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Excerpts from the book: |
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'That,O Gargi,' said Yajnavalkya, 'the knowers of brahman call the Imperishable, the Unchanging, a-kshara... It is the unseen seer, the unheard Hearer, the un-thought Thinker. Apart from it nothing sees, nothing hears or understands. By whom would the unique Thinker be thought? or the unique Seer be seen ?... This is the One who breathes in your breathing, this self of yours which is the Self of all things...' (Brihad-aranyaka Upanishad 3.8) 'He who sees all things in the self The mathematics teacher who was mentioned above returned one Sunday. She confided to the guru that she had been disturbed by the spatial symbols which he often used. 'They are all,' he replied, 'simply pictures from which we cannot expect more than some temporary assistance, mere pointers or signposts. They have no value in themselves. When a child asks you where the moon is, you point it out with your finger or stick. But where you are pointing is not the real place. So the akasha or space in your heart is an infinite space, which does not allow itself to be limited or Iocalised in any way. So also in the sphere of the audible, you can begin with sounds or words which are uttered or heard, and from there go on to the OM which underlies every sound, and then pass from the audible OM to the OM which no ear, even the most spiritual, can perceive. The important thing is to have a starting-point, something which the mind can use as a support for its inward quest a spring-board from which to launch out and pass beyond the superficial self. In addition it will help the mind to free itself from wandering thoughts. Breathing, a sound, a single point, awareness of the self made as pure as possible-all these are aids, but only for the time being, towards obtaining the vision of being. 'However you set about doing it, you have to settle yourself permanently within, even if finally the very idea of this "within" has itself to be abandoned; on that you should gaze, there you should enter and establish yourself, diving ever deeper until at last you disappear, as the Tamil lyric goes: Thou who hast entered the depth of my heart, Thou who makest thy home in the depth of my heart,
Thou who alone dwellest in the depth of my heart, Thou who art all alone in the depth of my heart, Sri Gnanananda went on: "If thoughts still make their appearance, they should be Iike the birds and other flying creatures which glide and move to and fro in the air; they should float in the akasha, the space of your heart, without settling on the solid ground where you take your stand." The essential thing, you see, is to make within Yourself a solid, immovable dwelling place where no one can possibly enter, no one can find or disturb you. Let your "inner room" be closed to absolutely everyone. Keep it as out of bounds as are our kitchens in Tamilnadu. As you know by experience, the place where the fire is lit and food is prepared is the most sacred, the most set apart, in the whole house. No one may set foot in it except members of the family or, in some cases, of the same caste. No stranger, even your dearest friend, is allowed to enter. He will take his meal on the verandah or in the courtyard. You should protect your heart from contact with anything that could defile it with the same care as you protect the family hearth.' Vanya then took the opportunity to remind the guru of a verse in the Chandogya Upanishad which meant much to him: That which is at the centre of the space in my heart, 'God it everywhere present indivisibly, a-kanda,' Sri
Gnanananda continued. The heart is the mirror in which he is seen. When
he is seen in the universe, then his form is diversified, multiple -
bheda, dvaita. When he is seen in the mirror of the heart, he is seen
just as he is in himself, undivided, a-kanda, without any limitation
or otherness, in the non-duality of being. Here is a meditation which Gnanananda gave to Vanya: 'The I first of all is perceived in its relationship, to the world outside, to what is not-myself. So long as anyone only knows himself in this fashion, that is, by means of outward things, and with reference to them, it cannot be said that he really knows himself. At that stage, what I call "myself" simply consists of the ceaseless reactions, sensory and mental, of that biological and psychological centre which I am, in response to external stimuli. It was on account of this instability that the Buddha would not attribute substantial existence to the person, which according to his terminology he identified with the atman. Whoever wishes to know himself once for all and to arrive at his true being, should aim at reaching his "I" in its unchangeable identity and sovereign freedom. This "I" no doubt expresses itself in its acts of perception, both outward and inward, but it transcends all these and, in its inmost essence-the "imperceptible" of the Chandogya Upanishad-it is totally independent of them. It IS, just as truly in the absence of all perception as when its influence is extended and manifested through such activity-as is clearly proved by the experience of deep sleep, in which there is no longer the awareness of anything, and yet the person obviously continues to exist. To quote a saying of Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita, All things reside in me, but I myself reside in nothing. 'The "I" is not truly known, so long as it is not known in itself; no more can God be truly known, so long as he is not known in himself. Otherwise I would not exist apart from my relation to the universe, nor would God exist apart from the relation that the world has to him. This is indeed the metaphysical problem of the one and the many, of the same and the other, of the manifested and what cannot be manifested, which can never be reduced to any mental category whatever, for precisely, "who can think the Thinker?". Even reflex thought itself only apprehends the thinker and his thought in the form of an idea, and so indirectly. What is needed is to break through the shell of these successive abstractions and come to the central point, which refuses to be either localized or reduced to an idea. 'No one will ever reach his own self except through himself and in the very depth of himself, as the Gita says: atmani atmanam atmana, the self sees the self in the self through the self. No creature, whatever it may be, can ever do more than lead you to the door of the sanctuary, invite you to enter, and then bow and disappear. Nothing changeable can change into that which does not change. No inductive knowledge, not even purely reflex knowledge can attain to Being in its majesty. What is Full rests on nothing else; That alone is immortal, |
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