Yoga is a step that we take in the direction of establishment in impersonality, whatever be the degree of it. And every personalistic will or desire or action is a rootedness in personality. Impersonality is Yoga, which is attained by the stages mentioned in the Yoga scriptures. It is, again, mentioned that Yoga is the concentration which the lower self practices on the immediately superior, higher Self. There are, various degrees of self and so we may say that the whole universe consists of only Self, and nothing but that. There are no objects; there are only selves, by which what is intended is that unless an element of selfhood is present even in the so-called objects of sense, there cannot be love for the objects. Love is only the recognition of the presence of the self in that which we love; if the self is not there, love is unthinkable. All love is self-love in various connotations of the meaning of self. It is not without meaning that the metaphysicians of the Upanishads tell us that the whole universe is the Self, the Atman is all things. But one has to be careful, again, in understanding what the Upanishads mean, or the Bhagavadgita intends, or anyone connotes. When they say that the Self and the universe are identical, it is easy to misunderstand the statement and it is hard to make out the significance thereof. The self is that which we regard as our own psycho-physical individuality, the Mr. or Mrs., the “I” that we regard ourselves to be; this is the self for our practical purposes today. But if we analyse the motives behind the moods and activities of the so-called self of ours, we will realise that its intentions are selfish,—’selfish’ in a particular interpretation of the meaning of the self. The urge of the senses towards the objects is the action of the self. It is the self that is propelling the senses towards the objects through the instrumentality of the reason and the mind, to come in union with the objects, under the impression that union with objects is the satisfaction of the self. So it is the satisfaction of the self that is the intention behind the coming in contact with the objects of the senses and it is not the love for the objects that is the prime motivation. There is no love for objects, absolutely. There is love only for the satisfaction of one’s self, which is impossible, we feel, in a sort of illusion, unless we come in contact with the objects. Various reasons are given as to why this situation supervenes, or takes place. How is it that we make this mistake?

There is a psychological explanation and a metaphysical one. Psychologically, the satisfaction that we feel at the time of coming in contact with the desired object is the result of the extinction of desire, the result not of the possession of the object or the enjoyment of the object but of the cessation of desire at the time of coming in contact with the object, which happens on account of the feeling in the mind that its purpose has been served. The purpose of the senses is to possess the object, make it their own, unite it with themselves and feel a non-separation of themselves from it, which purpose seems to be achieved when the object is possessed, made one’s own and there is no further need for the senses and the mind to contemplate the object. ‘It has already become mine’ and ‘it is I,’ in one sense. The senses have subsided into the mind, the mind has gone back to the reason and the reason is in the self. There is, then, a self-possessedness. Consciousness has rested itself temporarily, though only for the flash of a second, and we feel an exhilaration inside, a happiness and satisfaction that we have possessed and enjoyed and got what we want. This is a blunder on the very surface of it.

Metaphysically, the reason is something different. The Self is present everywhere, there is only One Self, the Universal Being, which exists in the objects. The objects pull us, we are pulled towards the objects, and conversely, we too pull the objects towards ourselves, on account of the Self beckoning its own Self in the form of a presence outwardly in space and time. The Infinite is summoning the Infinite in every act of desire, in every process of sense perception and what we ask for even in the least of our actions and desires is the Universal Self, and nothing short of it. But the senses do not know the purpose behind their activity, they are again in ignorance. When we ask for any thing, we are asking for this Universal Being, and we are not asking for anything else. This is the ontological explanation, the metaphysical interpretation or reason given behind the movement of the senses, mind and intellect towards objects. It is the higher Self which is the object of the lower self in every form of contemplation. And when the self which is lower tunes itself up to the higher Self, it is in a state of Yoga. This higher Self has various degrees of manifestation, and the higher Self need not necessarily mean the Absolute at once. There is, to come back to the theme of Yajna mentioned in the Third Chapter, a Deity that superintends over the circumstance of the relation between the subject and the object. This Deity is the higher Self for the time being, the synthesis between the subject and the object. This Deity, again, becomes an individual subject in the light of a higher realm of cognition which has its own objects. Difficult is all this for the mind to understand and we are not supposed to go too high when we are in a lower stage. We will know what is above us when we reach the stage that is immediately below. Each time we are given only the vision of one step ahead; we cannot have the total vision of all things at the stroke of a moment. Just now we can have an inkling of what is immediately above us, and further on we cannot know anything. When we reach that second step, or achieve the immediately higher level, we will have the vision of the next higher level. Nature reveals its secrets by degrees, and the whole secret cannot be given in one instant.

The Bhagavadgita, in its Sixth Chapter, tells us that the higher Self is the controlling principle of the lower self. The higher Self is the object of meditation by the lower self, and the higher is the aim of the lower. To the extent the lower is in union with the higher, to that extent we are successful in our endeavours. To the extent we are selfish and ignorant of even the presence of the higher, to that extent we are not going to be successful here. The higher Self becomes the friend of the lower when the lower is tuned up to the higher, and then it helps the lower. But the higher Self may appear even to be an enemy. Sometimes it appears to us that God Himself is setting aside all our motives and is not compassionate enough, all because we are not in tune with His purposes, His motives, and His Laws. So the Self is the friend of the self, and is the enemy also, which means to say that the higher Self is the friend and the benefactor of ourselves to the extent we are in tune with its purposes and laws and regulations, and to the extent we are dissonant in respect of its laws, we are a failure in life. With this caution, a friendly admonition, the Yoga of Meditation in the Sixth Chapter continues. This is a very important section which stresses the need for self-control in a scientific manner. The Yoga, here described, is to an extent similar to the one propounded in the Sutras of Patanjali.

There should be a time for us to sit for meditation and the time should be such, as it was already pointed out, that we have no engagements otherwise, and we are free from all compulsive attention at that moment. We can take a deep sigh of relief, “I have done my duty today, now I am free.” It is only then that we can sit for meditation, not when we feel after half an hour, “I have a tremendous work, I have to run up to that place to do something.” Then meditation will not be possible, because, unconsciously, we are dragged in another direction quite different from the one on which we are supposed to be meditating. So, the time and the place are important in the sense that they should not cause any kind of distraction to the mind. The posture we maintain in the body also should be such that there should not be any kind of ache or pain felt in the system. Suppose we are seated in Padmasana, or Sukhasana, or any such Asana for the purpose of meditation, we should not feel pain in the knee, or the back, etc. Then that posture would not be suitable. One is a master of one’s own self, and we can choose our own posture. Patanjali is generous when he says that the posture to be maintained for the purpose of meditation is any one, provided it is comfortable. He does not speak of Padmasana, Siddhasana, and all that. Any comfortable posture,—comfortable in the sense that it does not distract our attention and does not compel us to pin our attention on the body,—is advised. The purpose of the maintenance of the posture in meditation is to gain freedom over the consciousness of the body and not to think of the body thereby. Suppose we feel pain somewhere, we will be thinking of the body, “here it is aching.” Hence, we choose our own posture, whatever it be. Here is entire freedom given to us. But the posture should be such that we are able to maintain a spontaneity of consciousness and do not allow the mind either to go into sleep or be aware of the pains of the body. Neither should we get distracted by the presence of the body or any kind of object of sense, nor should we tend towards sleep or moodiness due to an inappropriate posture that we have assumed. For instance, if we lie down on bed, we are likely to go to sleep. So, lying down is not a suitable posture. Any kind of aching posture is also not suitable. Standing also is not a suitable posture, because we may fall down when we are concentrating. We have to choose a convenient position of the body. That is called Asana in meditation.

And place and time have been mentioned. We have, then, to select the object of our meditation. All that has been told up to this time through the different Chapters is enough to indicate what that object should be. There is no need to expatiate on the theme further. We persuade our consciousness to concentrate itself on the great objective of Yoga as described in the earlier chapters. If we cannot do this for any reason, we choose any other object which is to our satisfaction. The satisfaction here suggested is the absence of the necessity to think of anything else at that time;—that is the meaning of satisfaction here in regard to concentration on an object. The object of meditation should be chosen in such a manner that there should be no need felt at that time to think of anything else. We should not be hungry, for example. Else, we will be thinking of a little breakfast or of going to a restaurant, etc., when we sit for meditation. Why should we sit for meditation when our stomach is pinching? Do not have any kind of agony. If you are thirsty, drink water and sit peacefully; if you are hungry, eat, to some extent; and if you are tired, go to bed for half an hour, and have some sleep,—that does not matter. Why should you tire yourself? Yoga is not a painful discipline that you inflict upon yourself. It is not a torture that we are undergoing; it is not a medical treatment. It is a happy process spontaneously undertaken, joyfully, by the whole self, of its own accord, without any kind of external compulsion. We have to understand this. Yoga is a spontaneity of the movement of the lower self to the higher Self.