An even more effective way of increasing your will is to put the comfort and convenience of other people first in situations where you are used to putting yourself first. In many little matters every day it is very painful to make these concessions. It is not too difficult to be a hero on a great stage, but to be a hero when nobody is looking except your cat is extremely difficult. When there is an immense upsurge of self-will saying, “This is how I want it to be. Not you, not you, but me!” that is the time to give, particularly to your parents, to your husband or wife, to your children, and to your friends. That is the time to yield, and yield, and yield. You will find, beautifully enough, that when you start practicing this others start doing the same. This is the advantage of a spiritual family where everybody is putting the welfare of everybody else first – everybody is first.
I do not indulge in too much sympathy when I see someone is growing up, even though he or she groans a little. Whenever I see somebody growing up and standing on his or her own feet, it is a day of jubilation for me. Tears, sighs, and groans are a part of the process of growth; so Sri Krishna says that when suffering comes, we should remember that we can use it to increase our spiritual awareness. It is said that pain is the only teacher you and I will accept, and without this stern teacher, none of us would grow up to our full stature. When we are suffering, we may be tempted to say, “If the Lord wants me to lead the spiritual life, I would expect him to be more cordial and more hospitable, instead of hitting me and making me cry. This is no way to treat a devotee.” The Lord is extremely fond of us, but he has no sense of false pity. He wants us to grow out of our selfishness and separateness to be united with him, and he knows suffering is often the only language you and I understand.
57. Fettered no more by selfish attachments, they are not elated by good fortune or depressed by bad. Such are the seers.
Sarvatra ‘nabhisneha: his wisdom is unshaken, he is deeply rooted in himself, who has no trace of selfish attachment on any level. In all the mystical teachings, we are told it is our identification with the ego, our obsessive attachment to our self-will, which is responsible for the friction, frustration, and futility in our lives. The most unfortunate part of this tragedy is that as long as we are caught in the ego trap we will always maintain we are free. With a certain degree of progress in meditation, we come to realize with great alarm how even in the most endearing of human relationships there is the tendency to impose our self-will unwittingly and unconsciously on those around us.
There is a Sanskrit saying that gives the key as to how we can remove the taint of egoism in our relations with our children. According to this Hindu saying, until the child is five we should treat the little one as a god or goddess. This does not mean that we give up our power of authority, but that we give the children all the attention and affection we can, hugging them, carrying them, and keeping them physically close to us. Such affection is essential for maintaining unity on the physical level, and children respond to it easily. These five years of intense physical intimacy and intense emotional love reassure them more than any other experience – more than any words can – and in later life they will be able to draw upon this security they received in early childhood.
Three or four days ago, while we were seated in a restaurant, we saw a couple come in with a little baby, probably a few months old. Both of them were expressing their love for the little one and smoking the whole time. It is not enough if we talk about loving our children; we have to show our love in our personal life in every way, and this can be very, very difficult. If we want to be a loving parent, we cannot afford to smoke, because it is a bad example we are setting before the child. If we want to be a loving parent, we cannot afford to drink; we cannot afford to be selfish. It is an extremely serious responsibility to be a good father or mother. Those parents who can put their children’s welfare first all the time, and can teach by their personal example of vigilantly restraining the senses and adding to the welfare of others, may rest assured that their children will follow their example when they grow up.
It is good to remember the words of Jesus: Unless you become like a little child again, you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. As Wordsworth puts it: “Heaven lies about us in our infancy”; and when we fail to set an example before our children, we are violating their divinity.
One day when Sri Krishna was a little boy, his mother was churning curds into butter in an earthen pot, using a wooden pestle which she moved round and round by means of a rope. Little Krishna was up to mischief as usual, and when his mother tried to get him to behave like an obedient child, he was defiant. She took the rope she was using and said, “If you don’t stop your mischief, I’m going to tie your arms.” Little Gopala opened his rosebud of a mouth and put out his arms. The mother came up and tried to tie his hands, but the rope would not reach. She got another rope, but it also was not long enough. Soon everybody on the street had become interested. They all brought ropes and tied them together until the rope was very, very long, yet it would not reach around the wrists of the boy because of the infinity of the Lord present in him. With his slender hands he held the whole cosmos. Consciousness of this divinity of children can enable all parents to lead lives of reasonable sense restraint and utter selflessness in order to inspire their little ones to realize the divinity ever present within them.
After five, until the age of sixteen, the Sanskrit injunction tells us to treat our child as a servant. It sounds harsh, but the more I see of life, the more I appreciate the utility of this training in obedience. In modern psychology, it is said that growing young people get puzzled when their parents cannot take a positive stand. Even though the teenager may slam the door in anger, I think he cannot help appreciating parents who can draw a line very intelligently and tenderly, showing him he must learn to discriminate in life. It is during the years five to sixteen that children are going to rebel, and it is during these years that they must learn to obey their parents so they can learn to obey the Atman later on. In their daily life the parents have to approximate themselves to the image of the Atman. This is why parenthood is an extremely valuable aid to meditation.
From sixteen on, the saying concludes, your children are your equal. Afterwards do not try to push them about; do not throw your weight about, but try to explain. Appeal to their sense of reason; try to make them understand your position, and make a great effort to understand theirs. It is because parents and growing young people find themselves unable to be detached from their opinions that there is conflict, and obsessive identification with opinions can be the worst kind of attachment. The parents are not their opinions, nor are the children theirs.
If we are prepared to listen with respect to opinions that are different from ours, it is not impossible that once in a way we will find the other party is right. If we can go to our parents with the attitude that we will not contradict them because they may be right, we will find our feeling of hesitation and apprehension is lost. They will appreciate this; our father may even say to our mother, “You know, the boy may be right.” In most personal friction this simple discovery of “you may be right, I may be wrong” can go a long, long way to facilitate communication and bring about better understanding. One of the unmistakable signs of spiritual awareness is the cheerful capacity to say, “I was wrong”; and it will save us a lot of trouble in life if we can make that very daring statement, “I don’t know.”
58. Even as a tortoise draws in its limbs, the wise can draw in their senses at will.
Sri Krishna uses the simile of the humble tortoise. In Kerala, it is very common for children to get excited when they see a tortoise. They gather around it and playfully hit it with their bamboo sticks. So as soon as a tortoise sees children coming, he issues an order immediately to all his limbs, his head, and his tail, “Return. Get inside.” When the children come, the tortoise just waits patiently inside his bamboo-proof shell until they are tired of playing. I was reminded of this simile years ago when we went to the zoo
. The lions and tigers, the panthers and leopards were all in cages, but a huge tortoise was wandering around unattended. On his back was written, “Don’t report me to the management – I am free.” If you have developed the capacity to withdraw your senses immediately when there is danger, then you are completely free. You can go anywhere and live in the midst of any agitation. When the situation is serious you just say, “Withdraw,” and the gates are closed. As Sri Krishna says in this verse, Tasya prajna pratishtita: “That man is unshaken and firmly established in Me, the Lord of Love, who can withdraw his senses at will from sensory objects.”
Most of us are unaware of how mercilessly our senses are being exploited by today’s mass media. It requires some progress in meditation to become aware of how much we have become tyrannized by the siren song of the mass media: “Stimulate your senses, and you will find joy.” Aldous Huxley went to the extent of calling the anonymous advertisement copywriter the apostle of our modern civilization.
On the sexual level, for instance, we have been subjected to relentless conditioning. Somebody has only to bring a matchbox in his pocket and we are on fire. There is no point in saying that we are a wicked generation; this is how we are conditioned – by the movies we see, by the magazines we read, by the television we watch, by the conversation we indulge in. In advertisements, sex is the motif that is played over and over again. None of us need be guilt-laden, therefore, if we find that preoccupation with sex has become extreme. The Gita says that there is only one way to dehypnotize ourselves, and that is to get some measure of control over the senses. Until this has been accomplished, it is not advisable to attend sensate movies, where old memories, slowly fading, are refreshed. This does not mean we have to give up movies altogether. What I do, when I find one of these scenes coming on where people start taking off their clothes, is to close my eyes and have a little nap. There is no point in thinking of these movies as “wicked.” “Silly” is a better word for the childish illusion that by taking off our clothes we can reveal our beauty, which is only revealed when we rise above physical consciousness.
It is necessary also to be very discriminating in the books and magazines we read. When I go to the store and look at magazine covers, I envy my Grandmother her illiteracy. Most of the magazines that people read by the million cause more agitation, insecurity, and despair than we can imagine. I would suggest that we choose only those books that add to our self-knowledge, our self-respect, and our sense control.
If we want to be able to withdraw our senses at will, we should train them in such a way that they listen immediately to the slightest command we give them. What often obstructs this is our diffidence and agitation. We should have confidence in our capacity to train the senses. In disciplining the senses, do not get angry with them, but be courteous and say “Please” and “I beg your pardon.” This is the kind of artistry I always recommend on the spiritual path. Do not do things by force, but with patience.
In training the eyes, we can begin by not staring at things in which we are likely to be caught. For most of us, the shop window may exercise a certain pull, particularly for those who have been used to buying things in order to maintain their security. The spell of attraction is broken when we realize that by buying things and giving presents we are not likely to become secure, and relationships are not likely to be repaired. The ear, also, can be trained not to listen to what is harmful, especially to gossip. The time will come when we can actually close our ears and not hear what is going on. I suggest that when there is unkind talk, unsavory gossip, we can always get up and walk out, or, even better, we can say something in praise of the person who is being attacked.
In order to understand the full import of this verse, we have to see where attachment to sense objects has brought our civilization. I am an admirer of science, and I know that the modern world needs the wise help of technology to solve many of its material problems, but the misuse of science and technology has brought us to a very serious pass. Today’s paper carried a brilliant article by one of the foremost authorities in the country on the pollution of the environment. The writer traces the environmental crisis directly to our excessive attachment to objects, showing that we have produced for the sake of production, multiplied things for the sake of multiplying things, without any reference to their wise use or their necessity in our daily life. This is a serious pronouncement, and all of us should pay it more than lip service.
We are all aware of the terrible impact of the automobile on our environment. There are a number of simple ways we can help relieve this problem. The first is by walking more. Some years ago, when my wife and I were first walking around Lake Merritt, the only company we had was the seagulls and a black dog. Now we just keep bumping into people; old, middle-aged, and even little ones have started walking. A second suggestion, which is also beginning to be practiced, is to form car pools. There may be practical problems with this. We may have to wait three minutes for one person, five for another, but we can look upon these little inconveniences as part of our sadhana, as an opportunity for repeating the mantram while we wait. Third, we can all avoid travel that is unnecessary. We do not need to travel around the world when the source of all joy and all beauty is right within us.
We can be discriminating, too, in the way we furnish our homes. In Kerala, even in well-to-do homes, there is very little furniture, just a few pieces of teak or ebony. Teak is not expensive there; it grows in abundance, as does redwood here in California. The rooms are beautiful, austere, with just a few touches here and there. Once we begin to exercise our judgment in these matters, we shall see many other avenues in which we can simplify our life yet maintain all its comfort, joy, and beauty.
In a world where natural resources are limited, we should not waste a single particle of anything. When we were on the Blue Mountain, my wife and I met often with a British Quaker friend, Mary Barr, who had been close to Gandhi. She had so deeply imbibed this lesson from Gandhi that if I left two or three grains of rice on my plate, she would say, “Don’t waste,” and I would obediently pick up every last grain and put it in my mouth. Similarly, with regard to clothing, it is possible to be very attractively dressed with a select wardrobe, and it is possible to be very unattractively dressed with a vast wardrobe. There are many people, I am told, who have sentimental attachments to clothing with a story – this dress they wore in Acapulco in 1959, or that jacket in which they hitchhiked to New York. Give these to someone who needs clothing. Get rid of these attachments. These are the ways in which we can help relieve the state of emergency which overproduction and overconsumption have brought us to. Ultimately, you and I are responsible. If we do not buy, they cannot make; if we do not buy, they cannot sell.
By meditating and leading the spiritual life we are showing how we can make the ecological emergency disappear. Sri Krishna says: “I am the source of all the joy, all the love, all the wisdom, and all the beauty within you. You do not need these external attachments. Just have enough to keep your family in comfort, and whatever else you have, give to those who need.”
59. Though aspirants abstain from sense pleasures, they will still crave for them. These cravings all disappear when they see the Lord of Love.
If we remember Patanjali’s definition of dharana, the first stage in meditation, it may give us some idea of the behavior of the senses in the early years of our sadhana. Patanjali with his unfailing spiritual accuracy says that dharana is the effort to confine the mind in a limited area. Imagine the mind to be a dog. If I take a dog to the store and chain him outside while I go in, telling him, “I’ll be out in two minutes – just a few groceries and I am done,” the dog will expect me to come back soon. When he does not see me coming out, he will start going round and round, howling and putting his paws on the glass, trying to see me. After a while, when I still have not come out, the dog will finally become tired of looking. After a lot of restlessness, after walking about and whining, he will turn around three times and then lie down. The mi
nd is very much like that. It has got to run about and howl a little, then stand up and see who is inside and what is coming out. But after a while it will turn around three times and lie down.
The senses, too, are very restless. They are so turbulent, and have been indulged so long, that even when you are beginning to restrain them, by eating only when hungry and only what is nourishing, they still may rebel. Though you may be having only a meager breakfast, a spare lunch, and a pauper’s dinner, you are still thinking about what makes a sumptuous meal, and mentally you are eating a long list of items. In your external consumption of food there may be extreme restraint, but for a long, long time the old sense cravings and selfish desires are going to be there in the mind. Sri Krishna is very compassionate. When you are restraining the senses, he admires you for that, and he does not hold it against you if once in a while you are tempted to say, “If only I hadn’t taken to meditation!”
What is required for a long time is our conscious effort, our sustained discipline, in restraining the senses. Gradually these noxious weeds of sense cravings will begin to wither away if we do not yield to them. Even though the desires may arise in the mind, if we subject the senses to an external discipline, the desires will gradually cease to agitate our minds through the practice of meditation.
Listening to people who are subject to compulsive habits of eating is sometimes a little like science fiction. They say they are just walking along, thinking about what passage to memorize for meditation, and all of a sudden an unseen hand pulls them inside. Before they know where they are, the door has closed on them and they are in the restaurant. For such compulsive cases, what I would say is even if you are being pulled in the doorway, try a judo twist. In this way you can actually manage to come out and start running. When you are nearing a bakery, if you are not quite sure whether you are bakery-proof, make a dash for it. It helps your physical system, you get vigorous exercise, and you conquer temptation, too. So in the case of bakeries, candy shops, and restaurants, for all those who do not mind a certain amount of curiosity on the part of passers-by – run.
The End of Sorrow Page 11