lot better than creating the complicated respiratory mechanisms Circulation of the air goes on in this room without the walls breathing in and out, and the air can circulate inside the lungs, and blood can get itself purified; but why should this omniscient God fit these two nostrils and make them breathe in and out? It is not in order to enable you to breathe and thus ventilate your lungs, oxygenate your blood, but it is in order to give you an indication of how badly your mind is distracted. Watch your breathing, watch the quality of your breathing and you know exactly what the quality of your mind is. That's it. Nothing more. A great yogi of India once said, "In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna suggests that the yogi should look at the tip of his nose and not elsewhere. It is not because God is sitting on the tip of your nose, but by paying attention to the tip of your nose, you are really watching your breath and that will give you an indication of how badly the mind is distracted.“
[XII]
Obstacles to this self-knowledge are obstacles only to the extent that they are mental distractions, psychological distractions. If the attention is not distracted, nothing is an obstacle. Only that which causes distraction need be considered an obstacle and dealt with as such. If the attention is not distracted, any other condition that may arise can even be helpful in self-knowledge. If pain is not a distraction, it can help you; if pleasure is not a distraction, it can help you.
Let us take just one example: once again, “vyadhi” - disease or illness. If there is a headache, you are only thinking of the headache - thinking of the headache is quite different from what we are going to discuss later, and thinking of the ways and means to get rid of it; then your attention is not focused on the very source of this experience of pain. The attention flows out, and to that extent it is a distraction. If, on the other hand, one has a headache - or any problem you like, and if it is possible for the undistracted attention to observe the source of this pain - we will still call it pain just for the sake of our discussion, this is extremely important - without judging, without rationalising, without condemning, without justifying, without calling it this or that, that little pain may be a tremendous aid to self-knowledge. We can apply the whole gamut of the technique of self-observation which we studied a few days ago, using logic and then going beyond logic to direct observation and so on. What is pain?
Whether you want it or not, it is the mind that becomes aware of pain, the thought that becomes aware of pain. Pain is a thought. Most of us, being conditioned to the basic feeling “I am the body" and having learned that pain is something undesirable, become aware of this pain as something undesirable, because it is undesired and undesirable - it is called pain. If it is something desirable, it will not be called pain, such as the boyfriend pinching the girl's cheek - that is not called pain, it is delight. It is a desired experience - experience which is regarded as undesirable becomes pain. I am conditioned to that. However, my guru used to use this expression very often, that pain is a blessing. Pain is an indicator of something having gone wrong somewhere, that you have done something wrong. That pain is an indicator to the remedial measures, not to remedy the pain itself, but to remedy the original cause of that pain and therefore to restore the balance. So if you adopt this view, you are welcoming pain and that which is welcomed ceases to be pain.
That is where we are and we start there. We begin to observe the thing called illness, the thing called pain, and by a few little arguments and counter arguments, we silence the argumentative mind. We are no longer interested in calling it pain, calling it desirable, or calling it undesirable. We are no longer going to discuss the merits and demerits of the stuff, but the question now is "what is it?" What is pain, what is illness? It is reduced to its own reality, its own content; not the opinion, not the diagnosis, but the truth concerning it, which is pure experience. Whether someone hits you on your back or pats you on your back, the sum and substance of the whole transaction is exactly the same, that is: somebody's hand on your back. Can it be reduced to such a fundamental atomisation of experience, without calling it pain or pleasure, desirable or undesirable? If that is done, then that pain, or illness or whatever you wish to call it, becomes a powerful aid to self-knowledge. There is no distraction at all. All the rest of the distractions can be dealt with in the same way.
duhkha daurmanasya 'ngam ejayatva svaso prasvasa viksepa saha bhuvah (I.31)
The yogi has given us a few diagnostic. yardsticks in order to recognise when the mind is distracted. One is shaking of the limbs, another is mental suffering and distress. Anything that makes you unhappy points to an inner- disharmony, an inner inattentiveness. You are not living in the here and now, not paying attention to what exists now. That is when the mind is disturbed, when there is daurmanasya, despair. Daurmanasya can be translated as schizophrenia, and this schizophrenia shows that you are not paying attention to what is going on within you. It is quite simple. When there is this schizophrenia or dejection, we have a funny word for it - depression. People often speak of the ups and downs of life. What do they mean by the ups and downs of life? Ups and downs are life! It is all the ups and downs that are interesting - when you observe and you are not frightened by them. It is when you are not observing thus that the mind begins to reject what is, and to long for what is not. That is when what you call depression sets in. A yogi is not interested in that. Says Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita:
jneyah sa nityasamnasyi yo na dvesti no kanksati
nirdvandvo hi mahabaho sukham bandhat pramucyate (V.3)
He should be known as a perpetual renunciate who neither hates nor desires. For, free from the pairs of opposites, O Arjuna, he is easily set free from bondage.
Who is asanyasi, who is a swami? One who does not reject what comes to him and does not long for what does not come to him. That is what my guru Swami Sivananda told me once, years ago: "Do not ask, do not refuse.” It is the simplest thing in the world, and the most beautiful instruction. When the mind is not elsewhere, it is here, it functions now, it observes whatever there is and that observation makes a radical revolution in one's life, here and now and from now onwards, forever and ever.
Therefore "duhkha" - unhappiness, sorrow, misery, "dourmanaya'' - schizophrenia, "angam ejayatva" - unnecessary shaking of the body, whether
it is pathological or habitual, and “svasa prasvasa" - inhalation and exhalation, are the surest indicators of the presence of these distractions. It is a beautiful Sutra. You have diagnosed the problem by the way your body behaves, by the way your mind behaves, by the way your breathing behaves. You have diagnosed that there is a problem, that the attention is not steady and there is a dark veil of ignorance which prevents self-knowledge and which gives rise to mental distraction, in as much as you can only observe the source of what happens to you outside yourself. I am happy because so and so says that I am a nice man. I am unhappy because so and so says that I am a not so nice man. My whole life is totally dependent upon other people, upon circumstances outside myself; therefore I am trying to know the others whom I regard as the sources of my pleasure and pain, and therefore there is no self-knowledge. I pretend that I know them, whereas I have no self-knowledge at all. I do not know myself.
tat pratisedhartham ekatattva 'bhyasah (I.32)
It is a beautiful Sutra. In order to overcome that tragedy, there should be application to one tattva, one fact, one truth. Steady application to one factor or one single truth - that's very interesting. The yogi is not a fanatic, the yogi has no dogmas at all; and yet this Sutra seems to suggest that if you want to attain self-knowledge, pick up one of these methods and be fanatically devoted to it, totally absorbed and dedicated to it. It is not meant in the spirit of fanaticism. For example: I am doing japa, which is one of the methods for the control of these distractions. I am repeating "om" and contemplating its meaning. I have been doing jape for six months, and the mind still wanders and I do not know what to do. Then he comes and says "You do not know the right mantra first of all, and whoever-taught you is not a perfect master. Come, come to me, I have the secret. My master is a perfect master.” I listen to all this silly talk. I reflect: "I have been repeating this mantra "om" and trying to contemplate its meaning for six months and I have not found steadiness. I received instructions from somebody - it does not matter who it was, perfect master or non-perfect master, but I have been unable to find steadiness, the attention is still wavering. And now he says that there is another method which is quicker, which is more direct and that seems to be tempting me, that seems to be attracting my attention. Aha, the same problem. I see immediately that it is exactly the same problem that was there years ago. The problem of craving for experience, even if that experience is supposed to be the experience of mental quiescence, peace of mind, it is still a craving. “If I yield to this craving, I have deliberately created another disturbance within the mind. Oh no, I do not want it.” That is “ekatattva 'bhyasah”. Pick up anything you like, pick up a straw, you can attain self-realisation; take a pin and prick yourself, you can attain self-realisation through that, if you want to. But if, at the same time, you want something else, then that wanting is like the carrot in front of a donkey and it will take you a long, long way away from your path.
Another funny thing happens which I am sure has been the experience of many of us. You do some hatha yoga; you stand on your head, stand on your shoulders, stand on your feet and do all sorts of things. You feel, “Ah, this is it. This is it," After about six months or so the asanas become easy and there is no kick in practising them anymore. The practice has become routine, your body has become dull, and there is nothing special in it anymore. You also see that she can do better than you; you are not the first. Then somebody comes and says, "You know, there is a thing called isometric exercises, yoga asanas are not the thing. This is something better." You go there and immediately feel, "That’s it, I have nearly got it.” Why is it so? It is something new, it grips your attention. Please watch very carefully. Why does every new thing seem to be "this is it"? Because it grips your attention. You do these isometric exercises for six months and they become old; then somebody says, “What you are doing is all physical. Chant Sri Ram Sri Ram, and let the mind be absorbed in the celestial music of the mantra”. Again you feel, "That’s it! Nobody ever brought me such manna 'from heaven, this is it!" So we go from pillar to post. It is strange; there is total lack of sincerity, and yet I pretend and I convince myself that all this is because I am soo sincere, because I am really burning with aspiration. I want to; that is all that drives me from one school to the other. But the master says that you could have stayed where you were, that there was nothing wrong with what you were doing in the first instance, except that you were tempted away from it, except that there was a distraction which took you from that to the next one, and you were unaware of that distraction. It was the distraction, a craving for some silly experience, which took you from what you were doing to something else, instead of watching that distraction - there was a golden opportunity to enquire “what is it that is being distracted, and why does the new experience tempt me?" Observing it, finding the mischief there and then, that is ekatattva 'bhyasah, that is total dedication to one thing, one factor. It is not a suggestion of fanaticism, but when the craving for another type of experience arises, watch, see that, look at that and there is your answer. If you have found the dynamics of one distraction, you have found the dynamics of all distractions.
Immediately after this, a few such methods are suggested. Why are there so many methods? There may be two reasons. The first reason which is orthodox and accepted by all masters, is that temperamentally we are all slightly different, one from the other. Our temperaments may be different, our inner equipment may be different, so one picks up whatever method he likes and sticks to it. The second is: maybe the human being especially loves to choose; that feeds the ego a little bit; but then, if one persists in the practice, it is possible to arrive at the some point. All paths lead to Rome, but if you take to all paths, you continue to roam. We shall quickly look into a few of these methods and it is possible - I am not suggesting it is so, that these few methods have later been expanded into a whole yoga.
The first can be regarded as the essence of karma yoga:
maitri karuna mudito 'peksanam sukha duhkha punya ' punya visayanah bhavanatas citta prasadanah (I.33)
You can attain equanimity of the mind - which is essential in order to keep the attention steady and the observation alert. The mind must be in a state of balance and inner vision must be such that there is equal vision. The main source of distraction is likes and dislikes - "I like this" and "I do not like this", which in their turn create pain and pleasure, success and failure and so on. If there is equal vision and balanced mind, in the words of our universal prayer, then the attention is undistracted; if the citta, or the mind-stuff is steady, then the consciousness or inner intelligence is steady, and therefore the light is steady and bright. What does equal vision mean? Does it mean that the yogi who is endowed with equal vision will behave in exactly the same way towards everybody? Even towards his own body! If somebody gives him an apricot, does a sage of equal vision put it into his ears? The mouth is one hole into the body, the ear is another hole into the body. Is that equal vision? You may call him a mad man but not really a saint. Once again, we see that this thing called equal vision is very difficult to describe; and what is described is not equal vision. Equal vision is impossible to put into words. One has to strive for this equal vision and the behavior of one who has equal vision is extraordinary and divine and only he knows what equal vision means. The man of equal vision is not a mad man; he is an enlightened person. And so again Patanjali gives us just a hint; but even here it would be very foolish of us to toke the description for the reality, the truth.
Bhavana is meditation or contemplation, the inner attitude. What is the inner attitude of a yogi who is established in equal vision, whose mind is steady? He has these four basic qualities; maitri , karuna, mudita, upeksa. Sukha, duhkha, punya, apunya, visayagah are the objects towards which these qualities are directed. Whether they are pleasurable, painful, auspicious or inauspicious, he only has these four fundamental qualities. What are they?
“Maitri” - friendliness. Friendliness towards those who are his equals. Does he judge them as equals? No, these are spontaneous expressions of the inner attitude , these are spontaneous expressions of equal vision, of the equanimity in which he is established. He does not strive to be friendly. One who strives to be friendly is not friendly. You do not try to be what you are. If you are trying to be kind it means, you are not kind. Whether you want to be kind or not is a controversial issue, a debatable point. When you try to be kind, the one fact that is definite is that you are not kind. Otherwise you do not need to try to be kind. It is possible that you sincerely wish to be kind, in which case, what stops you from being kind? But it is also possible that you do not wish to be kind, but you say that you are trying to be kind in order to mask your unkindness and yet appear to be kind. It is total hypocrisy. The yogi does not try to be friendly - it is a purely spontaneous outpouring of his inner vision and his inner attitude.
"Karuna” - compassion. In regard to people who are unhappy, spontaneous compassion flows from the yogi. Again, he is not trying to be compassionate. In English there are two words: compassion and pity. The one who tries to be compassionate is merely pitying you, with a tremendous superiority attitude towards you. You know that that is not compassion. Compassion is like sympathy, when we are on an equal footing, even though I see that you are suffering and I am not suffering. In Taoist and Zen terminology, they compare this to water. Water spontaneously seeks the lower spot, spontaneously flowing down. It does not want to, it does not condescend to go down, but it descends spontaneously. That is a very beautiful thing and I do not think it can be described; one has to watch it in a great master like my guru Swami Sivananda. Without rationalizing and without thinking, "This is going to make me great", He could spontaneously see "here is suffering". And there the heart flows, just exactly as water flows from a higher to a lower level. Karuna - that is compassion where there is no pity at all, where there is no sense of superiority at all.
“Mudita" - joy. When you see something glorious, something joyous, something auspicious, when you come across somebody who is spiritually advanced, again the heart leaps with joy and happiness towards that person. If the heart can feel happy in the happiness of others, in the prosperity of others, in the spiritual elevation of others, that is another indication of this equal vision and balanced mind.
We have more or less covered the whole of humanity. To those who are equal to us, we are friendly; towards those who are suffering, our compassion flows; towards those who are happy and exalted, our admiration flows - that's finished. But there is one more crowd whom we call "apunya". The text is beautiful; it does not say “vicious’, but it simply says "apunya" - that is, "not so virtuous". What is the attitude of the yogi towards them'? He is not blind to the fact that a certain person's conduct is not so very good. The yogi - please remember - does recognise this. I think this is a very important Sutra, because we are living in this world and this world is full of these four types of people. What is the attitude of the yogi towards this last group - the drunkards, the murderers, the thieves and the rogues, whatever be the robe in which the rogue may appear? Does he condemn them? Does he shun them? Does he pity them? Or does he admire them, does he join them? He sees that so and so is a drunkard. Does he become friendly with him and say, "Ah, my friend, my brother-, how are you?” Again, that is hypocrisy. The yogi is totally free of hypocrisy. If there is hypocrisy, it is good to realise that it means, "I am something and I want to appear something else." In that schizophrenia itself, you have completely lost your yoga practice, abhyasa. There is no hypocrisy at all in yoga. You open your eyes and you see that man; he is drunk, he is wicked, anti-social and all that. Does the yogi say, "Ah, I regard you as my brother"? No. Does he pity him? No. Does he say, "You are wicked and I am here to uplift you"? That is a silly superiority complex, totally unworthy of a yogi. Does he admire him," My God, I can't even drink a glass of water and this man can drink ten bottles of whisky"? No. None of these; there is no hate, there is no dislike, there is no disgust, there is no contempt, nothing at all. The yogi wonders: "Why does he do that?”
Watch carefully. You are a student of yoga and you know that ahimsa is one of the cardinal principles of life; you do not want to hurt anybody, you are full of compassion, you are full of admiration, you are full of love, and you see somebody who spills hatred. What do you do? Will you join that person? No. Will you pity that person? There is no sense in it. It is possible to argue that a yogi might even come down to the other man's level -watch carefully, in order to uplift him. When you come down to the other man's level, he has brought you down. Who is to uplift whom? If you yourself are lost, how are you going to uplift the other person? So there is none of these, for they are all tricks of the some mind that has been tricking us throughout our life. The yogi sees the violence, he sees the wickedness, he sees the aggression and perhaps the question arises, “Why does a human being behave like that?” What is the answer? The honest answer is, "I do not know.” That's all. When you say, "I do not know", honestly, faithfully and sincerely, what happens to you? You are looking within yourself, you are looking at that which says, "I do not know.” And when the attention is diverted into yourself, into that which says, "I do not know”, what happens is upeksa. Unfortunately all these words have to be translated and it has been translated into "indifference". It is not indifference. It is that state of your mind where you are looking at that person - just to make it simple, let's say "wicked person", though that is not a true translation of the text, and asking yourself this question, "Why does he behave like that?” The only honest answer to that question is "I do not know". As that thought arises in you, as you are watching that "I do not know", what happens between you two when that thought arises in you is upeksa. Let's call it "psychological non-contact” - it is not indifference, it is not detachment. I am not the redeemer of the world, not the saviour of humanity. I really do not know why he behaves in this manner - that is upeksa or psychological non-contact.
When these fourfold attitudes are adopted in our daily relationships, all the obstacles that were mentioned earlier are removed and the mind is still - but still in a very different way, still, not in a dull way. Still - but dynamically active. All relationships continue because it is relationships that expose our own weaknesses to ourselves. Relationship brings the distractibility of the mind to the fore. If the relationship was not there, if you were hiding yourself in a cave, you would not have to have any contact at ail. There is nobody to whom you can show your compassion, you have no friends except yourself, and your shadow. You do not have to be jealous of anybody, for there is nobody to be jealous of. There is no psychological non-contact or indifference, because you are alone. It is only when we come into contact with other beings that we are severely tested - or to put it differently, we are helped tremendously in this self-knowledge. From this little Sutra, a whole school of thought has sprung, and that is called karma yoga. This is the essense of karma yoga: if you can constantly watch your own mind, to ensure that these are the four attitudes that you have toward all humanity, you are fast progressing towards self-awareness.
The next is a Sutra that suggests hatha yoga:
pracchardana vidharanabhyam va pranasya (I.34)
Though hatha yoga scriptures are full of pranayama techniques, this pranayama seems to be rather strenuous and extraordinary. I will translate the Sutra literally. "Pracchardana'' does not mean merely exhaling, though we usually translate it as exhaling. "Vomiting" is the right translation. One does not vomit breath, so we say "exhale'". Having vomited all your air, "vidharana" is to hold and "pranasya" is of the prana - vomiting and holding. I hope you understand the meaning. which is to exhale, blow all the air out and hold it. You say, "But I will die!” So what? Because this is tough, many commentators have suggested, "Exhale, and then inhale and hold.” The sutra does not say so. You can add to it as you like, that's your business, but the sutra does not suggest "inhale” - it merely says, "Exhale, blow all the air out and hold." Please try it some time, and you will suddenly discover that the mind is absolutely still. Perhaps you are going to die in the next moment, so there is no sense in thinking, no thought is of any use, confronted as you are with death. You may regard that as a joke, but if you try to practise it, you realise that it is the most fantastic pranayama exercise that you have ever done. It has to be done on an empty stomach not because all the food will come out of your nose; but because the purity of this practice can be experienced only if you are able to pull the whole abdomen in and push the diaphragm up to ensure complete and total exhalation. When the lungs are completely empty, to the extent that you are able to make them empty, and then you hold them empty even for a few seconds, those few seconds are interpreted by your mind to be about 35.000 years. When your lungs are empty, death threatens you. What you experience then is something fantastic. That can also lead to the total absence or avoidance of mental distractions.
visayavati va pravrttir utpanna manasah sthiti nibandhani (I.35)
This is a rather enigmatic Sutra which possibly suggests what is called tantra. Traditionally tantra is regarded, in your language, as the right-handed practice and the left-handed practice. In your language, one is considered to be white magic and the other is considered to be black magic, which is not absolutely correct. This Sutra suggests all that. Although yoga is to be practised in such a way as to come face to face with the self, which necessarily implies the avoidance of being caught in object consciousness, in material consciousness, in physical consciousness - the whole idea is to extricate the mind from the object, from the physical world and from physical phenomena, here is a Sutra that suggests that even through these you can gain self-knowledge. "Visayavati va pravrttir" - when the mind comes into contact with external objects, or objects not external, there is a certain inner experience - pleasure, pain and all that. If you observe that with tremendous attention, once again your mind is still. Possibly the whole tantra arose based upon this teaching.
In tantra there are mandalas and so on. A mandala is something that can be seen and worshipped; and that worship can be done by your hands and feet, by your body. While you are doing that puja and looking at the mandala, you are observing it and the mandala tries to create certain images in your own mind. Observing them, you are proceeding towards self-knowledge. This is one thing. Someone else says: "I do not want any mandala and I do not want any mantra. Let's have a nice glass of wine, let's have nice food and enjoy ourselves," and while that enjoyment goes on, they also say you can watch your mind to see what this experience is. You probably know the tantric practices - anything and everything was allowed, dancing, singing, sex - and while you are indulging in all that, you watch - if you can, God bless you, the inner experiences that are brought about by what appear to be sensual experiences. By observing these inner experiences, you can once again arrive at the same spot, that same self-knowledge, self-knowledge that is the so-called goal of yoga.
We will conclude with the next Sutra:
visoka va jyotismati (I.36)
“Ah, I do not want all this, I do not want to practise hatha yoga, I do not want to practise tantra, but calmly and with an undistracted mind, I observe the light within myself, the light which is the self, the light that shines even when my eyes are closed, revealing to me my own thoughts, my own feelings and my own memory and imagination.” All that is revealed by an inner light within you. What is that? That inner light which shines, illumining all your thoughts, feelings and experiences, is beyond sorrow, just as the darkness of deep sleep is beyond sorrow. That is something interesting. In sleep there is darkness within you and that darkness is beyond sorrow; you do not experience any sorrow. In the same way, when it happens when you are not asleep, that is the inner light that is also beyond sorrow. By contemplating that inner light that is beyond sorrow, one overcomes all distractions.
[XIII]
Last time we were discussing the different methods for the cessation of mental distraction, one of them being the fourfold psychological attitude of a yogi in all relationships, which is the basis of karma yoga. These good qualities, the so-called virtuous qualities, like friendliness, compassion, admiration and so on, are not qualities which are acquired, imported and adopted. When we cultivate virtues, I think it is good to remember that they are not virtues; virtues are not qualities that can be super-imposed upon something, upon you, upon the personality. Spiritual growth is something which happens, often imperceptibly. We are not even conscious of our physical growth; it just happens as a result of the assimilation of physical matter. Growth is essentially and always from within, not from outside. To call it subjective may be vague; growth is always centripetal. Something happens deep within the very core of your being and that radiates, bringing about a complete transmutation or transformation of your very substance. When that happens, you are unaware of what has taken place. Those of you who have put on weight during the past ten years will appreciate it. You do not realise it, until it is pointed out by someone else. Then you start looking around or you compare your today's photograph with a picture taken ten years ago. Only then do you begin to suspect it is possible and even then you are only thinking, "It is possibte.” But there is no awareness or consciousness that I was so and so and I have become so and so. You are growing with it - it is not even growing with you - you are growing with it. You are growing with the spirit; and so it is the spirit that undergoes this transformation deep within the innermost core of your being, that manifests as friendliness etc. Otherwise it leads to hypocrisy, tension and depression.
Then why do we study the scriptures , and why do they say that one should cultivate these virtues, grow in these virtues? Yes, I am told that one who practises yoga grows in these virtues. It is stated as a fact, not as a commandment, but as a fact. If you are a keen and zealous student of yoga, you will grow in these virtues. So every time there is an unfriendly thought, every time there is a jealous thought, every time there is dislike or hate in me, I am observing this distraction. I see that it is a distraction, that it is a mental aberration, a psychological defect. It is born of a serious externalisation of attention, it is born of a judgment and valuation, and once again I am provoked to pay attention to that. That is the only possible reason why we are given these characteristics of yogis. But we cannot pick them up from the yogis and stick them on our own shoulders; it is not possible, We will make ourselves caricatures of yogis. I see that these are the characteristics of developing yogis, and I also see that they are not there in my relationship with you. As soon as you come before me I bristle up; instead of being human by nature, I suddenly become a porcupine. At that moment, my attention is directed towards you and externalises itself, so that I fool that you are the one who is irritating me.
If I am serious in my own practice of yoga, I immediately detect this problem. He is irritating me. I ask myself the question, "Does he irritate me or am I irritated?" It is a very serious question. Where is the irritation? Not in him, but in me. Though I think, I say, I believe, I proclaim that he is the cause of it, it happens within me. What is it in me that is disturbed? The moment I see it, the moment I ask myself this question or this question arises in me, the course of the current has already changed, the course of attention has changed. All virtues are born of that return of the current to its own source. There is a very significant superstition in India that to bathe in a river at a point where it is flowing in the direction of its source is a great virtue, is very holy. I really do not know if you gain extra merit by merely bathing in a whirlpool, but probably what they really meant was this - that it is good to bathe in that current which flows towards its own source.
There is a lovely mantra in the Katha Upanishad. The first part of the mantra suggests that it is through the fault of the creator himself that the eyes only see external objects, not internal objects, that the ears only hear external sounds, not internal sounds, that the mind seems to be eager to direct its attention externally and not internally. We do not even have to say that it is perhaps natural - all these rationalisations are disasters. If I say it is natural for the senses to behold external forms, I am justifying such externalisation and I will cling to it. I can see it quite simply. When I open my eyes, the first thing I do is to see. I am not interested in asking why it is so, whether this God made it so or the devil made it so. I do not know. I see that this is step one - I open my eyes, I see you. As soon as I see you, I am either attracted by you or repelled by you. There are thousands of people we look at everyday, but we are not influenced by them at all; for instance, we look at people in the airport lounge as though they were wall posters. I am talking about people who matter to us, not those airport crowds. As soon as I open my eyes and turn them in that direction, I see you. Immediately I realise I like you or I dislike you, I love you or I hate you, or I am afraid of you. This I realise as the fact of the moment; I am not rationalising it, I am not justifying it, I am not condemning it. While this game still goes on, I see that the mind is disturbed. As long as the thought that I dislike you or I like you prevails in the mind, the mind is disturbed. I become aware of that, and the question naturally arises, “Why is it so?” That moment the attention begins to turn upon itself.
The Upanishad says that commonly people are extrovert, but a rare hero is he who, wishing to gain self-knowledge, turns the attention upon itself. It is a nice compliment! I do not think you have to be a spiritual hero to do this. Anyone simply wishing to have peace of mind should do that, never mind self-knowledge or God-realisation, liberation and all that. I do not want this inner peace, this equanimity to be disturbed. Even that may or may not be a serious goal or concern. I may merely be curious. Someone walks past my eyes and I merely look at that someone, but suddenly there is a response from within, "Oh, I hate him, I hate the very sight of these people.” That sort of thing. My question and curiosity is, “Why should I thus punish myself?" I do not know if this attitude makes any sense to you - it may even sound self-centred and egocentric. You know, this used to happen a few years ago - boys with long hair and funny appearance, or girls with hot pants and mini skirts used to provoke irritation in me. My simple question to myself, within myself, is: "That girl is wearing hot pants and this boy is wearing dirty long hair; why should I find myself looking like that?” As long as the eyes are open, they have to look. “But why should I punish myself for that?” With that simple question I dismiss the external factor as a provocation of the internal disturbance, and now I am watching, observing the internal disturbance in itself. The attention has turned already. I do not have to be a great spiritual hero in order to do that, but anyone in whom there is a little curiosity concerning himself can do it.
Someone remarked once, “If someone called you an idiot, what would you do? Do you not be upset?” - thus proving that I am an idiot? Why should I be upset? You are the one who is calling "me" on idiot. Why must I be upset concerning an action that belongs to you, not to me? In that situation, why does this mind get disturbed? When you begin to observe it, the river flows towards its own source and to bathe in that river is holy. To bathe in that consciousness is extremely auspicious and a supreme blessing of greatest merit. So all these virtues grow in you, and as you develop this consciousness, you begin to be more and more aware of your self, whatever this self may mean at this moment.
In the same way we studied the other Sutra last time:
visoka va jyotismati (I.36)
One should beware of projecting a so-called light within oneself which is unaffected by sorrow. The master does suggest that if your attention is focused upon this inner light which is free from sorrow, you can be free of mental distraction, but in order to do so I should not create this inner light as if it were an object, and then meditate upon it; this is a useless pastime. Meditating upon any kind of object is a waste of time, it takes you nowhere. It is merely a prop, an external aid for internal vision. What the master does suggest here is that there is an inner light - though not until you discover it, in which there is no sorrow, in which there is no mental distraction. If your attention is focused on it, if your attention flows towards it, then the mental distractions will cease. Why so? Sorrow being a concomitant factor with mental distraction, sorrow being an indicator of distracted attention, if the attention is made to flow towards that in which there is no sorrow, then the distraction is also avoided, the distraction ceases. Patanjali suggested in a previous Sutra that "dubkha daurmanasya" (I.31) - “sorrow and bad moods" are indicative of mental distraction, psychological distraction. So to us sorrow is not an unwelcome or undesirable psychological state - there is no sense in calling it undesirable, because then you become more and more worried, but it is an indication that your mind is not steady, your attention is not steady, you are not awake, you are not alert. You cannot possibly overcome sorrow by grieving over sorrow: you cannot possibly overcome worry by worrying about worrying.
This may be a digression, but it may be useful. One of the best ways to deal with this situation is to stop worrying about not worrying. You tell me not to worry, but why do you worry if I worry? If I have to worry, let me worry. I get up with worry and I feel that worry is there throughout the day, but I have only got one worry; so do not make it two by telling me, "Please Swamiji, do not worry about this." I was worried about my business and now you have added one more worry - that I should not worry, Leave me alone. If I come to him and ask him, “Sir, can you help me? I have this worry," he will say, "Oh, that's okay, go ahead. What is wrong with worrying a little bit? It is good for the adrenal in discharge." I do not know if you realise it, but all of you are laughing at this remark. That is precisely what happens when you say this to yourself: "What's wrong with worrying? I am worrying about my family or my business!” Immediately you begin to laugh and the worry is gone. So sorrow cannot be attacked by worrying about sorrow, but by something else, that is: by turning the attention completely from this sorrow upon its own source.
What exactly do I mean by sorrow? What is sorrow? I do not want to get rid of it. Why should I get rid of sorrow? Why should I get rid of pain? There f s nothing wrong with it, but what is the content of this thing called pain? What is the content of this thing called sorrow? If that word "sorrow" had never been learnt by me - "shoka" in Sanskrit and "shock" in English, both mean the same thing, and I was subjected to a shock, minus that word and its corresponding concept, would it make any sense to me? If that word did not exist in my consciousness, and therefore, if that corresponding concept did not exist in my consciousness, and this particular experience arose as it might in due course, what would that be? That which is aware of that experience, which is nameless and formless, that is the inner light, is the inner consciousness, in which there is no sorrow. The concept does not exist. Is that becoming clear? If from birth I had never been taught what a pin was, or what the concept of pain was, then I would not know that if this pin is stuck into my flesh, it causes a sensation which comes from the pin pain. But I am taught all this right from there and therefore I call it pain, I experience pain, and I experience sorrow. What I am going to say immediately after this is going to disturb your strengthened belief that you have understood this, I do not know the word sorrow. I have no concept of what sorrow means or what in means. So in my consciousness there is no concept called sorrow, in my dictionary there is no word called sorrow, and you stick that pin in my arm - that’s it! I howl and yell, and it you do not hold the arm down, I throw you out of window - but still there is no sorrow, still there is no pain. There the experiencing is pure, the action is absolutely pure. That is the reaction or action of a newborn child. In its heart there is no sorrow, in its action there is no hate, there is no violence. If you are a psychologist, your mind which is already polluted, looks at that baby and when the baby cries you say, "Oh , it is crying out of pain." It does not know what pain means, it has not been taught what pain means - each experiencing is God itself, supreme liberated consciousness, pure consciousness. The baby hit you, but it does not hate you. That action is spontaneous action. That consciousness in which the concept of pain and sorrow does not exist, that is the self. You understand it; don’t you?
That which you understand again is a concept, and that which you understand does not touch you in the very least. I am not talking philosophy, I am talking pure and simple architecture. I am standing under the roof and the roof does not touch me at all. That which you understand flows far above you and it makes no impression upon you whatsoever. It has to be ‘discovered’. So the yogi, using these experiences called pain and sorrow, discovers their content, their reality, their truth. He discovers in a very simple sense, the pure and literal sense of taking the cover off, the cover being the word, the cover being the concept, the cover being the idea, the cover being the notion of pain and sorrow. 'We are clinging to this cover and we think we know what pain means, what sorrow means, what good means, what evil means; they mean absolutely nothing. We are clinging to these words. But the yogi, though he may use these - pain, sorrow, good, evil, seeks their truth, seeks the content of the experience. There he comes across the self in which there is no pain, but which is pure experience, in which there is no reaction, but which is pure and spontaneous action.
vita raga visayam va cittam (I. 37)
This Sutra makes it even more abundantly clear. One could contemplate, meditate or observe that citta in which there is no coloring - "vita raga visayam”. Raga is attachment, affection, attraction or, in a more general sense, colouring, conditioning, samskara - samskara again in the sense of "some scar"; the past experiences have left some scar and that becomes a samskara. By contemplating, by reflecting that consciousness, that mind, that citta in which these are absent, one can overcome psychological distraction.
The other day I attended a wedding and suddenly I remembered that that is also called a samskara in the Hindu tradition. There are sixteen such samskaras; according to the Hindu tradition they are very sacred and holy. But each one of these samskaras leaves a scar on you - that is the most important thing in all the ceremonies. For instance, there is a christening samskara. I am born a pure baby, a pure human-being, but suddenly somebody comes and says, "You are named Mr. so and so". That is one scar more; and every time that scar is scratched, it hurts me. It is a funny thing. Before I was given the name Venkatesananda, if two people were talking in the next room, "This Venkatesananda, you know he is a rascal", it would not affect me ot all! I do not know who they are talking about. But if they do so now, I prick my ears; that scar is being scratched open again. That is what samskara does to me.
Raga is composed of all these samskaras. The mind gets coloured and coloured , and later on all your experiences, all your expressions and all your actions are so completely distorted that it is virtually impossible for you to decide what was even right action or what was wrong action. Your judgement is warped, your vision is colored, and your actions are all tainted and distorted.
I remember a very interesting incident which happened in the ashram in Rishikesh. One of the Master's senior disciples suggested that a person who was publishing Swami Sivananda's books in Madras, on behalf of the ashram, should not be asked to give up his copyright. The Master had decided to withdraw this publisher's copyright, but this swami thought it was better to leave it, as the man had been doing very well for some time. This was nice business for the ashram and good publicity for Swami Sivananda. Swami Sivananda lifted His glasses and said to him, “When you go to Madras, you stay with him?" The swami said, "Yes, swamiji.” The Master did not suggest, "You are fond of him, etc.” He explained in just one sentence: "When you move too closely with somebody, your mind becomes colored." At that point you do not even know that this is so - that it is this mental coloring that makes you say what you have been saying. According to you, you are saying what is right, what is ethical, what is moral and even what is profitable, but what is not known at all is that the mind has already been contaminated or colored, and the vision that looks through that contamination or coloring is distorted vision.
It is possible for us to think that we realise what this contamination means, but it is difficult until the observer, that is beyond this contamination, is realised. The self is beyond this contamination. It is the ego, it is the personality that is receiving this contamination, this pollution. How can we say so? Because something existed before this idea was formed, just as the skin comes into being before the scar is formed. There is a body on which scars are formed. In a similar way, there is a mind, there is a consciousness, there is an intelligence, which seems to receive these scars, these samskaras. Water in which sugar is dissolved, remains water for all time to come and it is possible for the water to be retrieved and the sugar to be discarded.
vita raga visayam va cittam (I.37)
That which is beyond this contamination is that pure mind, the untainted mind, the uncontaminated mind; if you do not want to call it mind, you may call it the self, God, anything you like, it does not matter. When one contemplates that, then once again the mental distraction stops.
This Sutra can also mean some person or some object which is free from the twin forces of attraction and repulsion. In this category you can include the great masters who are free from love and hate, who are free from passion and anger, who are pure crystals. In this category, you can include babies, you can include pictures and statues, of any image of God, anything that suggests the divine presence. You can include any natural phenomena - the sun, the moon, the stars, anything that shines - but is not contaminated by love and hate. Any person, any thing, or your own innermost consciousness, in which this taint of likes and dislikes, attraction and repulsion, love and hate does not exist - that mind, that consciousness which is unconditioned, uncolored - is also worth contemplating. By contemplating these, one's own attention, one's own mind becomes steady and undisturbed.
[XIV]
The master of yoga tells us that the foremost obstacle that a serious student of yoga has to deal with is mental distraction. Only against the basis of mental distraction are the other qualifications relevant. Happiness or unhappiness, pain or pleasure, all these are basically related to this mental distraction. Why is the pursuit of pleasure undesirable? For the simple reason that it distracts the mind. Why does the yogi wish to avoid illness? Because illness is a mental distraction. Anything that causes mental distraction makes self-knowledge more remote. When the attention is distracted, the vision is blurred; when the vision is blurred, confusion arises; when there is confusion, knowledge is perverted. It sounds a bit comical, until you realise that the blueness of the sky is a perversion of knowledge. I look up and I know I see the sky. I know I see something blue, and I know that this is an optical illusion. And so one of the first things that a serious student of yoga endeavours to do is to deal with this mental distraction. When the mind is powerfully drawn away from its center, there is mental distraction. The truth is not realised. What does it mean? The truth temporarily gets veiled, blurred and in its place the blurred vision is assumed to be true, such as the blueness of the sky. The blueness is perceived because of an optical illusion, but that is taken to be the colour of the sky. That is obviously an error. There is no blueness, but it is seen. Why is it seen? Because of an optical illusion. But the mind that is unsteady, that is unable to realise the truth concerning this optical illusion, transfers this color to the reality and therefore the truth is not realised. What seems to be real is untrue.
This is true of our entire life. Truth is one thing, and what is experienced, what appears to be real is quite another. How does this arise? There is an inability to focus one's attention upon the truth concerning one's own experiences and behavior. Something attracts the mind, the attention is pulled away and the energies of the mind flow in a different direction, in a haphazard, distorted and undisciplined way. Then the intelligence in the mind, which is also perverted, gives different labels to this distortion or illusion. At one time it calls it anger, at another time it calls it passion, at another time it calls it greed at another time it calls it jealousy, at another time it calls it fear, but in effect the thing is the same. Whether you look at the sky through this window here or through the other window, whether you look at what appears to be a clear sky or the little patch seen through broken clouds, whether it is the sky seen during the day or during the night, sky is sky and it is forever seen as blue - when you are able to see the sky and not the pollution! Although the night sky looks like one thing and the day sky looks like something else, it is the some sky. Similarly, whether I think that there is a good or a bad quality, "I am affectionate or I am full of compassion one moment and another moment I am full of passion'", the real stuff is exactly the same. I may think I love or I may experience hate, but the underlying thing is the same.
The love that is mentioned here as the antithesis of hate is not the love that is God. This is more a sort of attachment, a sort of infatuation, though we use the word love. I suppose even that little love is good. That love which is regarded as supreme, the love that is God, that is really beyond all these labels.
There is an inner coloring and I am looking at the world, I am even looking at the self, I am looking at all my experiences, I am looking at my own patterns of behavior through that coloring. That coloring has to go. Is there a loss when the coloring is lost? Also, is the coloring itself a reality? In other words, is the blueness of the sky a fact, a truth, a reality? If it is, it is not possible for you to wipe it out. It is the yogi's direct spiritual experience that the coloring is not a reality in itself; it is on appearance. Now this is more or less taken as axiomatic and the yogi says not to waste your time questioning this, but to get going with steadying the mind, turning the attention upon itself. Then you yourself will realise that what you regarded as coloring, what you regarded as a real thing, was all the time appearance and not reality. And that is citta vrtti.
Citta vrtti is a perverse understanding and must somehow be dealt with. Already Patanjali has given us a few methods. You can take to the path of karma yoga and in all your relationships be vigilantly watchful. Do not try to run away from relationships. If you hide yourself in a cave or a forest, you cannot practise karma yoga, because you have lost the opportunity of measuring yourself, you have lost the opportunity of watching yourself in the mirror of relationships. In relationships, while constantly moving with other beings and while not completely ignoring the others, you are watching yourself. In this relationship, what does the mind do, what are the motivations of your actions and how are the experiences received? You are watching, you are watching not selfishly, not in a sef-centred way but accepting the relationship, utilising the relationship in order to find the self. You can do that. You can do hatha yoga, you can practise asanas, you can practise pranayama, all the time endeavoring to discover the play of the mind, the tricks of the mind, and the behavior or the action of the self. You can meditate, you can repeat a mantra, you can contemplate a brilliant light within yourself which is beyond sorrow, you can contemplate the form of your guru or a holy person who is beyond conditioned mentality, you can observe your own sensual experiences, whether they are religious or otherwise, and once again try to arrive at the truth concerning the experience itself. In all these there may arise certain problems concerning the reality, or otherwise, of these relationships and these experiences.
And so the author of the Yoga Sutras suggests, "Also please remember the lessons or the wisdom that you gain from dream and sleep.
svapna nidra jnana 'lambanam va (1.38)
This sutra has again been variously interpreted. Some yogis even suggest that if you have a vision during your dream, you can contemplate upon it, you can meditate upon that dream vision. If you have a mantra given to you in your dream, you can repeat that mantra - according to them that is also covered by the Sutra. “Svapna" - dream; "nidra" - sleep; “jnana” - wisdom; “alambanam va" - holding on to. Perhaps a very simple and completely different interpretation is possible. What does dream suggest? Not this other thing - dream analysis, dream interpretation and all that. But what is the wisdom concerning dream? I dream, on waking up I realise I was dreaming - it was a very pleasant dream or a very unpleasant nightmare. You see a nightmare and you suddenly jump out of bed or you scream; you are pouring with sweat; then either you wake up then and there or later on, and you realise that it was unreal. And yet while you were dreaming it was real, otherwise you would not scream, otherwise you would not sweat; it was real. This is q very simple, a ridiculously simple truth which right now, sitting in this hall, we all appreciate and we all seem to understand. It seems to be so obvious that it does not need a swami to come and tell us. But when we are asked if it is possible that your present experience may also be a dream, I say, “No, it is absurd. I see him sitting in front of me with his tape-recorder. Do you think it is a dream?" Yes, maybe. I was so convinced, while the dream was in progress, that whatever was being seen and experienced was absolutely and unshakably real, to such an extent that I screamed.
Those of you who are interested in this are welcome to study a small Upanishad with an enormous commentary called Mandukya Upanishad. This problem is dealt with in very elaborate detail there. Its commentary is called Karika. What is the difference? The difference, people say, is that this waking world is seen outside and that the world seen during the dream was inside. But maybe it was also seen outside. Maybe that which I think I see outside is really seen inside me; it is seen inside my own brain, according to medical science. I have sore eyes, I see two lights there, but what is seen is not necessarily real. I think I see objects which are outside, but the perception really tokes place within. It is exactly as in a dream. The time sense is confused, perhaps, but then while I am dreaming, the time scale in relation to that dream is probably very similar to that time scale which I experience here and now. The yogis declared that, despite the fact that there appears to be some difference between the dream and the waking states, they are very similar.
Now comes the shocking piece of wisdom - that it is possible that we are all still dreaming, and that it is time to wake up from this long dream. That is what the wisdom ot dreams enables us to see. Then you begin to meditate upon this wonderful piece of wisdom, this wonderful truth, neither accepting it as dogma or inviolable doctrine, nor rejecting it as childish. You find a tremendous change coming over you; we are not so much interested in some kind of a salvation, some kind of a liberation or what-have-you, but this is a liberation now. Somebody comes to fight with you and you are thinking, "Maybe I am just dreaming.” You may even scream, why not. You screamed in your dream, but you do not react violently or aggressively and thus promote or perpetuate this conflict. It ends there; you probably shout and wake up from your dream and it is gone. The moment the feeling arises in you, “Maybe it is not real at all, maybe it is just a dream." That very moment your attitude towards life and all its events has under gone a change. Nidra is sleep. Sleep has a beautiful and interesting message for us and once again, this is only one line of thought - there are others. One can go on talking about dream and sleep for days. If you go on contemplating what sleep means or what it does to you, either you spend sleepless nights or if you are not interested, you go to sleep right now. There is one interesting thought and that is that in sleep I forget the world; the world does not exist in deep sleep, and even the I-am-body-consciousness does not exist. These are the only things that one can really and truly say concerning sleep. There is no awareness of the world outside, nor of the dream world inside and there is no feeling “I am the body." If the state of yoga, the state of meditation or the state of citta vrtti nirodha means only this, then why should I not be liberated, enlightened in sleep? Why should the sleeping person not be regarded as the greatest yogi, or saint or liberated sage? That is a wonderful question, but I wake up! I wish I could sleep forever but even if I could sleep for ever, I would wake up in another body, in another incarnation, in heaven or hell. It does not matter where it is, but eventually I wake up, the consciousness wakes up from that dream, from that sleep, into another day, or another body, or another realm, or another plane of consciousness.
Now the question is, “What is it that kicks you out of sleep in the morning?" It is a tremendously interesting question. Now please listen very carefully: if you are able to ask yourself this question just before waking up, you are enlightened. You cannot? What is it that wakes me up in the morning? I have no alarm clock, nobody knocks at my door, I can sleep as long as I want to. Nobody disturbs my sleep, and yet sometime in the morning I wake up, what is it that wakes me up? How do I find this out? That which wakes me up in the morning is, let’s say, “the seed of mischief". Gaudapada, in his commentary on the Mandukya Upanishad, says that sleep is only "bija nidra"; in this sleep, the seed for further mischief is hidden. As soon as the body and the mind are once again in a condition fit for this seed to sprout, it sprouts. In other words, the previous night the body had been incapacitated for any more mischief, you could not carry on anymore and so you lay down and surrendered yourself to sleep, but the seed is still there, watching just to see when this person is completely recharged: “Hah, get up and start your mischief again!" So what does the yogi suggest here? Find the seed and destroy it, for until then you are not free. This applies even to what is called the practice of meditation. Whatever be the yoga you practise, whatever be the spiritual practice you indulge in, whatever be the religious observances you indulge in, as long as the seed is there, you are in trouble; the trouble is merely asleep. The point is - Am I meditating or am I thinking I am meditating? How do I know, how do I know what meditation means? Only when this seed is completely fried, destroyed beyond resurrection, do I know that meditation has happened, that yoga has happened and that this vrtti has completely gone; that is what sleep teaches us.
Here are two lessons which are relevant to our discussion of the Yoga sutras. Sleep tells me to watch out for the seed. If it is not possible for me while I am still asleep, just before I wake up, to be aware of what wakes me up, which is obviously impossible, for most of us at least, what do I do? The yogi suggests that one become intensely aware of every thought - this suggestion occurs later in the Sutras but I am giving it to you now, that one become aware of that particular moment when one thought has subsided and the other has not yet arisen. At that moment the mind is at peace, probably, like the eye of the cyclone, and everything is calm; one part of the cyclone has passed and there is a bit of a calm, which means the next one is coming. Get to know it, taste it; enjoy it; be steady there and watch. Where does the next one arise? That is the seed. Where does the next thought, the next emotion arise? That is the seed. If I am able to get hold of that, then it is possible for me to become more and more clearly aware of the seed, of life itself, of individualised life itself.
After having given us these few hints for meditation, for the steadying of attention and for avoidance of mental distraction, Patanjali says that this is not all.
yatha 'bhimata dhyanad va (I.39)
Do something, he says, anything you like, but do something somehow to come to grips with this mental distraction. What is it that distracts the attention? Not the external disturbance; the external disturbance in itself is no distraction. For instance, if you are interested in what I am saying, the noise that I produce is not a distraction. Also, if you are interested in what I am saying, the noise of that garbage truck is experienced as a distraction, because you wish to avoid it, you wish to fight it, in order to keep this attention alive; that is why it becomes a distraction, otherwise it does not. The distraction is my response to what goes on outside. Watch the mind, watch the attention, and be attentive within yourself - if that is possible. Even in what you may be practising in the name of meditation it is possible to become aware of these: I am repeating my mantra, a dog barks, a child cries, a car hoots, somebody shouts. Those are not distractions if I am going on with my mantra. And when, for instance, you hear somebody whisper - it is not even a shout, but whisper, your name in the next room, or if you hear a baby whimpering in the next room, if you are very attentive at that moment, it is even possible to see the mind or the attention jump out of your jacket and run away. It is possible to see this. So, by any means whatsoever, whether the orthodox means suggested by the various teachers or something that you invent to suit your own particular needs, somehow try to discover how the mind is distracted, how the attention is distracted, how a vrtti arises.
Probably some of us are waiting to hear what happens then. Do I suddenly become God, do I sprout wings or does a horn grow in the middle of my head? This is the next Sutra:
parama 'nu parama mahattvanto 'sya vasikarahah (I.40)
If the attention is thus undistracted and if the inner vision is uncolored, then we go back to where we started, that is, abhyasa and vairagya happen; there is a steady concentration of mind, a concentration of attention. If at the same time the attention is not attracted, not only not distracted, one way or the other coloured one way or the other, then that mind is able to comprehend the smallest and the greatest. That is all that is said in this Sutra, so now you can expand it to suit your taste. No problem is too great, no problem is too small, no truth is too subtle, no truth is too great. That attention, freed from all its limitations, is instantly able to bring towards itself, to bring into itself everything, whatever there is. Freed from all conditioning, that attention becomes one with the entire universe and it sees that what was the substratum of “me”, what was in "me”, is in all and therefore the "me" is all. There is no limitation, either as individual or as a cosmic whole; there is no feeling that the self is limited only to me, nor that it is only universal. I think there is a slight hint here that should be taken. Such a person therefore is not interested in cranky asceticism, saying, “I am going to cut off a piece of flesh and throw it to the dogs, because I am no longer this body, I am all." But such a person knows, "I am one, I am all, I am this, am that. I am everything, I am nothing." At the same time, you see that what was within me is the self, and that self is not only within me but it is within all.
ksina vrtter abhijatasye ‘va maner grhitr grahana grahyesu tatsthatad anjanata samapattih (I.41)
This is a beautiful Sutra, though a bit complicated. What is the life of that person. The life of that person is the life of a crystal, purest crystal. In his case there is neither an expression nor a suppression. He does not say that he will not do this, he does not say that he must do this, or that he wants to do this. He does not restrain himself, he does not let himself go. There is neither an expression nor a suppression. The nature of his life is like the purest crystal - he reflects everything as it is. There is an implication that we do not even see ourselves or the objects outside, as they are. Krishna suggested it in the Gita:
na rupam asye 'ha tatho palabhyate na nto na ca 'dir na ca sampratistha asvattham enam suvirudhamulam asangasastreya drdhena chittva (VX. 3)
Its form is not perceived here as such, neither its end nor its origin, nor its foundation nor resting place; having cut asunder this firmly rooted peepul tree with the strong axe of non-attachment.
You think you are seeing the world outside you, you think you are seeing a microphone here; it is not a microphone, it is a piece of metal. You think you are see a glass here; it is not a glass, it is something else. You think you are seeing water inside, but it may not be water. You think you are seeing a swami, but it may be not be a swami. There may be something else. What you see outside is the projection of your own mind, your own conditioning, your own fancy. You see the world as you like to see it, as you dislike to see it or as you are afraid it may be. The world outside is not seen in its real form by anybody but the yogi. “Ksina vrtter" - when the vrttis are gone, when the mental distractions are gone, when the mental modifications are gone, when your thoughts are not governed by your own moods and fancies, only then, that which is really true, is.
The crystal does nothing, so you cannot say that the yogi is able to see the truth. There is no yogi to see the truth. As long as the “I” exists in order to see the truth, it sees perversion. If I want to see the truth, I will see the truth as I want to see it, which is absurd, which is a vrtti. When the vrtti has gone, there is a crystal, the purest crystal left behind, and that crystal merely reflects, without ever intending to do so. There is no intention at all within the yogi, and therefore there is no tension. Intension is "tension inside.” If you drop all your intentions you will never be tense inside yourself. There is no intention at all in the case of the yogi - because all the vrttis have subsided, the mental conditioning has subsided, the mental coloring has ceased. Without the coloring, the yogi exists - even that is a bad word, as a pure crystal. Yet the crystal is not a non-reflecting, dead substance. The crystal is able to reflect whatever color there is around. In the abstract, it is almost impossible to understand this; in the concrete, if you have met a person like Swami Sivananda, it is quite easy to see. For instance, He hardly ever used words like "Thank you" or "Please" until someone of your culture walked in, and then automatically He started saying, "Thank you very much.” As soon as someone appeared, without intending to do so, He folded His palms and said “Namaste" as soon as you walked in. Without intending to do so, there was a change in Him. When a child went to Him, if you observed His face, it was a child-like face; the child was reflected there immediately. If therre was an unhappy person, that was reflected in Him immediately, but always without His intending to do so. “Ksina vrtter abhyatasya” - when the vrttis are gone, then one becomes a clear crystal. “Grhita grahana grahyesu tatsthata anjanata samapattih” - that coloring is taken on, but the crystal is never actually colored. It seems to reflect the color, but the color does not belong to the crystal, the color does not adhere to the crystal and it does not stay with the crystal.
[XV]
The yogi’s being shines like a crystal which is able to reflect the truth, the reality concerning the self, the experiencer; the reality concerning the object, the experience, and the reality concerning the predicate, which is experiencing. It is only then that one can even use such expressions as "I love you", "I understand you", "I serve you'", or whatever you wish to use. That is when what is "I" becomes clear, that is when what is "you" becomes clear, and that is when the relationship becomes clear, if there is any relationship at all. That is perhaps when the non-dualistic relationship is vaguely understood. And this crystalline purity of the self is not a thing that can be acquired by directly aiming at crystalline purity. That is what most of us do, only to find that our efforts prove futile, or waste of time, frustrating and depressing. We are not even putting the cart before the horse; we do not put the load on the back of the horse, but we put the horse on the load! Nothing happens! We go on either pretending that we are absolutely pure crystal, that our whole personality is absolutely divine, transparent, but then nothing seems to happen. What we generally forget is the beginning of that Sutra: "ksina vrtter - when the vrttis are greatly weakened" - when the vrttis, the thoughts and notions etc. that arise in the mind, are greatly weakened. The mind is not yet absolutely still; there is movement. But that movement is so fine that it has become crystalline. Between us and the road there is still this glass wall; but if it is pure glass, it is transparent and you are able to see through it. It is almost non-existent, which means there is still something, there is still some obstruction there, there is still some difficulty or distraction there, but because the vrttis have become greatly weakened, the obstructions have also become greatly weakened and there is a certain amount of transparency. Therefore, I still say "I love you", because we are still in a dualistic world, but at this moment the "I" is very clearly seen. If there are motives, those motives are also clearly seen. If the love is motivated, whether with good intentions or bad intentions, all those things are very clearly seen and "you" is also clearly seen. That is when the personality is like a crystal.
tatra sabda 'rtha jnana vikalpaih samkirna savitarka samapattih (I.42)
The mind is still working, still trying to rationalise, still trying to understand. When the mind tries to understand, that understanding is necessarily tainted, or the possibility exists of the taint of misunderstanding. As long as the mind functions, as long as logic functions, as long as reason functions, and the mind tries to understand, there is the possibility of misunderstanding, because the mind functions on a dualistic basis. When the mind functions on a dualistic basis, naturally understanding and its correlative - misunderstanding, must both exist. When I use the expression, ‘I love you’, many things are implied in it. ‘I love you’ possibly means that I do not love someone else; or maybe it means that I do not hate you - it depends on where the emphasis is applied. “I love you" may mean that I did not love you before, or that I may not love you later; all these are implied. So this understanding or misunderstanding can also be attributed to a confusion that is inherent in thinking, inherent in reasoning: "sabda ‘rtho jnana vikalpaih samkirna” - we use a word and the word unfortunately has a load on it which we call "meaning". The other day we discussed the meaning of the word "meaning" in Sanskrit. It is not a paraphrase using many words to explain one word, but "artha" which means the meaning of “handkerchief" is this, this actual handkerchief. But unfortunately we have come to regard a verbal definition as the meaning. A verbal definition is a load placed on the word - you use a word, I hear it and it is linked with some kind of memory and that memory produces some sort of rational understanding, which is often a misunderstanding of that word, and that I regard as “jnana”. It may be far away from what you meant. This is one of the most terrible problems that all teachers have to face. The teacher says something and it is translated by the student into his own idiom.
Translate means “a trance comes late". Something is said and by the time that expression has traveled from there to this mind, already it is too late - “the trance is late". And now I have already placed a load on that word "translate, just as I have put a dreadful load on the word "love". "Do not you love me?” means, "Do not you want to run after me?” - that is chasing, not love. So we have already loaded that word and thus crushed it beyond all recognition.
“Sabda rtha'' - when you use an expression, I hear it - “I” being a load in itself, “I” being a collection of vrttis, and as that word is heard, one of the vrttis jumps up and says, "Hah , I understand". That is a misunderstanding. If we do seem to understand one another, usually it is purely accidental. If only we kept a record of all this communication, we might discover that we have misunderstood each other much more often than we have understood each other. And so the inference here is that the understanding was purely coincidental or accidental. So when this rational mind is used, there seems to be an understanding - jnana, and when this understanding or knowledge manifests in the mind, there seems to be a certain state of inner balance - samapattih. Even that has the semblance of knowledge, the semblance of self-knowledge, the semblance of equanimity, the semblance of balance, but it is only a semblance - savitarka samapattih. You can reach so far, says Patanjali. Patanjali's approach to all this is terribly scientific and therefore he does not dismiss even this as worthless. He says that it is there; and you can also reach your own logical conclusion, you can use your own logic and come to its conclusion. Beyond this point, logic is useless. When you have reached that point, again there is an inner quiescence, an inner peace, an inner tranquility - but the tranquility is often short-lived and it is violently disturbed in its reaction that it can also lead us astray, goes without saying.
smrti parisuddhau svarupa sunye 'va 'rthamatra nirbhasa nirvitarka (I.43)
This whole sutra is a lovely expression - "smrti parisuddhau" - what was the thing that created understanding, when the rational mind tried to understand the teaching? “Smrti" is memory, the load, the load on the brain, the load on the personality, the load which I regarded as reason, the load which I regarded as intellect - not intelligence but intellect, the load which is memory - the memory which was confused as knowledge. “Parisuddhau” - clean that, go on cleaning that. How do I clean that? By realising that this is only memory, that this is pure conditioning, that this is junk, a huge garbage dump. Sometimes even garbage dumps can smell nice, if it happens to be near a florist. So, if there is some nice fragrance in the garbage dump, it is only accidental, the rest is foul smelling. So, every time you respond, you realise that the response comes from this garbage dump. There is no sense at all. When rationalisation is thus abandoned, intelligence begins to function, and there is a movement in that intelligence. The intelligence still moves, because it is still trying to respond, it is still trying to observe. You said something and there is a response. Now the rational intellect has been silenced and has reached its own conclusion. I did not suppress it, I did not knock it down, I did not kill it, but it has reached its own conclusion. Intelligence begins to function and intelligence looks directly at the springs of the reaction, at the springs of the response. Only when this state is reached can one be reasonably or "unreasonably" certain of one's responsibility - the ability to respond, without being distorted by reasoning, without being distorted by the rationalising intellect. When one reaches this stage there is intelligent responsibility, not perverted or distorted responsibility. When the rational intellect has reached its own logical conclusion, the intelligence begins to respond and therefore there is intelligent responsibility. It may be wrong to say we have no responsibility towards one another, but it is not right to say that we do have responsibility towards one another. What the ability to respond, what the responsibility does, can only be determined by this inner intelligence which, responding to the challenges of our daily life, is the only true and intelligent responsibility. "Smrti parisuddhau” - there is still a movement, but this time it is towards the center of my being. When this intelligence moves towards its own center, there is - next is a most important word - ‘almost’ no movement, almost. It is not total cessation of movement, but it looks as if there is no movement at all. "Svarupa sunye 'va” - as if the intelligence does not exist, as if the observer does not exist. Patanjali seems to be so fond of this “svarupa sunya” that it occurs once again in this text. What is meditation? Meditation is when the "I" is “as if absent". When the ego, the “I", the observer is absent, or “as if absent”, then meditation happens. When the meditator is “as if absent”, when there is no meditator but meditation alone, then there is meditation; otherwise there is simply thinking. As long as "I" is there, I only think I am meditating; that is very good, I can go on as long as I like. "Svarupa sunye 'va 'rthamatra nirbhasa nirvitarka”. But now that I am not interested in using the rational mind it is not “I" that is thinking about it, it is not "I" that is observing it; there is this pure observation. The observer is not completely dead, the observer is still there, but he is in such deep coma that it looks as though he is finished. The mischief-maker is still there, but so fast asleep that he is nearly dead. So you approach this stage as you would approach a lion that is lying down as if dead. You do approach it, but with great caution, to see if it is breathing, to see if there is some movement. In this observation the observer is still observed, so that there is still some duality; but the observer seems to be nearly gone and the object observed seems to fill the entire space. There is a movement in intelligence, but that movement is totally within, that is, the observed, the object of observation. It is then that one becomes clearly aware of the object; whether it is a person, an experience or a relationship, it is at that point that there is no mental activity at all, that there is no rational intellection at all, and that there is this pure and simple observation. The observer is still alive, but only just, and the observation or the observed object is shining radiantly. If this can happen, then there is likely to be understanding and less misunderstanding.
etayai ' va savicara nirvicara ca suksma visay& vyakhyata (I.44)
In the same way you can understand what is known as "savicara”. In "savicara" there is a definite and positive movement towards the observed, towards the object. Once again, let's take the phenomenon of fear as an example. In the first stage you are merely thinking about it, rationalising it, rejecting it, accepting it, and so on. Once that has come to an end, you make a positive effort towards this observation. That is what Patanjali calls “savicara” - this is, you are definitely making an effort towards observing this phenomenon called fear, within yourself. I continue to call it fear as long as the mind is active; the mind is trying to understand it, the mind continues to call it fear, and that is how it becomes fear. Then that labeling is gone, the idea of fear is gone, but there is still something, something within, some experience of a strange commotion within. In order to observe this commotion, the intelligence turns upon itself and while turning, there is still this commotion within observing this commotion, that is, the intelligence is also in motion - that is savicara , where you are pushing, pushing this intelligence towards that experience. Then, at the end of that, there is “nirvicara” - without any movement at all - you become aware of the experience and there is pure and simple awareness. At that time, it's definition as fear ceases.
When you just observe something that is extremely subtle within yourself, the fear is no longer the gross fear, the fear is no longer an emotion, the fear is no longer a gross experience. "Suksma visaya" - what is it that is happening in me? I do not want a name, I do not want a definition, I do not want you to say, "Oh , it is some intelligence, it is some movement of prana, or a thought, or an emotion or a sensation". When I reject all these definitions and descriptions, then I realise it is not tangible, it is not gross. Fear is not the name of a vegetable which I have swallowed, so that it sits there solidly in my stomach, and yet it grips my stomach. I suddenly realise it is something very subtle; it is not even as heavy as a thought, if thought can be weighed. It is even subtler than a thought, and it is subtler then I thought it was. It is then that meditation becomes so beautiful, so very beautiful. It is then that anything that happens to you at any time in your life can become a meditation.
suksma visayatvam ca linga paryavasanam (I.45)
You go on observing it keenly , with all your heart and soul and whatever else you have, "Ca linga paryavasanam" - the characteristics or the marks with which you identify this disappear. When you observe so keenly, you discover that the palpitation of the heart has ceased. I do not know if you have ever indulged in this beautiful form of meditation. When you are afraid or you are shaken by anger, lust, anxiety and the heart begins to pump very fast, if you observe the fear that produced this and you on doing so, the heart seems to respond in a very beautiful way, in an extremely cooperative way. It seems to think or feel - "This person is meditating and I should not beat so hard that his meditation is distracted.” It becomes softer and softer, so that all the characteristic marks with which you associated fear or excitement or anxiety, all the distinguishing marks cease and there is a state which cannot be described, which cannot be defined. “I" is still there observing this, "I" is still there vaguely experiencing this, but all the distinguishing marks have gone.
ta ova sabijah sama dhih (I.46)
That is samadhi, or deep contemplation or total equanimity and equilibrium. But in it there is still the seed of the whole previous commotion. It is like a child, like a baby that seems to be totally free of our defects, weaknesses and prejudices, not because the baby has solved these problems, but because the baby has not yet become awakened to these problems. That is the difference between the baby and the sage. The sage has overcome these problems, the baby has yet to be awakened to them.
nirvicara vaisaradye 'dhyatma prasadah (I.47)
One who goes on practising vicara, that turning the intelligence upon itself without mental activity, has gone beyond the rational intellect, where logic has reached its logical conclusion, and has trained himself in this pure observation. Vicara is not thinking; vicara is not an intellectual pastime. Car is to move, vicara is to move efficiently, one-pointedly, deeply, intensely. Intensely means in a way that there is no tense in it, neither present-tense, past-tense nor future-tense. It does not mean just to avoid past and future, past memory and future imagination, or even to live in the present. Can you live in the present? Before I say, "Present" it is past. You can only live in the present if someone gives you a present of a caravan, and you live in it! It means you are observing intensely whatever happens within yourself. First you strive for this - there is certainly an effort to begin with. “Nirvicara vaisaradye" - when you become expert in this exercise, then it becomes effortless and there is pure motionless observation of yourself. You become an expert in this, so that you are able to switch on this self-observation without any effort whatsoever, without any strain whatsoever. I do not know if you are following this, and can see the beauty of this exercise. You can only do this when the “I" has been completely and totally surrendered, otherwise it is still going to move - either it moves externally or it moves internally, either it studies you, tries to understand you, or it tries to understand itself. When does that movement come to an end? When it is totally surrendered, when the observer has totally surrendered itself to its own substratum, which is the cosmic intelligence - 'dhyatma prasada'. There is the Grace of God. That is the only sense in which God's Grace, the Grace of the infinite self, can be rightly used. Not when we say, "You know, I got up this morning with a headache, by God's Grace it has gone." Do not make this poor God come and relieve you of your headache. God's Grace is understandable only in this context where the whole being has been surrendered. And it is also important to remember that self-knowledge is not knowledge acquired by "I" of myself. The "I" can never know the self, the "I” being just a vrtti, a wave. It cannot know the ocean, the wave does not know the length, breadth and depth of the ocean. It is the ocean that knows itself and it is the ocean that knows all the waves and currents that are flowing in it or on it.
The next is a very important and beautiful Sutra:
rthambhara tatra prajna (I.48)
We have been told by every great teacher that the yogi should be a man of great virtue. One is only filled with virtue when there is total surrender and when there is spontaneous awareness of the content of all experiences and expressions, so that one does not even strive to be good and to do good, but goodness becomes spontaneous. The inner light banishes all shadow and therefore there is no darkness within. In that state there is neither suffering nor sin. The whole of one's consciousness is saturated with “rtam”. This word “rtam'' is very difficult to understand, very difficult to translate. “Rtam” - possibly the word rhythm comes from that, the rhythm of the universe. The rhythm of the universe, where nothing can be isolated and considered good or bad, where there is neither a thing called relative morality, nor a thing called absolute morality. “Relative morality" means that anything immoral, done by a relative of mine, is alright. If the words "good" and "evil'' are abolished, how does the universe function? You may translate “rtam” into "universal law", but I do not know whether all these laws - mother-in-law, father-in-law etc. exist in the universe - these are all relative. I do not know whether it can be called a universal law - this something that makes goodness good, that is at the root of goodness, that is natural to being, that is naturally good. It is virtue that is inherent in the soul of being, that need not be taught, that need not be imposed, something that is natural to the soul - that goodness is called “rtam”. That is natural world order; it is order, but it is natural; not your law and order where you have to post a thousand policemen to preserve it. But there is a natural order, which is the goodness that is God. It is pure and simple arithmetic. If you subtract God from Good, you realise that there is no difference at all. Good minus God is zero. It is not the goodness that I practise towards you, but the goodness that is non-different from the infinite God. When Divine Grace has manifested in this life because the whole of life has been totally surrendered to the infinite being, what happens is “rtam” - supreme good. We call it "supreme" good only because we have our own definition of ‘supreme" good.
sruta 'numana prajna bhyam anya visaya visesa ' rthatvat (I.49)
This “rtam” or natural order has nothing whatsoever to do with what you have heard and what you have inferred to be good. All these are book-virtues that are found in your books and dictionaries. These are no better than the vices that are also found in your books and dictionaries. Love and hate are both composed of letters of the alphabet; one is not necessarily better than the other, until you reach this natural order. When you reach this natural order, the love which manifests in your heart at that point is completely different from what you heard about love, or what you inferred, or what your own mind suggested to you to be love or a desirable virtue. “Visesa rthatvat" can be translated in two or three different words; one, because this virtue has a special meaning in itself, and two, because it can also mean that I have eliminated all the previously learned and loaded definitions of the word virtue, and what remains is pure virtue. I do not consider love as a virtue because she says so, I do not regard that as love which someone suggests is love - all that is gone - love of man, love of God and so on. What remains is love which is beyond any description whatsoever - that is God.
tajjah samskaro 'nya samskara pratibandhi (I.50)
That virtue is something that can eliminate all samskaras from our life. That vision of natural order, that experience of natural order, being natural, eliminates all disorder, without creating disorder. If there is violence, can you stop that violence without being violent your self ? If I cheat, can you put me right without cheating me? Can evil be opposed? Opposition itself is evil, isn't it? If I am trying to fight with him and you try to restrain me, one is as violent as the other. Can you deal with restlessness, the absence of peace, without losing your own peace of mind? All this is difficult. But when there is this natural order, this natural order being natural, it is able to eliminate all disorder from life without becoming disorderly.
The next and the last Sutra is, as usual, enigmatic - and so I will leave you with just a definition.
tasya pi nirodhe sarva nirodhan nirbijah somadhih (I.51)
When even that has been disposed of and therefore all vrttis have come to an end, what does it mean? Does it mean anything to you at all? I hope not! The self is supposed to have been surrendered already. When the self has been surrendered, nothing but pure virtue exists. There are no vrttis at all, no mental activity. No mental activity - one must be very cautious here; it is not as though the mind must be stilled - floating mental activity may still continue to be. The one thing that is absent is identification of the self with those mental activities. That is also gone. Who makes that go? You all had your dinner before you came here. The food is being digested, but not by "me". I see that I am different from the digester of the food. The digestion also goes on without my prompting the Grace of God. "Not by me'' means only "not by me", but what is there that can rid the “me" of a misconception concerning itself? One does not even associate the self with this order, with this natural order. Can I do that, can I pretend that I have understood the basis of this natural order? And can I stand outside it and look at it as if it were an object? The whole thing is absurd. One does not know how this happens. Why? Because one does not know how this happens. The yogis come back to it and say that it is God's Grace. Therefore Patanjali does not say, "Stop this, stop this identification." You cannot do that. You have reached a complete transparent situation, where there is no identification of the “me” which seems to exist in a transparent way. How does that come to an end? How does the seed of all thought, how does the seed of consciousness, how does the seed of experience come to on end? Who crushes that seed? Not "me'. The seed cannot crush itself. Who crushes the seed? We do not know. Patanjali says, "tasya 'pi nirodha" - somehow the seed also comes to an end; do not ask me how. When that happens you are in a state of yoga, perfect yoga - not "You are in a state of yoga" - yoga is in a state of perfect yoga. God has realised Himself, the infinite has once again become infinite. Even that is wrong. For if you say the infinite has once again become the infinite, it means that in the meantime it was not infinite, which is absurd. Nothing more than that can be said - nirbijah samadhih - even the seed has come to an end.
[XVI]
The second chapter of the Yoga Sutras starts with a definition of what is called kriya yoga. If what we have so for discussed in our study of the 'first chapter' was clear, then what follows in the second chapter becomes natural and effortless.
I think most of you are familiar with the expression kriya yoga. As usual we will first look at the words and try to see if the words that constitute the expression have a meaning in themselves, in which case perhaps we may derive a more direct understanding of what is implied by kriya yoga. "Kriya" means action - nothing more than that - "kriya" and "karma" are synonyms. People are familiar with what is meant by karma yoga and it has been described as unselfish action. In order to distinguish that from what is going to be described here, perhaps the author uses the word kriya, although there is really no difference. Kriya Yoga means yoga in action or doing. It is, I think, a universal failing that after listening to the exposition of knowledge that is contained in the first chapter, one asks, “So what must I do? I have understood all that, now what must I do?” It is strange that we ask this question only when it comes to the understanding of yoga, or self-knowledge, or God, or religion, etc. Instead, let us place ourselves right in the middle of a busy street and I am telling her, "Look, the traffic-lights are red now; they will turn amber, then green and all the traffic will start pouring into the middle of this road and if a car happens to knock you down, there is every possibility that I won't be able to speak to you any more.” When she sees the light turning amber, she does not turn around and say, “Alright, I have understood what you were saying, now what must I do?" She disappears from there! If the understanding has been real, if the understanding has been true, then the understanding itself acts. If one says, "Now what must I do?", that means you have not understood correctly; you have merely heard the words. The word has not become flesh. When the spiritual truth enters the ears, only words, only sounds enter the ear. Perhaps the brain or the mind listens to the word, and when it is assimilated, that is when the word has lost its svarupa, its form; when the word is no longer a word, no longer a vrtti, but has become assimilated, that word has become flesh, that truth must act. If it does not, either the words have not even been heard as well as the tape-recorder listens to them, or they have merely been listened to and stored as undigested words. It is only then that there is an anxiety concerning what has thus been swallowed. You have probably had indigestion sometime or another in your life. When the food you have eaten sits there like a stone in your stomach, it creates an anxiety, but not when it is assimilated. Strangely enough, that very food that has been assimilated demands more food. There is a lovely mantra in one of the Upanishads: food is that which eats and that which is eaten. There are so many interpretations of this, but perhaps the simplest is: that which eats now - the body, is itself made up of food eaten previously. In other words, last year's cabbage eats this year's cabbage. When this food is eaten and assimilated, it is able to function on its own and it demands more food.
Similarly, if this knowledge has been properly listened to and assimilated, then it creates its own hunger and receives more knowledge. It is probably unnecessary for us to go from pillar to post, asking more questions and getting more knowledge. When that tittle knowledge that we receive is not yet assimilated, when it sticks like solid undigested food, then there is anxiety, "What is going to happen to it? How am I going to put this into practice?" When the truth is assimilated, in the words of the Bible, the word becomes flesh. Your whole being is the word, your whole being is the truth and it knows how to act. So Patanjali goes on to answer the anxious enquiry, “What must I do now?" If you are fairly cautious in studying the second chapter, you might discover that more or less the same truths that were expounded in the first chapter are repeated here in different words. Kriya yoga is the answer to the question: "What must I do?”
Here in the Yoga Sutras, kriya yoga is defined in the following words:
tapah svadhyaye 'svara pranidhanani kriya yogah (II. 1)
Kriya yoga is composed of these three practices. The first is "tapas" - austerity. You will find this described in the seventeenth chapter of the Bhagavad Gita - the right form of tapas, mental discipline, verbal discipline, physical discipline - these are all given there. For us, tapas may mean a very simple life. For us, tapas may mean cultivating greater and greater self-awareness so that if I am insulted, instead of retaliating, I enquire into the nature of this inner hurt. I enquire into the dynamics of this insult and my reaction to it. That is why our master Swami Sivananda said, "Bear insult, bear injury, this is the highest sadhana" - which means that while you are being insulted, something is happening within you, you are doing something, you are observing yourself. Tapas also means burning. You must have heard of other forms of austerities such as sitting in the hot sun surrounded by four fires; this is another form of tapas, but it is only the skin that is burned - the mind does not burn. Any practice, any life-style that results in the burning of the psychological impurities, the samskaras, is tapas. One has to see its relevance in one's own life. Then “svadhyaye" means study, as well as doing japa and enquiring into oneself. Here we are doing something; and while studying scriptures, it is possible for us to discover that sometimes we are on the wrong path. Sometimes we are bluffing ourselves, sometimes we are pretending that we are doing tremendous sadhana. All these illusions are kept away by a regular and systematic study of spiritually uplifting texts, whatever they are. Again it is up to each one of us. "Isvara pranidhana” - as I mentioned some time ago, this dynamic surrender to the omnipresent God is mentioned again and again in the Yoga Sutras. It is mentioned once again here, in order to bring home to us the message that self-knowledge is not the end-product of a series of actions - actions being actions of the ego, but self-knowledge comes into being when the ego has ceased its activities. Therefore Patanjali does not forget to include "isvara pranidhana" or dynamic surrender to God in this kriya yoga.
samadhi bhavanarthah klesa tanu karanarthas ca (II.2)
Why does one practice this kriya yoga? In order that one may be predisposed to samadhi. These actions in themselves may not produce samadhi. Samadhi is in itself, is itself and is not the end-product of some activities.
These practices also weaken the klesas, not destroy, but weaken them. What are the klesas?
avidya 'smita raga dvesa 'bhinivesah klesah (II.3)
In the beginning of this series we mentioned these five categories in passing. What are klesas, what are the sources of our sorrow? Our sorrow does not come from outside, but sorrow is experienced within myself, pain is experienced by me within myself. Nobody in the world, nobody outside this world, no god, demon or stars are responsible for my unhappiness. The unhappiness is within me, it is experienced by me. Then when one looks within oneself for the sources of this psychological distress or sorrow, something is seen. The first answer most of us come up with is, "I do not know". That is what is seen. Once again I see that it is not an event that makes me happy, it is my reaction to it that makes me happy or unhappy. The question is not whether this unhappiness has or has not an external cause - I am not interested in that. I am asking a very simple question, “How is it possible for this personality, this human being, this "me", to experience this unhappiness?" If he sticks a needle in my arm, I cry. If there is a doctor here and he anaesthetises my whole arm , you can prick a dozen more times and I do not wince. That is the point. Why do I respond in that manner? Why do I experience pain, why do I experience suffering, why do I experience psychological sorrow? Not because So and so said or did so and so. What is the answer? The answer is, “I do not know". So the master suggests a fivefold ground for this sorrow, a five-fold ground for this unhappiness.
avidya 'smita raga dvesa 'bhinivesah klesah (II.3)
“Avidya” - ignorance, self-ignorance. I am ignorant of my self, I am ignorant of my own true nature. And the discussion that follows now may be a bit tricky to understand; one must stay with it all the time. I do not know what this "I” is that suffers. I do not know why “I” suffer". I do not know why “I” experience unhappiness. While I am in the shadow of that ignorance, this young man comes and says, “Swami, you are such a nice fellow.” I am happy. The happiness is within. But since I do not know the springs of my own inner experience, I attribute that happiness to him; I like him, he is a friend. Why is he a friend? Because he scratches my back. Someone else says, "You are an idiot". I am unhappy - the unhappiness is in me. How is it possible for this human being to experience this unhappiness? I do not know. But I think it comes from him, and that if he whom I call my enemy is eliminated, then the sorrow, the unhappiness will also be eliminated. It is not so. The enemy is in me. You can see the similarity of sound - "enemy'' is "in me”. This enemy in me expects this man to go on scratching my back and when he stops, I am miserable again. When something that I like to have every day is denied, once again I am unhappy. Hence in one of the Sutras Patanjali says that the whole world is full of sorrow for a man of understanding, until he realises that suffering is experienced by oneself because one does not know what oneself is.
There is this avidya, this ignorance - "I have no idea" is avidya. I, whatever that "I' is, seems to experience suffering, because somehow it responds to the environment by neatly dividing it into two halves, one which I like and one which I do not like. Not knowing a life other than this, not knowing life as it is, not knowing myself, I am afraid to be relieved of the usual suffering that my life seems to be. It is a fantastic thing. I would rather have the agony of cancer prolonged for another six months than die now and perhaps go to heaven. That heaven is doubtful - but this pain is certain. I know this pain, the doctor is still there, and so I cling to what I think I know. Why? Because I do not know who I am. If I know who I am, if I have self-knowledge, I won't care, because then I know that it is this that exists and it is this that will continue to exist, whether the environment is called Johannesburg, New Delhi or heaven or hell. When I do not know who I am, when I do not know what it is that experiences suffering, when I do not know what it is that subjects itself to all this unhappiness, I am frightened, I am frightened to forego even this suffering. I do not want anything else. Maybe what will come is worse, because I still feel that my happiness has its source outside.
With the help of "tapah svadhyaye 'svara pranidhanani", these five sources of psychological sorrow are weakened, but not destroyed. What is this "I" - asmita? I do not know what it is, but I know it “is”. Look at this fun - who is I, what is I? Some of you have dissected bodies in the laboratory. Have you ever seen something which could be said to be ego? You have ever dissected the brain and mapped out all sorts of pathways of sensations, of motor nerves - and railway train nerves and airplane nerves, but no-one as yet has said that this is the ego-nerve, and yet we assume it. No-one has ever been able to answer this question, "What is the ego?”, but we all assume there is an ego. That assumption is the ego.
drg darsana-saktyor ekatmateva 'smita (II.6)
What is "asmita", "I am''? The eyes are endowed with the faculty of seeing, so that when the eyes are open, they see. Or, when the eyes are open, there is sight, there is vision. This vision is the “darsana-sakti”, the power to see, which is inherent in the whole universe; wherever there is light, there is sight.
It is quite possible that even this microphone is endowed with the faculty of sight, that it is still looking at this face and saying, “What a funny face.” That I do not know; whether it knows or does not know is my problem, not the problem or the microphone. There is light, and in light there is the faculty of sight, of vision. Eyes being part of this cosmic light system, the eyes are endowed with this vision. When they are open, there is vision; and while this is happening, a particle of light, as it were, suddenly decides to spring up the thought, "I see". You can experiment with this yourself. "I see". Are you sure "I see"? If you are sure, now try this. Keep your eyes open, look steadily in front. You are seeing. Can you drop the sight, can you stop seeing? You cannot do that and therefore, whatever it is that said "I see" - the “I", was unnecessary, It is fictitious. If you are certain of your statement, if you are honest and truthful in your statement - "I see you" - then keep your eyes open and stop seeing. Can you do that? No. That implies that seeing is a natural phenomenon, that seeing is inherent in light; the element of light being cosmic, there is cosmic interchange of vision, “darsana sakti", there is the faculty of seeing everywhere inherent in the cosmic light. But while this seeing happens, one particle of light or heavens knows what, assumes “I see you". So there is nothing called the self here, there is nothing called the “I” here, there is nothing called the ego-sense here; it is merely the sight seeing.
One of the most beautiful expressions which tourists use, and I love most, is sightseeing. I am not seeing at all; sight is seeing.
drg darsana-saktyor ekatmateva 'smita (II.6)
When there is pure sensation, when there is pure and simple experiencing, instead of allowing the experiencing to continue to be experienced, an assumed non-entity arises which claims, “I am experiencing, I am seeing, I am hearing." This “I am seeing, I am hearing" seems to be tame and insipid and therefore thought or the mind develops it into a much more exciting drama: “I am seeing, this is beautiful, this is ugly, this is good, this is evil.” The seer immediately divides the whole universe of experience into two - something which I like, something which I do not like. Something which I like I call pleasure, something which I dislike I call pain. I seek pleasure and when I do not get it, as often happens, I am frustrated. I dislike pain, without realising that it has become pain only because I dislike it. And when it seeks me, when it haunts me, I experience pain again. However, Patanjali suggests: never mind the little sorrow that you have already begun to experience, never mind the little worries that you now have in your mind - that is already curing the worry, never mind the little pain you have - all that will give you more adrenalin for your meditation. But:
heyam duhkham anagatam (II.16)
The unhappiness that has not yet reached you, avoid it. This is a fantastic and beautiful teaching given to us. Do not say that because I am unhappy, because I am involved in all this complicated process, I must go on inviting suffering throughout my life. This very moment I am awake and from this moment onwards I am going to avoid running into trouble. How do I avoid this pain in life, how do I avoid this suffering in life?
drastr 'drsyayah samyoga heya hetuh (II.17)
How do I avoid this suffering? Watch, watch yourself carefully, intensely. In the process of sight seeing, the seer arises, the ego-sense arises and someone jumps up and says, "I see” - and the moment the "I", the subject has arisen in you, that subject is going to create an object. I am looking at this whole hall, then suddenly, "I see him”. It is the mind, it is this ego-sense, it is this assumption of an ego that cuts through the pure sensation of seeing, and suggests “I see him." The sight sees. In that I have erected an image, a thought form, and from there springs all mischief. While this experiencing of vision goes on, can this contact be severed, disconnected, can this reaction come an end, can this relationship be arrested, seen to be non-existent and absurd? When will that happen? Drastr 'drsyayah. When I realise that, when the eyes are open, what happens is merely seeing, the eyes being endowed with the faculty of sight. The faculty of sight being universal, as long as there is this light in the universe, there will be sight. It is not necessary for “me" to see "you". When the "me" arises, the "you" also arises - whereas the truth is something in between, In the Yoga Vasistha there is a beautitul expression: "Between this and that, consciousness is between." That is easy to illustrate with the handkerchief. Now all of you can see that this handkerchief has two ends. That is another mystery of the English language which I have never understood, because I always thought that things have a beginning and an end. But this handkerchief is supposed to have two ends and no beginning! This is the left end of the handkerchief and this is the right end of the handkerchief, You can see that; it is very clear. Now, magic! There is only one piece of cloth; what is the right end and what is the left end? Watch again. Where is that piece of cloth that you call handkerchief? Between these two ends. Between these two ends is the handkerchief. But what is this end? Is it something other than the handkerchief? Is this not also handkerchief? The whole thing is one, is one indivisible piece. The whole thing is called handkerchief. Can we return to that state where what is called "you" and what is called "me" are but the two supposed ends of a pure, egoless action, something which takes place everywhere?
The action being sight, this sight itself is the seer. There is no seer apart from sight.
drasta drsimatrah suddho 'pi pratyaya 'nupasyah (II.20)
If that sight is realised to be the sole seer of all sight, in that sight there is no evil - "suddho 'pi” - it is pure, absolutely pure. You all have two eyes, but they see one vision. The two eyes converge and see just one thing, one universe, one sight, one vision, and that sight is pure, with no division in it. The division is created by that which says, "I see". Is the “I" real? No. Is the ego real? No. It is an assumption. The assumption itself is the ego. When that assumption is dismissed, there is a seer; the sight itself is the seer. That is what was suggested early in the first chapter.
tada drastuh svarupe ' vasthanam (I.3)
There the seer or the experiencer remains in his own state of perfection, unmodified by thought, unmodified by vrttis, unmodified by samskaras, unmodified by ego-sense, unmodified by mind. The seer or sight remains. The seer remains as the pure experiencing. In that pure experiencing there is no sorrow. It is only because this is unusual that the mind suggests that it is probably not true. We have not examined the state of sleep. In sleep there is no sorrow, because there is not even a division of the experience of sleep and the experiencer of sleep. No-one who is really and truly fast asleep has proclaimed, “I am fast asleep". You do not sleep - sleep sleeps you, or sleep sleeps sleep. Even the "you" is gone, sleep sleeps itself and you are merely involved in it. You are not taken into account at all. Any experience of a similar nature in which there is no divided experience is pure. In it there is no sin, in it there is no suffering. When the experience is, when the pure experiencing is, there is no sin and there is no suffering. Such is the state of a yogi.
[XVII]
The Sutra we were studying yesterday was:
drasta drsimatrah suddho 'pi pratyaya 'nupasyah (II.20)
There is a puzzle, a riddle here. The seer is pure sight, the act of seeing, without even a subject-object division, and therefore without any motivation. Sight happens without motivation, hearing happens without motivation, smelling happens without motivation, all sensory experiences happen without any motivation. It is the division of this experience into the subject and the object, into the "I" and the "you", into the two ends of the handkerchief, that is obviously absurd, but it somehow happens. This is the riddle here. When the handkerchief is one, how does it happen that it has two ends? You blink once, you see the handkerchief, you blink again, you see the two sides. How are these two possible when there is only one sight and one handkerchief. That is a riddle which no-one can really and truly solve. It is when, instead of the handkerchief, one becomes aware of the two ends, the subject and the object and there is no longer seeing, but "I see you". “I-see-you" seems to be incomplete, and so this "I-see-you” creates a motivation - I see you because you are attractive - attractive may mean both beautiful or ugly, for both these attract attention. So when somebody says you are attractive, do not be flattered. And so there is a motivation provided by the division. Let us constantly remind ourselves that the division is not factual, but seeing or experience we do not know. In that handkerchief there is no division, yet we speak of its two ends. When this apparent division, this illusory division arises, the subject provides itself with a motivation. I see you because you are attractive, you are beautiful, you are ugly, you are charming, I like you, I do not like you, all these things follow the initial - shall we call it - wrong perception. There is only one handkerchief ) so how do I see the two ends? Who is going to answer that question? On the answer to that question depends the entire yoga of self-knowledge. When that is absent, all these other mischievous statements follow. I see you because you are attractive. If I like you, I experience pleasure in your presence, if I dislike you, I experience pain in your presence and so on. All these things follow the simplest illusion, or whatever you wish to call it, the perception of the two ends in that which is one and indivisible.
When the division does not happen, the seer is pure, the action is pure, the sensory action is absolutely pure. There is nothing wrong with seeing, there is nothing wrong with sight, there is nothing wrong with things seen, and in the some way, there is absolutely nothing wrong with anything that happens to us, what we call experience. There is nothing wrong with what is called pleasure, there is nothing wrong with what is called pain, as long as you do not call it anything and can just be that, without creating a division. And yet for no apparent reason, a division arises and one says, "I”, so the other naturally becomes "you”. It is this division that is the cause of all experience, all contact, and pain is an experience born of contact. There is no experience without a division. I touch you, the finger does not touch itself. Experience means division, experience means contact, contact means division, the three go together. One somehow imagines itself to be divided and, having brought about this imaginary division, comes into contact with itself which it now regards as its own object, and by that contact experiences pain, pleasure, it does not matter which. I suppose you now see that there is no real distinction between pain and pleasure - it is all one.
sva svami saktyah svarupopalabdhi hetuh samyogah (II.23)
It is as if in every square inch there are millions of light particles, sparks of light endowed with consciousness, and therefore the ability to be aware, and this awareness itself takes the form of experiencing; it is not an isolated experience, it is pure experiencing, pure action. This is what is happening here, if you can atomise yourself just for a moment. We are all little particles of light called sight - eyes. Try to abstract yourself just tor a minute. "I” does not exist, “you" does not exist, "she" does not exist, “it" does not exist, but only billions of particles of light exist in every square foot. The total is an indivisible whole in which these luminous balls called eyes look, not exactly look at each other, but look - and suddenly a couple of luminous balls say, "Ah, I see, I see you." Still they are just luminous balls, and now suddenly these two luminous balls begin to feel that they have an inherent power of seeing, that they have the power to see. “I” can also see her. I can see a flower over there." "I” has come, “I” wakes up, and "I" extends itself everywhere. This power is hidden in all, in every atom of existence; the power to experience, the power to be, the power to become aware. The eyes as balls of light have no ego at all; they can see, they do see.
Another example, which may be a little unpalatable, may explain it better. Some of you must have lost a tooth at some time or other, and the gum starts bleeding. That blood has a taste. Where does it come from? It comes from me. It belongs to the same organism as the tongue - be careful here. and the same blood flows in your tongue. Somehow, now that a division has been made between the blood in the tongue and the blood that comes out of the gum, it tastes salty, or whatever the taste is. That is precisely what happens to us. The blood that flows in the tongue still flows and is perhaps even experienced by the tongue, but since there is a total at-one-ment, there is no experience of the taste of the blood, nor the realisation of the inherent faculty of taste in the tongue. But now that blood flows from the gum - or even from a cut in the tongue, and it falls on the tongue, there is a division and then a contact, and there is an experience of the taste of blood, as also an awakening of the shakti or the faculty of experience. From there on the mischief starts. You can say, "I like it'", you can say, “I do not like it", you can say it is good, you can say it is bad, you can say it is virtue, you can say it is sin, and so on.
tasya hetur- avidya (II. 24)
How does this division happen at all? It is still you. Can you quietly withdraw your consciousness from the mouth where all these things are taking place and sit on the top of your head, as if you are the deity presiding over the brain-orchestra? What do you see there? There is a little deity presiding over the gums and that deity says, "Oh my God, it's painful" and thus the deity presiding over the sense of taste says, “I taste blood. “ One brain, one organism, That is precisely what happens in our relationship. We are all one organism and it is because we do not realise it, that when someone suffers, someone else feels happy. It is a terrible thing, but true. So when there is this unity, there is no divided experience, no experience born of contact, and in that oneness, somehow a division is imagined. Once this division is imagined, it is only imaginary. Then there is contact between the two imaginary parts and that contact is called experience. There is no pain, if there is no division. There is no pleasure, it there is no division. When there is no division at all, and therefore neither pleasure nor pain, there is still awareness, awareness being inherent in every atom of existence, in every cell of your body. Awareness is inherent, experiencing is inherent, action or functioning is inherent and that pure experiencing is called bliss, that pure action is called love. That action in which there is no motivation at all, is love. That experiencing in which there is no division at all, is bliss, whether the bliss comes from cancer or from enthronement, because it is beyond both pleasure and pain. That is pure experiencing. All the mischief arises from non-comprehension of this oneness.
Once again we are back to the riddle. What is non-comprehension? How does non-comprehension arise if every atom of existence and every cell of one's being is saturated with awareness? I do not think anybody has the answer. One has to look within and see what is aware of this non-comprehension.
tasyo hetur 'avidya (II.24)
One can only say this - that all this mischief arises from avidya , the avidya being “how is it that in this single handkerchief I see two ends?” I do not know if there is any verbalised or formalised answer to this question; one only sees that non-comprehension of the wholeness creates the two ends, or if you like to put it the other way around, suggestion of the two ends is called non-comprehension of the whole. Only Krishna was bold enough to suggest, in a fantastic statement, that both knowledge and its veiling come from God. It is very tough, so be careful. If you want to be knowledge, be knowledge; if you want to get under the blanket, go ahead. We are only aware that this division and the consequent contact, the consequent experience of pain, pleasure and all the rest of it, have a common ground, and that is non-comprehension, illusion, imagination.
Now watch carefully - how do I overcome this sequence of psychological distress or trouble which has its origin in non-comprehension? There is only one answer - comprehension, self-knowledge. When you realise that all these arise from self-ignorance, there could be only one solution - self-knowledge. Nothing else is of any use whatsoever. "Hah, then I will sit in the lotus posture and I will look straight at my nose and think that I have seen the light. Can I go to sleep now?" “That knowledge you experience was from me”, says God, "and when you go to sleep , the veil you will experience will also be from me." So if you relax your vigilance, at that very moment you lose what you have gained, because light and darkness - not in the physical sense but in the spiritual sense, are floating around everywhere, all the time. Therefore Patanjali warns: "viveka khyatir” (II.26) - get this wisdom, get this self-knowledge; and let it be unbroken. If it is broken, if it is abandoned, whatever be the reason, then immediately you are overcome by self-ignorance again. Unless this is clearly seen, it is almost impossible even to rationalise your famous “original sin”.
Why should the son of God - or whatever it is within me, the descendent of God, have forgotten his identity? Because ignorance is also there along with God, along with the infinite. The infinite has infinite potentialities hidden in it all the time. There is , let us call it, an enlightening experience which is beyond the dualistic experience. But in that pure experiencing, the desire to experience it, the desire to taste it, the desire to hold it, also arises, How does that desire arise? It is also inherent in every atom of existence. That which is aware of this is wisdom and when that wisdom is constant and unbroken, there is freedom. When this viveka or wisdom is constant and unremitting, then the division does not arise. When that division does not arise, there is no contact, and when there is no contact, there is no dualistic experience. There is pure experiencing which is bliss, there is pure action which is love.
I said a moment ago that only vigilance, only this uninterrupted light can put an end to this self-ignorance. Another day we will discuss what is called astanga yoga - the asanas, pranayama, dhyana etc. in more detail. Now let us see what their roles are and why we practise them at all. Patanjali takes immense care to warn us that this wisdom must also be their hallmark. The content of all these eight limbs of yoga must be saturated with this wisdom, otherwise you are doing gymnastics. Of course pranayama is mentioned here; if it is done as breathing exercises you will breathe much better, your lungs will be marvelous, but they will still stop breathing one day. All these practises are wonderful, but they are not yoga unless they are saturated with this wisdom, with this understanding, with this serious spirit of enquiry. Even when they are dealt with in that manner, what do they achieve? When you realise that self-ignorance can only be dispelled or enlightened by self-knowledge, the enlightenment of self-ignorance itself being self-knowledge, what are you trying to do when you jump up and down doing yoga asanas or when you hold your nose? Towards the end of the chapter there is a very beautiful answer.
All your efforts to cultivate virtues and to discipline yourselves by doing asanas, pranayama etc. are like the actions of a good farmer or gardener. What does a gardener do? He does not grow flowers. Flowers do not grow out of his head, vegetables do not grow out of his nose - absolutely not, he can do nothing like that. But he can do something. He removes the obstacles , and that is a big thing. Let us not minimise these activities that go on under the name of yoga. Life is not something which is produced, life is there all the time; the inner light shines unabated and undimmed all the time, but there seems to be an obstruction to their functioning. When the yogi cultivates virtues, eradicates vices and disciplines himself by doing all these asanas and pranayama, etc, he merely removes the obstacles. Water flows and you do not have to help it to flow down; all you can do is make it flow smoothly, by merely removing the obstacles. Then like a good gardener, you have helped, in a way, in this spiritual growth and unfoldment, in the revelation, the self-revelation of the self-luminous light, the inner light that shines all the time. Merely removing the veil or the coverings, enables you to discover the light. The yogi who practises all these - the kriya yogi, does nothing more than remove the obstructions.
"Tapah svadhyaye 'svara pranidhanani” - we have discussed these three practices which are called kriya yoga. By disciplining oneself, nothing more is gained, God is not gained, self-knowledge is not gained. It is there, inherent in your body, in every cell of your being. But the obstructions are removed when you practise tapas, when you study, when you engage yourself in japa or meditation. The distraction of the mind, which is the main obstruction, is removed by concentration, meditation, samadhi. But these are not in any way the causes of self-knowledge or the sources of self-knowledge. On the contrary, self-knowledge must accompany all these practices. It is then that they become truly fruitful and truly the practice of yoga. It is not as though I can attain self-knowledge, for the self is knowledge all the time. Somewhere I get stuck. I know, I see - all this trouble arises from avidya. I have no idea what this is, but I am trying to find out from where the idea "I am'" arises. I am trying to see from where the idea "I am" arises. “I see that.” But what I have "seen" is another idea! “I see that" is another idea. When one is stuck like this, the yogi suggests that there are only two courses open.
Number one is to continue this practice, or do some other practices such as japa. Those of you who are doing japa of a mantra can indulge in some other nice games. These may appear to be games, but they are valuable spiritual practices if they are adopted wisely. You sit and repeat your mantra. In order to bring home a valuable lesson to us, the yogis said you can verbally repeat "Om Namah Shivaya, Om Namah Shivaya.” That is very good; you drive all the devils away! Then they said that if you lisp the mantra, it is a hundred times more powerful than shouting the mantra. It is possible that your mouth will get dry and also your lips will ache. So they said if you do it mentally, it is a thousand times more meritorious. Have you ever asked yourself, “How do I know that I am mentally repeating the mantra? What does it mean?” There is only one answer to that question and that is that I hear it all the time within me. Am I repeating the mantra, or am I listening to it? How does the division arise there? I am repeating it and I am listening to it. I am listening to my own voice now, but obviously the sound vibrations come out of the mouth and enter my ears. They have become the object of my own hearing. But when I am mentally repeating the mantra, I am repeating the mantra within myself. How is it that I am able to hear it? Then suddenly I am beset with a curious doubt - am I this or am I that? Am I saying the mantra and something else listens to it? Or, am I the listener and somebody else repeats the mantra? When you begin to watch this puzzle, then concentration happens, meditation happens, without your asking for it. Why? Suddenly you realise, "I am the handkerchief, the middle - one end is called the listener and the other end is called the repeater of the mantra - I am here in the middle.”
When you are here in the middle, the mantra coalesces into this, the mantra becomes one with the whole personality; you become one with the mantra - that's absurd - "I" does not become one with the mantra, but the mantra alone shines. That again is samadhi.
Number two, something else can happen. You go on repeating the mantra. Who is repeating the mantra? When the mind is intensely concentrated, it enters the "concentration camp", it goes to sleep - one has to be careful again. I must listen to the mantra, the mantra must be clearly audible and in that state I must continue to enquire. “What is this mystery, what is this beauty and how is it that while I am supposed to repeat this mantra mentally, I can hear it at the same time?” The answer to that question is again meditation. So by these various means, the yogis have suggested to us a way of overcoming this imaginary division that seems to have happened in us.
At that critical point, where this distance between the one who repeats the mantra and the one who listens to the mantra gets shorter and shorter, who decides when this distance is really and truly abolished? Who decides whether you are going to fall asleep or whether you are going to be enlightened? Is the question clear? "I" is not there anymore; when the "I" was there, I was standing aside and listening to the mantra. I was standing aside end repeating the mantra. When that I-gap has been narrowed or abolished, the "I" is gone, the ego-sense is gone, the thought of "I am” is gone, the thought of “I am-repeating the mantra", the thought of “I am listening to the-mantra" is gone; the distance between me and the mantra is also gone, and therefore the “me" and the mantra have become one. The mantra is there, the “me” is not there. At that point, who decided whether I fall asleep or fall into the light. Not me. Both of these are possible - Krishna says that both enlightenment and darkness come from God. At that moment, who is going to decide on which side of the fence I fall. Only that God - not in a personal sense or in an impersonal sense, I do not know what it is all about - only that which “is” decides. Hence the third limb of this kriya yoga is dynamic surrender of the ego-sense.
This also happens when, instead of making use of this mantra and other spiritual practices, one takes to the method of direct enquiry. I am not interested in all this. I merely want to enquire "Who am I?”, and arrive at this “Who am I, I do not-know." Not “I do not know” in an intellectual sense and not the "I do not know” of the very beginning itself. I have struggled hard and then suddenly when I look at that expression "I do not know" I already see that it is composed of two elements - one is ignorance and the other is “I". That which is ignorance is able to say “I”, that which is ignorance at least asserts its own existence without question. If I do not know, then how do I know I do not know? How do I know I exist in order not to know, how do I know I exist in order to be ignorant. When that question arises there is a tremendous shock and stillness. In that stillness this "I" and this "do not know" - which together form this world, crumbles. The infinite which was there continues to be, and that again is God's Grace.
[XVIII]
isvaro gururatmeti murtibhedavibhagine
vyomavat vyapta dehaya daksinamurtaye namah
This verse expresses a great truth, not as a goal to be achieved, but as a tact. Three words are used, three labels are used, all of them signifying one truth, and that single truth is indivisible, like space, for example. Space is indivisible; you can build a house and think that that space has become this room, but it has not. The enclosure is measurable, but space is immeasurable But just as we may use words that apparently indicate a division which appears to have been created, which is believed to have been created, which is assumed to have been created, even so we may use all sorts of other labels and expressions - Ishwara, Guru, Atma. These three in their turn are indivisible. We have our own ideas of a trinity and, having created this trinity, we try to bring them together. What is the cause of the division? That question itself is a division - there is no other division. That is called avidya, because one cannot answer this question. How was this assumption possible? One cannot answer this question and the only way in which it can be answered is by assuming its existence. Assumption of a division in the indivisible is avidya or ignorance.
The word avidya can be exactly translated into I-have-no-idea, if you say it very quickly. Avidya means ignorance and someone gave an interpretation of the word avidya as this: "The mind that thinks that what I say is right and what you say or what someone else says is wrong, suffers from avidya." That is a symptom of avidya, of ignorance. How it has arisen I do do not know. As Buddha pointed out: when a house is on fire you do not waste your time inquiring into the cause or the chemical composition of fire - that can come later in the laboratory. But the moment the fire is seen, all that you are concerned with is putting out the fire. This avidya is experienced, the experience itself is this avidya. Avidya creates the ignorance, or the assumption of the ignorance apparently creates, not really creates, what appears to be a division in the indivisible. And when there is this division, 'there is contact and therefore experience. Contact is impossible if there is no division, no concept of unity and all that - we talk of unity without realising that somewhere underneath all this talk of unity there is nothing but a confirmed conviction of diversity - the concept of unity is impossible without the concept of diversity. We are struggling against it - I am not saying it is wrong - we are struggling to get out of it and, more often than not, we fail in our attempts, because we are not looking directly at the divider. What is the divider? The divider is the assumption of an experiencer, the divider is the assumption of the existence of I, the ego. It is terribly easy and simple. What is east and what is west ? Let's say this in front is east. How far is it east and where does west begin, or where do they meet? Always in "me". Wherever I am standing, to one side is east, to the other side is west. I am the meeting point and I am the dividing point - both are right. I find that “I" is the dividing factor; east and west are divided by the “me”. If I become aware of that, in that awareness the division is dissolved, or it does not seem to exist. There seems to be a need for a different approach. You cannot eradicate darkness, you must illumine darkness. I can not eradicate this notion of "I" but I can throw a flood of light on that “I”, on that ego, and see what it is.
viveka khyatir aviplava hano 'payah (II. 26)
There is only one way of overcoming this and that is that this light; this inner light must burn brightly and constantly, uninterruptedly. If there is an interruption so that the shadow comes in again, the ego comes in again. This interruption itself is the shadow, the interruption itself is the ego. Once again the assumption arises, once again the taste for experience arises, once again the desire for experience arises - the desire for experience itself destroys the purity of the experience that is pure delight. It may not have been made so clear in the Yoga Sutras themselves, but in some other scriptures, like the Bhagavatham and the Yoga Vasistha, we are told that the senses are endowed in themselves with the capacity to enjoy. Attraction and repulsion are built into the senses. I may be an imbecile, a born idiot, but still, if I touch something, there is a pure neurological response. In the same way, the hand may touch something hot or something burning cold and the hand automatically withdraws. This is built into the hand; I do not have to tell myself, "Now this is ice, I should not touch it.” It's not at all easy to enjoy pain, it is an absurd thing. What you enjoy is not pain. There is a delightful experience which comes along the stream of life. “It's lovely, oh, it's beautiful.” What is the next step? "I wish I could have it again and forever." That is where you are caught. Patanjali says, "The unhappiness that has not arisen must be avoided by the avoidance of what is called ignorance". But what about the unhappiness that I am already in? Patanjali implies, "Do not bother about it.” Why not? It goes away if you do not bother about it - it is passing, it is already moving. But on the other hand, do not try to push your unhappiness because, when you are pushing it, you are running along with it. If you do not push, there is only a little unhappiness; before you can say "hello'", it is gone. No experience is everlasting, whether it is called pleasure or pain. Pleasure is turned into pain by the holding habit. Pain is prolonged by this pushing habit. Leave it alone, it will go away. Again, avoid getting into trouble by being aware. Keep awake all the time, uninterruptedly; then life is free from self-torture, if you let bits and pieces of what you call pain and pleasure come and go. Float along with this life stream and enjoy it when it comes, then let it go; suffer it when it comes, then let it go. Life is fun.
Now we are also going to look at these eight limbs or steps of yoga in a slightly different light. In the text it comes very soon after the Sutra that says to preserve this light uninterruptedly. Coming soon after that, the master seems to suggest that the eight limbs of yoga must also share this basic requisite, that is that there should be this inner light. The inner light must be the content of all these eight limbs. Even then it is good to remember that self-knowledge or the destruction of ignorance is not the product of these practices.
yoga 'ngan anusthanad asuddhi ksaye jnana diptira viveka khyateh (II. 28)
There are two vital truths in this Sutra. One is that they are called limbs and not steps. We are not taking one step after the other. Our Guru Swami Sivananda used to say that if you regard them as steps and tell yourself that you will first get established in yama, then go on to niyama, then asana and then pranayama, you will probably never get anywhere for the rest of your life. So every day, side by side, practise yama-niyama and practise meditation also.
It will obviously not be the meditation described in the Yoga Vasistha , but try. As you go on trying, there is an integral perfection, if all the eight limbs are saturated with this light. This is what Patanjali demands.
Secondly, even if these eight limbs are thus saturated with this light, the raja yoga practices - yama, niyama, pranayama, etc., are merely removers of impurity. The impurities are the samskaras. Samskaras are formed by life's experiences; samskaras are left behind by our own foolishness - mental conditioning, thoughts, ideas and notions, constantly being treated as if they were real. In the Indian tradition, samskara also signifies a few ceremonies performed during one's life-time, such as christening, marriage etc. as I have mentioned before. I was born just a baby; probably for a long time I was not even aware of the difference between a boy and a girl, but right from then there are samskaras - your name is so and so, you are no longer just a baby, you are named. All these ceremonies are samskaras, whether they are necessary or unnecessary, do not think I am making fun of them; they may be necessary for some kind of social and legal affairs, but they are not necessary from the spiritual point of view. Not only these, but other things, such as qualifications, degrees and diplomas are also samskaras. I thought degrees meant what the doctor sees on a thermometer, a fever, but later I discovered that degrees are awarded at the university; they increase your feverishness; each one of these degrees add to your feverishness! Even in Sanskrit they have a very funny word for these titles, degrees and diplomas. They are called upadhi, which means "limiting adjunct", "self-limiting qualifications". These degrees and diplomas you get are also called upadhi, limitations, self-limiting foolish acquisitions. I am a bit scared of "diplomas" because these doctors use this “o-m-a” as a suffix usually to denote cancer - carcinoma! With all these things we are contracting ourselves more and more, limiting ourselves and adding to the impurities of the self. Therefore at some stage of my life, if I begin to enquire, "What is this I?", I have no idea at all what this “I" is, but I have a host of ideas about what others have told me I am. I am a boy, I am a Brahmin, I am an Indian, I am educated, I am a swami and so on.
If you can practise these eight limbs, you can make these practices your own. What are these eight limbs and how are they to be made our own, without they themselves becoming dirt? I think most of you know the eight limbs:
yama niyama 'sana pranayama pratyahara dharana dhyana samadhayo stav angani (II.29)
Yama is restraint, self-restraint. It is not even restraint, because it merely points out the activities of the shadow. Avidya is brought into sharp focus. I think it is easy to see in the light that shines within, that action performed or done by us in the darkness of ignorance is mechanical foolish action. So yoga is action which is performed or life that is led in the light of awareness, and if in the light of awareness you begin to see something which hurts, something which is even painful to look at, you begin to see that having to face it within yourself is the best remedy for it. That is what enables you to give up that feeling of pain. That is called yama. One of the factors of yama is ahimsa. Ahimsa is said to be non-violence. What is non-violence? We know only two things: one, if you hit me, I hit you back. Not only an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, but if you even raise your arm and pretend to hit me, I will destroy you - this we know very well - how to retaliate and how to assume violence and indulge in violence. Somehow we have been telling ourselves that by doing that, we are saved - this is common knowledge, that if I can kill or destroy all my enemies, I am saved. But I am not safe, for something else comes along - a little bug, a mosquito comes and destroys me. This is one type of action we know - violence. Two, we say, "Oh no, we shouldn't do that, we should do just the opposite.” What did the violent man do when someone picked up a gun? He took up his own and shot him. What must I do now, so that I can be a raja yogi? If he hits me, slaps me on my right cheek, I turn my left, and while doing so, I say something nice, a prayer, “God bless you brother. Why do I say that now? Why didn't I say that two minutes ago? Watch carefully: he and I have been walking along the pavement; I didn't look at him, I didn't bother him, I didn't say, "God bless you", but once he started hitting me, I turned to him and said, “God bless you brother". Why is it so? Isn't that an other way of acknowledging hurt? Isn't that also a way of acknowledging that I am hurt, that you have hurt me? That's why I am telling you, "God bless you”, or "I forgive you", or “May you go to heaven". Whereas if he and I were one, I would not be hurt by him.
There must be another way of looking at it. What is it that is hurt? I am not discussing what you are going to do, or what you are not going to do. Without going into those details at all, when someone does something to me, what is it that is hurt? Buddha said something tremendously important, which is recorded in the Dhammapada: if you even acknowledge that you are hurt by another, you are already aggressive and violent. It doesn't matter what your reaction is; you may bless him, you may curse him, you may take him in your arms or you may put him under your foot, but the moment the feeling has arisen in you that “I am hurt, you are violent", then your mind is disturbed. Can I not only then, but all the time, be so alert and so vigilant that I cannot be hurt? That is non-violence. Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita:
yasman no dvijate loko lokan no dvijate ca yah
harsamarsabhayodvegair mukto yah sa ca me priyah (XII.15)
He by whom the world is not agitated and who cannot be agitated by the world, and who is freed from joy, envy, fear and anxiety, he is dear to Me.
He who cannot be hurt and he who does not hurt, he is a bhakta, he is a devotee, he is a yogi. If you are unhurtable, everything that everyone does, whether they consider it good or evil, only succeeds in turning your attention towards that inner light; all that is good, there is no harm at all. Your action, your reaction may vary - that is not important and need not be, and should not be, predetermined - whether I am going to stand there like a fool and receive all your beatings, or whether I am going to run away from there, or whether I am going to stop you from doing it. Is there a way in which I may never be hurt? Is that clear? Only when the attention is turned within and the light of one's own observation reveals the absence of the “I” which can be hurt.
So right from the yama-niyama, if this inner- light shines and if all these disciplines are adopted as one's own, intelligently, then at every step there is self-realisation, and you are meditating twenty-four- hours of the day, whatever happens. All the other virtues can be viewed in the same way. Brahmacharya is an other interesting factor of yama, which is usually translated as celibacy - that is very easy. There are some people who do all sorts of atrocious things such as taking some drugs and so on, to make themselves completely asexual. But the word "brahmacarya'' means: to have one's awareness, one's consciousness move constantly in the infinite. If you do so, then it is probable that you will not be unduly interested in the pursuit of pleasure. What for? Ans even normal pleasure may be experienced as it comes along, as it floats down the stream of life. This is a lovely expression in the Yoga Vasistha: pravaha patitam karyam. What must I do? Whatever the life stream brings you. If you drop into that stream, what you do is just like that. That is brahmacarya. When the attention flows in one direction, totally in one direction, that is undirectional movement and in that there is no division at all. Life goes on, life is lived, but there is no division in it. That is brahmacarya.
The best part of niyama is "tapah svadhyaye asvara pranidhana”. This is called kriya yoga and we have dealt with it in detail before. It is called a sadhana in itself.
There is something very interesting in regard to the asanas. Patanjali does not mention any asana by name, but he gives a definition of what asana may mean. What are the two characteristics of asana? It enables you to sit firmly. I am sorry, but “sit” is my word, it is not there. It also enables you to sit in the same posture for a long time. And it is "sukham", comfortable. Now it does not prescribe the lotus posture or siddhasana, it does not say sitting posture; it could be a standing posture - I m only suggesting this since this is a yoga school where yoga asanas are taught to students. I wonder if it is possible to apply these two criteria even in regard to the more complicated yoga postures. You stand in the trikonasana and first you start shaking; wait , wait until the body readjusts itself to that posture, then you are firm, and then, once the balance is restored, the posture itself becomes very comfortable. It looks as though that is what was meant here: retain each posture for as much time as is required to restore the balance and the feeling of comfort.
Then pranayama:
tasmin sati svasa prasvasayor gati vicchedah pranayamah (II.49)
Once you have acquired mastery over the asana, then you do your pranayama. If you practise asana every day in the way we have just discussed, then you are freed from what are usually called the pairs of opposites, such as pain and pleasure, success and failure and all that. It is not a mechanical body movement, but it is an inner observation of what the body is all about. The discovery of the intelligence is asana - not merely jumping up and down. Once that has been mastered, you go on to the pranayama, the reversal of the course of prana, the arresting of that is pranayama, in order that prana itself may be discovered. What is prana? What is life? What makes these lungs breathe? I must discover this, then once again I come back to this ego-sense, or the life-force, or the intelligence in the body, or God or whatever you wish to call it.
tatah ksiyate prakasa varanam (II.52)
By the practice of pranayama itself, says Patanjali, the inner darkness is removed, the inner shadow is removed, because pranayama purifies the physical body, the nerves and even the mind.
sva visayasamprayoge citta svarupanukara ive 'ndryanam pratyaharah (II.54)
Pratyahara has been translated into "abstraction of the senses" or "withdrawal of the senses". It may not be so very clear. The nose is endowed with the faculty of smelling; the eyes are endowed with the faculty of seeing; the whole thing is the mind, the whole thing is the intelligence. It is the intelligence that flows, it is the intelligence that operates through these eyes, and then it is called sight. Can I become aware of that without making unreal distinctions - that is beautiful, this is ugly, this is so and so. That is, when the vision becomes pure, when the hearing becomes pure, non-discriminating, without introducing divisions that do not exist, the ears do not recognise good and evil, truth and falsehood. Whether I say something truthful or whether I say something false, your ears still hear. That's it. So can the division between the mind and the senses disappear, so that the senses and the mind function as one undivided unit? That is pratyahara. It is completely different from what we probably understand from the word, By pratyahara it is meant that we must look. I see something, the eyes see something, let them see something, and let the mind also be one with it. The senses and the mind function as one unit without any division. That is pratyahara.
desa bandhas cittasya dharana (III.1)
Then comes dharana - it is a very simple thing. I do not know why it is made so complicated. You are looking at me, or you are listening to this. That is all. You do not allow your mind to be distracted by anything else. That is quite simple, that is dharana. We are practising dharana throughout the day, accountants and businessmen especially. When it comes to profits, you cannot distract that man's attention, just before submitting income tax returns. He is totally absorbed in it; that is called dharana, nothing more.
tatra pratyayai katanata dhyanam (III.2)
Dhyana is when the inner awareness moves just in that limited space, not in a fixed way, but moves in that limited space. That becomes clear, so that nothing else exists, except that which you want to observe. If you are observing what you have been calling your self, the seed-bed of all these virtues and vices, actions, experiences, pain, pleasure, sorrow, happiness, success, failure, and all that, nothing but that little space exists which is called "I”. The observation flows in one stream toward the centre of myself and strangely it seems to be that there is a division there within myself. I am observing myself, I am watching myself, I am observing myself, I see myself strange but still we use these expressions and - at one point these expressions do not seem to be meaningless; there does seem to be a thing called the self, and there is a thing called ”I" and “I am seeing myself”!
tad eva' rthamatranirbhasam svarupa sunyam iva samedhih (III.3)
The next state is the same expression that occurs twice in the Sutras. Earlier on when we discussed "nirvitarka" we had exactly the same expression. I am observing the self in which there are all the virtues and all the vices, all the experiences, all the actions, all the motivations, all the feelings and all the thoughts and so on - I am watching those. I am observing myself, the "myself" being all these limitations, all these samskaras. Where do all these arise? I am watching myself; the “I” which is the observer, is watching "myself" which is the observed. I, who is the observer, am watching myself which is the bundle of all these, the observed, and the attention does not wander. Suddenly the observer seems to go away, disappear, merge into the observer. The two ends of the handkerchief have become just one handkerchief - neither this end nor that end. It is as if "I" does not exist, as if the ego does not exist, the observer does not exist, but just the pure observation and in that pure observation there is no avidya. Then this avidya has gone.
tad abhavat samyoga 'bhavo hanam tad drseh kai valyam (II. 25)
Once again this has been interpreted variously, but it seems to be simple and beautiful; where there was assumed to have been a division before, between the observer and the observed, between the personality and its own ground which is the self or consciousness, between the mind and consciousness, between me and God, between God and Guru, now all these are seen as words, as concepts, as notions. They are not wrong, they are not false, they are not evil, but they are seen as mere concepts, as mere notions, as mere bubbles , but the truth is the oneness, which is not the antithesis of duality. This is important. It is not as though the yogi who is there, in that stage, is not aware of the diversity of people, but it is an indescribable state where one alone exists. Alone is a spelling mistake; actually there should be one more "I" - a-l-l-o-n-e, all-one, in which neither the all is canceled, nor the one is canceled. The all as all, as diverse beings, does not cease to exist, has no need to cease to exist. But all does not mean division, but one, all-one, has become alone; this consciousness alone exists as all this. That is, let us say, the end of yoga.