A series of talks
By
Sri Swami Venkatesananda
To the students of
The Yoga-Vedanta Forest Academy
Edited by
LAKSHMI
A DIVINE LIFE SOCIETY PUBLICATION
First Edition: 1980
Second Edition: 1983
Third Edition: 1998
(2,000 copies)
World Wide Web (WWW) Edition : 2001
Website: http://www.divinelifesociety.org/
This WWW reprint is for free distribution
© The Divine Life Trust Society
Published By
THE DIVINE LIFE SOCIETY
P.O. Shivanandanagar—249 192
Distt. Tehri-Garhwal, Uttaranchal,
Himalayas, India.
Contents
I consider it a unique privilege to write a short foreword to this
compiled volume of lectures entitled "Sivananda Yoga" by Swami Venkatesananda,
a resplendent star amongst the disciples of Gurudev Sivananda. His contributions
have been manifold and of significant rare quality, a proof of his magnificent
personality. This chosen disciple of Gurudev had the exclusive privilege
of sitting at the Master's feet and watching every word and action of
the great saint, who was an ideal manifestation of Divine Glory. Gurudev
has given a practical demonstration of achieving Divine perfection in
our day-to-day life at every step, in spite of the dominant mood of
wistful, reluctant scepticism of modern ages.
Swami Venkatesananda could not have done a better service to mankind;
he has given us a 'peep' into the life and activities of the great saint
Swami Sivananda who (it is incredible to believe) trod seventeen years
ago the very earth we tread today.
Swami Venkatesananda in his usual inimitable way has opened for us,
through these lectures, the portals of the Divine Kingdom ruled by Gurudev.
Through this spiritual son of Gurudev, we can have the inspiration and
bliss of Divine grace gushing from this spiritual fountain of Gurudev.
The rays of that luminous sun, transmitted through this chosen disciple
will illuminate the dark alleys in our heart, revealing to us the Supreme
Love of this God-man and his unique and profound philosophy of blending
Karma, Jnana and Bhakti in our day-to-day activities of life.
All glory to the author of this work, for holding aloft the banner
of Divine Life gifted to him by Gurudev.
Let us look forward to many more such 'jewels' from him-the very crest-jewel
of Gurudev Sivananda's divine mission.
Lucknow
April 1980
-Dr. D. Kutty
TO THE SECOND EDITION
My humble homage and reverential adorations to the sacred and loving
memory of our esteemed and beloved Gurubhai (brother-in-the Master)
Sri Swami Venkatesanandaji who left us this day, one year ago on 2nd
December, 1982. His was a glorious goingforth from the confines of a
limited human consciousness into the ever effulgent realm of Infinite
Divine Consciousness. He departed simply and serenely when he decided
that his duty had been done. Only those close and dear ones who were
near his immediate bed-side until the very last breath he took on earth,
only they know the full sanctity, the solemnity, the poignancy and at
the same time the indescribable grandeur of his last moments and of
his departure from the physical body.
The book SIVANANDA YOGA edited by his devoted disciple mother Swami
Lakshmi Ananda ("LAKSHMI") is a tribute to the late revered Swami Venkatesanandaji
upon the first holy Anniversary of his Mahasamadhi.
I was greatly moved and touched when mother Lakshmi approached me and
hesitatingly asked me whether I would like to give a brief Foreword
to this memorial publication. Her hesitation was on account of due deference
to the state of physical weakness I was in after a recent acute illness.
But on my part, far from regarding this as a task put before me, I consider
it an honour and a privilege to have been asked to contribute these
few lines to this present volume that constitute a tribute to one whom
I hold in highest regard, reverence and love.
Though our varying fields of work and activity took us far apart in
physical distance, yet there has always been an unseen inner bond of
spiritual fellowship, friendship and mutual love and esteem between
Swami Venkatesanandaji and this servant of the holy Master Sri Swami
Sivananda. Late Swamiji's own physical earthly mother (also known as
mother Lakshmi!) always regarded us as two brothers, referring to Swami
Venkatesananda as Lakshmana and referring to the undersigned as Rama.
For, that is what she felt to be the relationship between us both.
I deem it my good fortune to give this Foreword to SIVANANDA YOGA which
gives an intimate and unique glimpse into Swami Venkatesanandaji's personal
experiences and observations about the glorious Master as he lived and
moved before us in the majestic simplicity of his saintly day-to-day
living in his holy Ganga bank Ashram sanctified by his purifying presence.
This is indeed a befitting tribute to the holy Master, containing as
it does, Swami Venkatesananda's spontaneous heart's outpourings about
the one who was the Light of his life, one whom he adored and considered
his visible God upon earth.
May this book inspire numerous seekers and Sadhakas upon the path of
spiritual evolution and God-realisation. May it also serve to keep the
memory of our departed brother ever bright in our heart. I cherish this
book. For, it pays tribute to the memory of one whom I love.
I thank Sri Lakshmi. I congratulate the Y.V.F.A. Press for their dedicated
labour in bringing it out so neatly and beautifully. I salute the sublime
memory of one of the foremost amongst our brotherhood, one whose whole-souled
and unsparing dedicated labours in his Gurudev's Mission are unparalleled.
May this example inspire us to dedicate ourselves likewise. Hari Om
Tat Sat. Om Namo Bhagavate Sivanandaya! Peace!
Sivananda Ashram,
Friday, 2nd December, 1983.
At Gurudev's Feet,
Swami Chidananda
\
In January 1980 Swami Venkatesananda was asked
by the Dean of the Yoga-Vedanta Forest Academy, H.H. Sri Swami Madhavanandaji
Maharaj, to share with the students of the Academy his knowledge of
the philosophy and teachings of Gurudev Swami Sivananda, the great sage-founder
of the Academy and the Divine Life Society.
From his experience of living in close contact
with Sri Swami Sivananda for 17 years, from the depth of his wisdom
and with his usual clarity and humour, Swami Venkatesananda made Swami
Sivananda come alive, so that we who were privileged to listen felt
that Swami Sivananda himself was present in our midst.
The talks continued for three weeks. This book
is the fruit of these talks.
Swami Venkatesananda continued the theme in several
talks during the Ashram's Satsangas. Some of these talks have also been
included in this book.
-Lakshmi
The Yoga-Vedanta Forest Academy (originally called
a University) was Swami Sivananda's brain child. When he gave expression
to this idea he had a certain vision which was characteristic of him-that
of a synthesis of theory and practice.
In this particular area of the Himalayas you'll
find many enlightened souls (some perpetually silent, others engaging
themselves in their own practices) without the urge-and sometimes the
ability-to communicate with others. Perhaps if you go and live with
them, through what is known as Shaktipath, you might also reach enlightenment-but
it is also possible that you might not.
For the vast majority of people some form of theoretical
introduction is vital before they are even induced to take up the practice
of Yoga. The usual gradation in Yoga is that first comes Karma-yoga,
then Bhakti-yoga, then Raja-yoga and then Jnanayoga. There was a great
Acharya called Ramanuja. It was his theory that Bhakti comes after
Jnana, for how can you love something which you don't know? Real
Bhakti (or Parabhakti or devotion) arises after you have some knowledge
of the person or the principle. Thousands of people may be potential
Yogis and may want to practise Yoga. If they are given a glimpse of
the theory they would probably enter the path, but they are neglected
by these cave-dwellers who have reached the goal without an intellectual
understanding of the theory.
Krishna suggests this in the Bhagavad-Gita:
chaturvidha bhajante mam janah sukrtino 'rjuna
arto jijnasur-artharthi jnani cha bharatarshabha (VII. 16)
Four kinds of virtuous men worship Me, O Arjuna,
and they are the distressed, the seeker of knowledge, the seeker of
wealth, and the wise, O lord of the Bharatas.
All sorts of people seek to enter the spiritual
path. Among them are the Jijnasus, the people who want to know. If they
are told that they must become like those silent Yogis, either they
are completely turned off, waste their time or imagine that they have
become like the masters, which is even more dangerous. Merely sitting
erect and unmoving doesn't make you an enlightened person. Gurudev himself
used to make fun of these people, comparing them to stones in the Ganga.
The stones also sit there for thousands of years, unmoving. Are they
also enlightened?
Two incidents come to mind. Way back in 1946,
when the Ganga bank had not been developed (or spoiled, it depends upon
your point of view) there were no steps. There was a longish veranda
on the post office complex; that was our kitchen, dining hall, Satsang
place, office and everything in those days. Gurudev used to conduct
a morning meditation class there from 4.15 to about 6.00. Right on the
Ganga bank a howling wind blows early in the morning, and in spite of
it he used to come out of his room exactly at 4.00, wearing an enormous
overcoat and a shawl tied as a turban. It was an exciting, inspiring
sight just to look at this Jivanmukta walking out of his little Kutir.
He was regular and punctual in attending the meditation class. A visitor
from Andhra Pradesh was not keen on attending this class, but used to
sit up poker-stiff on a huge rock at 4.00 a.m. One day after the meditation
class Gurudev was seated on one of those cement benches and we entered
into some discussion for about half an hour. In the meantime that gentleman
had finished his meditation and entered through the farther door. Gurudev
looked at him with one eye closed. (He usually closed one eye whenever
he wanted to say something very interesting!) For a couple of minutes,
Gurudev questioned him and he revealed that he meditated every day from
4 to 7. Gurudev appeared to admire him. But suddenly the whole scene
changed. He roared: "Look at him! Sleepy and drowsy. (To him) What are
you doing? Sitting and sleeping on the stone? Do you know what meditation
means? What Samadhi means? To touch the infinite. Do you know what power,
what energy you'll have when you touch the infinite like that? You say
you have been enjoying deep meditation and Samadhi for three hours.
Yet when you come out you are sleepy, drowsy. Go and wash your face."
In those days there was no water supply here. We used to form a line
of water carriers from the Ganga to the downstairs kitchen water tank.
Gurudev said to this man, "Join them, fill up the tank, then you will
know what Samadhi means." So Samadhi is not merely sitting. If that
is Samadhi then all the stones on the Ganga bank have attained Samadhi!
The second incident happened to me. One day in
1948 I went down to the Ganga several times at three-hour intervals.
I saw an almost naked ascetic seated under a tree with half-closed eyes.
I thought he was a very great Yogi who could meditate for over ten hours
at a stretch. One night there was some commotion in the temple where
he was staying as a guest. The next day he had left. On enquiry, the
temple priest said to me that he was not a real Sadhu (holy man) but
a bad character and that his ability to sit unmoving was the result
of some drug!
When you see someone sit still for a long time
and you try to imitate him and can't do it, either you give up the whole
thing, pretend that you have also attained this state or find a short
cut to it. Someone comes along and says, "You're wasting your time.
Take one sniff of this drug and then you'll enter into real Samadhi."
Then you begin to think that may be the Guru also does the same thing.
It leads to all sorts of perversions. So when you imitate these enlightened
cave-dwellers you may become like them, but you may not. You may slip
into Tamas, which is very easy. So one needs some other knowledge.
It is possible for the Mouni (silent) Jivanmukta
to transmit his Shakti to an Adhikari (qualified or mature seeker).
Adhikara is the most important thing. A student who is internally ripe
(like Sukadeva) only needs a little bit of concentration and he has
knowledge of the Reality. But what happens to the thousands of people
who are not so evolved, who still need some more theoretical help? Observing
this need, Gurudev said that the Yoga-Vedanta Forest Academy should
impart knowledge of both theory and practice.
A Mouni Jivanmukta may not have much theoretical
background. If you go down to Benares or other such places you will
find people who can lecture, but in their own lives they are nowhere
near their own ideal. Gurudev did not have any special admiration for
them beyond the respect that he gave everybody.
The following incident illustrates this: The present
post office was our office then. Three of us used to sit in the office
with Gurudev. In those days the work was not so heavy so there was plenty
of leisure, and Gurudev had a lot of time for us. One day a doctor of
philosophy entered the office early in the morning. Gurudev welcomed
him. He sat down and said, "Swamiji, I have a question. Please tell
me what the difference is between Nirvikalpa Samadhi and Savikalpa Samadhi."
That was an opportunity for us to learn-we would not dare to ask such
a question for ourselves-so we all stopped working and listened. It's
a million dollar question! Gurudev put his glasses up and looked at
him. "Have you had your breakfast?" he asked him. "Would you have some
tea or coffee?" He had to give an answer. He said, "Tea, Swamiji." Now
came tea, fruits and books. The doctor enjoyed his tea and some Idli.
And then came his wife. She stepped into the office, gave one stern
look, and said. "How long have I been waiting there for you! Come, let
us go." And he quietly got up, bowed down to Swamiji, and said, "I'm
leaving." Once he had gone Swamiji laughed and laughed. It was a beautiful
laugh. "He wants to know about Savikalpa Samadhi. The wife gives one
look and he goes." This is the type of person you find elsewhere-pandits
who have enormous knowledge, who could keep you enthralled for hours
discoursing on half a verse of the Bhagavad-Gita. Fantastic. Gurudev
loved them, admired their intellect, but that's all!
There was another very amusing incident. During
Gurudev's All-India Tour a few learned scholars met him in Varanasi.
As he was walking past, greeting them, one of them asked a question
in Sanskrit. Gurudev turned to him and asked, "Comment ca va, comment
vous appellez vous?", (two sentences in French he had learnt). The pandit
just stared with dropped jaw. He did not understand the reply. (Moral:
The purpose of language is communication and not showing off.)
So, you must communicate and you must also learn
how to communicate. Theory and practice must go hand in hand.
One is not the enemy of the other, but the friend, and one without the
other is useless. Apart from the dangers I mentioned earlier, there
is another. Gurudev himself told us that when he came to Rishikesh all
that he wanted was to sit under a tree, to sing God's names, to do Japa-and
that's all. He was fond of Kirtan. There was not a single function which
commenced without Sankirtana. Every occasion demanded the singing of
God's names. If somebody was sick, dying, dead, born or married, for
laying a foundation-stone or pulling a building down, he sang Hare Rama.
In one of his early letters to his senior-most disciple, Swami Paramanandaji,
he had even said that we should transform the whole of India through
Sankirtan alone. In accordance with that ideal, when he was still living
in Swargashram he used to preside over and participate in Sankirtan
conferences. Even before the Divine Life Society was started he had
established several groups of Sankirtanists for organising and holding
Sankirtan conferences. But very soon he discovered that it was degenerating
into some kind of emotionalism-people jumping and dancing and calling
it ecstasy. Ecstasy can be reached through Sankirtan no doubt, but not
all can do that. Very soon there was a power struggle, so within a year
or two he changed his mind. He said, "Sankirtan alone is no good. It
leads to emotionalism. There must be some Jnana, some understanding.
Kirtan is singing God's name, not conducting a musical competition.
It is the Bhavana that is important, and one must learn to recognise
and understand that Bhavana." As years went by he evolved a system of
synthesis. Practice is extremely important, but not without understanding.
When you gain this theoretical understanding it
must at the same time help you and help others. Learn whatever you can
here, go out and share it, not feeling that you know everything, but
to the extent that you have gained this theoretical understanding and
practical knowledge, impart it, offer it at the feet of the omnipresent
God in worship. Gurudev used to insist upon that. Whatever you have,
share-including knowledge of Yoga and Vedanta. That way your shyness
is removed and your own ideas and knowledge become clearer. Otherwise
you are your only and greatest admirer! You are utterly convinced that
you are very learned and know everything, and as long as you don't open
your mouth at all there is nobody to challenge that conviction, but
when you open your mouth and some people laugh you realise you are not
all that clever! So there is an incentive to learn more.
Gurudev started this Yoga-Vedanta Forest Academy
to train us in the theory and practice of Yoga Vedanta-not only theory,
not only practice, but both these combined-in order that this knowledge
could be broadcast far and wide; in order that they who come to you
out of curiosity might in course of time become Jnanis, because they
realise what they are seeking and they also know the path and the goal.
He who imparts the theory concerning self-knowledge
and guides us in our practice is not a Guru, but an 'Acharya', a teacher.
From this teacher you learn about self-knowledge. It is not self-knowledge
but a peripheral knowledge, which may be very necessary as otherwise
we might be easily misled.
Just as the description is not self-knowledge,
a technique is also not self-knowledge, nor does it lead to Atma-jnana;
but it is necessary. In the Yoga Vasistha you have a fantastic double
negative statement concerning this. Vasishtha says that a teacher does
not give you Atma-jnana, but you cannot attain Atma-jnana without
a teacher. As we go on, this will become clear. The Acharya is the
person from whom we gain an understanding of the theory, the peripheral
knowledge or a description about (not of) self-knowledge, self-realisation
or Atma-jnana. He guides us in our practice and may even prescribe a
practice for us, and if we are responsive to him he removes the obstacles
that we may encounter on the path. He is not exactly a teacher in the
modern sense of the word. Here the word 'teacher' refers to some kind
of a person who is aloof, who walks into the class, spits out what he
has not been able to digest and walks out. That is what you see in schools
and colleges nowadays. In the Gurukula system where the students lived
with the teacher, there was the transmission of theory and guidance
in practice without aloofness. There was a certain amount of physical
and psychological intimacy, and a certain openness between the teacher
and the taught. This is not to be confused with the modern definition
of a teacher in the schools and colleges of today, where there is no
psychological rapport at all.
This word 'Acharya' to me nearly sounds like the
word 'Achara'. Acharya means teacher, Achara means your conduct, your
lifestyle. So an Acharya is involved in the pupil's Achara, external
behaviour. For instance he might emphasise punctuality, so that you
come at the stroke of nine. He might emphasise that you should not look
through the window, or look here and there. There can be training in
behaviour, but no Acharya can compel your attention, no Acharya can
impose understanding upon you, so there must be a certain psychological
rapport. Only then is there a guidance or governance of behaviour. If
you are attentive he transmits to you information about self-knowledge,
and guides you in your practice. That is the only responsibility of
the Acharya. So an Acharya is more a teacher than anything else.
Apart from the word 'student' there is another
word, 'pupil'. A pupil is not only the person sitting in front of the
teacher trying to learn something from him, but the word 'pupil' also
means the diaphragm which closes and opens in your eyes. When you go
in the sunlight the pupils close, and when you are in darkness they
open. That is what happens in the relationship between the teacher and
the pupils. If the teacher is brilliant they close up, they can't take
the light anymore. If the teacher is interesting, funny, dark or stupid
they open up wide-with the result that it seems to be far easier to
learn rubbish than to learn something worthwhile. If someone sits there
and discusses a hundred ways of robbing a bank it is interesting, there
is not a dull moment, the pupil is keenly interested in it. But if someone
sits there and discusses Upanishadic wisdom not only the pupils but
the eyelids close.
If there is psychological rapport and if the Acharya
is able to govern the pupil's behaviour then it is possible for some
transmission to take place. Psychological rapport is possible only if
both the teacher and the taught are on the same wavelength-otherwise
you go to sleep. Physical behaviour can be tailored, but the teacher
has no access to your mind, leave alone to your heart. In a strange
way, Gurudev Swami Sivananda understood this. He understood the psychology
of the masses, the problems of young seekers-people who are used to
the theatre, to films and an exciting, fast life. If they are put in
a Vedanta class they would probably go to sleep, so he invented interesting
methods of transmission. A dialogue from the Upanishads was enacted
here and people who otherwise fall asleep when exposed to the ideas
of the Upanishads sat up and looked and listened and something got through.
This was Swami Sivananda's wonderful method-and later he invented the
Yoga museum-audiovisual instruction where you participate and try to
understand.
Still we are at the stage of the Acharya and the
pupil. There is mere transmission of information between the two. It
is called 'information' because it creates a form in you-information.
Gradually, drop by drop, these bits and pieces fall into you and take
form. If you are quite satisfied with the form you are lost, because
you build an image with this information and treat that image as the
truth, as self-realisation. In your study of the Isavasya Upanishad
you must have come across a puzzling Mantra: "They who are devoted to
ignorance go to hell. They who are devoted to knowledge go to a greater
hell." How is that? If you are devoted to the image that has been formed
in you when the theory was imparted you are stuck forever, there is
no way out of it. You have devotedly and devoutly built it up and the
whole being resists any change in that image, so you are lost. But once
this image is formed, if you realise that it is only information about
Atma-jnana-it is not Atma-jnana itself but merely a description then
it is possible that you are inspired to go further. The 'Jijnasu' stage
is over and you are creeping into the Jnani stage. Then someone else
appears, and that is the Guru.
If you read the first chapter of the Bhagavad-Gita
very carefully you will see that Arjuna thinks he is the Guru. He boldly
and arrogantly teaches Krishna what is right, what is wrong. When he
discovered that Krishna refused to be his disciple (!) he collapsed,
and as he collapsed the words ascribed to him are very inspiring:
yacchreyah syannischitam bruhi tanme
syshyas-te 'ham sadhi roam tvam prapannam (II. 7)
Arjuna said:
Destroyed is my delusion, as I have gained my
knowledge (memory) through Thy grace, O Krishna. I remain freed from
doubts. I will act according to Thy word.
Tvam prapannam-"I have surrendered
myself at your feet because I don't know the truth. I thought I knew,
but looking at the way you are unimpressed by my teaching, I feel maybe
I am wrong. So I surrender myself at your feet." Sishyas-te-"I
am your disciple." yacchreyah syannischitam bruhi tanme,-"Tell
me what might lead me to Sreyas." This word 'Sreyas' is extremely difficult
to translate. It has been taken to mean 'your ultimate good or spiritual
good, enlightenment, liberation'. That is where Arjuna says: "I am your
disciple." Krishna is still not the Guru. It is only in the eleventh
chapter that Arjuna bursts out: "Oh! you are the Lord of the whole universe."
What is the state of the disciple when he has
found the Guru-not the Acharya? It is beautifully described towards
the end of the Bhagavad-Gita:
nashto mohah smritir-labdha tvatprasadan maya
'chyuta
sthito'smi gatasandehah karishye vachanam tava. (XVIII. 73)
All these are vitally important. Nashto mohah-"my
confusion, my delusion has gone." There was a confusion to begin with,
but that has completely disappeared. If that happens you are an enlightened
disciple, you have found the Guru. Smrtir-labdha-it is not merely
gaining or regaining memory but... Normally, you remember what others
did to you and you remember what happened to you so far, but you don't
remember yourself. You don't know yourself, but you know everybody else;
you don't know who you are, but you know the entire world! Even when
you try to recall a past experience all that you remember is what others
did and what others said. The self is completely ignored in knowledge,
as well as memory. So smrtir-labdha means: "Now I remember who
I am." Tvatprasadanmaya'chyuta-"By your Grace," not by
your instruction! The Acharya is gone. The Acharya merely put up a structure
within and the student became aware of that structure. The structure
knocked down false notions and deluded ideas that were entertained before,
and created the climate for enlightenment.
It is the Guru's Grace alone that brings about
this enlightenment. No amount of theory and no amount of knowledge can
ever bring about enlightenment. If the cloth is dirty you put it in
a bucket of water with a lot of soap in it. Has the cloth been cleaned?
You hope so. When you take that cloth out it is full of soap. That's
not clean-the cleaning happens afterwards. In order to get rid of the
rubbish called worldly knowledge you may need a spiritual instructor
who gives you knowledge about the self, but in order to gain self-knowledge
none of these would do. It is only the Grace of the Guru that flows
directly into your heart without the interference of your mind that
can bring about this self-knowledge, Atma-jnana. Gatasandehah-"There
is no doubt," the mind and the heart are free from doubt, and therefore
whatever has to be done is done without hesitation. That is what is
called 'spontaneous action'. The shock of the vision of this cosmic
form probably brought that about in the case of Arjuna, because a similar
expression occurs even at the beginning of the eleventh chapter:
yat tvayo'ktam vachas tena moho'yam vigato mama
(XI. 1)
Arjuna said:
By this word (explanation) of the highest secret
concerning the Self which Thou hast spoken, for the sake of blessing
me, my delusion is gone.
Who is a Guru?
gukaraschandhakarascha rukarastannirodhakah andhakaravinasitvad-gurur-ityabhidhiyate
"That light which removes the darkness of ignorance
is the Guru." He in whose presence you gain this, is the Guru; or that
is the Guru. That moment or that event where the scales of ignorance
drop away and this inner structure of theory (which has been put there
by the instructions of the Acharya) begins to grow and is realised-there
is the Guru.
When you go round India you will meet dozens of
Gurus who say: "I am your Guru". Gurudev never said that for one moment.
Occasionally he used to say "You are my disciple" or "He is my disciple";
and some of the older disciples here probably have one letter at least
where Gurudev said: "I have accepted you as my beloved disciple, I shall
serve you and guide you." But with all respect and adoration to Gurudev
I may tell you that it was meant more as an encouragement to the disciple
than as a statement of fact. When Swami Sivananda said: "I have accepted
you as my beloved disciple", you felt that you had a claim over Swami
Sivananda, you could write to him more freely. That is what he wanted.
The next sentence is: "I will serve you." You have never heard of a
Guru serving a disciple, the disciple is supposed to serve the Guru!
So in that formula itself he has cancelled this Guru business. He never
regarded himself as a Guru. It was for us, not for him.
It is the disciple's experience that is the Guru,
and the Guru need not know when that experience happened to you. You
may say, "You are my Guru"; it is not for the Guru to say, "I am your
Guru." I can go to the Guru and say, "I am your disciple" when I am
prepared to do exactly what he tells me to do, and not till that stage
is reached can I boldly say: "I am your disciple, you are my Guru."
Till then there is no Guru. It is very important
to remember this, otherwise you can get into all sorts of muddles. Suddenly
you go to somebody and if he scratches your back and says: "Oh, I see
a brilliant light around your face and you are going to attain enlightenment
in three months", you say: "Ah, you are my Guru!" If he asks you to
bring a cup of milk from the kitchen you say: "Ach, what kind of Guru
are you? You are no longer my Guru-it is finished." This is a travesty
of truth.
Gurudev insisted (as does the Yoga Vasishtha)
that you cannot attain enlightenment without the help of a Guru, and
to Swamis who wanted to be Gurus he said, "Be careful, don't become
a Guru." You should not become a Guru, but I must have
a Guru. I need a Guru but nobody is prepared to be my Guru! You see
the tangle here? What must I do? Swamiji was emphatic there: "Be a disciple!
From head to foot be a disciple! Then you will find a Guru."
Early in 1947 Swamiji was sitting in the office.
A young man from South Africa who had stayed with us for about two or
three months was leaving that day. He walked in, prostrated to Gurudev,
and started crying. With supreme love and affection Gurudev looked at
him. He said, "Swamiji, I have to go today, and in Africa where do we
get a Guru like you?" Suddenly Swamiji's expression changed and with
a very beautiful, meaningful and mischievous smile he said: "Huh, you
don't find a Guru in Africa?" By this time the man's grief had gone,
his tears had dried up. He found the Master laughing and smiling. Swamiji
then fixed his gaze on this young man and said, "Ohji, it is very easy
to find a Guru, it is very difficult to find a disciple!" If you are
a disciple naturally you'll find a Guru.
Disciple means discipline. What does the word
'discipline' mean? Not an army drill, but study. The Acharya gave you
some information which produced a form within you; and now you wish
to study this. The Acharya said that happiness is in you, that it is
not in the object of pleasure-but that is not your experience. You have
experienced pleasure from that object and in its absence you are miserable.
So what do you do? You are studying this inner structure, studying the
workings of the mind, the arising of the self, the ego. But it is not
clear because you are full of impurities, dirt and filth. Therefore
in the course of the study of oneself an extraordinary discipline arises.
It is not discipline which is imposed upon you by others, it is not
discipline which is goal oriented, but it is a discipline born of intense
search. When this discipline manifests itself in your heart you will
naturally find your Guru. You go and stand in front of someone and ...
that's it. You don't need to exchange a word.
Some of us came here in 1944 and found Swamiji
and some others. He was radiating bliss, radiating peace, radiating
joy. We looked around and saw that all the things that you and I consider
vital to peace, happiness, prosperity and all the rest of it, were absent
here. There was absolutely nothing. A cup of tea in the morning was
almost celestial manna, ambrosia. Living in such conditions how were
these people able to smile, to radiate joy! What is that, possessing
which he led such a life? You began to wonder and something clicked.
There was no need to exchange one single word. Looking into his eyes
you realised that he had found the truth, you had not. That was enough
to humble you, make you collapse at his feet.
Truth is not transmitted by word, but is always
transmitted non-verbally. I can tell you I am angry with you, but you
know the truth because non-verbally you have not sensed I am angry with
you. There are occasions (of which I am sure you are aware) when someone
might smile, and you sense anger. Non-verbal communication alone is
truth, and truth can only be communicated non-verbally. Information
you can pass on, so the passing on of the information is the business
of the Acharya. Non-verbal communication of truth is by the Guru. I
don't know if the Guru also knows that his disciple has been enlightened
or awakened. Gurudev never discussed this.
On a spiritual level it was most beautiful to
observe how he regarded everyone and everything as his Guru. (It is
very difficult to explain this and probably more difficult to understand
it.) That is, when this discipline becomes total, there is total awareness
of Guru everywhere. Whether a person wore a yellow, red or green cloth,
to Gurudev he was always Swami. Everyone was a Swami, everyone was Bhagavan,
everyone was Devi. That is probably the state you will find yourself
in if there is this total discipline. Then the whole universe becomes
your Guru.
Swami Sivananda did not invent a philosophy of
his own, but communicated the fundamental philosophy that had already
been communicated to humanity through incarnations like Jesus, Buddha,
Sankara, Krishna. Why was (or is) this necessary? The reason is beautifully
brought out in the fourth chapter of the Bhagavad-Gita.
sa kalene'ha mahata yogo nashtah parantapa (IV.
2)
"Mere passage of time seems to dilute the truth",-for
a very simple and very good reason. If you are a man of self-realisation
and I come to you as a seeker (not student), you might discover that
you cannot adequately put your own experience into words, whatever you
do and however brilliant you are, for the simple reason that language
was invented after man fell from self-realisation. Language is perforce
dualistic, pluralistic-hence someone like Ramana Maharshi remained silent
most of the time, and even Gurudev refused to be drawn into a discussion.
At one point in Vasishtha's instruction to Rama in the Yoga Vasishtha,
Rama asks a question and Vasishtha simply becomes silent. Rama takes
Vasishtha to task, asking, "Can't you answer this question I am asking?
Why have you suddenly become silent ?" Vasishtha says "It is not because
I could not answer your question that I became silent, but silence is
the answer to your question."
So the enlightened Guru cannot verbalise his fundamental
experience. If you are not in a position to enter into non-verbal communication
with him and you force him to verbalise his experience, you might discover
that a large percentage of his experience remains inexpressible. What
has been written down, committed to memory or verbalised is a fraction
of the sage's experience. Please remember this all the time. When Swami
Krishnanandaji talks to you, it is not that that is all he knows. There
is something which he has experienced that is inexpressible. So when
you, the seeker, approach a great master and ask him to verbalise his
experience and instruct you, only a fraction can possibly be verbalised.
There is a big loss there. Another point is, for how many seconds can
you uninterruptedly listen to what is being said? You are listening-and
then you hear those noises across the river, or suddenly you remember
having forgotten something. If there is a deep pause the attention is
already switched off to Germany, Austria, Hungary, all sorts of places,
so that even that little fraction that the Guru is able to verbalise
is lost in the transmission because the disciple is not attentive.
Gurudev trained us in a very beautiful way. He
didn't lecture but spoke in conversation, and he didn't often encourage
people to take notes when he spoke. Even so, he used to encourage us
to write down the conversation or dialogue afterwards. You will be amazed
(and perhaps ashamed) at what little is really retained by the mind,
even immediately afterwards. If the disciple is so keen that the teaching
is immediately assimilated, at least that much will remain, but if the
teaching is not assimilated it tends to evaporate. That is why it is
called spirit! Spirit always evaporates. In a few days it is completely
lost. Krishna says, "I spoke this to Vivaswan, Vivaswan taught this
in the spoken word to Manu." So it has been communicated or conveyed
by word of mouth from generation to generation, and it gets lost. Therefore
there is a need for a great master or incarnation like Gurudev to deliver
the same philosophy.
You can convey information or words. Some of you
will know the conveyor belt. You drop something on it-it moves and somebody
else picks it up. This is conveying: words are dropped on this belt
called language, it enters into your ears, and at random you pick up
what you like and leave what you do not like. (It is like a conveyor
belt at the airport.) This is the most dangerous thing in life. When
we go to a master we should not go to him in order that he may convey
what we'd like to hear. If that is what you want you don't have to go
to a master. You can stay at home, pick up a tape recorder and say all
that you want to hear, then play it back-and you will hear all that
you want to hear. You will not hear one word other than what you want
to hear! This is the first problem in the conveyor belt system. The
second problem is that even something which you would very much like
to pick up may move so fast that you miss it. Conveying may be necessary
for learning arithmetic or language. Even when they teach you the three
R's in schools they repeat the instructions again and again so that
if you missed them the first time the conveyor belt comes back to you
again, (like at the airport).
Communication is quite different. It is almost
always non-verbal. Sit here for a few moments listening with your ears
and eyes open, then for two minutes close your eyes and listen. It is
not the same. When the eyes are closed you cannot listen properly. Almost
all is lost, only a little is left. Worse still, if you turn around
and look at something else while you listen you probably don't really
listen to anything at all. We used to write down the dialogues and conversations
that Swamiji had with devotees and disciples. Often we found that when
a highly inspiring dialogue was jotted down it wasn't so inspiring,
because-especially in the case of Swami-a "hmm", his smile and the way
he looked at you meant a tremendous lot. All those things had tremendous
impact and tremendous meaning. That is where communication takes
place. Obviously this could not be committed to writing. That is why
the ancient masters insisted that reading and listening alone would
not do, that you should go and sit at the feet of an enlightened master-then
nothing may happen, or everything may happen. Not a word may be exchanged
but everything happens because there is non-verbal communication.
Communication can take place when you and the
master can become like one. When you and the master are at the same
level and on the same wavelength, then you pick up the teaching without
his having to utter a word. That is the famous symbol of Dakshinamurthi.
I guess you have heard the story. Four very old, great sages felt that
they had not reached the supreme state of enlightenment. There was a
little doubt, a little restlessness in them. They were wandering in
search of a master who would put their doubts at rest, who would enable
them to find the ultimate resting point. While they were wandering they
suddenly saw a young man seated under a banyan tree. They were attracted
to him as iron filings are attracted to a magnet, and drawn by this
force they went to him. He was a young man, almost naked. They sat down
and looked at him. He didn't say a word, they didn't even ask a question,
but all their doubts were cleared. Why was it so? Because they were
on the same wavelength. What do we mean by saying that the disciple
is on the same wavelength as the Guru? Does it mean that the disciple
is as enlightened as the Guru? If the disciple had already attained
self-realisation or Atma-jnana, why should he go to the Guru?
To be on the same wavelength specifically means
you have a certain equipment and your heart will respond spontaneously
without any difficulty whatsoever to a certain master only to a certain
master and not to others. Your receiver is not as powerful as the master's
transmitter, but you are still on the same wavelength, which means you,
too, are of the same fundamental nature. Go to him. Then communication
is possible, because at a certain level, on a certain plane, you respond
to each other brilliantly. Swami Sivananda was an expert in this. He
did not regard anyone as his disciple but he knew that he could serve
and guide seekers. There was a Swami here who was not Swami Sivananda's
disciple. He belonged to another order altogether. He was the foremost
among us and Swami treated him as one of us. He lived here in the Ashram,
but when his Guru came Swamiji would tell him to serve his Guru. I think
many of you have at least heard of the great Yogi in America, Swami
Satchidananda. He was here for some years, and then went to Ceylon.
A young man came from Bombay who was devoted to Swami Satchidananda.
Swami Sivananda gave him Sannyasa, initiated him. Every time Swami Satchidananda
came here from Ceylon he used to say, "Gurumaharaj has come, go and
serve him." So as far as Swami Sivananda was concerned this Swami was
a disciple of Swami Satchidananda. In the same way it is possible that
somebody who came to this Ashram, lived here and perhaps even got initiation
from Swami Sivananda, was inwardly devoted to some other great Guru
or master. Swami Sivananda did not object to that at all, because he
realised that those two were on the same wavelength. He was happy to
serve the seeker on a physical level, to provide him with lodging, food,
clothing etc., but he told him to take instructions from his own Guru.
In one instance, a man is Swami Sivananda's disciple but devoted to
somebody else; in the other, a man is theoretically a disciple of some
other Guru but he is devoted to Swami Sivananda. Both are good, because
he recognised that both the Guru and disciple must be on the same wavelength.
Where that happens communication takes place.
In order to make this communication effective,
in orthodox Vedanta philosophy you have what is called the Adhikari-vada,
which implies that before you approach a Guru you had to equip yourself
with the four means: Viveka, Vairagya, Shatsampat, Mumukshutva. It has
been slightly simplified in the Katha Upanishad:
Uttishthata jagrata prapya varan nibodhata.
"Awake, arise, be vigilant, then approach a great
one and attain enlightenment." Viveka, Vairagya, Shatsampat and Mumukshutva
are considered to be the signs of this inner awakening. (Not enlightenment,
but awakening.)
In ancient days, according to tradition, the enlightened
ones kept themselves aloof from society-maybe physically, but definitely
psychologically. It has been declared in many of the Upanishads and
other religious texts that the enlightened man should move about in
society as if he is a fool-a concept that is beautifully expressed in
the Bible, "Do not cast pearls before swine." Only a qualified seeker
recognised them. It is a far cry from the modern "Yogis" who proclaim
themselves as enlightened, and seek seekers!
Of all the Swamis and holy men I have met Swami
Sivananda was the only one who did not parade his knowledge. This was
an extraordinary trait in him. If you ask many Swamis and Yogis a simple
question, "In winter the Ganga water is cold, Swami, can one take a
bath?" The sort of answer you want is, "Yes, you can have a bath after
the sun rises, or apply some oil and then dip into the Ganga." But they
would give you a whole talk on Vedanta, "You are not the body, you are
not the mind, the immortal self you are." It is not the immortal self
that feels the cold, it is the body and the mind that feel the cold!
I never heard this kind of reply from Swami Sivananda. If at all, he
erred on the other side. He was more interested in your physical and
intellectual welfare, rather than impose upon you a sort of religious
instruction every time you sneezed or coughed. He waited for you to
ask-uttishthata jagrata prapya varan nibodhata"-You must arise,
awake, then go to the great one. The arising and the awakening
are your problem, not the Guru's, but Swamiji went out of his way to
admit people to the Ashram, who did not have all these qualifications.
He did not hide spiritual truth-it was there, published-and unlike others
he did not hide himself physically in a cave, nor did he behave like
an ignoramus, living in the world as if he were deaf, dumb and blind
as the scripture says one should. He did not parade his knowledge, but
when you were keen he communicated that knowledge in a mysterious way.
It was the tradition in those days for holy men
to hide themselves in a cave and wait to be approached by qualified
disciples who had experienced an inner awakening, who were vigilant
and keen, and who, at great expense (not of money, but of energy and
time) went to them and asked for instruction. Swami Sivananda adopted
this tradition to a great extent by (I might say) veiling his Atma-jnana
in a big overcoat, so that people who went to him often remembered him
for his affection and love, for his great concern for their physical
and material welfare. "How is your son? How is your daughter? Is she
married? How is your job? How is your health, are you sleeping well?"
These were his main concerns-Atma-jnana came in its own time. When thus
in total affection and love you became one with him, then it was easy
for non-verbal communication to take place. That was his secret. But
he did recognise that unless a person had wisdom, dispassion, noble
virtuous qualities and a steady yearning for liberation, no amount of
verbal instruction would be of any use whatsoever, and non-verbal communication
became impossible.
Preparation was essential. You may have the best
radio receiver here but if it is not connected to the mains or doesn't
have batteries it will fail, it won't receive however sophisticated
your system may be. So unless your heart is really and truly and fully
prepared for the reception of Atma-jnana, no one can ever do a thing
to you. Lord Krishna, Buddha, or Jesus may stand in front of you and
talk and you will not be impressed. An impure heart cannot receive non-verbal
communication and if verbal communication is attempted, an impure heart
will pollute, twist and distort it. Here Swami Sivananda was unique.
He often used to say, "It is impossible to expect these people living
in the modern world to develop discrimination and dispassion." It is
alright to say theoretically that one can practise meditation even in
a fish market in Delhi, but if you go there you may find it difficult.
You may use ear plugs and you may wear an eyemask, but something in
the atmosphere is so completely unspiritual that it's a waste of time
trying to meditate there. Recognising this, Swamiji welcomed even unawakened
students to his feet here and attempted to awaken them.
Some people had come here out of sheer disappointment
in life. In those days it was sort of a joke that if a young man failed
in his exam or in his business, look for him in Sivananda Ashram. People
in despair used to come here, and Swami Sivananda admitted them freely
and then tried to bring about an awakening. I will give you one
example. One young man came here because his family refused to sanction
his marriage to the gift he wanted to marry. He came here because somebody
in Rishikesh told him, "You're from South India, you are an educated
man, go to Sivananda Ashram." So he came here and Swamiji said, "Alright,
stay here. What can you do?" He said, "I can clean this place." Later
he turned out to be a great, wonderful Yogi-but not all were like him.
(I'm not talking about him hereafter.)
I don't know if you can understand the problems
that this sort of thing created. Here is a person who is raw, who comes
to the Ashram not because he wants Atma-jnana but because he wants to
run away from home. He's not a disciple of Swami Sivananda, he didn't
come to Swami Sivananda regarding him as the Guru because the Guru experience
had not taken place. So he is there as a raw candidate, without Viveka,
without Vairagya, without any of the qualifications necessary for any
kind of communication to take place. He has his own ideas, his own philosophy.
Now slowly he has to be drawn close to the Master. In that process the
Master has to shower his affection upon him-which might be interpreted
by several people in several ways. He thinks, "Oh, I'm so important
that Swami Sivananda is sending me milk and fruits and Kichidi and looking
after me," and the others become jealous. Here is the enlightened Master
presiding over all this, to whom this newcomer is as vital, as important,
as glorious as all of us. It created innumerable problems for Swamiji
himself. Gurudev often used to say,
"Never mind even if this man is vicious, by bringing
him here and giving him shelter here I've insured that there is one
rogue less in Delhi." That was his philosophy. "The very fact that So-and-so
came here shows that there is a little opening, however minute, through
which some sort of communication can take place. Let him stay here,
I will plant a seed. In this birth, next birth, never mind, that seed
will germinate now or years and years later." These were his very words.
It was in this respect that Swamiji perhaps differed
from most other Masters who would have insisted "Unless you have all
these virtues and so on, you cannot be admitted here, you're unfit to
be a spiritual aspirant." Swamiji said, "Oh no, that's too harsh. It
is not possible to acquire these virtues and qualities outside of an
Ashram in this world. So the modern Guru must even awaken these virtues,
or plant them in the seeker and nurture them, and not expect them to
be there already." That was the uniqueness of Swami Sivananda. He planted
the seeds of goodness in us, he nurtured them, watered them and made
them grow; though this created tremendous difficulties to himself he
didn't mind at all.
Swami Sivananda accepted the supreme and vital
need for what is known as Sadhana-chatushtaya-discrimination, dispassion,
divine qualities and a keen yearning for liberation. Whereas the orthodox
Rishis, sages, Yogis or holy men waited for the ripe seeker (one who
was ready, who had disciplined himself, who had prepared himself) to
approach them, Swami Sivananda said that it is perhaps too much to expect
a person living in the modern world, assailed on all sides by distractions
and temptations, to develop discrimination and dispassion. He said that
even in the case of a person who runs away from failure it is possible
to find a spark which could be fanned into a big flame. Sometimes if
the spark didn't exist he even ignited it. That was the extraordinary
beauty in Swami Sivananda.
One of the methods adopted by him was massive
dissemination of spiritual knowledge. It was absolutely and totally
indiscriminate. Viveka is often translated into discrimination. Here
was a master who performed indiscriminate charity and undertook indiscriminate
dissemination of spiritual knowledge in the hope that one of these pamphlets
or books, dropping into the hands of a man at a certain psychological
moment, might ignite true Viveka, true aspiration, in him. I'll give
you just one or two instances. He used to send lots of free books to
devotees and non-devotees. Among the recipients of these free books
were Sir Winston Churchill (Prime Minister, London, Great Britain),
President Truman (Washington) and Marshall Stalin (Moscow). Once somebody
said, "Swamiji, these will never reach those men." He replied, "Never
mind, they are books after all and they are parcelled and addressed
to Moscow, London, Washington. They have got to get there. Somebody
has got to open them to find out what the parcel contains. He will
read them."
Now another, rather interesting incident which
is relevant to the discussion. One day an official letter had been received
from a government department. On top of it there was the name and address
of the head of that department. Immediately Swamiji autographed a book,
"May God bless you, with regards, Prem and Om, Sivananda", and sent
it to this address. That man's name was also put on the Divine Life
Magazine free register. He received the book and a couple of days later
a copy of the Divine Life Magazine. Probably he threw it away. Next
month again there was the Divine Life Magazine, so he asked his assistant
to write a stiff letter to the Divine Life Society saying, "Do not waste
time sending these to me, I don't like them. I can't bother to look
at them." When this letter was received Swamiji said, "Ah, he doesn't
want, alright. Take his name off the magazine free register. We don't
want to impose a thing upon him." It looked as though the story was
completed there. No, two years later this man wrote to Swamiji a letter
that moved all of us: "I received a book from you two years ago, heaven
knows how you got my name and address. At that time I was so arrogant
and haughty-I was occupying a position of power and prestige-that when
I received your book I threw it away. I was on top, then a little later
I came down-I lost my job, my money, everything went wrong. One day
I had suicidal thoughts and wandered into my study. Sitting dejected
in a depressed mood, I happened to look up and there I saw 'Sure Ways
for Success in Life and God-realisation'. Almost mechanically I pulled
out that book, opened a page and there was 'Never Despair'. I saw this
and suddenly I remembered that I had received this book two years ago
from you and had callously thrown it into the waste paper basket. But
my servant who cleaned my room had emptied the basket and thought I
might have accidentally dropped that book into it, so he took it out,
dusted it and put it on the shelf without my knowledge. So I am thankful
to him and I am thankful to you. That book saved my life." Then he picked
up the threads of what was left and made a success of his life.
That was Gurudev's method. I am quite sure that
of the thousands and thousands of people who received books, pamphlets
and magazines from him, only a few made use of them in this manner.
But it might strike a sympathetic cord in the heart of somebody, somewhere,
at sometime. In Swamiji's case it was indiscriminate dissemination of
spiritual knowledge. If you bestow some thought upon it you'll probably
feel (like me) that he must have been a divine incarnation, because
only God adopts this attitude. Only in God's nature you find such an
approach. If you look at a fruit tree (or any tree which bears fruits
and berries with seeds) you'll understand this philosophy very beautifully.
Can you count the number of seeds that one single tree produces in one
single season? Imagine what would happen if all of them germinated and
became trees. There wouldn't be space even for one species of tree to
exist on this earth! But it does not happen. (I'm not interested in
explanations, I'm only looking at the truth.) God has created a fruit-bearing
tree; that tree yields thousands of fruits every season and not all
of those seeds germinate. This omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent God
is quite satisfied with that. You may argue that the rest of the fruits
become fertiliser. Excellent, that suits me! That is precisely what
Swami Sivananda did. He went on planting thousands and thousands of
seeds. A few of them germinated and became mighty trees in themselves,
and the others acted (or act) as fertilisers for the preparation of
the soil for a future growth. People whom Swami Sivananda loved and
trained, served and guided, people in whom Swami Sivananda sowed the
seeds of spiritual aspiration-and who perhaps did not respond as zealously
as you might have expected them to respond-are now with different Gurus,
and there they shine as great Yogis, great Mahatmas, great seekers.
So the seeds that he planted have germinated and become mighty trees
in the case of some; in the case of others they probably fertilised
the consciousness of other non-seekers and made them seekers. When they
were inwardly awakened they found some holy man and followed him. That
was his beautiful approach. He was an extraordinary optimist who felt
that given this indiscriminate dissemination of spiritual knowledge,
eventually each one will find the path and the goal.
So he agreed that Sadhana-chatushtaya are the
essential prerequisites for Sadhana; without these you are not going
to get anywhere-you would not even be able to recognise your Guru and
any training that you undertake would be useless, fruitless. But he
insisted that it is the duty of enlightened people (or even senior spiritual
aspirants) to plant the seeds regardless of the readiness of the soil
to receive these seeds. That is our service. These seeds will germinate
sometime or other.
There is another very interesting feature. Now
the Ashram is modern, life is fairly comfortable. It's not easy in such
an atmosphere to understand what the seekers who came here in the early
40's felt. Some of them had read Swami Sivananda's flaming words. Some
of those original writings of Gurudev were so inspiring that if you
read them you wanted to tear off all your clothes and run away to the
Himalayas and practise austerities and attain self-realisation at that
moment. That was the peculiarity of his style. Many of them were inspired
by his writings and came here. Usually they came without even a change
of clothing because in Swami Sivananda's 'How to Get Vairagya' they
had read "Renounce everything"-and so they renounced everything; "Seek
solitude"-and so they came to seek solitude here. Some of them on entering
this place might even have discovered that others who had joined earlier
had a nice coat. There was a tendency to feel, "Ah, they have lost the
path, they have fallen away. Look how dispassionate I am. My aspiration
is far greater than the aspiration of these people who have been with
Swami Sivananda for such a long time. They don't know what austerity,
dispassion and burning aspiration mean. Every morning I am sitting here
at 4 o'clock meditating. Look at all these older Ashramites."
Swamiji used to watch them and appreciate them.
Whatever you did, first came encouragement. Then he would gently push
a little bit. "Enthusiasm is very good. You have got brilliant, wonderful
aspiration. You are supreme, you are like a Sukadeva. But juvenile enthusiasm
is no good." First a lot of butter and then a little bitter pill-that
was his method. You should never be discouraged, you should never feel
that what you are doing is totally wrong. No, do it, it is wonderful,
but make sure that it is not only juvenile enthusiasm, something which
might lead to a reaction. Burning aspiration is necessary, but it must
be steady, not quickly going up and quickly coming down like a balloon.
If it is true aspiration it will continue to stay with you throughout
your life. If there is some kind of juvenile enthusiasm it not only
disappears, but it leads to a reaction which is usually equal and opposite.
For instance for six months you walk about naked and you don't talk,
eating very little. God knows what your motives and intentions are.
God knows what goes on in your own mind and in your heart. If, somehow,
after those six months you discover that that was useless, then you
would never stop talking, never stop eating, and you would go to the
opposite extreme.
Swamiji was extremely cautious, and he cautioned
the disciples also to be cautious. There was one instance which illustrates
this: When I came to the Ashram there was another young man also with
me. This young man is quite a wonderful person, there is nothing wrong
with him. While here, even though he was very devoted to the Master
and his work, he also developed an extraordinary friendship with one
of the senior disciples of Swami Sivananda. This is natural-if you stay
here for six months or one year you feel drawn to one or other of the
senior Mahatmas here. Some time later this senior Swami decided to leave
and go away. Suddenly my friend also decided to leave. He was disappointed
with the Ashram because the Swami he admired was leaving. He sent word
to Swamiji that he intended to leave, and he even wanted me to go back
with him. I told him, "Though I came with you, I'm not going to go back
with you." I used to be in the Bhajan Hall in those days and Swamiji
lived down below right on the bank of the Ganga. Three or four times
on a single day he came up and down. At that time there were no steps,
so he had to negotiate a hill-side. The first time he came he said,
"I believe he's going. Ask him not to go. He has lived this life for
one year now and if he goes back there will be a great reaction. He
might lose all this." I told my friend and he said, "No, my father is
not well, my mother is not well and I have to go to support my family."
I went down and told Swamiji this. He came up again later and said,
"How much will he earn? We will send money to his mother." The Ashram
was living a hand-to-mouth existence in those days, but he said, "We
will support you. We will support the family. The spiritual wealth is
so precious." Gurudev realised that the wealth of spiritual aspiration
is so delicate. It is there, deep within you, but it is so deep and
the dust and the ash that cover it are so thick that it has become precious.
The Master has to plant the seed and only he knows how precious, how
valuable it is and how necessary it is to safeguard it against reaction.
That was Gurudev's extraordinary love, and extraordinary attitude.
Since the students were not only raw, but not
even awake, even the awakening influence had to come from the Master.
The people who came often came with their own bad habits. How did he
handle this problem? Often he turned a blind eye on your bad habit.
I know on some occasions very senior disciples of Swamiji (who were
also authorities in the Ashram) would go to him with all sorts of complaints.
Gurudev had to please the authorities also. He would pretend to be really
angry. The secretary was satisfied and went away, thinking that Swamiji
would deal with the young seeker. On the contrary, the man against whom
the complaint was filed would first of all get a couple of bananas-there
was a little boy serving Gurudev in those days who would come running
to you and say, "Swamiji gave you some fruits, Prasad." Half an hour
later somebody else might come running to you, "Swamiji gave you some
coffee." An hour later you might have his Darshan. He'd say, "You're
shining, you're radiant. You're meditating nicely. You're doing Japa-good.
You're studying Vedanta? Very good." What happened to all the complaints?
He would watch to see if this encouragement worked. Instead of telling
you that you are a bad man, Gurudev insisted on concentrating on the
good qualities in you, telling you that you were a great worker, even
if you had no spiritual aspiration or devotion at all. There are some
good qualities in each person, so why not promote them? He would say,
"You are a tremendous worker. There is nobody who works as hard as you
do." He would throw one seed there-it is planting the seed that is important-then
gently add "Whenever you work, see God in all. Why don't you go and
serve food in the kitchen? You're a tremendous man, you have got a nice
body and a fine voice. When you serve Roti, say 'Roti Bhagavan, Roti
Narayan, Roti Maharaj'."
In this manner the seed of aspiration was planted.
Swamiji sometimes pointed out that Atma-jnana
(self-realisation) is extremely easy. God is real, Brahman is real,
Atman is real already. It is the Atman that is sitting there, it is
the Atman that is sitting here, it is the Atman that is nodding the
head, it is the Atman that is talking. If all this is the Atman, where
is the difficulty in realising it? All the other teachers and masters-who
caution us that it is extremely difficult-are not wrong. Self-realisation
is extremely easy, but the preliminary to it, the purification
which is a prerequisite, is extremely difficult. Atma-jnana is easy
because it is a gift of God-it is not an achievement. Either you say
it is there already or you say it is a gift of God, depending upon your
point of view. If you are adopting the Jnana-yoga approach you realise
that the self is there already. If you adopt the Bhakta's approach you
say it is the gift of God.
Why do we practise any Sadhana at all? Krishna
makes it very beautifully and abundantly clear in the Bhagavad-Gita:
yunjyad-yogam-atmavisuddhaye (VI. 12)
"Practise Yoga for the purpose of self-purification."
Yoga, meditation and all the spiritual practices that we undertake are
meant merely to purify the heart and the mind, not to realise God.
When it came to training for self-purification
Swamiji adopted very simple methods which were profound in their effects.
I don't know what your idea of the word 'training' is. Our usual idea
of training is by temptation and threat-the carrot and the stick. Training
does not mean that. This tape recorder is trained towards me; when you
take a photograph you train the camera towards the object (or the subject).
So training means to direct one's attention towards what you are meant
to learn or to do, and to observe. That is exactly what Swamiji did,
nothing more. There was no temptation, no threat-but there was training.
The difficulty here is that it is easy to train a camera, tape recorder
or gun to point in a certain direction because they are inanimate objects,
they don't think or change their minds-but you and I do. Since we were
not cameras or guns which could be set or let go, this training had
to be continuous (in the sense of repeated). Swamiji had to do it again
and again and again. So far I've not seen anyone in the world who had
such patience as Swamiji had. He never treated anyone as hopeless. If
you couldn't see it this way he would turn it that way, the other way,-he
went round and round until one day he hoped you would see it. The moment
you saw it you reached the goal. That's why he said that self-realisation
is terribly simple. When you enter a room which is pitch-dark and you
don't know where the switch is, you go on groping for it. Switching
the light on is terribly easy but finding the switch is not so easy.
He was enlightened and he could see, and so he said "It is there on
your right". You turned round until you didn't know which was right
and which was left-and then he relaxed you. He never kept us in a state
of tension. He would push you to bring about this training or orientation,
but if he found that you were breaking down, all rules would be relaxed.
In those days there were not many people in the
Ashram and so for a considerable time I had the holy, auspicious and
unpleasant duty of waking everybody up at four o'clock. Swamiji used
to be very particular that everyone should get up at about four and
come to the meditation class, or meditate in their rooms-whatever they
did they must wake up-but he used to be very particular that your sleep
should not be disturbed otherwise. If you were resting during the daytime
we were not allowed to disturb you. If he passed near your room and
saw that you were resting he would be silent and would instruct everybody
else around to be very silent.
He taught us a technique of waking you up even
at 4 a.m. We were taught to stand outside the door and gently say Ommmm-wait
for about a minute, then Ommm, a little louder. If that did not work,
then OOOmm louder still. Then knock at the door. This was allowed only
at four o'clock, not otherwise. Although he was very particular that
people should get up and meditate, if he found that you were not used
to it and that you were showing signs of tension or fatigue, he would
find some excuse or other, because if you keep up that tension it is
more than likely you will break down, there might be a reaction. Half
a loaf is better than no loaf!
If the student had some weakness or the other
Swamiji would turn a blind eye, saying, "He has got some weakness but
he has also got some great qualities." If you say to a liar, "You are
an embodiment of truth", he might one day become truthful. Swamiji adopted
the technique of never pointing out the other person's fault, and when
it had to be done it was done so nicely. A bunch of bananas came first,
then a little bit of a pinprick which was followed by butter and honey.
After the banana had been digested and the butter had been used up,
suddenly you realised, "My God, this is what he wanted to say!"
Because we are alive and thinking all the time,
this training is not a matter of changing one direction or another but
of inner self-purification Atma-suddhaye. You might ask if it
is not more sensible, practical and fruitful if the impurity is pointed
out in order that you might purify yourself. If you have a short temper,
should a Guru not say, "You are a short-tempered man. Stop it." Would
that not lead to instantaneous self-purification? More often not, because
the ego that manifests itself as the short temper does not want to look
at itself in that light. You don't like it and if you are given a medicine
which you do not like, especially psychological medicine, it will not
work.
Patanjali in the Yoga Sutras says: "Choose an
object which you like." Otherwise you cannot meditate upon it, your
mind will refuse to turn towards it. Since the whole aim of this exercise
is to train the mind to observe this, if anything which the mind does
not like is suggested it will prove counter-productive. So if even a
great master tells you that you are a short-tempered man and should
control your temper, you will probably be upset immediately. What is
it that gets upset? It is that short temper that gets upset! If another
man said it you would probably knock his jaw out, but since the master
says it you are unwilling to retaliate and you shed tears. The tears
are not tears of repentance or remorse, but the tears of resistance.
If you say something and the other person starts crying that means the
communication is lost, he doesn't want to hear. You cannot train such
a person. The tears themselves mean, "Please don't say this again."
So, not only was this contrary to Gurudev's inner nature (which was
beautifully expressed by him as "Never hurt other's feelings") but even
when it came to training his own disciples he refused to adopt that
method. By pointing out someone's defects you can never help him get
rid of them. He will not see them, the tears blind him. When your eyes
are full of tears you can neither see what is in front of you, nor within
you. It needs a very steady and calm mind to observe one's own impurities.
Now you see the difficulty of self-realisation
or self-purification, and the difficulty of training a disciple. You
are not dealing with a camera or a gun or a tape recorder, but with
a thinking, feeling, human being. This understanding or perception is
not merely a matter of intelligence or intellect, of readjusting your
physical habits and behaviour or of changing your inner attitude, but
it must simultaneously bring about a change in all these. Your mind,
your heart, your intelligence, your life force and your soul must see
this. Is that possible? Let's say somebody has got a bad temper and
he insults another person. Is it possible for you to convince him that
that is a defect in him? If you try to convince him he will listen to
you and then say: "Yes, I shouldn't have called him an idiot, I could
easily have called him silly." That means he still has the germ of objectification
within him. He doesn't feel that what he did was wrong-that as
a spiritual aspirant he should not have been so aggressive. Buddha has
a very beautiful expression for this: 'wriggling like an eel'. He is
not straight at all, but slipping through it. Something in him does
not see this. When a defect is pointed out he thinks the other person
has not understood the whole problem. When someone tells you: "You were
quarrelling with someone yesterday-it is not right", you think "Why
doesn't he tell the other man? He started the quarrel"! The mind
turns away from this defect. Neither the mind nor the heart wants to
see it. If the mind sees, the heart does not see; if the heart sees,
the mind does not see.
Gurudev's Yoga is the Yoga of synthesis. If a
change has to be effected, if purification has to be effected, it has
to be on all these levels simultaneously, not one after the other. That
needed infinite patience, and that infinite patience is called love.
He never lost hope, and however impossible the disciples were, and however
rudely they reacted to this training, he didn't lose his temper or give
up hope. He just went on. If the disciple was not able to see what Swamiji
was trying to do, he gently created a situation in which he may have
been able to see this. That's how he worked ceaselessly for forty years.
The methods he adopted were more often than not unconventional. It used
to be almost a joke in the late 40's that if someone took a complaint
to Gurudev against someone else he would refuse to believe it. Obviously
you are not going to fight with somebody else in Gurudev's presence,
we only fight when the Master is not there! And so whatever mischief
went on happened behind his back. If you took a complaint against me
to him he would respond, "Ah, is that so?", but he didn't really believe
it because he had not seen it with his own eyes. Of course he
wouldn't have seen that, no one would do it in his Presence.
If the secretary or somebody took the complaint
to the Master that So-and-so was smoking and Swamiji felt that there
was a germ of truth in it-he would write an article on the dangers of
smoking. If the man against whom the complaint was made was a good typist
he would ask him to type it. There was no direct confrontation, but
it was possible that while typing this the message sneaks into the heart.
If he was not a typist Swamiji would have it typed by somebody else
and ask him to bring it to the evening Satsanga. In Satsanga in those
days there used to be lots of reading from scriptures and occasionally
from Swamiji's own writings. That day he would say, "Mukunda, you have
typed this article?" "Yes, Swamiji." "Ask him to read it"-as
if at random, as if he was not very particular who read it. So it was
given to the man against whom the complaint was lodged. There in the
Satsanga with all these people around he had to read aloud, "Don't smoke,
it's deadly, it poisons your lungs, etc. Therefore, stop smoking immediately!"
It is possible that he got the message. Often Swamiji would ask you
to give a talk. Let's say if you were a man of bad temper; at any time
you might be called upon to give a talk to some group on anger. You
are not going to say that anger is good. You will say that a spiritual
aspirant must be absolutely calm and patient and so on. As you go on
saying this inevitably you yourself listen to it.
The fundamental principle in all this was that
you were never criticised by Gurudev. If you had been criticised or
taken to task by him all this would have been ineffective. If in spite
of all this training you still couldn't restrain yourself, picked up
a quarrel with somebody else and the quarrel became so great that it
was brought to his notice and both of you had to come in front of him,
the first thing he did was to praise you. "You've got this quality and
that quality. First of all to be able to renounce the world and to come
here and have a bath in the Ganga is the greatest good fortune. You
must have done spiritual practice (Sadhana) in hundreds of previous
births to be spiritually inclined, and you must have earned the grace
of thousands of saints in order to be brought here to an Ashram, to
lead a spiritual life." Now that he has pointed out that you are fabulously
wealthy in spiritual qualities he would add, "Why do you want to quarrel?
It is only a little defect. Don't lose your temper. If you lost your
temper you might spoil your prospects, spoil your effort. Did you have
your breakfast? What did you have, coffee, tea? Shall I get some more?"
Finished. A whole lot of carrots plus a little bit of stick, and immediately
it is sandwiched with another lot of fruits and milk. At some time or
the other the person must become aware of the impurity within.
Impurity is not a static thing. We say that a
person is characteristically short-tempered, or greedy or dull. Even
this changes. It is possible that someone has had psychological habits,
and by some sort of constructive criticism (not by the Master, but by
others) he is made aware of these particular defects, and somehow been
able to overcome (overcome is the word) many of them, one by one. Then
he becomes terribly vain and egoistic, saying, "I used to be a brute,
I used to hate everybody. Now I am very, very peaceful." He has slipped
from the frying pan into the fire. In the frying pan he would have lasted
a few more days, in the fire he is finished immediately! He has enormous
ego now. That is no good.
When you attack these evils you come face to face
with the ego (the commander-in-chief, as Swamiji used to call it). When
you attack the soldiers then the commander-in-chief comes into view.
Your petty anger, greed and jealousy are of no consequence at all, not
such terrible things in themselves, ultimately, but while you deal with
them you might discover what the ego is. It is the ego that puts on
all these forms. The same ego puts on the guise of anger at one stage
and when you have overcome anger it becomes jealousy or greed. The same
ego goes round and round and round. The purpose of trying to understand
these psychological traits is not to overcome them-'overcome' implies
arrogance, egoism, vanity-but to understand their essential nature.
What is it that flares up? The ego. What is it that is greedy? The ego.
What is it that is jealous? The ego again. So, you are never safe. Krishna
points out this truth in the last verse of the second chapter.
esha brahmi sthitih partha nai'nam prapya vimuhyati
(II. 72)
"This is the Brahmic state, the state of enlightenment.
Having reached this, one is not deluded"-one is not fooled again. If
you are fooled you are not enlightened, you just thought you
were enlightened, you thought you were a saint. You are not.
Again:
sthitva 'syamantakale 'pi brahmanirvanamrcchati
(II.72)
"If you are established in it to the end of your
life, then you are safe." When you are completely and totally dead you
are absolutely safe. Till then there is the possibility that when one
defect is overcome the ego rises as another defect. These were Swamiji's
famous and oft-repeated words: "Till the end of your life you must be
vigilant."
The Guru communicates the theory to the disciple
and trains and helps him in his practice. Gurudev did not wait for the
disciple to prepare himself before coming to him, so he was both the
Acharya (the teacher) and the Guru. To many perhaps he was only an Acharya
who taught them, or (what was even more interesting) just a good man
who looked after them. Many came here as destitutes, he looked after
them; many came here in despair, he gave them some hope; many didn't
know what to do with themselves, he gave them some work. He was several
things to several people.
The Guru has a very special relationship-not in
the sense of superior or inferior, but of a different kind. For instance,
someone who was disappointed with life, who lost his job, his money,
his family, wife or children, came here in despair and met Swamiji.
Without a word being exchanged, when this man looked at Swamiji he realised
that he did not have all those things which are considered essential
for happiness-money, property, wife, and children-and yet he was blissful.
This man thought, "There must either be something wrong with him or
with me." So he began to wonder first of all, if it was possible for
him also to live happily independent of those things, and not to suffer
disappointment.
According to orthodox tradition you are supposed
to have done all this examination of life before you could even leave
home, but Swamiji said, "Come here, we will find out what you are fit
for." Once having come to the feet of the Acharya you want to learn.
Such learning is impossible unless you are also able to tune yourself
to the teacher. It's not always his job to do that. The Acharya, especially
if he is also an enlightened person (a Jivanmukta), might in his own
supreme compassion come down to your level to teach you, but if you
persist in remaining at your level he might leave you there. So one
must make some attempt to raise oneself to the wavelength of the Acharya
some time or the other, so that you are able to understand him.
How do you know that you are not on the Acharya's
wavelength? The test is very simple. I'm sure you've all played with
a little transistor radio. You know that you are not on the exact wavelength
for a certain station when it starts crackling. The same thing happens
within you. The master says something and there is a crackling within,
a strange form of inner resistance. It is not total rejection, but a
sort of grating within you. That means there is probably no inner resistance
to the teacher but a little bit of alignment is indicated, you're not
on the same wavelength. You're neither prepared to say yes, nor prepared
to say no. So if the teacher asks you to do something and there is this
inner resistance it means you're not on the same wavelength, and it
is not possible for him to communicate with you. It's not his fault
and probably it's not your fault either, but there is some fault somewhere.
So the student who goes to the master prematurely
(according to orthodox tradition) has to work on himself also in order
to bring himself to the same wavelength. If that is not done communication
is difficult and training is impossible, however great the master may
be. Please remember that Krishna (whom we venerate as an incarnation
of God), Jesus Christ and Buddha were not always able to bring about
enlightenment on the part of their disciples or the people with whom
they came in contact. Krishna even had to go to the extent of killing
(although they call it 'redeeming') what were called demons, because
they could never have come onto the same wavelength as Krishna. In the
same way Jesus Christ could stop the wind and the waves but he couldn't
stop those ruffians persecuting him. If they're not on the same wavelength
it's not possible to deal with them.
To get on the same wavelength is the foremost
duty of a student if he wishes to grow into a disciple. Disciple means
discipline, and discipline means study, studying oneself constantly.
You came here under your own volition, you saw something extraordinary
in the master which you couldn't find within yourself, but this factor
is very soon forgotten. You came to him hopeless, in despair, helpless,
in internal agony, because you felt you did not have the answers to
the questions that arose in you concerning life, and felt that he would
have the answer. That is very soon forgotten, and this internal crackling
begins-when he says something you dare not say no and you cannot say
yes.
You must study it yourself. The Guru will not
do it. The broadcasting station will not adjust itself to the receiving
set, though in his supreme compassion Swamiji often did so. That was
a miracle, an extraordinary phenomenon. He often came down to our level
to help us all. The Guru does not come down because he loves your company
but in order to lift you up, and if you refuse to be lifted up, he will
leave you there spiritually. Then he treated you as a destitute by providing
the necessities of life-that's what you wanted!
This process of lifting oneself up is beautifully
described in the Bhagavad-Gita.
tad-viddhi pranipatena pariprasnena sevaya
upadekshyanti te jnanam jnaninas-tattvadarsinah (IV.34)
"Know the truth from the knowers of truth by prostrating
to them, by questioning them and by serving them." Three factors are
given to us here: surrender, questioning and service. If the student
incorporates these three factors in his life he is enabled to study
himself efficiently, otherwise not.
Service of the Guru is extremely important. It
is by serving the Guru that one learns how to raise oneself to the Guru's
wavelength. It is while serving him that one discovers the wavelength.
You do what you do in a certain manner, in a certain spirit-the Acharya
does it differently. It may even be his idiosyncrasy; but then unless
you learn to do what you do his way you are not going to raise yourself
to his wavelength. Hence, this service is valid. It is not because the
Acharya needs your service. Swamiji often remarked, "If one man
leaves the Ashram and its service, two more are waiting to come." Even
when Swamiji made us feel that our service was an important contribution
to the mission he was actually creating opportunities for us to serve
and to tune ourselves to the Master, to align ourselves with him. This
again was a unique feature in Swamiji. He worked very hard in order
to create a field for the exercise of your talent and thus to help you
grow inwardly so that the communication could take place. I shall give
you only two examples. A young man came to the Ashram and said that
the only thing he knew was paper-making. Immediately Swamiji ordered
the necessary pit to be dug and the raw material obtained. It was not
as though he had hoped that this cottage industry would provide the
Ashram with the paper it needed! But that was what the young man needed;
and the Master served the disciple and helped him grow. Swamiji did
not encourage a lot of music in the Satsanga during the early years.
Then a couple of musicians joined the Ashram. For their sake
he organise
