Raja-Yoga
CHAPTER IV
THE PSYCHIC PRANA
According to the Yogis, there are two nerve currents in the
spinal column, called Pingalâ and Idâ, and a hollow canal called
Sushumnâ running through the spinal cord. At the lower end of
the hollow canal is what the Yogis call the "Lotus of the
Kundalini". They describe it as triangular in form in which, in
the symbolical language of the Yogis, there is a power called
the Kundalini, coiled up. When that Kundalini awakes, it tries
to force a passage through this hollow canal, and as it rises
step by step, as it were, layer after layer of the mind becomes
open and all the different visions and wonderful powers come to
the Yogi. When it reaches the brain, the Yogi is perfectly
detached from the body and mind; the soul finds itself free. We
know that the spinal cord is composed in a peculiar manner. If
we take the figure eight horizontally (¥) there are two parts
which are connected in the middle. Suppose you add eight after
eight, piled one on top of the other, that will represent the
spinal cord. The left is the Ida, the right Pingala, and that
hollow canal which runs through the centre of the spinal cord is
the Sushumna. Where the spinal cord ends in some of the lumbar
vertebrae, a fine fibre issues downwards, and the canal runs up
even within that fibre, only much finer. The canal is closed at
the lower end, which is situated near what is called the sacral
plexus, which, according to modern physiology, is triangular in
form. The different plexuses that have their centres in the
spinal canal can very well stand for the different "lotuses" of
the Yogi.
The Yogi conceives of several centres, beginning with the
Mulâdhâra, the basic, and ending with the Sahasrâra, the
thousand-petalled Lotus in the brain. So, if we take these
different plexuses as representing these lotuses, the idea of
the Yogi can be understood very easily in the language of modern
physiology. We know there are two sorts of actions in these
nerve currents, one afferent, the other efferent; one sensory
and the other motor; one centripetal, and the other centrifugal.
One carries the sensations to the brain, and the other from the
brain to the outer body. These vibrations are all connected with
the brain in the long run. Several other facts we have to
remember, in order to clear the way for the explanation which is
to come. This spinal cord, at the brain, ends in a sort of bulb,
in the medulla, which is not attached to the brain, but floats
in a fluid in the brain, so that if there be a blow on the head
the force of that blow will be dissipated in the fluid, and will
not hurt the bulb. This is an important fact to remember.
Secondly, we have also to know that, of all the centres, we have
particularly to remember three, the Muladhara (the basic), the
Sahasrara (the thousand-petalled lotus of the brain) and the
Manipura (the lotus of the navel).
Next we shall take one fact from physics. We all hear of
electricity and various other forces connected with it. What
electricity is no one knows, but so far as it is known, it is a
sort of motion. There are various other motions in the universe;
what is the difference between them and electricity? Suppose
this table moves - that the molecules which compose this table
are moving in different directions; if they are all made to move
in the same direction, it will be through electricity. Electric
motion makes the molecules of a body move in the same direction.
If all the air molecules in a room are made to move in the same
direction, it will make a gigantic battery of electricity of the
room. Another point from physiology we must remember, that the
centre which regulates the respiratory system, the breathing
system, has a sort of controlling action over the system of
nerve currents.
Now we shall see why breathing is practised. In the first place,
from rhythmical breathing comes a tendency of all the molecules
in the body to move in the same direction. When mind changes
into will, the nerve currents change into a motion similar to
electricity, because the nerves have been proved to show
polarity under the action of electric currents. This shows that
when the will is transformed into the nerve currents, it is
changed into something like electricity. When all the motions of
the body have become perfectly rhythmical, the body has, as it
were, become a gigantic battery of will. This tremendous will is
exactly what the Yogi wants. This is, therefore, a physiological
explanation of the breathing exercise. It tends to bring a
rhythmic action in the body, and helps us, through the
respiratory centre, to control the other centres. The aim of
Prânâyâma here is to rouse the coiled-up power in the Muladhara,
called the Kundalini.
Everything that we see, or imagine, or dream, we have to
perceive in space. This is the ordinary space, called the
Mahâkâsha, or elemental space. When a Yogi reads the thoughts of
other men, or perceives supersensuous objects he sees them in
another sort of space called the Chittâkâsha, the mental space.
When perception has become objectless, and the soul shines in
its own nature, it is called the Chidâkâsha, or knowledge space.
When the Kundalini is aroused, and enters the canal of the
Sushumna, all the perceptions are in the mental space. When it
has reached that end of the canal which opens out into the
brain, the objectless perception is in the knowledge space.
Taking the analogy of electricity, we find that man can send a
current only along a wire, (The reader should remember that this
was spoken before the discovery of wireless telegraphy. - Ed.)
but nature requires no wires to send her tremendous currents.
This proves that the wire is not really necessary, but that only
our inability to dispense with it compels us to use it.
Similarly, all the sensations and motions of the body are being
sent into the brain, and sent out of it, through these wires of
nerve fibres. The columns of sensory and motor fibres in the
spinal cord are the Ida and Pingala of the Yogis. They are the
main channels through which the afferent and efferent currents
travel. But why should not the mind send news without any wire,
or react without any wire? We see this is done in nature. The
Yogi says, if you can do that, you have got rid of the bondage
of matter. How to do it? If you can make the current pass
through the Sushumna, the canal in the middle of the spinal
column, you have solved the problem. The mind has made this
network of the nervous system, and has to break it, so that no
wires will be required to work through. Then alone will all
knowledge come to us - no more bondage of body; that is why it
is so important that we should get control of that Sushumna. If
we can send the mental current through the hollow canal without
any nerve fibres to act as wires, the Yogi says, the problem is
solved, and he also says it can be done.
This Sushumna is in ordinary persons closed up at the lower
extremity; no action comes through it. The Yogi proposes a
practice by which it can be opened, and the nerve currents made
to travel through. When a sensation is carried to a centre, the
centre reacts. This reaction, in the case of automatic centres,
is followed by motion; in the case of conscious centres it is
followed first by perception, and secondly by motion. All
perception is the reaction to action from outside. How, then, do
perceptions in dreams arise? There is then no action from
outside. The sensory motions, therefore, are coiled up
somewhere. For instance, I see a city; the perception of that
city is from the reaction to the sensations brought from outside
objects comprising that city. That is to say, a certain motion
in the brain molecules has been set up by the motion in the
incarrying nerves, which again are set in motion by external
objects in the city. Now, even after a long time I can remember
the city. This memory is exactly the same phenomenon, only it is
in a milder form. But whence is the action that sets up even the
milder form of similar vibrations in the brain? Not certainly
from the primary sensations. Therefore it must be that the
sensations are coiled up somewhere, and they, by their acting,
bring out the mild reaction which we call dream perception.
Now the centre where all these residual sensations are, as it
were, stored up, is called the Muladhara, the root receptacle,
and the coiled-up energy of action is Kundalini, "the coiled
up". It is very probable that the residual motor energy is also
stored up in the same centre, as, after deep study or meditation
on external objects, the part of the body where the Muladhara
centre is situated (probably the sacral plexus) gets heated.
Now, if this coiled-up energy be roused and made active, and
then consciously made to travel up the Sushumna canal, as it
acts upon centre after centre, a tremendous reaction will set
in. When a minute portion of energy travels along a nerve fibre
and causes reaction from centres, the perception is either dream
or imagination. But when by the power of long internal
meditation the vast mass of energy stored up travels along the
Sushumna, and strikes the centres, the reaction is tremendous,
immensely superior to the reaction of dream or imagination,
immensely more intense than the reaction of sense-perception. It
is super-sensuous perception. And when it reaches the metropolis
of all sensations, the brain, the whole brain, as it were,
reacts, and the result is the full blaze of illumination, the
perception of the Self. As this Kundalini force travels from
centre to centre, layer after layer of the mind, as it were,
opens up, and this universe is perceived by the Yogi in its
fine, or causal form. Then alone the causes of this universe,
both as sensation and reaction, are known as they are, and hence
comes all knowledge. The causes being known, the knowledge of
the effects is sure to follow.
Thus the rousing of the Kundalini is the one and only way to
attaining Divine Wisdom, superconscious perception, realisation
of the spirit. The rousing may come in various ways, through
love for God, through the mercy of perfected sages, or through
the power of the analytic will of the philosopher. Wherever
there was any manifestation of what is ordinarily called
supernatural power or wisdom, there a little current of
Kundalini must have found its way into the Sushumna. Only, in
the vast majority of such cases, people had ignorantly stumbled
on some practice which set free a minute portion of the
coiled-up Kundalini. All worship, consciously or unconsciously,
leads to this end. The man who thinks that he is receiving
response to his prayers does not know that the fulfilment comes
from his own nature, that he has succeeded by the mental
attitude of prayer in waking up a bit of this infinite power
which is coiled up within himself. What, thus, men ignorantly
worship under various names, through fear and tribulation, the
Yogi declares to the world to be the real power coiled up in
every being, the mother of eternal happiness, if we but know how
to approach her. And Râja-Yoga is the science of religion, the
rationale of all worship, all prayers, forms, ceremonies, and
miracles.
CHAPTER V
THE CONTROL OF PSYCHIC PRANA
We have now to deal with the exercises in Prânâyâma. We have
seen that the first step, according to the Yogis, is to control
the motion of the lungs. What we want to do is to feel the finer
motions that are going on in the body. Our minds have become
externalised, and have lost sight of the fine motions inside. If
we can begin to feel them, we can begin to control them. These
nerve currents go on all over the body, bringing life and
vitality to every muscle, but we do not feel them. The Yogi says
we can learn to do so. How? By taking up and controlling the
motion of the lungs; when we have done that for a sufficient
length of time, we shall be able to control the finer motions.
We now come to the exercises in Pranayama. Sit upright; the body
must be kept straight. The spinal cord, although not attached to
the vertebral column, is yet inside of it. If you sit crookedly
you disturb this spinal cord, so let it be free. Any time that
you sit crookedly and try to meditate you do yourself an injury.
The three parts of the body, the chest, the neck, and the head,
must be always held straight in one line. You will find that by
a little practice this will come to you as easy as breathing.
The second thing is to get control of the nerves. We have said
that the nerve centre that controls the respiratory organs has a
sort of controlling effect on the other nerves, and rhythmical
breathing is, therefore, necessary. The breathing that we
generally use should not be called breathing at all. It is very
irregular. Then there are some natural differences of breathing
between men and women.
The first lesson is just to breathe in a measured way, in and
out. That will harmonise the system. When you have practiced
this for some time, you will do well to join to it the
repetition of some word as "Om," or any other sacred word. In
India we use certain symbolical words instead of counting one,
two, three, four. That is why I advise you to join the mental
repetition of the "Om," or some other sacred word to the
Pranayama. Let the word flow in and out with the breath,
rhythmically, harmoniously, and you will find the whole body is
becoming rhythmical. Then you will learn what rest is. Compared
with it, sleep is not rest. Once this rest comes the most tired
nerves will be calmed down, and you will find that you have
never before really rested.
The first effect of this practice is perceived in the change of
expression of one's face; harsh lines disappear; with calm
thought calmness comes over the face. Next comes beautiful
voice. I never saw a Yogi with a croaking voice. These signs
come after a few months' practice. After practicing the above
mentioned breathing for a few days, you should take up a higher
one. Slowly fill the lungs with breath through the Idâ, the left
nostril, and at the same time concentrate the mind on the nerve
current. You are, as it were, sending the nerve current down the
spinal column, and striking violently on the last plexus, the
basic lotus which is triangular in form, the seat of the
Kundalini. Then hold the current there for some time. Imagine
that you are slowly drawing that nerve current with the breath
through the other side, the Pingalâ, then slowly throw it out
through the right nostril. This you will find a little difficult
to practice. The easiest way is to stop the right nostril with
the thumb, and then slowly draw in the breath through the left;
then close both nostrils with thumb and forefinger, and imagine
that you are sending that current down, and striking the base of
the Sushumnâ; then take the thumb off, and let the breath out
through the right nostril. Next inhale slowly through that
nostril, keeping the other closed by the forefinger, then close
both, as before. The way the Hindus practice this would be very
difficult for this country, because they do it from their
childhood, and their lungs are prepared for it. Here it is well
to begin with four seconds, and slowly increase. Draw in four
seconds, hold in sixteen seconds, then throw out in eight
seconds. This makes one Pranayama. At the same time think of the
basic lotus, triangular in form; concentrate the mind on that
centre. The imagination can help you a great deal. The next
breathing is slowly drawing the breath in, and then immediately
throwing it out slowly, and then stopping the breath out, using
the same numbers. The only difference is that in the first case
the breath was held in, and in the second, held out. This last
is the easier one. The breathing in which you hold the breath in
the lungs must not be practiced too much. Do it only four times
in the morning, and four times in the evening. Then you can
slowly increase the time and number. You will find that you have
the power to do so, and that you take pleasure in it. So very
carefully and cautiously increase as you feel that you have the
power, to six instead of four. It may injure you if you practice
it irregularly.
Of the three processes for the purification of the nerves,
described above, the first and the last are neither difficult
nor dangerous. The more you practice the first one the calmer
you will be. Just think of "Om," and you can practice even while
you are sitting at your work. You will be all the better for it.
Some day, if you practice hard, the Kundalini will be aroused.
For those who practice once or twice a day, just a little
calmness of the body and mind will come, and beautiful voice;
only for those who can go on further with it will Kundalini be
aroused, and the whole of nature will begin to change, and the
book of knowledge will open. No more will you need to go to
books for knowledge; your own mind will have become your book,
containing infinite knowledge. I have already spoken of the Ida
and Pingala currents, flowing through either side of the spinal
column, and also of the Sushumna, the passage through the centre
of the spinal cord. These three are present in every animal;
whatever being has a spinal column has these three lines of
action. But the Yogis claim that in an ordinary man the Sushumna
is closed; its action is not evident while that of the other two
is carrying power to different parts of the body.
The Yogi alone has the Sushumna open. When this Sushumna current
opens, and begins to rise, we get beyond the sense, our minds
become supersensuous, superconscious - we get beyond even the
intellect, where reasoning cannot reach. To open that Sushumna
is the prime object of the Yogi. According to him, along this
Sushumna are ranged these centres, or, in more figurative
language, these lotuses, as they are called. The lowest one is
at the lower end of the spinal cord, and is called Mulâdhâra,
the next higher is called Svâdhishthâna, the third Manipura, the
fourth Anâhata, the fifth Vishuddha, the sixth Âjnâ and the
last, which is in the brain, is the Sahasrâra, or "the
thousand-petalled". Of these we have to take cognition just now
of two centres only, the lowest, the Muladhara, and the highest,
the Sahasrara. All energy has to be taken up from its seat in
the Muladhara and brought to the Sahasrara. The Yogis claim that
of all the energies that are in the human body the highest is
what they call "Ojas". Now this Ojas is stored up in the brain,
and the more Ojas is in a man's head, the more powerful he is,
the more intellectual, the more spiritually strong. One man may
speak beautiful language and beautiful thoughts, but they, do
not impress people; another man speaks neither beautiful
language nor beautiful thoughts, yet his words charm. Every
movement of his is powerful. That is the power of Ojas.
Now in every man there is more or less of this Ojas stored up.
All the forces that are working in the body in their highest
become Ojas. You must remember that it is only a question of
transformation. The same force which is working outside as
electricity or magnetism will become changed into inner force;
the same forces that are working as muscular energy will be
changed into Ojas. The Yogis say that that part of the human
energy which is expressed as sex energy, in sexual thought, when
checked and controlled, easily becomes changed into Ojas, and as
the Muladhara guides these, the Yogi pays particular attention
to that centre. He tries to take up all his sexual energy and
convert it into Ojas. It is only the chaste man or woman who can
make the Ojas rise and store it in the brain; that is why
chastity has always been considered the highest virtue. A man
feels that if he is unchaste, spirituality goes away, he loses
mental vigour and moral stamina. That is why in all the
religious orders in the world which have produced spiritual
giants you will always find absolute chastity insisted upon.
That is why the monks came into existence, giving up marriage.
There must be perfect chastity in thought, word, and deed;
without it the practice of Raja-Yoga is dangerous, and may lead
to insanity. If people practice Raja-Yoga and at the same time
lead an impure life, how can they expect to become Yogis?
CHAPTER VI
PRATYAHARA AND DHARANA
The next step is called Pratyâhâra. What is this? You know how
perceptions come. First of all there are the external
instruments, then the internal organs acting in the body through
the brain centres, and there is the mind. When these come
together and attach themselves to some external object, then we
perceive it. At the same time it is a very difficult thing to
concentrate the mind and attach it to one organ only; the mind
is a slave.
We hear "Be good," and "Be good," and "Be good," taught all over
the world. There is hardly a child, born in any country in the
world, who has not been told, "Do not steal," "Do not tell a
lie," but nobody tells the child how he can help doing them.
Talking will not help him. Why should he not become a thief? We
do not teach him how not to steal; we simply tell him, "Do not
steal." Only when we teach him to control his mind do we really
help him. All actions, internal and external, occur when the
mind joins itself to certain centres, called the organs.
Willingly or unwillingly it is drawn to join itself to the
centres, and that is why people do foolish deeds and feel
miserable, which, if the mind were under control, they would not
do. What would be the result of controlling the mind? It then
would not join itself to the centres of perception, and,
naturally, feeling and willing would be under control. It is
clear so far. Is it possible? It is perfectly possible. You see
it in modern times; the faith-healers teach people to deny
misery and pain and evil. Their philosophy is rather roundabout,
but it is a part of Yoga upon which they have somehow stumbled.
Where they succeed in making a person throw off suffering by
denying it, they really use a part of Pratyahara, as they make
the mind of the person strong enough to ignore the senses. The
hypnotists in a similar manner, by their suggestion, excite in
the patient a sort of morbid Pratyahara for the time being. The
so-called hypnotic suggestion can only act upon a weak mind. And
until the operator, by means of fixed gaze or otherwise, has
succeeded in putting the mind of the subject in a sort of
passive, morbid condition, his suggestions never work.
Now the control of the centres which is established in a
hypnotic patient or the patient of faith-healing, by the
operator, for a time, is reprehensible, because it leads to
ultimate ruin. It is not really controlling the brain centres by
the power of one's own will, but is, as it were, stunning the
patient's mind for a time by sudden blows which another's will
delivers to it. It is not checking by means of reins and
muscular strength the mad career of a fiery team, but rather by
asking another to deliver heavy blows on the heads of the
horses, to stun them for a time into gentleness. At each one of
these processes the man operated upon loses a part of his mental
energies, till at last, the mind, instead of gaining the power
of perfect control, becomes a shapeless, powerless mass, and the
only goal of the patient is the lunatic asylum.
Every attempt at control which is not voluntary, not with the
controller's own mind, is not only disastrous, but it defeats
the end. The goal of each soul is freedom, mastery - freedom
from the slavery of matter and thought, mastery of external and
internal nature. Instead of leading towards that, every
will-current from another, in whatever form it comes, either as
direct control of organs, or as forcing to control them while
under a morbid condition, only rivets one link more to the
already existing heavy chain of bondage of past thoughts, past
superstitions. Therefore, beware how you allow yourselves to be
acted upon by others. Beware how you unknowingly bring another
to ruin. True, some succeed in doing good to many for a time, by
giving a new trend to their propensities, but at the same time,
they bring ruin to millions by the unconscious suggestions they
throw around, rousing in men and women that morbid, passive,
hypnotic condition which makes them almost soulless at last.
Whosoever, therefore, asks any one to believe blindly, or drags
people behind him by the controlling power of his superior will,
does an injury to humanity, though he may not intend it.
Therefore use your own minds, control body and mind yourselves,
remember that until you are a diseased person, no extraneous
will can work upon you; avoid everyone, however great and good
he may be, who asks you to believe blindly. All over the world
there have been dancing and jumping and howling sects, who
spread like infection when they begin to sing and dance and
preach; they also are a sort of hypnotists. They exercise a
singular control for the time being over sensitive persons,
alas! often, in the long run, to degenerate whole races. Ay, it
is healthier for the individual or the race to remain wicked
than be made apparently good by such morbid extraneous control.
One's heart sinks to think of the amount of injury done to
humanity by such irresponsible yet well-meaning religious
fanatics. They little know that the minds which attain to sudden
spiritual upheaval under their suggestions, with music and
prayers, are simply making themselves passive, morbid, and
powerless, and opening themselves to any other suggestion, be it
ever so evil. Little do these ignorant, deluded persons dream
that whilst they are congratulating themselves upon their
miraculous power to transform human hearts, which power they
think was poured upon them by some Being above the clouds, they
are sowing the seeds of future decay, of crime, of lunacy, and
of death. Therefore, beware of everything that takes away your
freedom. Know that it is dangerous, and avoid it by all the
means in your power.
He who has succeeded in attaching or detaching his mind to or
from the centres at will has succeeded in Pratyahara, which
means, "gathering towards," checking the outgoing powers of the
mind, freeing it from the thraldom of the senses. When we can do
this, we shall really possess character; then alone we shall
have taken a long step towards freedom; before that we are mere
machines.
How hard it is to control the mind! Well has it been compared to
the maddened monkey. There was a monkey, restless by his own
nature, as all monkeys are. As if that were not enough some one
made him drink freely of wine, so that he became still more
restless. Then a scorpion stung him. When a man is stung by a
scorpion, he jumps about for a whole day; so the poor monkey
found his condition worse than ever. To complete his misery a
demon entered into him. What language can describe the
uncontrollable restlessness of that monkey? The human mind is
like that monkey, incessantly active by its own nature; then it
becomes drunk with the wine of desire, thus increasing its
turbulence. After desire takes possession comes the sting of the
scorpion of jealousy at the success of others, and last of all
the demon of pride enters the mind, making it think itself of
all importance. How hard to control such a mind!
The first lesson, then, is to sit for some time and let the mind
run on. The mind is bubbling up all the time. It is like that
monkey jumping about. Let the monkey jump as much as he can; you
simply wait and watch. Knowledge is power, says the proverb, and
that is true. Until you know what the mind is doing you cannot
control it. Give it the rein; many hideous thoughts may come
into it; you will be astonished that it was possible for you to
think such thoughts. But you will find that each day the mind's
vagaries are becoming less and less violent, that each day it is
becoming calmer. In the first few months you will find that the
mind will have a great many thoughts, later you will find that
they have somewhat decreased, and in a few more months they will
be fewer and fewer, until at last the mind will be under perfect
control; but we must patiently practice every day. As soon as
the steam is turned on, the engine must run; as soon as things
are before us we must perceive; so a man, to prove that he is
not a machine, must demonstrate that he is under the control of
nothing. This controlling of the mind, and not allowing it to
join itself to the centres, is Pratyahara. How is this
practised? It is a tremendous work, not to be done in a day.
Only after a patient, continuous struggle for years can we
succeed.
After you have practised Pratyahara for a time, take the next
step, the Dhâranâ, holding the mind to certain points. What is
meant by holding the mind to certain points? Forcing the mind to
feel certain parts of the body to the exclusion of others. For
instance, try to feel only the hand, to the exclusion of other
parts of the body. When the Chitta, or mind-stuff, is confined
and limited to a certain place it is Dharana. This Dharana is of
various sorts, and along with it, it is better to have a little
play of the imagination. For instance, the mind should be made
to think of one point in the heart. That is very difficult; an
easier way is to imagine a lotus there. That lotus is full of
light, effulgent light. Put the mind there. Or think of the
lotus in the brain as full of light, or of the different centres
in the Sushumna mentioned before.
The Yogi must always practice. He should try to live alone; the
companionship of different sorts of people distracts the mind;
he should not speak much, because to speak distracts the mind;
not work much, because too much work distracts the mind; the
mind cannot be controlled after a whole day's hard work. One
observing the above rules becomes a Yogi. Such is the power of
Yoga that even the least of it will bring a great amount of
benefit. It will not hurt anyone, but will benefit everyone.
First of all, it will tone down nervous excitement, bring
calmness, enable us to see things more clearly. The temperament
will be better, and the health will be better. Sound health will
be one of the first signs, and a beautiful voice. Defects in the
voice will be changed. This will be among the first of the many
effects that will come. Those who practise hard will get many
other signs. Sometimes there will be sounds, as a peal of bells
heard at a distance, commingling, and falling on the ear as one
continuous sound. Sometimes things will be seen, little specks
of light floating and becoming bigger and bigger; and when these
things come, know that you are progressing fast.
Those who want to be Yogis, and practice hard, must take care of
their diet at first. But for those who want only a little
practice for everyday business sort of life, let them not eat
too much; otherwise they may eat whatever they please. For those
who want to make rapid progress, and to practice hard, a strict
diet is absolutely necessary. They will find it advantageous to
live only on milk and cereals for some months. As the
organisation becomes finer and finer, it will be found in the
beginning that the least irregularity throws one out of balance.
One bit of food more or less will disturb the whole system,
until one gets perfect control, and then one will be able to eat
whatever one likes.
When one begins to concentrate, the dropping of a pin will seem
like a thunderbolt going through the brain. As the organs get
finer, the perceptions get finer. These are the stages through
which we have to pass, and all those who persevere will succeed.
Give up all argumentation and other distractions. Is there
anything in dry intellectual jargon? It only throws the mind off
its balance and disturbs it. Things of subtler planes have to be
realised. Will talking do that? So give up all vain talk. Read
only those books which have been written by persons who have had
realisation.
Be like the pearl oyster. There is a pretty Indian fable to the
effect that if it rains when the star Svâti is in the ascendant,
and a drop of rain falls into an oyster, that drop becomes a
pearl. The oysters know this, so they come to the surface when
that star shines, and wait to catch the precious raindrop. When
a drop falls into them, quickly the oysters close their shells
and dive down to the bottom of the sea, there to patiently
develop the drop into the pearl. We should be like that. First
hear, then understand, and then, leaving all distractions, shut
your minds to outside influences, and devote yourselves to
developing the truth within you. There is the danger of
frittering away your energies by taking up an idea only for its
novelty, and then giving it up for another that is newer. Take
one thing up and do it, and see the end of it, and before you
have seen the end, do not give it up. He who can become mad with
an idea, he alone sees light. Those that only take a nibble here
and a nibble there will never attain anything. They may
titillate their nerves for a moment, but there it will end. They
will be slaves in the hands of nature, and will never get beyond
the senses.
Those who really want to be Yogis must give up, once for all,
this nibbling at things. Take up one idea. Make that one idea
your life - think of it, dream of it, live on that idea. Let the
brain, muscles, nerves, every part of your body, be full of that
idea, and just leave every other idea alone. This is the way to
success, and this is the way great spiritual giants are
produced. Others are mere talking machines. If we really want to
be blessed, and make others blessed, we must go deeper. The
first step is not to disturb the mind, not to associate with
persons whose ideas are disturbing. All of you know that certain
persons, certain places, certain foods, repel you. Avoid them;
and those who want to go to the highest, must avoid all company,
good or bad. Practise hard; whether you live or die does not
matter. You have to plunge in and work, without thinking of the
result. If you are brave enough, in six months you will be a
perfect Yogi. But those who take up just a bit of it and a
little of everything else make no progress. It is of no use
simply to take a course of lessons. To those who are full of
Tamas, ignorant and dull - those whose minds never get fixed on
any idea, who only crave for something to amuse them - religion
and philosophy are simply objects of entertainment. These are
the unpersevering. They hear a talk, think it very nice, and
then go home and forget all about it. To succeed, you must have
tremendous perseverance, tremendous will. "I will drink the
ocean," says the persevering soul, "at my will mountains will
crumble up." Have that sort of energy, that sort of will, work
hard, and you will reach the goal.
CHAPTER VII
DHYANA AND SAMADHI
We have taken a cursory view of the different steps in
Râja-Yoga, except the finer ones, the training in concentration,
which is the goal to which Raja-Yoga will lead us. We see, as
human beings, that all our knowledge which is called rational is
referred to consciousness. My consciousness of this table, and
of your presence, makes me know that the table and you are here.
At the same time, there is a very great part of my existence of
which I am not conscious. All the different organs inside the
body, the different parts of the brain - nobody is conscious of
these.
When I eat food, I do it consciously; when I assimilate it, I do
it unconsciously. When the food is manufactured into blood, it
is done unconsciously. When out of the blood all the different
parts of my body are strengthened, it is done unconsciously. And
yet it is I who am doing all this; there cannot be twenty people
in this one body. How do I know that I do it, and nobody else?
It may be urged that my business is only in eating and
assimilating the food, and that strengthening the body by the
food is done for me by somebody else. That cannot be, because it
can be demonstrated that almost every action of which we are now
unconscious can be brought up to the plane of consciousness. The
heart is beating apparently without our control. None of us here
can control the heart; it goes on its own way. But by practice
men can bring even the heart under control, until it will just
beat at will, slowly, or quickly, or almost stop. Nearly every
part of the body can be brought under control. What does this
show? That the functions which are beneath consciousness are
also performed by us, only we are doing it unconsciously. We
have, then, two planes in which the human mind works. First is
the conscious plane, in which all work is always accompanied
with the feeling of egoism. Next comes the unconscious plane,
where all work is unaccompanied by the feeling of egoism. That
part of mind-work which is unaccompanied with the feeling of
egoism is unconscious work, and that part which is accompanied
with the feeling of egoism is conscious work. In the lower
animals this unconscious work is called instinct. In higher
animals, and in the highest of all animals, man, what is called
conscious work prevails.
But it does not end here. There is a still higher plane upon
which the mind can work. It can go beyond consciousness. Just as
unconscious work is beneath consciousness, so there is another
work which is above consciousness, and which also is not
accompanied with the feeling of egoism. The feeling of egoism is
only on the middle plane. When the mind is above or below that
line, there is no feeling of "I", and yet the mind works. When
the mind goes beyond this line of self-consciousness, it is
called Samâdhi or superconsciousness. How, for instance, do we
know that a man in Samadhi has not gone below consciousness, has
not degenerated instead of going higher? In both cases the works
are unaccompanied with egoism. The answer is, by the effects, by
the results of the work, we know that which is below, and that
which is above. When a man goes into deep sleep, he enters a
plane beneath consciousness. He works the body all the time, he
breathes, he moves the body, perhaps, in his sleep, without any
accompanying feeling of ego; he is unconscious, and when he
returns from his sleep, he is the same man who went into it. The
sum total of the knowledge which he had before he went into the
sleep remains the same; it does not increase at all. No
enlightenment comes. But when a man goes into Samadhi, if he
goes into it a fool, he comes out a sage.
What makes the difference? From one state a man comes out the
very same man that he went in, and from another state the man
comes out enlightened, a sage, a prophet, a saint, his whole
character changed, his life changed, illumined. These are the
two effects. Now the effects being different, the causes must be
different. As this illumination with which a man comes back from
Samadhi is much higher than can be got from unconsciousness, or
much higher than can be got by reasoning in a conscious state,
it must, therefore, be superconsciousness, and Samadhi is called
the superconscious state.
This, in short, is the idea of Samadhi. What is its
application? The application is here. The field of reason, or of
the conscious workings of the mind, is narrow and limited. There
is a little circle within which human reason must move. It
cannot go beyond. Every attempt to go beyond is impossible, yet
it is beyond this circle of reason that there lies all that
humanity holds most dear. All these questions, whether there is
an immortal soul, whether there is a God, whether there is any
supreme intelligence guiding this universe or not, are beyond
the field of reason. Reason can never answer these questions.
What does reason say? It says, "I am agnostic; I do not know
either yea or nay." Yet these questions are so important to us.
Without a proper answer to them, human life will be purposeless.
All our ethical theories, all our moral attitudes, all that is
good and great in human nature, have been moulded upon answers
that have come from beyond the circle. It is very important,
therefore, that we should have answers to these questions. If
life is only a short play, if the universe is only a "fortuitous
combination of atoms," then why should I do good to another? Why
should there be mercy, justice, or fellow-feeling? The best
thing for this world would be to make hay while the sun shines,
each man for himself. If there is no hope, why should I love my
brother, and not cut his throat? If there is nothing beyond, if
there is no freedom, but only rigorous dead laws, I should only
try to make myself happy here. You will find people saying
nowadays that they have utilitarian grounds as the basis of
morality. What is this basis? Procuring the greatest amount of
happiness to the greatest number. Why should I do this? Why
should I not produce the greatest unhappiness to the greatest
number, if that serves my purpose? How will utilitarians answer
this question? How do you know what is right, or what is wrong?
I am impelled by my desire for happiness, and I fulfil it, and
it is in my nature; I know nothing beyond. I have these desires,
and must fulfil them; why should you complain? Whence come all
these truths about human life, about morality, about the
immortal soul, about God, about love and sympathy, about being
good, and, above all, about being unselfish?
All ethics, all human action and all human thought, hang upon
this one idea of unselfishness. The whole idea of human life can
be put into that one word, unselfishness. Why should we be
unselfish? Where is the necessity, the force, the power, of my
being unselfish? You call yourself a rational man, a
utilitarian; but if you do not show me a reason for utility, I
say you are irrational. Show me the reason why I should not be
selfish. To ask one to be unselfish may be good as poetry, but
poetry is not reason. Show me a reason. Why shall I be
unselfish, and why be good? Because Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so say
so does not weigh with me. Where is the utility of my being
unselfish? My utility is to be selfish if utility means the
greatest amount of happiness. What is the answer? The
utilitarian can never give it. The answer is that this world is
only one drop in an infinite ocean, one link in an infinite
chain. Where did those that preached unselfishness, and taught
it to the human race, get this idea? We know it is not
instinctive; the animals, which have instinct, do not know it.
Neither is it reason; reason does not know anything about these
ideas. Whence then did they come?
We find, in studying history, one fact held in common by all the
great teachers of religion the world ever had. They all claim to
have got their truths from beyond, only many of them did not
know where they got them from. For instance, one would say that
an angel came down in the form of a human being, with wings, and
said to him, "Hear, O man, this is the message." Another says
that a Deva, a bright being, appeared to him. A third says he
dreamed that his ancestor came and told him certain things. He
did not know anything beyond that. But this is common that all
claim that this knowledge has come to them from beyond, not
through their reasoning power. What does the science of Yoga
teach? It teaches that they were right in claiming that all this
knowledge came to them from beyond reasoning, but that it came
from within themselves.
The Yogi teaches that the mind itself has a higher state of
existence, beyond reason, a superconscious state, and when the
mind gets to that higher state, then this knowledge, beyond
reasoning, comes to man. Metaphysical and transcendental
knowledge comes to that man. This state of going beyond reason,
transcending ordinary human nature, may sometimes come by chance
to a man who does not understand its science; he, as it were,
stumbles upon it. When he stumbles upon it, he generally
interprets it as coming from outside. So this explains why an
inspiration, or transcendental knowledge, may be the same in
different countries, but in one country it will seem to come
through an angel, and in another through a Deva, and in a third
through God. What does it mean? It means that the mind brought
the knowledge by its own nature, and that the finding of the
knowledge was interpreted according to the belief and education
of the person through whom it came. The real fact is that these
various men, as it were, stumbled upon this superconscious
state.
The Yogi says there is a great danger in stumbling upon this
state. In a good many cases there is the danger of the brain
being deranged, and, as a rule, you will find that all those
men, however great they were, who had stumbled upon this
superconscious state without understanding it, groped in the
dark, and generally had, along with their knowledge, some quaint
superstition. They opened themselves to hallucinations. Mohammed
claimed that the Angel Gabriel came to him in a cave one day and
took him on the heavenly horse, Harak, and he visited the
heavens. But with all that, Mohammed spoke some wonderful
truths. If you read the Koran, you find the most wonderful
truths mixed with superstitions. How will you explain it? That
man was inspired, no doubt, but that inspiration was, as it
were, stumbled upon. He was not a trained Yogi, and did not know
the reason of what he was doing. Think of the good Mohammed did
to the world, and think of the great evil that has been done
through his fanaticism! Think of the millions massacred through
his teachings, mothers bereft of their children, children made
orphans, whole countries destroyed, millions upon millions of
people killed!
So we see this danger by studying the lives of great teachers
like Mohammed and others. Yet we find, at the same time, that
they were all inspired. Whenever a prophet got into the
superconscious state by heightening his emotional nature, he
brought away from it not only some truths, but some fanaticism
also, some superstition which injured the world as much as the
greatness of the teaching helped. To get any reason out of the
mass of incongruity we call human life, we have to transcend our
reason, but we must do it scientifically, slowly, by regular
practice, and we must cast off all superstition. We must take up
the study of the superconscious state just as any other science.
On reason we must have to lay our foundation, we must follow
reason as far as it leads, and when reason fails, reason itself
will show us the way to the highest plane. When you hear a man
say, "I am inspired," and then talk irrationally, reject it.
Why? Because these three states - instinct, reason, and
superconsciousness, or the unconscious, conscious, and
superconscious states - belong to one and the same mind. There
are not three minds in one man, but one state of it develops
into the others. Instinct develops into reason, and reason into
the transcendental consciousness; therefore, not one of the
states contradicts the others. Real inspiration never
contradicts reason, but fulfils it. Just as you find the great
prophets saying, "I come not to destroy but to fulfil," so
inspiration always comes to fulfil reason, and is in harmony
with it.
All the different steps in Yoga are intended to bring us
scientifically to the superconscious state, or Samadhi.
Furthermore, this is a most vital point to understand, that
inspiration is as much in every man's nature as it was in that
of the ancient prophets. These prophets were not unique; they
were men as you or I. They were great Yogis. They had gained
this superconsciousness, and you and I can get the same. They
were not peculiar people. The very fact that one man ever
reached that state, proves that it is possible for every man to
do so. Not only is it possible, but every man must, eventually,
get to that state, and that is religion. Experience is the only
teacher we have. We may talk and reason all our lives, but we
shall not understand a word of truth, until we experience it
ourselves. You cannot hope to make a man a surgeon by simply
giving him a few books. You cannot satisfy my curiosity to see a
country by showing me a map; I must have actual experience. Maps
can only create curiosity in us to get more perfect knowledge.
Beyond that, they have no value whatever. Clinging to books only
degenerates the human mind. Was there ever a more horrible
blasphemy than the statement that all the knowledge of God is
confined to this or that book? How dare men call God infinite,
and yet try to compress Him within the covers of a little book!
Millions of people have been killed because they did not believe
what the books said, because they would not see all the
knowledge of God within the covers of a book. Of course this
killing and murdering has gone by, but the world is still
tremendously bound up in a belief in books.
In order to reach the superconscious state in a scientific
manner it is necessary to pass through the various steps of
Raja-Yoga I have been teaching. After Pratyâhâra and Dhâranâ, we
come to Dhyâna, meditation. When the mind has been trained to
remain fixed on a certain internal or external location, there
comes to it the power of flowing in an unbroken current, as it
were, towards that point. This state is called Dhyana. When one
has so intensified the power of Dhyana as to be able to reject
the external part of perception and remain meditating only on
the internal part, the meaning, that state is called Samadhi.
The three - Dharana, Dhyana, and Samadhi - together, are called
Samyama. That is, if the mind can first concentrate upon an
object, and then is able to continue in that concentration for a
length of time, and then, by continued concentration, to dwell
only on the internal part of the perception of which the object
was the effect, everything comes under the control of such a
mind.
This meditative state is the highest state of existence. So long
as there is desire, no real happiness can come. It is only the
contemplative, witness-like study of objects that brings to us
real enjoyment and happiness. The animal has its happiness in
the senses, the man in his intellect, and the god in spiritual
contemplation. It is only to the soul that has attained to this
contemplative state that the world really becomes beautiful. To
him who desires nothing, and does not mix himself up with them,
the manifold changes of nature are one panorama of beauty and
sublimity.
These ideas have to be understood in Dhyana, or meditation. We
hear a sound. First, there is the external vibration; second,
the nerve motion that carries it to the mind; third, the
reaction from the mind, along with which flashes the knowledge
of the object which was the external cause of these different
changes from the ethereal vibrations to the mental reactions.
These three are called in Yoga, Shabda (sound), Artha (meaning),
and Jnâna (knowledge). In the language of physics and physiology
they are called the ethereal vibration, the motion in the nerve
and brain, and the mental reaction. Now these, though distinct
processes, have become mixed up in such a fashion as to become
quite indistinct. In fact, we cannot now perceive any of these,
we only perceive their combined effect, what we call the
external object. Every act of perception includes these three,
and there is no reason why we should not be able to distinguish
them.
When, by the previous preparations, it becomes strong and
controlled, and has the power of finer perception, the mind
should be employed in meditation. This meditation must begin
with gross objects and slowly rise to finer and finer, until it
becomes objectless. The mind should first be employed in
perceiving the external causes of sensations, then the internal
motions, and then its own reaction. When it has succeeded in
perceiving the external causes of sensations by themselves, the
mind will acquire the power of perceiving all fine material
existences, all fine bodies and forms. When it can succeed in
perceiving the motions inside by themselves, it will gain the
control of all mental waves, in itself or in others, even before
they have translated themselves into physical energy; and when
he will be able to perceive the mental reaction by itself, the
Yogi will acquire the knowledge of everything, as every sensible
object, and every thought is the result of this reaction. Then
will he have seen the very foundations of his mind, and it will
be under his perfect control. Different powers will come to the
Yogi, and if he yields to the temptations of any one of these,
the road to his further progress will be barred. Such is the
evil of running after enjoyments. But if he is strong enough to
reject even these miraculous powers, he will attain to the goal
of Yoga, the complete suppression of the waves in the ocean of
the mind. Then the glory of the soul, undisturbed by the
distractions of the mind, or motions of the body, will shine in
its full effulgence; and the Yogi will find himself as he is and
as he always was, the essence of knowledge, the immortal, the
all-pervading.
Samadhi is the property of every human being - nay, every
animal. From the lowest animal to the highest angel, some time
or other, each one will have to come to that state, and then,
and then alone, will real religion begin for him. Until then we
only struggle towards that stage. There is no difference now
between us and those who have no religion, because we have no
experience. What is concentration good for, save to bring us to
this experience? Each one of the steps to attain Samadhi has
been reasoned out, properly adjusted, scientifically organised,
and, when faithfully practiced, will surely lead us to the
desired end. Then will all sorrows cease, all miseries vanish;
the seeds for actions will be burnt, and the soul will be free
for ever.
CHAPTER VIII
RAJA-YOGA IN BRIEF
The following is a summary of Râja-Yoga freely translated from
the Kurma-Purâna.
The fire of Yoga burns the cage of sin that is around a man.
Knowledge becomes purified and Nirvâna is directly obtained.
From Yoga comes knowledge; knowledge again helps the Yogi. He
who combines in himself both Yoga and knowledge, with him the
Lord is pleased. Those that practice Mahâyoga, either once a
day, or twice a day, or thrice, or always, know them to be gods.
Yoga is divided into two parts. One is called Abhâva, and the
other, Mahayoga. Where one's self is meditated upon as zero, and
bereft of quality, that is called Abhava. That in which one sees
the self as full of bliss and bereft of all impurities, and one
with God, is called Mahayoga. The Yogi, by each one, realises
his Self. The other Yogas that we read and hear of, do not
deserve to be ranked with the excellent Mahayoga in which the
Yogi finds himself and the whole universe as God. This is the
highest of all Yogas.
Yama, Niyama, Âsana, Prânâyâma, Pratyâhâra, Dhârâna, Dhyâna, and
Samâdhi are the steps in Raja-Yoga, of which non-injury,
truthfulness, non-covetousness, chastity, not receiving anything
from another are called Yama. This purifies the mind, the
Chitta. Never producing pain by thought, word, and deed, in any
living being, is what is called Ahimsâ, non-injury. There is no
virtue higher than non-injury. There is no happiness higher than
what a man obtains by this attitude of non-offensiveness, to all
creation. By truth we attain fruits of work. Through truth
everything is attained. In truth everything is established.
Relating facts as they are - this is truth. Not taking others'
goods by stealth or by force, is called Asteya,
non-covetousness. Chastity in thought, word, and deed, always,
and in all conditions, is what is called Brahmacharya. Not
receiving any present from anybody, even when one is suffering
terribly, is what is called Aparigraha. The idea is, when a man
receives a gift from another, his heart becomes impure, he
becomes low, he loses his independence, he becomes bound and
attached.
The following are helps to success in Yoga and are called Niyama
or regular habits and observances; Tapas, austerity; Svâdhyâya,
study; Santosha, contentment; Shaucha, purity;
Ishvara-pranidhâna, worshipping God. Fasting, or in other ways
controlling the body, is called physical Tapas. Repeating the
Vedas and other Mantras, by which the Sattva material in the
body is purified, is called study, Svadhyaya. There are three
sorts of repetitions of these Mantras. One is called the verbal,
another semi-verbal, and the third mental. The verbal or audible
is the lowest, and the inaudible is the highest of all. The
repetition which is loud is the verbal; the next one is where
only the lips move, but no sound is heard. The inaudible
repetition of the Mantra, accompanied with the thinking of its
meaning, is called the "mental repetition," and is the highest.
The sages have said that there are two sorts of purification,
external and internal. The purification of the body by water,
earth, or other materials is the external purification, as
bathing etc. Purification of the mind by truth, and by all the
other virtues, is what is called internal purification. Both are
necessary. It is not sufficient that a man should be internally
pure and externally dirty. When both are not attainable the
internal purity is the better, but no one will be a Yogi until
he has both. Worship of God is by praise, by thought, by
devotion.
We have spoken about Yama and Niyama. The next is Asana
(posture). The only thing to understand about it is leaving the
body free, holding the chest, shoulders, and head straight. Then
comes Pranayama. Prana means the vital forces in one's own body,
Âyâma means controlling them. There are three sorts of
Pranayama, the very simple, the middle, and the very high.
Pranayama is divided into three parts: filling, restraining, and
emptying. When you begin with twelve seconds it is the lowest
Pranayama; when you begin with twenty-four seconds it is the
middle Pranayama; that Pranayama is the best which begins with
thirty-six seconds. In the lowest kind of Pranayama there is
perspiration, in the medium kind, quivering of the body, and in
the highest Pranayama levitation of the body and influx of great
bliss. There is a Mantra called the Gâyatri. It is a very holy
verse of the Vedas. "We meditate on the glory of that Being who
has produced this universe; may He enlighten our minds." Om is
joined to it at the beginning and the end. In one Pranayama
repeat three Gayatris. In all books they speak of Pranayama
being divided into Rechaka (rejecting or exhaling), Puraka
(inhaling), and Kurnbhaka (restraining, stationary). The
Indriyas, the organs of the senses, are acting outwards and
coming in contact with external objects. Bringing them under the
control of the will is what is called Pratyahara or gathering
towards oneself. Fixing the mind on the lotus of the heart, or
on the centre of the head, is what is called Dharana. Limited to
one spot, making that spot the base, a particular kind of mental
waves rises; these are not swallowed up by other kinds of waves,
but by degrees become prominent, while all the others recede and
finally disappear. Next the multiplicity of these waves gives
place to unity and one wave only is left in the mind. This is
Dhyana, meditation. When no basis is necessary, when the whole
of the mind has become one wave, one-formedness, it is called
Samadhi. Bereft of all help from places and centres, only the
meaning of the thought is present. If the mind can be fixed on
the centre for twelve seconds it will be a Dharana, twelve such
Dharanas will be a Dhyana, and twelve such Dhyanas will be a
Samadhi.
Where there is fire, or in water or on ground which is strewn
with dry leaves, where there are many ant-hills, where there are
wild animals, or danger, where four streets meet, where there is
too much noise, where there are many wicked persons, Yoga must
not be practiced. This applies more particularly to India. Do
not practice when the body feels very lazy or ill, or when the
mind is very miserable and sorrowful. Go to a place which is
well hidden, and where people do not come to disturb you. Do not
choose dirty places. Rather choose beautiful scenery, or a room
in your own house which is beautiful. When you practice, first
salute all the ancient Yogis, and your own Guru, and God, and
then begin.
Dhyana is spoken of, and a few examples are given of what to
meditate upon. Sit straight, and look at the tip of your nose.
Later on we shall come to know how that concentrates the mind,
how by controlling the two optic nerves one advances a long way
towards the control of the arc of reaction, and so to the
control of the will. Here are a few specimens of meditation.
Imagine a lotus upon the top of the head, several inches up,
with virtue as its centre, and knowledge as its stalk. The eight
petals of the lotus are the eight powers of the Yogi. Inside,
the stamens and pistils are renunciation. If the Yogi refuses
the external powers he will come to salvation. So the eight
petals of the lotus are the eight powers, but the internal
stamens and pistils are extreme renunciation, the renunciation
of all these powers. Inside of that lotus think of the Golden
One, the Almighty, the Intangible, He whose name is Om, the
Inexpressible, surrounded with effulgent light. Meditate on
that. Another meditation is given. Think of a space in your
heart, and in the midst of that space think that a flame is
burning. Think of that flame as your own soul and inside the
flame is another effulgent light, and that is the Soul of your
soul, God. Meditate upon that in the heart. Chastity,
non-injury, forgiving even the greatest enemy, truth, faith in
the Lord, these are all different Vrittis. Be not afraid if you
are not perfect in all of these; work, they will come. He who
has given up all attachment, all fear, and all anger, he whose
whole soul has gone unto the Lord, he who has taken refuge in
the Lord, whose heart has become purified, with whatsoever
desire he comes to the Lord, He will grant that to him.
Therefore worship Him through knowledge, love, or renunciation.
"He who hates none, who is the friend of all, who is merciful to
all, who has nothing of his own, who is free from egoism, who is
even-minded in pain and pleasure, who is forbearing, who is
always satisfied, who works always in Yoga, whose self has
become controlled, whose will is firm, whose mind and intellect
are given up unto Me, such a one is My beloved Bhakta. From whom
comes no disturbance, who cannot be disturbed by others, who is
free from joy, anger, fear, and anxiety, such a one is My
beloved. He who does not depend on anything, who is pure and
active, who does not care whether good comes or evil, and never
becomes miserable, who has given up all efforts for himself; who
is the same in praise or in blame, with a silent, thoughtful
mind, blessed with what little comes in his way, homeless, for
the whole world is his home, and who is steady in his ideas,
such a one is My beloved Bhakta." Such alone become Yogis.
* * * *
There was a great god-sage called Nârada. Just as there are
sages among mankind, great Yogis, so there are great Yogis among
the gods. Narada was a good Yogi, and very great. He travelled
everywhere. One day he was passing through a forest, and saw a
man who had been meditating until the white ants had built a
huge mound round his body - so long had he been sitting in that
position. He said to Narada, "Where are you going?" Narada
replied, "I am going to heaven." "Then ask God when He will be
merciful to me; when I shall attain freedom." Further on Narada
saw another man. He was jumping about, singing, dancing, and
said, "Oh, Narada, where are you going?" His voice and his
gestures were wild. Narada said, "I am going to heaven." "Then,
ask when I shall be free." Narada went on. In the course of time
he came again by the same road, and there was the man who had
been meditating with the ant-hill round him. He said, "Oh,
Narada, did you ask the Lord about me?" "Oh, yes." "What did He
say?" "The Lord told me that you would attain freedom in four
more births." Then the man began to weep and wail, and said, "I
have meditated until an ant-hill has grown around me, and I have
four more births yet!" Narada went to the other man. "Did you
ask my question?" "Oh, yes. Do you see this tamarind tree? I
have to tell you that as many leaves as there are on that tree,
so many times, you shall be born, and then you shall attain
freedom." The man began to dance for joy, and said, "I shall
have freedom after such a short time!" A voice came, "My child,
you will have freedom this minute." That was the reward for his
perseverance. He was ready to work through all those births,
nothing discouraged him. But the first man felt that even four
more births were too long. Only perseverance, like that of the
man who was willing to wait aeons brings about the highest
result.
PATANJALI'S YOGA APHORISMS
INTRODUCTION
Before going into the Yoga aphorisms I shall try to discuss one
great question, upon which rests the whole theory of religion
for the Yogis. It seems the consensus of opinion of the great
minds of the world, and it has been nearly demonstrated by
researches into physical nature, that we are the outcome and
manifestation of an absolute condition, back of our present
relative condition, and are going forward, to return to that
absolute. This being granted, the question is: Which is better,
the absolute or this state? There are not wanting people who
think that this manifested state is the highest state of man.
Thinkers of great calibre are of the opinion that we are
manifestations of undifferentiated being and the differentiated
state is higher than the absolute. They imagine that in the
absolute there cannot be any quality; that it must be insensate,
dull, and lifeless; that only this life can be enjoyed, and,
therefore, we must cling to it. First of all we want to inquire
into other solutions of life. There was an old solution that man
after death remained the same; that all his good sides, minus
his evil sides, remained for ever. Logically stated, this means
that man's goal is the world; this world carried a stage higher,
and eliminated of its evils, is the state they call heaven. This
theory, on the face of it, is absurd and puerile, because it
cannot be. There cannot be good without evil, nor evil without
good. To live in a world where it is all good and no evil is
what Sanskrit logicians call a "dream in the air". Another
theory in modern times has been presented by several schools,
that man's destiny is to go on always improving, always
struggling towards, but never reaching the goal. This statement,
though apparently very nice, is also absurd, because there is no
such thing as motion in a straight line. Every motion is in a
circle. If you can take up a stone, and project it into space,
and then live long enough, that stone, if it meets with no
obstruction, will come back exactly to your hand. A straight
line, infinitely projected must end in a circle. Therefore, this
idea that the destiny of man is progressing ever forward and
forward, and never stopping, is absurd. Although extraneous to
the subject, I may remark that this idea explains the ethical
theory that you must not hate, and must love. Because, just as
in the case of electricity the modern theory is that the power
leaves the dynamo and completes the circle back to the dynamo,
so with hate and love; they must come back to the source.
Therefore do not hate anybody, because that hatred which comes
out from you, must, in the long run, come back to you. If you
love, that love will come back to you, completing the circle. It
is as certain as can be, that every bit of hatred that goes out
of the heart of a man comes back to him in full force, nothing
can stop it; similarly every impulse of love comes back to him.
On other and practical grounds we see that the theory of eternal
progression is untenable, for destruction is the goal of
everything earthly. All our struggles and hopes and fears and
joys, what will they lead to? We shall all end in death. Nothing
is so certain as this. Where, then, is this motion in a straight
line - this infinite progression? It is only going out to a
distance, and coming back to the centre from which it started.
See how, from nebulae, the sun, moon, and stars are produced;
then they dissolve and go back to nebulae. The same is being
done everywhere. The plant takes material from the earth,
dissolves, and gives it back. Every form in this world is taken
out of surrounding atoms and goes back to these atoms. It cannot
be that the same law acts differently in different places. Law
is uniform. Nothing is more certain than that. If this is the
law of nature, it also applies to thought. Thought will dissolve
and go back to its origin. Whether we will it or not, we shall
have to return to our origin which is called God or Absolute. We
all came from God, and we are all bound to go back to God. Call
that by any name you like, God, Absolute, or Nature, the fact
remains the same. "From whom all this universe comes out, in
whom all that is born lives, and to whom all returns." This is
one fact that is certain. Nature works on the same plan; what is
being worked out in one sphere is repeated in millions of
spheres. What you see with the planets, the same will it be with
this earth, with men, and with all. The huge wave is a mighty
compound of small waves, it may be of millions; the life of the
whole world is a compound of millions of little lives, and the
death of the whole world is the compound of the deaths of these
millions of little beings.
Now the question arises: Is going back to God the higher state,
or not? The philosophers of the Yoga school emphatically answer
that it is. They say that man's present state is a degeneration.
There is not one religion on the face of the earth which says
that man is an improvement. The idea is that his beginning is
perfect and pure, that he degenerates until he cannot degenerate
further, and that there must come a time when he shoots upward
again to complete the circle. The circle must be described.
However low he may go, he must ultimately take the upward bend
and go back to the original source, which is God. Man comes from
God in the beginning, in the middle he becomes man, and in the
end he goes back to God. This is the method of putting it in the
dualistic form. The monistic form is that man is God, and goes
back to Him again. If our present state is the higher one, then
why is there so much horror and misery, and why is there an end
to it? If this is the higher state, why does it end? That which
corrupts and degenerates cannot be the highest state. Why should
it be so diabolical, so unsatisfying? It is only excusable,
inasmuch as through it we are taking a higher groove; we have to
pass through it in order to become regenerate again. Put a seed
into the ground and it disintegrates, dissolves after a time,
and out of that dissolution comes the splendid tree. Every soul
must disintegrate to become God. So it follows that the sooner
we get out of this state we call "man" the better for us Is it
by committing suicide that we get out of this state? Not at all.
That will be making it worse. Torturing our. selves, or
condemning the world, is not the way to get out. We have to pass
through the Slough of Despond, and the sooner we are through,
the better. It must always be remembered that man-state is not
the highest state.
The really difficult part to understand is that this state, the
Absolute, which has been called the highest, is not, as some
fear, that of the zoophyte or of the stone. According to them,
there are only two states of existence, one of the stone, and
the other of thought. What right have they to limit existence to
these two? Is there not something infinitely superior to
thought? The vibrations of light, when they are very low, we do
not see; when they become a little more intense, they become
light to us; when they become still more intense, we do not see
them - it is dark to us. Is the darkness in the end the same
darkness as in the beginning? Certainly not; they are different
as the two poles. Is the thoughtlessness of the stone the same
as the thoughtlessness of God? Certainly not. God does not
think; He does not reason. Why should He? Is anything unknown to
Him, that He should reason? The stone cannot reason; God does
not. Such is the difference. These philosophers think it is
awful if we go beyond thought; they find nothing beyond thought.
There are much higher states of existence beyond reasoning. It
is really beyond the intellect that the first state of religious
life is to be found. When you step beyond thought and intellect
and all reasoning, then you have made the first step towards
God; and that is the beginning of life. What is commonly called
life is but an embryo state.
The next question will be: What proof is there that the state
beyond thought and reasoning is the highest state? In the first
place, all the great men of the world, much greater than those
that only talk, men who moved the world, men who never thought
of any selfish ends whatever, have declared that this life is
but a little stage on the way towards Infinity which is beyond.
In the second place, they not only say so, but show the way to
every one, explain their methods, that all can follow in their
steps. In the third place, there is no other way left. There is
no other explanation. Taking for granted that there is no higher
state, why are we going through this circle all the time; what
reason can explain the world? The sensible world will be the
limit to our knowledge if we cannot go farther, if we must not
ask for anything more. This is what is called agnosticism. But
what reason is there to believe in the testimony of the senses?
I would call that man a true agnostic who would stand still in
the street and die. If reason is all in all, it leaves us no
place to stand on this side of nihilism. If a man is agnostic of
everything but money, fame, and name, he is only a fraud. Kant
has proved beyond all doubt that we cannot penetrate beyond the
tremendous dead wall called reason. But that is the very first
idea upon which all Indian thought takes its stand, and dares to
seek, and succeeds in finding something higher than reason,
where alone the explanation of the present state is to be found.
This is the value of the study of something that will take us
beyond the world. "Thou art our father, and wilt take us to the
other shore of this ocean of ignorance." That is the science of
religion, nothing else.