Violence, war, pollution, estrangement, and insensitivity to our fellow creatures are external manifestations of the disunity seething in our consciousness. Because we live on the surface level of life we are often unaware of the anger and fear burning deep within us. It is only after practicing meditation for some years that we learn to descend into the depths of our consciousness where we can observe these negative forces at work and put an end to their disruptive activity. Right from the first days of our sadhana, the spiritual disciplines we practice begin, however slowly, to transform our character, conduct, and consciousness. When the divisiveness which has been agitating us and making life difficult begins to mend, we get immediate evidence in our daily life: our health improves, long-standing personal conflicts subside, our mind becomes clear and our intellect lucid; an unshakable sense of security and well-being follows us wherever we go, and whatever challenges loom before us, we know we have the will and the wisdom to meet them effectively.
Unification of consciousness can turn the most ordinary of us into a spiritual force; this is the power of the unitive state that we enter in the climax of meditation, called samadhi in Sanskrit, when our heart, mind, and spirit come to rest in the Lord. Swami Ramdas, a delightful saint whom we met in his ashram in South India, summarizes this in simple, clear words: “All sadhanas are done with a view to still the mind. The perfectly still mind is universal spirit.”
45. This is a great sin! We are prepared to kill our own relations out of greed for the pleasures of a kingdom.
It is easy to see why Arjuna represents you and me so well, for with a few well-chosen words he is able to point right to the cause of our disrupted relationships and increasing insecurity. With dismay he tells Sri Krishna how he fears the devastating consequences of not keeping in mind the unity underlying all life. For personal pleasure and profit we are willing to sacrifice the welfare of our family and friends, our society and environment. In Arjuna’s time, it was greed for a kingdom; in ours it is greed for a higher salary, a prestigious home, and a partner who will always agree with our opinions. As long as we seek to be lord and master over our petty personal kingdom, we bar the door to the Lord of Love within us, and confusion and chaos reign. This is the inevitable consequence of violating the unity of life by attempting to go our own separate way.
The Bible tells us we cannot love both God and Mammon at the same time, and in the spiritual tradition of India, great sages like Sri Ramakrishna will remind us that for Rama – the source of abiding joy – to come into our lives, Kama – the craving to satisfy our personal desires – must go. Our capacity for joy is so great that going after passing pleasure is like throwing a peanut in an elephant’s mouth and expecting him to be full. We are so trapped in our self-willed existence that we do not realize how clouded our judgment is and how tragically we waste the gift of life trying to acquire another car, which will pollute our environment, or enjoy an extra gourmet meal, which will add to our weight and injure our health.
The English mystic William Law describes how most of us go through life under the illusion that satisfying selfish desires can bring happiness: “A life devoted to the interests and enjoyments of this world, spent and wasted in the slavery of earthly desires, may be truly called a dream, as having all the shortness, vanity, and delusion of a dream; only with this great difference, that when a dream is over nothing is lost but fictions and fancies; but when the dream of life is ended only by death, all that eternity is lost, for which we were brought into being.” As long as we have not seen someone who has conquered all that is self-willed in himself, we will find it hard to believe that we can cast off this spell of separateness and awake to the unity of life. But in the world's great religions, we have mystic after mystic showing us that this is possible if we are willing to change the direction of our lives through the practice of meditation. In our own time we have the inspiring example of Mahatma Gandhi, who attained the unitive state and helped many others undertake the struggle against all that is selfish and separate. His real name was Mohandas K. Gandhi, but in India we prefer to call him by the title Mahatma, ‘the great soul,’ because by reducing himself to zero he was able to identify himself with the four hundred million suffering people of India and bring about not only their political emancipation but a spiritual renewal as well. Sometimes he is known as Gandhiji, the ji being added to his name as a sign of affection and respect. Such was Gandhiji’s spiritual stature that he could transform little people made of clay into heroes and heroines. During India’s struggle for independence, we had a leader from the North-West Frontier Province whose people were very brave and enduring, but also rather violent. Gandhi had the daring to go into their midst and tell them that if they really were brave they would throw away their guns and learn to fight nonviolently. Their leader, Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan, responded to Gandhi’s challenge and transformed himself into such an invincible combination of courage and gentleness that he became known as the Frontier Gandhi.
Even one person standing against violence, whether it is in the home, in the community, or between nations, can become a source of inspiration for everyone who comes in contact with him. The words from the Sermon on the Mount are not just to be illuminated in manuscripts; the Dhammapada is not just to be inscribed on stupas; the Bhagavad Gita is not just to be etched on palmyra strips and carried in our hip pocket as a talisman. The man or woman who practices the teachings of these great scriptures will become aware of the unity of life, and this awareness will give constant strength and inspiration to those who seek to turn anger into compassion, fear into courage, and selfishness into self-forgetfulness in the joy of the whole.
46. If the sons of Dhritarashtra, weapons in hand, attack me in battle, and if they kill me unarmed and unresisting, that would be better for me.
My spiritual teacher, my Grandmother, did not know how to read or write, but she knew Sri Krishna, and she gave me the message of the Gita in language that all of us can remember. All life is a battlefield, she used to tell me; whether we like it or not, we are born to fight. We have no choice in this, but we do have the choice of our opponent and our weapon. If we fight other people, often our dear ones, we cannot but lose, but if we choose to fight all that is selfish and violent in us, we cannot but win. There is no such thing as defeat on the spiritual path once we join Sri Krishna, but if we try to fight against him, we shall never know victory.
When we fight others, we are harming everyone; when we fight all that is base and self-willed in us, we are benefiting everyone. This is the constant theme of the great scriptures. We need not be impressed by anyone who recites the scriptures or observes all the outer rituals of religion, but we cannot help being impressed by someone who can forgive, who can forget harm done to him or turn his back on his own personal profit and prestige for the welfare of all. From the Old Testament we have these words: “He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city.” It is the same theme as in the Hindu and Buddhist scriptures. “He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty.” Conversely, he that is quick to anger is the weakest, most pathetic, and most harmful of men.
Unfortunately, in our day anger is considered to be part of expressing oneself, a vital means of communication. We have anger groups, called by other names, and we have anger seminars, called by other names, in which people agitate one another and send each other out as harmful influences into their homes and society. We have anger books, anger plays, and even films glorifying the angry man. After attending a violent movie like this, someone may come to us with virulent words and fling these words at us like lances. But if we can sit secure and patient and, after he has exhausted himself, comfort him by our patience, win him over by our love, we are practicing the words of the Bible: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.”
The capacity to be patient, to bear with others through thick and thin, is within the reach of anyone who will practice medi
tation and put the welfare of those around him before his own. We do not realize what tremendous energy for selfless living we have lying dormant within us. Because we see the world through eyes of separateness, we think of ourselves as frail, fragmented creatures, with hardly any strength to stand up in life and make our contribution. But when we take to the spiritual path and start putting into practice the wise, compassionate counsel Sri Krishna gives us in the Gita, we shall discover our real stature and be able to contribute in good measure to life.
SANJAYA
47. Overwhelmed by sorrow, Arjuna spoke these words. And casting away his bow and his arrows, he sat down in his chariot in the middle of the battlefield.
Arjuna, like you and me, wants to contribute to his family’s happiness and his country’s welfare, but he falls despondent at Sri Krishna’s feet because he does not know how to make this contribution. Sri Krishna has not yet opened his divine lips to reveal himself to Arjuna as the supreme Teacher, but he will soon do so in the second chapter, giving Arjuna the practical instruction and guidance he needs to shake off this depression and inertia.
My ancestral family used to render a community service by staging a performance of Kathakali, the traditional dance drama of Kerala, in the open courtyard of our home under the warm evening sky of spring. Everyone was welcome, and hundreds of people would come from the village and surrounding neighborhood to see these stories from India’s spiritual tradition enacted, to refresh their memory of the scriptures and deepen their devotion to the Lord who is always present in our consciousness. During the opening scenes the children would fall asleep on their mothers’ or grandmothers’ laps, but as soon as Sri Krishna is about to come on stage the mothers awaken them and they sit up with eyes wide open. Everyone gets ready: people who were nodding become alert, and those who were talking become silent. We concentrate the moment we hear Sri Krishna is coming, because he is our real Self. So for me, the real Gita begins with the second chapter where the Lord begins to teach. When we see Sri Krishna, it is a reminder that beneath all our surface deficiencies and seeming drawbacks, there is always present in our hearts the source of all joy and security who is the Lord.
To discover the Lord within is the supreme purpose of life, worthy of all our time, energy, resources, and dedication. For most of us, pain and suffering are necessary to make us grow up. Like little children learning to walk without support, we have to learn to walk without clutching at pleasure or profit. Watch a child learning to walk; it can be a pathetic sight to watch the little one get up only to fall down again and again. It is tempting to say out of sympathy, “Alfred, don’t bother to get up. Just lie there and we’ll bring everything to you.” But this would permanently stunt poor Alfred’s capacity for living.
It is reassuring to remember that many before us have learned to stand up to life’s challenges; the mystics of both East and West tell us in inspiring words how all boredom and drabness go out of life in this greatest of all adventures. We must learn to be vigilant constantly; we cannot lapse into lack of watchfulness for one minute. Swami Ramdas describes the joy of rising to this challenge: “There is no greater victory in the life of a human being than victory over the mind. He who has controlled the gusts of passion that arise within him and the violent actions that proceed therefrom is the real hero. All the disturbances in the physical plane are due to chaos and confusion existing in the mind. Therefore to conquer the mind through the awareness of the great Truth that pervades all existence is the key to real success and the consequent harmony and peace in the individual and in the world. . . . The true soldier is he who fights not the external but the internal foes.”
All the capacity for fighting, all the aggressive capacity we waste in conflict with others, can be harnessed through the practice of meditation to fight against our own self-will and separateness. This is a twenty-four-hour fight, because even in our dreams we can learn to dispel fear and anger. But it will take many, many years of valiant and unceasing resistance to win the peace that passeth all understanding.
When we meditate every morning we are putting on armor for the day’s battle against our own impatience, inadequacy, resentment, and hostility. Of course, it is going to be extremely painful and distressing when we have to put all around us first and ourselves last, but at night when we go to bed there is such a fierce joy in the knowledge that we have contributed in some measure to the joy and growth of our family and community, even though we have suffered deeply ourselves. Often, however, when we have to choose to suffer ourselves rather than bring suffering to others, we do exactly what Arjuna does at the end of this chapter: we moan that we will not, cannot fight.
Without the grace and guidance of the Lord none of us can win this battle. In inspiring words, Sri Krishna will rouse us to action by reminding us that our real Self is pure, perfect, and untainted, no matter what our past errors. It does not matter what mistakes we may have committed or what trouble we may have brought on ourselves and others out of our ignorance; if we surrender ourselves completely to the Lord of Love who is always present in the depths of our consciousness, we will discover that these mistakes never touched us. We can throw away the ugly ego mask at last if we will turn our face to the Lord, take to meditation, and do everything possible to bring peace and security to our world.
CHAPTER TWO
Self-Realization
SANJAYA
1. These are the words that Sri Krishna spoke to Arjuna, whose eyes were burning with tears of self-pity and confusion.
Right from the beginning of the second chapter Sri Krishna reveals himself as the perfect spiritual teacher, striking a strong note intended to shock Arjuna out of his despondency. When Sri Krishna, silent until now, opens the dialogue, there are no soft words, no honeyed phrases. He pours withering contempt upon Arjuna, who has been weeping and protesting that he cannot fight against his senses, passions, and self-will. No spiritual teacher fails to resort to this method of shocking and strengthening us with strong words when occasion demands – and of course, when opportunity calls for it, supporting us with tender, compassionate, and loving words also.
Once I went to my spiritual teacher, my Grandmother, complained to her that I was in great sorrow, and asked her why people should cause me suffering. You should not picture my Granny as a sweet old lady seated in a rocking chair, knitting. There were times when she would take me to task and use language that would hurt and yet strengthen me. She could be very harsh, particularly to those who were close to her. This was the mark of her love. And on this occasion, she pricked my bubble with ease by pointing out that I was not suffering from sorrow, but from self-pity. When I grieve for others, that is sorrow, which is ennobling and strengthening. But when I grieve for myself, it is not really sorrow; it is the debilitating emotion called self-pity.
Immediately, like a true friend, Lord Krishna tells Arjuna to stop behaving like a water buffalo, which if it sees a pool of mud will go and roll in it over and over again until it is completely covered with mud. In order to live like a human being, to lead the spiritual life, Sri Krishna insists, Arjuna must stop wallowing in self-pity. To apply this to ourselves, we have only to look into our minds to see how much of our time we spend in dwelling upon what our father did to us, what our mother did to us, or what our husband said five years ago on a certain rainy morning. This is what goes on in the witches’ caldron seething in our consciousness.
Arjuna has beautiful eyes, but he has been sulking like a little child, and shedding so many tears of self-pity that he cannot see anything clearly. Our eyes, when full of self-pity, see even those who are dear to us as very cruel, as persecutors – not because they are like that, but because the tears of self-pity have clouded our vision. As the Buddha puts it: “‘He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me,’ in those who harbor such thoughts hatred will not cease. ‘He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me,’ in those who do not harbor such thoughts hatred will cease.” In the next verse Lord Krishn
a will tell Arjuna to silence this “she did this to me, he did this to me” refrain in his consciousness so that he can hear the Lord. Sri Krishna has to shock. He has to be severe to get Arjuna out of this morass. This is the way he shows his love.
SRI KRISHNA
2. This despair and self-pity in a time of crisis is mean and unworthy of you, Arjuna. How have you fallen into a state so far from the path to liberation?
Sri Krishna looks with severity at Arjuna, who is overwhelmed by the horror and agony of self-naughting, and says, “Where does this depression, despair, and self-pity come from, Arjuna? Get rid of these things. They have no place where I live in your heart of hearts.”
The Lord uses the word anarya, which means ‘unworthy,’ to refer to Arjuna, whose conduct has not been fully worthy of himself as a human being. You and I, by coming into the human context, have evolved beyond the animal stage. What distinguishes us from the animal level is our capacity to forget our own petty, personal satisfactions in bringing about the happiness of all those around us.
On one occasion when I was in college, a group of college friends and I were discussing the usual topics that young men talk about when my spiritual teacher overheard a few key words, mostly about personal pleasure, profit, and prestige. She was just coming from the cow shed, which she cleaned with her own holy hands every morning. The cows provided us with milk, butter, and yogurt, and therefore she considered it a necessary part of hospitality to make the home of the cows clean, to give them proper food, and to guard them against sickness. So, just as she was coming out of the cattle shed, she heard us all talking in this vein. She never wasted time on many words. She caught hold of one of my cousins, who was the ringleader, and told him, “You get in the cow shed. That is where you belong. We will give you plenty of hay, cotton seeds, and rice water.” Because of her great love for us, she could shock us with these strong words without hurting us at all.
The End of Sorrow Page 4
