LECTURE IV
YOGA AS PRACTICE
In dealing with the third section of the subject, I drew your
attention to the states of mind, and pointed out to you that,
according to the Samskrit word vritti, those states of mind should be
regarded as ways m which the mind exists, or, to use the philosophical
phrase of the West, they are modes of mind, modes of mental existence.
These are the states which are to be inhibited, put an end to,
abolished, reduced into absolute quiescence. The reason for this
inhibition is the production of a state which allows the higher mind
to pour itself into the lower. To put it in another way: the lower
mind, unruffled, waveless, reflects the higher, as a waveless lake
reflects the stars. You will remember the phrase used in the
Upanishad, which puts it less technically and scientifically, but more
beautifully, and declares that in the quietude of the mind and the
tranquility of the senses, a man may behold the majesty of the Self.
The method of producing this quietude is what we have now to consider.
Inhibition of States of Mind
Two ways, and two ways only, there are of inhibiting these modes,
these ways of existence, of the mind. They were given by Sri Krishna
in the Bhagavad-Gita, when Arjuna complained that the mind was
impetuous, strong, difficult to bend, hard to curb as the wind. His
answer was definite: " Without doubt, O mighty-armed, the mind is hard
to curb and restless; but it may be curbed by constant practice (abhyasa)
and by dispassion (vai-ragya)."[FN#9: loc. cit., VI. 35, 35]
These are the two methods, the only two methods, by which this
restless, storm-tossed mind can be reduced to peace and quietude.
Vai-ragya and abhyasa, they are the only two methods, but when
steadily practiced they inevitably bring about the result.
Let us consider what these two familiar words imply. Vai-ragya, or
dispassion, has as its main idea the clearing away of all passion for,
attraction to, the objects of the senses, the bonds which are made by
desire between man and the objects around him. Raga is "passion,
addiction," that which binds a man to things. The prefix
"vi"--changing to "vai" by a grammatical rule --means "without," or
"in opposition to". Hence vai-ragya is "non-passion, absence of
passion," not bound, tied or related to any of these outside objects.
Remembering that thinking is the establishing of relations, we see
that the getting rid of relations will impose on the mind the
stillness that is Yoga. All raga must be entirely put aside. We must
separate ourselves from it. We must acquire the opposite condition,
where every passion is stilled, where no attraction for the objects of
desire remains, where all the bonds that unite the man to surrounding
objects are broken. "When the bonds of the heart are broken, then the
man becomes immortal."
How shall this dispassion be brought about? There is only one right
way of doing it. By slowly and gradually drawing ourselves away from
outer objects through the more potent attraction of the Self. The Self
is ever attracted to the Self. That attraction alone can turn these
vehicles away from the alluring and repulsive objects that surround
them; free from all raga, no more establishing relations with objects,
the separated Self finds himself liberated and free, and union with
the one Self becomes the sole object of desire. But not instantly, by
one supreme effort, by one endeavour, can this great quality of
dispassion become the characteristic of the man bent on Yoga. He must
practice dispassion constantly and steadfastly. That is implied in the
word joined with dispassion, abhyasa or practice. The practice must be
constant, continual and unbroken. "Practice" does not mean only
meditation, though this is the sense in which the word is generally
used; it means the deliberate, unbroken carrying out of dispassion in
the very midst of the objects that attract.
In order that you may acquire dispassion, you must practice it in
the everyday things of life. I have said that many confine abhyasa to
meditation. That is why so few people attain to Yoga. Another error is
to wait for some big opportunity. People prepare themselves for some
tremendous sacrifice and forget the little things of everyday life, in
which the mind is knitted to objects by a myriad tiny threads. These
things, by their pettiness, fail to attract attention, and in waiting
for the large thing, which does not come, people lose the daily
practice of dispassion towards the little things that are around them.
By curbing desire at every moment, we become indifferent to all the
objects that surround us. Then, when the great opportunity comes, we
seize it while scarce aware that it is upon us. Every day, all day
long, practice--that is what is demanded from the aspirant to Yoga,
for only on that line can success come; and it is the wearisomeness of
this strenuous, continued endeavour that tires out the majority of
aspirants.
I must here warn you of a danger. There is a rough-and- ready way
of quickly bringing about dispassion. Some say to you: "Kill out all
love and affection; harden your hearts; become cold to all around you;
desert your wife and children, your father and mother, and fly to the
desert or the jungle; put a wall between youself and all objects of
desire; then dispassion will be yours." It is true that it is
comparatively easy to acquire dispassion in that way. But by that you
kill more than desire. You put round the Self, who is love, a barrier
through which he is unable to pierce. You cramp yourself by encircling
yourself with a thick shell, and you cannot break through it. You
harden yourself where you ought to be softened; you isolate yourself
where you ought to be embracing others; you kill love and not only
desire, forgetting that love clings to the Self and seeks the Self,
while desire clings to the sheaths of the Self, the bodies in which
the Self is clothed. Love is the desire of the separated Self for
union with all other separated Selves. Dispassion is the
non-attraction to matter--a very different thing. You must guard
love--for it is the very Self of the Self. In your anxiety to acquire
dispassion do not kill out love. Love is the life in everyone of us,
separated Selves. It draws every separated Self to the other Self.
Each one of us is a part of one mighty whole. Efface desire as regards
the vehicles that clothe the Self, but do not efface love as regards
the Self, that never-dying force which draws Self to Self. In this
great up-climbing, it is far better to suffer from love rather than to
reject it, and to harden your hearts against all ties and claims of
affection. Suffer for love, even though the suffering be bitter. Love,
even though the love be an avenue of pain. The pain shall pass away,
but the love shall continue to grow, and in the unity of the Self you
shall finally discover that love is the great attracting force which
makes all things one.
Many people, in trying to kill out love, only throw themselves
back, becoming less human, not superhuman; by their mistaken attempts.
It is by and through human ties of love and sympathy that the Self
unfolds. It is said of the Masters that They love all humanity as a
mother loves her firstborn son. Their love is not love watered down to
coolness, but love for all raised to the heat of the highest
particular loves of smaller souls. Always mistrust the teacher who
tells you to kill out love, to be indifferent to human affections.
That is the way which leads to the left-hand path.
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