India's Ancient Culture

by Swami Krishnananda

Chapter 15: Yoga is the State of At-one-ment

Since commencing these sessions, we have covered a large area of studies. We started with the foundations of Indian culture, which we located in the Veda Samhitas and the Upanishads particularly, as also in the Smritis and the Itihasas or epics, and the Puranas. Then we had occasion to delve a little deeper into the main theme of universally applicable cultural values, namely, the quest for Reality. In this attempt of an investigation into the nature of Reality as such, we had occasion to dilate upon various facets of approach taken up for consideration and implementation by different philosophies, schools of thought and religious affiliations. We came practically face to face with the Reality of the cosmos, and it became necessary for us to adjust ourselves to the situation in which this cosmic existence appears to be placed in the context of our own existence. As a recapitulation, I am rapidly moving, in a few sentences, through all the details we covered over many sessions, right from the beginning.

The positioning of consciousness, as I mentioned previously in the context of God's existence, is the essence of yoga practice. During the previous session we concentrated our attention on one aspect of the practice of yoga, which is designated as love of God. The greatest yoga is love of God, love of Reality, asking for It, and a welling up of our feelings in respect of That which we are seeking in such an intensity that it becomes practically impossible for us to live in this world without our association with That.

We concluded with the great dictum that we cannot breathe even for a few seconds without our affiliation with Reality, because to be dissociated from Reality would be to be dissociated from existence itself. To cut off existence from our personal life would be to enter into annihilation; and after a proper investigation into the nature of God Almighty, the Supreme Being, we concluded that it is identical with Universal Existence. Universal Existence is the nature of God, and all other attributes that we foist upon God are secondary in comparison with the basic character of this Being, which is Existence as such. Inasmuch as Existence is the fundamental character of the Absolute, it includes our existence also, and therefore we cannot exist unless It exists. This is to say, in other words, we cannot exist without God, and to imagine that we can get on well with our daily routines minus this association with the Ultimate Reality would be a folly of the first water. Well, I am only briefly mentioning the essence of our studies so far. One of the aspects of the practice of yoga I mentioned is love of God, technically known as bhakti, and the various modes of the practice of this devotion were also considered during our previous session.

There is another methodology adopted in the practice of yoga. It is highly technical, and is known as ashtanga yoga, raja yoga, or sometimes just succinctly stated as the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. I am not going to speak on that subject now, and am only referring to it as another way of the practice of what we may call contact with Reality.

The Sanskrit word 'yoga' actually means 'union with Reality'. It is an attempt to contact Reality in some
way or the other. The contacting of ourselves with Reality is the aim of life. If we are disconnected, it is like having a loose electrical contact, and all our electrification would then be of no avail to us. We might have spent a fortune in electrifying our house, in the setting of wires and bulbs, etc., but there is a loose contact somewhere, and we have no light. Such a thing happens in our own life. We have done a lot of things in this world, tremendous work in social levels, and in our own personal religious routines of the day so much time has been spent, but nothing is happening to us. We are the same old bandicoots. Nothing has changed our personality. After fifty years of this social work, welfare activity, humanitarian approach, religion and prayer, we find ourselves in the same condition. The reason is, there is a loose contact that we have forgotten. The loose contact is that we have not been able to find a means of communing ourselves with this Reality.

Towards the end of the previous session I said that because of its inclusiveness, Reality, the Universal Being, escapes the attention of the individual spirit merely because it is all-inclusive. The concept of all-inclusiveness is impossible of entertainment in the human mind, because there is nothing all-inclusive in this world. All the objects of sense perception are exclusive in their nature. Inclusiveness is not seen in this world; everything is different from everything else. There is dividedness, division, separation, isolatedness of one thing from another. There is nothing connected with another thing in this world. We have to work hard to artificially bring about some kind of cohesive force in the midst of these divided objects in the world in terms of social organisations or psychological operations. Metaphysically, objectively, everything seems to be different from everything else. On account of the involvement of our psyche in this predicament of the dividedness of things, we cannot entertain the thought of inclusiveness, especially of a universal type, which is required in the practice of yoga. The whole problem with yoga practice is finding a technique, or a novel method, to position ourselves in the context of the Universal Being. We may practice karma yoga, bhakti yoga, raja yoga, jnana yoga, or any kind of yoga we like; we may belong to any kind of religious faith or affiliation. It matters not what we are affiliated to, but we will find in the end that the basic question is not answered—namely, how will we face it.

This so-called 'it', having already been described as inclusive of our own existence, slips out of our consciousness. We cannot think it, because there is nobody to think it. We cannot contemplate on it for the same reason. We cannot describe it or give a definition of it, because the moment we endeavour to deal with it in this extraneous manner, we place ourselves outside it. The highest pinnacle of yoga is reached when the meditator convinces himself as to the impossibility of standing outside it, because the moment it is envisaged as an object, it disconnects itself from us.

The object is never organically related to the subject, though there is a basic relation which is invisible to the eyes, and inasmuch as this dividedness obtains between the subject and the object, we find that we are always placed in a quandary in our relation to things in this world. The quandary is that unless the thing is outside us, we cannot even see it; and if it is really outside us, also we cannot see it. The total disconnectedness of the object from us impairs our relation with it to such an extent that there is no psychological connection between us and the object. The perception of an object is actually the establishment of a conscious contact between ourselves and the object. 'Conscious' contact is the word to be underlined. If it is unconscious, we will not see the object and, more than that, we cannot have any kind of dealing with it. Dealing with the thing is actually establishing a conscious relation with that object, but where is the question of consciousness in relation to an object when, according to our empirical consideration, our consciousness is inside us and it is not anywhere else?

Where is our consciousness? If we psychologically, psychoanalytically or, even from the point of view of physiological psychology, think of the status of our consciousness, we will find that it is intriguing. It appears to be somewhere in us, and not anywhere else: “My consciousness cannot be outside me. It is has to be in me.” If that is the case, how will we touch an object outside consciousness? This is one aspect of the difficulty in the perception of an object. We seem to be cut off from the object on account of our consciousness being within us and it not being anywhere else. But on the other hand, if it is really so, we will not know that the object outside exists.

We cannot love a thing unless it is different from us; and if it is totally different from us, we also cannot love it. Here the intriguing character of all connections in this world is succinctly stated. We are related to the world, and yet not related. This is the cause of the restlessness that we feel in our mind, personally as well as socially. We are utterly restless, and we cannot have a moment's peace in this world because of this difficulty we feel in establishing an intelligible relationship of ourselves with the world outside. It is neither with us, nor is it not with us. In the context of the practice of yoga, this question has to be resolved. We have already briefly traversed this question along the lines raised by the Sankhya thought, which adumbrated the distinction between prakriti and purusha, consciousness and matter; and the Vedanta psychology bridged the gulf between these two apparently different things, consciousness and matter, by telling us that there has to be something more than and different from both the purusha and the prakriti of the Sankhya, or consciousness and matter, in order that one may even be aware that these two things exist.

In the Bhagavadgita, we have an answer to this quandary. Dvāvimau puruṣau loke kṣaraś cākṣara eva ca, kṣaraḥ sarvāṇi bhūtāni kūṭastho'kṣara ucyate; uttamaḥ puruṣas tvanyaḥ paramātmetyudāhṛtaḥ (B.G. 15.16-17): “There are two realities in this world, the perishable and the imperishable, and there is something transcending both the perishable and the imperishable, known as the Supreme Person.” Now, what is this perishable and imperishable? The subject and the object of the very process of life in this world, the relation between what one sees and oneself, is what is referred to here as the kshara and the akshara. In comparison with the world which lasts for many years, we as individuals are perishable objects. We die after some years; the world will not die so easily. So in comparison with the transiency of individuals of any kind of species, the world has to be considered as imperishable. The perishable and the imperishable referred to in this verse of the Bhagavadgita are the kshara and the akshara; or the kshara and the akshara may also be regarded as the individual and the cosmos. In relation to the cosmic existence of nature as a whole, the individual is perishable, and the individual is a late development and entry into this cosmos.

'God' and 'the individual soul' can also be the meaning implied in these two terms, kshara and akshara. The creative principle, which is universally akshara, is as imperishable as the universe itself, and all created beings are perishable. All these differences and characterisations boil down to the distinction between the subject and the object. It matters not what the object actually is. It may be God, it may be the universal whole, it may be nature, it may be human society, it may be one individual outside, one thing; the point is that it is different from us. Because of its difference from us, it is necessary to bridge this gulf between ourselves and the object. That bridge is this third element, and in the verse of the Bhagavadgita it is called Purushottama, transcendent.

In the Yoga System, whether it is cast in the mould of devotion, psychic concentration, public unselfish activity or metaphysical meditation, whether it is known as karma, bhakti, yoga, jnana or Vedanta, whatever be the shape it takes, it boils down finally to a question requiring a solution: “What is my relation with that which is not me?” This 'not me' is the whole issue. A person sitting in front of me is a 'not me', the whole human society is a 'not me', the world of nature, and all things contained in nature, are outside me, and they are not me, the not-self. The astronomical universe, even God Himself, is not me, and I have to establish a relationship with that.

Inasmuch as organic structure seems to be the essence of everything, it is incumbent on the part of every spiritual seeker to enter into the structure of this organism before yoga proper is attempted. We must first of all know what an organism is. I have also mentioned this earlier, in a different context and in different words, and repeat it once again for your memory. An organism is something which cannot be seen with the eyes. It is a force that welds together apparent parts. It may be in the form of members in a family. There may be ten members in one single family; and when we enter the house, we will not see the family there, we will see only people. Yet they will say, “This is my family.” Where is the family? We see only various individuals. The family is a concept; it is an intelligent cohesive form, an idea that is ultimately expected to keep intact the otherwise divided members who are, from their own point of view, independent. Each member of the family, for all practical purposes, is independent by himself or herself. They can go for a walk without telling another person, and it will not affect the existence of another. Yet, it has some connection, because that member who has gone for a walk, or is doing something independently, is a part and parcel of the organism of the family. We cannot see this organism; nevertheless it exists because this organism, which is ideational, conceptual, is more real than the members of the family. The members may be there as concrete perceptible objects, and the organism may not be visible, but we know how important this organism is; and all social organisations, political organisations and communities are of this character.

An administrative setup is also an organisation, but we do not actually see it with our eyes because as the operations of realities become more and more valid and active, they also become more and more invisible. It is difficult for us to conceive how invisible realities control us, while we are visible, concrete objects. If a cohesive force within the organisation is absent, the individuals will fly at the throats of each other and they will not exist after three days, in spite of the fact this organisational force seems to be only a thought, and a thought is generally not regarded as identical with concrete reality. Here is an instance to highlight how that which is not at all a concrete, visible object restrains the operations of concrete things, and the more a thing becomes ethereal and intangible, the more also is the power that it can exert on solid objects. A high-voltage electric current can blow up a mountain, though the mountain is so solid and hard. But electric energy is invisible; it is a pervasive force.

Do you know that thought actually moves this world? Ideas are the determining factors of the destiny of humanity. And where are these ideas? Are they existing in trees, in the marketplace or in the streets? The concept of one world, the idea of an international existence, the very thought of unity, is not a visible object, and yet that rules all the values in life. When this conceptual generalisation is taken to its logical limits, it becomes God-existence.

The ultimate level, Pure Existence, is not a solid reality, but it is more solid than all the solidity that we can think of. We define God as Consciousness. The substance of the ultimate Absolute is Consciousness. If we identify Consciousness with the thought process, or something that is not physically concrete, then God is not a physical object, and is not capable of perception through the eyes. We cannot see God with our eyes because generals, universals, those ranging forces that control particulars, are above particulars. That which enables us to perceive an object is not the object itself, because it has already been placed outside us in the context of space and time. It is also not us independently, because our consciousness is locked up in our skull. There is a third element, an intermediary principle, which is invisibly operating between us and the object. If this can be known, we will be saved in one second.

In the technical description of this process of perception, the perceiver is called the adhyatma, the perceived is called the adhibhuta, and the thing that is between the two is called the adhidaiva, the superintending divinity. Divinity cannot be seen with the eyes. No god can be seen with the eyes, because the immediate god that is before us is that which is linking us with the object, and that we cannot see, notwithstanding the fact that without it, we cannot even know that something is under our nose.

Therefore, in all the practices that go by the name of yoga, our endeavour is to rise above our individual personality, and also to rise above the locatedness of the object outside in space and time, and to place ourselves in the context of that which is neither us nor the object. This is a herculean task, like walking on a wire in a circus, as it were, which is very difficult indeed. If we make a little mistake, we will fall down.

How are we to place ourselves in that which is not us? The sutra of Patanjali in this context receives little attention, and nobody knows what it means because people never go to that part of the Yoga Sutras. Generally they wind up all their studies with the first and second chapters. A sutra in the third chapter says bahiḥ akalpitā vṛittiḥ mahāvidehā (Y.S. 3.44): “The large embodied, which actually is a disembodied condition, is that state when the mind transfers itself from its own personal location to another which is not itself.”

Everything is a psychosis, a function of the mind, which generally operates within our own selves as the principle of the psyche, the very starting point of all cognition and perception. The modification of the mind at the time of cognition or perception is called a vritti, and it is inside us. But here, the reference in this sutra is to a kind of operation of the mind, or the psyche, which is not to be thought of as located within us, but outside us. Bahiḥ is 'outside', and akalpitā vṛitti means 'non-conditioned psyche'. Our psyche is conditioned as long as we are in the process of the perception of an object totally outside us. Now, unconditioned psyche is a bahiḥ akalpitā vṛitti. You have to stretch your imagination with some effort of deep thinking to appreciate what this actually means. What on earth is meant by saying that you have to place yourself outside yourself?

Suppose there is a tree, and you are looking at it with a vritti, or a modification of the mind. In the perception of an object, such as a tree, the mind operates in such a way that it envelops the form of the object as located in space and time, and then the consciousness of the Atman, or the purusha inside, magnetises and enlivens, or charges within itself, the process of the psyche which is enveloping the object; and then you have a double consciousness when you say that this is a tree: the shape of the tree on the one hand, and the consciousness of the shape of the tree on the other hand. This is ordinary perception. But in the transferring process that is referred to in this sutra of Patanjali, you have to become the tree yourself. A telepathic self-transference, as it were, takes place in this intensively thought-out process of the transference of the mind from within the body to the body of the tree, as it were. What has happened? Your consciousness, your mind, your psyche, whatever your essence is, is wrenched out from your body. It is not your body; you yourself are coming out of this house which is the body. Place yourself in this context of an inhabitant of this body. You are occupying this body, as it were, as a house, and you come out of this house and enter into another house. It is, as it were, that you leave one house and go to another house. Do not be under the impression that the body is you. The body is not you; it is a tenement which you are occupying. So consider this body as a house in which you are living. You are not this body. Now, get out of this body. Think, “I am going out of this body. And what do I do? I enter into the body of the tree.” Immediately the mind has fixed itself on another thing. The attachment to this body gradually gets loosened by meditations of this kind. The sutra says that you can practice this technique in respect of any object in this world. Why should you be always thinking that you are inside this body? Why not consider that you are also in another body, especially as your mind is connected to the cosmic mind? This subject has been dealt with earlier.

The yoga process involves the transference of your personality to a non-subjective universality. In the beginning, it is an attempt in terms of lesser and lesser wholes of reality—any object, for the matter of that. It may be a pencil, it may be a flower, it may be a candle flame, it may be a great saint's personality, it may be your own concept of God, your Ishta-devata, whatever it be. Meditation becomes active and operational in an effective manner only when your consciousness has been transferred from the location of this body to the location of that on which you are meditating. Otherwise, if you are always inside the body and then you start to meditate on an object, it will be a thought process, and it will not be meditation. Meditation is not thinking an object. You have to distinguish between the thought of an object and actual meditation. Meditation is an absorption of your consciousness in the context of the object of meditation. Rather, you have become it. This becoming it is called samadhi in yoga terminology. It starts with concentration, it intensifies itself in meditation, and finally it finds itself in samadhi, or perfect communion.

This perfect communion with Reality is necessary in all levels of life. Even if you want to become a good officer, you have to be in tune with your staff. You cannot stand outside your staff and then be a good administrator. Not even a servant will be obedient to you if you are totally outside your servant. You have to feel kind of at-one-ment with the atmosphere with which you are connected, and from which you cannot be separated. You will be a good cook, a good sweeper, a good officer, a good friend, a good administrator, a good everything, provided you are able to practise this technique of at-one-ment with the environment, whatever that environment be.

Then there is all success. Yatra yogeśvaraḥ kṛṣṇo yatra pārtho dhanurdharaḥ, tatra śrīr vijayo bhūtir dhruvā nītir matir mama (B.G. 18.78): “Where Krishna and Arjuna are seated together in one single chariot and march forward on the battlefield of life, there is success perennial,” says the last verse of the Bhagavadgita. This is not merely a verse to be read in a holy tone in your puja room, it is a technique of actual living in your daily life—in your office, in your factory, in the market, with your friend, in your kitchen, at your dining table, with your servant—everywhere, wherever you go. Yoga is not meant only for closing the eyes in a temple; it is a day-to-day action to be done everywhere, even in the marketplace. Wherever you go, you are in the state of yoga. You are identical, in the state of at-one-ment, with the atmosphere—at-one-ment with everything that is outside you, because that thing which you think is outside you is really not outside you. The whole point is that. You are under a misconception that things are outside you, that everybody is different, and you are independently sitting here alone, unbefriended. No. You are a friend of the whole universe. The world is with you wherever you go. It clings to you like the tail going with the dog. The world, the environment, the people, the whole nature, trees, mountains, the solar system, the galaxies, they are hanging on your body, as it were, when you walk. This is the way in which you can transfer your consciousness from your little twig-like body and place it in a larger context of anything in this world. Thus goes yoga. This is one technique.

The other methods are your own daily routines into which you have perhaps been initiated by your guide, your teacher, which vary in detail from person to person and from one level of your evolution to another level; and each one has to chalk out a daily routine of practice.

Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj had a masterstroke instrument for teaching people to develop a technique of self-discipline every day, in the form of three recipes. The first is known as a spiritual diary. Maintain a spiritual diary. Those who have read the book Sure Ways of Success in Life and God-Realisation by Gurudev, or perhaps Essence of Yoga or some such book to which a pro forma of this spiritual diary is appended, will know what it is. It is a series of questions which you put to your own self: “What have I done? What have I not done? Today, this evening, after the passing of the whole day, how have I passed my minutes and hours? Have I done one good thing today? Have I brought a little consolation and peace to one single heart in this world? Have I been good and charitable at least for a few minutes? How many times have I been angry today? How many times have I been disturbed in my emotions? How many times have I found myself out of gear in my psychological personality?” There are various questions. A series of specimen questions are given in the ready-reckoner, as it were, the spiritual diary. You can have your own additions and subtractions by adding or removing questions. This is called the method of a self-check. Every day when you go to bed, you have to check your personality: “What have I done today? Have I wasted my time or have I gained something? What is the balance sheet of my day's existence—an asset or a liability? If it is a liability, so much the worse. If it is an asset, thank God for that. If it is a liability, tomorrow I shall make it good. Today there is a debit side in my personality, and tomorrow it must be rectified.” This is a spiritual diary.

The second recipe is a daily routine. You must know what you are going to do today and tomorrow. It is not that anything comes and anything is done in any slipshod matter. Many people live a desultory life in this world. They do not know how to conduct their life. They do not know what to do, how to pass the day.  Every day you should know what is to be done. Actually, the routine of a particular day is a little link in the long chain of the routine of your life. Any intelligent person with a little bit of education in the spiritual field will have some idea as to what it is that one is expected to do in this world. “What for am I in this world? This is the program. Right from today onwards, till the end of my life, I have to follow this kind of routine or program for the fulfilment of the purpose for which I have been born into this world. And for that purpose, for the fulfilment of this aim, I have to do something today.” Today is a little link in the long developmental process of your entire life. So if you are a little cautious in knowing what the aim of life is finally, what are the facets and the aspects connected with the fulfilment of the ultimate aim of life, you will also know what is to be done today, what is to be done tomorrow, etc. So a daily routine is the second recipe of Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj, apart from a spiritual diary. Though there may be differences in the minor details of your daily routine, the basic factors should not change. The mould of your daily routine should be the same, though the method or the material that you cast into this mould may vary. So keep up a daily routine.

The third recipe is an annual resolve. New Year's Day is coming, the first of January. Strike a balance sheet of your whole personality for the entire year. It is a cumulative total of the little psychic accounts that you have been maintaining every day. “One year has passed, and what has happened to me? Where do I stand? Is there progress in the direction of an onward movement towards the fulfilment of my life? No, I have made a mistake. I have done such and such, which I ought not to have done, and I ought to have done such and such. So from today, from New Year's Day onwards, I shall be living like this. This I shall do, and this I shall not do.” These dos and don'ts of your self-disciplinary process, annually taken up for self-checking, constitute your annual resolve.

Sri Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj never tired of dinning into the ears of people these three items of spiritual instruction: an annual resolve, a daily routine, and a spiritual diary.

Keep contact with people who are going to be of assistance to you in your daily life. Do not keep friends who are going to waste your time or exploit you. Have good friends or have no friends. Let your God be your friend. It is better to be alone to yourself rather than be in the company of those people who will distract your attention and take you along the wrong path of life. If possible, have satsanga with saints and sages, good people, stalwarts, superiors who are more experienced that you, and remain in contact with only these people. Always be in search of great men, great scholars, learned pundits, philosophers, saints and sages. And if there is satsanga going on somewhere, make a beeline to that place.

When there are difficulties in finding occasions for having satsanga with saints and sages, have what Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj suggested as a secondary type of satsanga, namely svadhyaya, the study of great scriptures written down by masters, such as the Srimad Bhagavata Mahapurana written by Veda Vyasa, or the Bhagavadgita, the gospel of Bhagavan Sri Krishna. When you read these great gospels or scriptures, you are indirectly coming in contact with the presence of the masters who wrote them. When you read the words of the Bhagavadgita or the Bhagavata, or the words of the New Testament or the Koran, or whatever the religious scripture be, you are actually inwardly en rapport with the thoughts and the forces of these prophets and teachers, which are impregnated into the very words of that scripture. So the study of a scripture is also a satsanga with great masters. The thoughts, the forces, the ideas and the very presence of these masters, you will find in the words of these holy books. Actual satsanga with saints and sages is best, if possible, but if not, at least have a study of great scriptures such as the Bhagavata Mahapurana.

If that is also difficult, do chanting of the Divine Name, japa, so that you are actually in contact with the being whose name is being chanted. Actually, satsanga is a Sanskrit word which means sangha with sat. Sangha is contact, association with. Sat is Pure Existence, goodness, sobriety, saintliness, holiness, existence. All these meanings are implied in the word 'Existence'. So satsanga may mean contact with or association with holy people, saints and sages, stalwarts in the Spirit, or it may mean contact with Pure Existence itself. Where satsangas, or associations with people, become difficult under the circumstances in which you are placed in society, you can have an inward contact with the Pure Existence within your own self, contact with God. Ishvara-pranidhana, as Patanjali's sutra tells us, is one of the great ways of self-discipline inwardly, religiously.

Thus, these methods you can adopt: satsanga, as much as it is possible—externally in the midst of people who are holy and saintly, or inwardly in direct contact with the Pure Being, the Atmasvarupa, the Paramatman in your own self. Have contact with God daily in your prayers. During the previous session I referred to a method of prayer, to some extent. Bring it to your memory just now. All these instructions, plus Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj's Twenty Important Spiritual Instructions, Sadhana Tattva, and the three recipes for self-discipline every day, you may keep in your mind. God bless you.