The End of Sorrow

by Eknath Easwaran

  After the nervous system has been reconditioned, we will find such joy in contributing to the welfare of others that we no longer will fear moving towards the unpleasant and doing what previously we did not like. Then we will find we have been psycho-allergic, to use a modern term, towards certain people, partly because of the distorting medium of our own prejudices and conditioning through which we view the world. This veil which we throw over others can magnify their faults and sometimes even attribute to them faults which are really ours. For example, if we believe, as many people do, that only the desire for money can motivate people deeply, we will be suspicious even of a person who works without any thought of personal profit. But when the nervous system has been reconditioned, we see life without likes and dislikes. The veil which we have thrown over others is removed, and we come to have samadrishti, an equal eye for all. Then we discover that all life is one – that underlying all our infinite variety there exists the indivisible unity, the divine principle of existence.

  Sri Krishna is telling you and me, through Arjuna, that we should try every day to calm the mind and not become agitated by likes and dislikes. This is practical advice because very often in life we must do many things we dislike. Every day we should do a few things we do not like and try to do them with enthusiasm. Everyone begins this with a certain amount of reluctance, but by welcoming jobs we dislike, and doing them with concentration, we can learn to enjoy them. It is often just the fear of having to face an unpleasant task that makes us complain, saps our will, and finally makes us give up. The will is strengthened greatly when we welcome jobs we dislike, when we do first what we like least.

  One of the most graceful ways of learning to juggle with our likes and dislikes is to do things we dislike for those we love. For example, at home, where kitchen chores are concerned, there are many things which no one likes to do. But my mother, even at the age of almost eighty, is able to take delight in preparing meals for us. Two days ago, to celebrate the harvest festival of Kerala, she spent hours preparing a delicious meal of the traditional dishes, without any feeling of being tired or under pressure, because of her desire to make a contribution to the health and happiness of all at Ramagiri.

  Another way of overcoming dislikes in the matter of work is to give more attention when we are becoming bored with a particular job. I have known many students both in India and in America, and when they say something is “boring,” what they usually mean is they are not interested in it. The simple cure for boredom is to give a little more attention, a little more concentration, and we will find the more concentration we give, the more interesting the subject becomes. But we are so perverse that when something bores us, we immediately begin thinking about something else. If we can only straighten ourselves up and give more concentration, we will find how good this discipline is for our intellectual development. Ultimately, we should be able to give our concentration to anything.

  Today I was reading a brilliant paper by a friend of ours on biophysics. He appreciates our work and has visited us many times, so I thought it a token of my appreciation to give my complete concentration to this highly scientific essay. To my amazement, halfway I was beginning to understand it, and by the time I finished, I agreed with it. Even subjects with which we are not familiar can be understood and appreciated by giving them enough concentration.

  It is only after we have freed our nervous system from the tyranny of likes and dislikes that we live in complete freedom and security. Every morning we will get up eager to continue our life of service, and every evening we will go to bed at peace in spite of the terrible problems with which the world is confronted, knowing that we have made a contribution, however small, to the solution of these problems.

  35. It is better to strive in one’s own dharma than to succeed in the dharma of another: nothing is ever lost in following one’s own dharma, but competition in another’s dharma breeds fear and insecurity.

  The word used here is dharma, a word common to Hinduism and Buddhism. It comes from the root dhri, ‘to support’; dharma is what supports us, keeps us together, prevents us from flying to pieces in the face of stress. Dharma is the central law of our being, which is to extinguish our separateness and attain Self-realization, to lose ourselves and be united with the Lord. In Buddhism this transformation is called nirvana, the extinction of self-will in union with the infinite. Ansari of Herat, a great Sufi mystic, tells us, “Know that when you learn to lose yourself, you will reach the Beloved.” And in the Gita (12:8), Sri Krishna says, “Still your mind in Me, still yourself in Me, and without doubt you shall be united with Me, Lord of Love, dwelling in your heart.” This universal law is inscribed on every cell of our being, and the proof of it is that the more we live for others, the healthier our body becomes, the calmer our mind becomes, the clearer our intellect becomes, the deeper our love and wisdom become.

  When sva is added to dharma, the word becomes svadharma, our own personal dharma. This is our present context, our present assets and liabilities. On the spiritual path, we start from where we stand by fulfilling our present responsibilities, on the campus, at the office, or in the home. This svadharma may change as our spiritual awareness deepens. Later on, as our capacities grow, our responsibilities and opportunities for service will become greater. What is the right occupation now may not be right later on, but as long as it is not at the expense of others, our job or profession can be made a part of our sadhana. We should be careful, however, to choose a career that is not at the expense of any living creature.

  By using the word svadharma Sri Krishna is saying not to try to follow a profession because someone else is following it. It is much better for you to learn to know yourself, to know your assets and liabilities, to remember your training and follow the career which blends with your sadhana, than for you to compare yourself with others and do what they are doing. Try to exercise your own judgment instead of doing things because some movie star or baseball player does them. Why should I look like the Beatles? I look better when I am myself. Why should I drink something because some baseball player drinks it? I would drink it if the nutritionist Jean Mayer told me to.

  It is a very enjoyable thing to be oneself, to stop acting. Only after considerable progress in meditation do we discover what consummate actors we are. Early morning we get up and start acting; we go to the office or to the campus and keep acting. It is because we are always on the stage, worrying if the audience is going to applaud or if anyone is going to throw rotten tomatoes, that tension builds up. But Sri Krishna says, “Be yourself completely; accept yourself completely.”

  The ability to know oneself and be oneself comes through a long period of discipline. One of the mistakes young people often make is thinking, “I am going to be spontaneous. Tomorrow morning when I get up I am just going to be myself.” It is only after we have unlearned many of our old habits and freed ourselves from the tyranny of likes and dislikes that we are truly spontaneous. Then we will find that when we are at home with ourselves we are at home with everyone else.

  ARJUNA

  36. What is the force that binds us to selfish deeds, Varshneya? What power moves us, despite our desire to act for the good of all?

  Arjuna, like all of us, has a great desire to lead a selfless life, but has great difficulties in implementing his desire. In this question, which is so human, so personal, that it is easy to appreciate how much Arjuna represents every one of us, Arjuna addresses Sri Krishna as Varshneya. Sri Krishna was born in the Vrishni community as an avatara, an incarnation; and just as Sri Krishna calls Arjuna Kaunteya, ‘son of Kunti,’ Arjuna here returns the compliment. This is the give-and-take of good friends. Arjuna is asking this question of Sri Krishna partly as his spiritual teacher and partly as his good friend, who will not be offended, who will not misunderstand, and who will not hold anything against him.

  Arjuna is saying, “I want to lead the right life; I want to enter into a state of abiding joy, and I do not want to be a plaything of cir
cumstances. I want to do what is good for every creature in the world, but what force prevents me from carrying out these high ideals? What makes me fall over and over again? What makes me go after my personal profit and personal pleasure?”

  Sri Krishna will answer Arjuna in the concluding words of the third chapter. Try to imagine Sri Krishna now as I do, as looking at Arjuna and almost saying, “So you think you are the only one who has this problem?” It is in this bantering, loving, divine tone that Sri Krishna reveals what causes the great ordeal for all of us on the spiritual path.

  SRI KRISHNA

  37. It is selfish desire and anger, arising from the guna of rajas; these are the appetites and deeds which threaten a person in this life.

  The Lord says that our greatest enemies, waiting to bring about our downfall, are kama and krodha. Kama is selfish desire, or self-will. It drives us to impose our will on all around us, to satisfy our selfish desires even at the expense of others, to feel that it is our family, our friends, our country alone that deserve consideration. Kama shows itself in many ways: in physical cravings, greed for money, and lust for power and prestige. This drive for personal satisfaction is inevitably connected with krodha, or anger, because when we are driven in this way there is always the possibility of being frustrated by obstacles, of being challenged by others. The same urges which we have for personal satisfaction, others have too; therefore friction arises.

  In my mother tongue, when someone is very angry, he will say, “Hum!” In the village you will often hear this exclamation. You can see mothers shaking their finger and saying hum! Sometimes even a little boy can imitate his mother and reply hum! in exactly the same tone. It was my Grandmother who taught me that this hum! is very often an expression of violated self-will, and because of her teaching, when I hear hum! it reminds me of the Sanskrit word aham, which means ‘I.’ When I say hum! to you it really means, “Do you know who I am? I am I.” There can still be peace if you do not challenge me, but you too are likely to reply, “Hum! I too am I.” Just as this problem of ahamkara, or self-will, exists between individuals, it exists among nations as well. The same language of anger that is used by one nation is used by the other when national self-will is frustrated.

  Even though we have good intentions, once our ego is opposed, our self-will is challenged. Once our personal desires are flouted, our mind becomes agitated, and the moment our mind is agitated, our judgment becomes clouded. With the very best intentions, we may impose our self-will on our partner. With the desire of cementing the relationship, we say, “Why don’t you do what I want you to do?” Our partner, also with the very same intentions of cementing the relationship, says, “Why don’t you do what I want you to?” Once this clash comes about, both minds become agitated, and both, with the desire of strengthening the partnership, do everything possible to disrupt it. At that time, even though propelled by anger, we should try not to give in to it, but to maintain our attitude of love and respect for the person who has opposed us.

  This morning it was so hot that we weren’t able to have our long walk in Oakland, so we went to the San Francisco beach. Looking down from Cliff House at the great array of surfers – whom I enjoy watching because they remind me so much of what takes place in meditation – we noticed many of the surfers were beginners, dharana people. There were also a few more experienced ones, the dhyana people. There were no samadhi people. It was very interesting to watch these two categories. The beginner would wade into the water, wait for a big wave, and when it came, he would try to stand up. Then not only would he be thrown down, but the surfboard would fly up like a toy in the air. But not even the most timid would immediately put his surfboard on his head and go home. They just came back and got into the water again.

  This is the real secret of the spiritual life. When the passions, which can tower over the tidal waves of the Pacific, come and ask us, like the waves, “Would you like to play a game with us?” we must be ready to control them and ride them just as we ride a wave. To me this surfing is a game between the waves and the surfboard. It isn’t a hostile encounter; it’s a very friendly game where the waves are telling the surfboard, “You bring your rider along. I’ll throw you both up in the air. Why don’t you try me? You can learn to ride on me, but first I am going to make both of you fly in the air like toys.”

  The other surfers we saw were more skillful, more resolute, more secure. They were not content with the white waters, but would go into what Ramakrishna calls the black waters, far away from the shore, where the waves were getting very high. Today we saw two or three people getting the right timing and “shooting the tube” so fast that we were amazed a person could learn such a skill. In governing our passions, it is the same story. It is a game in which the passions dare us, “Would you like to come? We are three: fear, anger, and greed. You are only one.” To this the really adventurous person will say, “You are three, I am one, so this is the right game for me. I am going to fall. I am going to drink a lot of sea water. But one day I will ride on you.” When we bring this determination to our sadhana, the great day will soon come when, through the grace of the Lord, we will be able to harness the power of anger, fear, and greed and use it in contributing to the welfare of others. An angry man is allowing power to rise against him and enslave him, but when he learns to control these tremendous sources of power, he can use them to meet the most formidable challenges of the day and to make his greatest contribution to those around him.

  In daily living, even though we advance fairly well in meditation and are able to use the mantram most of the time, we will all have to face circumstances in which the senses will be strongly tempted. The Bible tells us that even Jesus was not free from these great temptations, and the Buddhist scriptures record for us the Buddha’s struggle with Mara, the tempter. When sense cravings and self-will propel us, when we find ourselves almost helpless, the example of Jesus and the Buddha inspires us to turn against these powerful drives and learn to control them. The duel with the senses can be so satisfying, so thrilling, that no victory in worldly life can compare with it. And gradually, as we free ourselves from the tyranny of these selfish desires in our actions, they will subside from the mind also.

  38. Just as a fire is covered by smoke and a mirror is obscured by dust, just as the embryo rests deep within the womb, knowledge is hidden by selfish desire.

  Just as a great pall of smoke obscures the fire blazing underneath, just so the pall of desire – selfish, self-willed, separate – hides the blazing fire of power, the blazing light of divinity, that shines forever in the depths of our consciousness.

  Just as a mirror is covered by dust, so is knowledge of the Atman hidden by kama. Sri Krishna is telling Arjuna that if you try to use a mirror clouded by dust, you will not be able to see yourself at all. Just so, if you indulge your senses all of the time, exercising no discrimination in what you eat, what you read, what you say, and what you think about, you will not be able to see your real Self at all. You will see only the body, not the dweller within, only the house, not the resident. In order to see yourself as you are – as beautiful, wise, loving, universal – you must rise above physical consciousness. You can put this into practice every day by asking yourself, “In what ways can I guard myself against being trapped in body consciousness?” Once you ask this question, you see that everywhere there is a choice. Let the bakery put all kinds of cakes in the window; you will say, “I don’t want to get trapped in them.” Let the stores advertise the latest fashions; you will say, “I don’t want to get trapped here.” It is these right choices which will gradually enable you to rise above physical consciousness.

  Sri Krishna goes on to use the simile of the embryo, well protected and hidden in the mother’s womb. With these three similes, the Lord reminds us that the Atman is always within us. The Lord is always present, call him Krishna, Christ, the Buddha, or Allah, but it is we who bring all kinds of covers to hide his glory. Wherever we go we bring home some cover to conceal the Lord
, and it will take a lot of recycling to get rid of all these envelopes. Sri Krishna is telling Arjuna, “We don’t want all of this. Instead of bringing more covers home, start removing them; instead of adding to your burden of envelopes, begin to remove them one by one.” The moment we begin to restrain our senses diligently and practice other spiritual disciplines, we shall see that envelope after envelope – or as the Sufis say, veil after veil – falls away until we at last see the Beloved, who is the Lord, in the depths of our own consciousness.

  39. Knowledge is hidden, Kaunteya, by this unquenchable fire for self-satisfaction, the inveterate enemy of the wise.

  Arjuna has asked Sri Krishna a very personal question, which could be asked by any one of us when we make mistakes in spite of the fact that we know they are mistakes. “What makes me do these things? I know this is not the way to joy and security, but there seems to be some compulsion in me to make these mistakes.” And Sri Krishna, who has infinite love for you and me, answers Arjuna by saying that this compulsion is kama, the worst enemy we have on the face of the earth. If we try to look at life through this perspective, we shall see how conflicts cannot help arising when a nation, group, or individual keeps its eyes only on its own development, ignoring the needs and rights of others. The Buddha calls this compulsion by a very homely name: tanha, the fierce thirst that demands to be quenched at any cost, if necessary by robbing other people of their water.

  Take, for example, the question of money. The mystics do not say that money is bad; money is just metal or paper, which is amoral. It is the love of money that is bad. The Gita says that to be able to use anything wisely we must not be attached to it. Gandhiji, whose material possessions were worth only two dollars at the time of his death, handled millions and millions of rupees. Because he had no personal attachment, no selfish craving to accumulate money, he was able to use it very wisely to benefit millions of helpless people in India.