The End of Sorrow

by Eknath Easwaran

  The source of all sorrow lies in trying to resist our evolution towards this goal by maintaining our own separateness. It does not take much depth of observation, even for ordinary people like us, to discover that the person who does not merge his welfare into that of the family is usually very insecure, and so is the family in which he lives. If, for example, husband and wife try to compete with each other and maintain their separateness, they make themselves miserable, their children miserable, and even their locality miserable. In contrast, if we look at people who are secure, loved, and respected wherever they go, we usually find that they are able to base their action on an awareness that the interests of those around them are more important than their own individual interests. When I forget myself in the joy of those around me, I am fulfilling myself. It is when I try to maintain my separateness that I become more and more insecure, because my innate need, my deep, driving need, is to realize my oneness with all life.

  This concept of the unity of all life is not peculiar to the mystics. Even the progress of science has brought us today very close to discovering that the welfare of the whole world is necessary if all of us are to live in peace and goodwill. The science of ecology has its basis in the spiritual truth that all life is one. We are now beginning to discover that there is a close relationship not only between human beings and animals, but among trees, land, water, and air as well, and that we cannot try to promote our own interests at the expense of even the trees. Nirvana, therefore, is not a concept applicable only to ancient India. It is a concept which thoughtful people all over the world are beginning to appreciate.

  In Hinduism and Buddhism, where reincarnation is a working proposition and not just a philosophical theory, and the law of karma is taken to be as infallible as the law of gravity, the whole responsibility of my development is thrown on my own shoulders. I have sometimes been asked whether the law of karma makes people fatalistic. It is just the opposite. The law of karma says that no matter what context I find myself in, it is neither my parents, nor my science teacher, nor the mailman, but I alone who have brought myself into this state because of my past actions. Instead of trapping me in a fatalistic snare, this gives me freedom. Because I alone have brought myself into my present condition, I myself, by working hard and striving earnestly, can reach the supreme state which is nirvana.

  Until we reach the unitive state, however, we have to continue to come back, life after life, to this world of separateness. In the Tibetan Book of the Dead, there is a sensible, scientific, and dryly humorous presentation of exactly what takes place in the process of rebirth. According to this description, there is a period between two lives where we wait in a place called Bardo, which is very much like a big, crowded bus depot. Between one life and another, we have to sit and wait to get the right context for rebirth. If I have been lacking in respect to my parents, I have to be born into a situation where my children will show me the same lack of respect. This is the law. We can’t blame Sri Krishna and complain, “Why do you make me the father of children who don’t respect me?” Whatever we have given with one hand we must receive with the other. I have to get a son who drops out of college, a daughter who goes to Europe and spends the rest of her life skiing, and another daughter who goes to Mexico and learns to make pottery. It is not an easy combination to get: a Mexican potter, a Swiss ski buff, and a university dropout. Not many homes have this unusual combination. India is ruled out; Africa is ruled out. We slowly come to ask, “What is that state within two hours of snow, university, and Mexico?” By elimination comes the answer, “California!”

  Bardo is a kind of cosmic waiting room where, after they have shed the body, people just sit, as we sit at a bus depot. Some time ago we went to a big bus depot in Oakland. There were buses leaving for many different places, and people of all kinds seated on the benches waiting to hear their particular bus called. A disembodied voice calls out over the loudspeaker, “Reno Special leaving at Gate 9.” Not everybody jumps up when the man announces the Reno bus; it is only those with the gambling samskara who immediately jump up and tell the others, “Stick with me; I’ve got a system.” This small group, who have bought their special Reno packet that contains fare, room, and gambling tokens, queue up and get on the bus. Similarly, in Bardo, those with anger samskaras have a special bus; they will be born into times which are propitious for bringing their samskaras into play. In the Hindu scriptures, our own age is called Kaliyuga, the Age of Anger. Everybody is angry about something or other, against somebody or other, and in such an age, it is not difficult to get a suitable context for the anger samskara.

  Often I remind our young people to show particular consideration for their parents’ weaknesses because often the children suffer from the same weaknesses. Usually, the very defect we suffer from annoys us when we see it in another person. For this reason we should bear with older people, with our parents, and with others who suffer from our own infirmities. It is by supporting such people in moments of stress that we can use even unfavorable samskaras to make greater progress on the spiritual path.

  The practice of meditation has been described marvelously as taking our evolution into our own hands. Instead of waiting for the forces of evolution to buffet us for the next million years and make us selfless, we say, “Let me try during this very life to take my destiny in my hands and, by working at my life day in and day out, remove every particle of selfishness from my consciousness so that I may become aware of the unity of life.” There is a rare creature who catches fire when presented with this goal, and he will give everything he has to the pursuit of it. Patanjali says that it is this enthusiastic, hardworking person who will attain the goal. Success in meditation comes not to those whose horoscope is right or who live in the perfect place and era, but to those who grit their teeth and work at it all the time. We need not be born under Capricorn, or live in the Golden Age, to attain the supreme goal. In any age, any context, we can, through the practice of meditation, realize the unity of life and fulfill the goal of human evolution. No matter what context we find ourselves in, what samskaras we labor under, or what our horoscope may read, we can always redirect our lives to the goal, because our Atman, or real personality, is eternal, immutable, and infinite.

  26. Those who have broken out of the bondage of selfish desire and anger through constant effort, who have gained complete control over their minds and realized the Self, are forever established in the nirvana of Brahman.

  Sri Krishna uses the word brahmanirvana to refer to that supreme goal which Jesus calls “the kingdom of heaven within.” In order to reach this state, there are two obstacles which must be overcome. The first is selfish desire, which drives me to seek my own personal profit, prestige, and power, if necessary at the expense of those around me. The Buddha calls this tanha, the fierce thirst which consumes me and drives me often to be at loggerheads with all those around me. The second obstacle is anger. Wherever there is the fierce thirst for separateness, for selfish satisfaction, there is bound to be anger. Kama and krodha, selfish desire and anger, go together, because when I have a fierce thirst for my personal aggrandizement, and you have a fierce thirst for your personal aggrandizement, it is inevitable that we will clash.

  In most estrangements, not only individual but even international, there is this question of my interests against your interests, my prosperity against your prosperity. Prosperity is one and indivisible. Peace is one and indivisible. We are being told more and more by thoughtful leaders all over the world that peace is necessary for the whole world, that it is impossible to have war in one corner of the world and maintain peace elsewhere. It is impossible, too, to have real prosperity in one country and starvation in another. If we start a fire in the kitchen, it is only a matter of time before it will spread to the bedroom and finally to the entire home. The central truth of the Gita, that all life is one, is applicable not only to ancient India; this truth is being rediscovered here and now, and if we do not act upon it, it is at our peril.


  To overcome selfish desires and anger, we have to begin to be more loving in our own home. It is here that the seeds of war begin to grow. In a home where there is friction, where there is the clash of separateness, there is a little war going on. It may not be the Thirty Years War or the World War of 1914–18, but it is a war nonetheless. It breaks out at breakfast. There may be a truce at lunch, but guerilla warfare can rage quietly in the kitchen, and again battle lines are drawn at dinner. Sometimes, even though there may not be an actual outbreak of hostility, there is a kind of cold war carried on. War is born in the minds of men: first it comes to our hearts, then to our homes, then to our community, and finally to our world. This is the nature of war. We have only to observe the little state of warfare in homes to see the appropriateness of the Gita’s message that war rages fundamentally in the hearts of men, between what is selfish and what is selfless, impure and pure, demonic and divine. When the Gita talks about warfare, it is the war that rages in the human breast, and in this battle, all of us have the choice to identify ourselves either with the forces of light or with the forces of darkness. This is the choice that everyone has, in whatever country, community, or context he may live.

  27–28. Having closed their eyes in meditation and focused their attention on the center of spiritual consciousness, their breathing becomes even. The wise man or woman among these, who has controlled body, senses, and mind, who is dedicated to the attainment of liberation and has gone beyond selfish desire, fear, and anger, lives in freedom.

  These two verses describe the state of samadhi insofar as it can be expressed in words. Sri Krishna uses the word mukta, ‘free,’ to describe the person who has attained the supreme state of samadhi. He or she alone lives in freedom who has reached this unitive state, in which he or she knows that all life is one and has the will and wisdom to live in harmony with it. In order to live in complete freedom, which is the goal of the spiritual life, we should not be dependent upon any external object for our security, joy, and fulfillment. This is not a plea for poverty, which can be debilitating and degrading. It is a plea for being free from selfish attachments to our environment. This is the state of complete freedom that we enter in samadhi, the climax of meditation, when the windows of the senses close completely as a result of long spiritual discipline.

  There is also a reference here to what happens to the eyes in deepening meditation. As our mind becomes quieter and our security begins to increase, the eyes become still, bright, and beautiful. It is an amazing commentary on our modern civilization that if we go to almost any store we will find a special section devoted to aids for eye-beautification, with a long row of all kinds of little bottles and brushes containing things to put around the eyes. When I first came to this country I wasn’t used to these things, and whenever I saw those false eyelashes, Christine had to remind me not to stare. One day when I was riding on the cable car in San Francisco, I saw sitting in front of me a very attractive girl with some bluish stuff around her eyes. When I came home, I told Christine that I had met an awfully pretty girl with some kind of eye ailment which had made her eyelids blue. Christine said, “Don’t be silly. That’s a beauty aid.” I am told that it takes quite a long time to apply all these cosmetics. This is the time that might be used for the practice of meditation.

  Beauty comes into the eyes from within. We have only to look at a mother looking at her child to see how gloriously beautiful her eyes become when she loves. Or look at a husband and wife who live together in love and harmony; what beauty comes into their eyes! Even when long-lost friends meet at a class reunion, beauty leaps out from within through their eyes. All of us have beautiful eyes. But our eyes lose their beauty when we become angry, brood upon ourselves, nurse grievances, and become violent. The quiet mind, the heart full of love and forgiveness, lights up the eyes and reveals the beauty of the Lord through them.

  In the practice of meditation, when we are deeply concentrated on the inspirational passage we are using, the pupils of the eyes will look a little upward. When concentration deepens, the eyes turn towards what is called the center of Christ-consciousness in the Christian tradition. This is usually referred to as the third eye in Hindu and Buddhist mysticism. Even in the early days of our meditation, when we are concentrating intensely, there is a sense of movement in this spot, which is considered the seat of spiritual awareness.

  Another change which takes place in deepening meditation is the slowing down of the breathing rhythm. According to the great mystics, especially in Hinduism and Buddhism, the breathing rhythm is closely connected with the rhythm of the mind. We know, for example, that as we are getting angry, the rhythm of the mind changes; and as the mind changes, there are a number of corresponding changes that take place in the body. Usually when we are angry our breathing becomes stertorous. My advice here is not to go in for any occult breathing exercises, which are fraught with danger. The best breathing exercise is to go for a long, fast walk repeating the mantram in our mind. This is the natural, effective way of regulating the breathing rhythm.

  29. Those who know Me as the friend of all creatures, the Lord of the universe, the source and end of all paths, attain eternal peace.

  With body, mind, and intellect under control, with all selfish desire, anger, and fear eliminated from consciousness, the human being attains the supreme goal of life, which is to become aware of God, from whom we come, in whom we subsist, and to whom we return. In this supreme state, we see in our own heart of hearts the Lord of Love, whether we call him Christ, Krishna, Shiva, or Buddha, and become united with him here and now in this very life.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Practice of Meditation

  SRI KRISHNA

  1. Not those who lack energy or refrain from action, but those who work without expectation of reward have attained the goal of meditation and made true renunciation.

  The Gita gives us three paths to illumination: karma yoga, the path of selfless action, jnana yoga, the path of spiritual wisdom, and bhakti yoga, the path of love and devotion. All three are based upon the practice of meditation.

  Karma yoga appeals easily to people who are energetic and enterprising, but energy and effort are not enough. There must be no thought of feathering our own nest or of earning profit and prestige, for the moment these thoughts come in, our action is no longer karma yoga. This is what makes karma yoga so difficult, why it takes a giant like Mahatma Gandhi to practice it to perfection. But even though we do not have the stature of Gandhi, we cannot afford to wait until we are completely selfless to act, because that day is a long way off. We can begin karma yoga now, and through the practice of meditation, over a long period of time, we can gradually eliminate all our selfish motives. So for the vast majority of us, the practice of karma yoga has to be based on meditation.

  Jnana yoga is even more difficult; it is like climbing a ninety-degree precipice. Without meditation no jnana, or spiritual wisdom, will come to any of us. Jnana does not refer to intellectual effort but to leaping beyond the duality of subject and object, going beyond the finite intellect into the intuitive mode of knowing – a capacity which is characteristic of a great spiritual genius like Meister Eckhart, and present to some degree even in a great scientific genius like Albert Einstein. For most of us, however, the path of love or bhakti is the safest, the swiftest, and the sweetest.

  This word “love” is easy to read and write, but very difficult to put into practice. The basis of all loving relationships is the capacity to put each other’s happiness first. Sometimes it is distressing to try to make another’s happiness more important than our own; yet when we keep at it, there comes a fierce exhilaration. We can go to bed knowing that we have grown a tenth of an inch that day; and one tenth of an inch every day will make us tall by the time the year is out. Spiritual awareness grows little by little; it is sometimes easy to make a spectacular, dramatic gesture, but it is very difficult to bear incessant pinpricks patiently. Life is a permanent state of pinpricks that come in
the form of likes and dislikes. Through constant patience and the practice of meditation, we learn to bear these pinpricks until finally we can overcome them joyfully, without effort.

  We call our age materialistic, but I notice there is a refreshing change in the younger generation, which has a good deal of detachment from material goods and money. But if detachment is going to be complete, we also have to become detached from our self-will, which often expresses itself in our opinions. People will give away their money, clothes, and gifts, but the one thing they do not know how to give away is their opinions. If we were to stand on a busy street corner tomorrow and distribute our opinions free to anybody who would come and take them, everyone would just ignore us. Nobody wants our opinions because everyone wants to keep his own. One of our strongest drives is to impose our will on others, yet we can never understand why anyone should want to impose his self-will on us. In personal relationships, love expresses itself in accepting the other person’s ways, particularly if they are better than our own.

  To have harmonious personal relationships, the practice of meditation is necessary to keep the mind from getting agitated when someone goes against our grain. When we live together in intimate personal relationships, we have to expect a little bruising, a little spraining, and a little bumping, which are all part of life. Those who do not live together, who have not learned to accept the give-and-take of life, are forfeiting one of its fundamental joys: that of being a large family, in which we recognize the unity of life that is divine. In any home, whether with our family or with our friends, living together can multiply the joy of all, for the source of joy is in putting more and more people’s welfare before our own. When we follow the path of integrated yoga, there is a place for selfless action, a place for knowledge, and a special place for love. But all these are governed by meditation, which we should practice every morning and every evening.